Chapters (64)
- Title Page
- Copyright Notice
- Dedication
- Acknowledgments
- Family Tree
- Epigraph
- Prologue
- I. Harry and Emma 1964–1965
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- II. Lady Virginia Fenwick 1966
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- III. Giles Barrington 1970
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- IV. Sebastian Clifton 1970
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- V. Lady Virginia Fenwick 1970
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Chapter 32
- VI. Sebastian Clifton 1970
- Chapter 33
- Chapter 34
- Chapter 35
- Chapter 36
- VII. Harry and Emma 1970
- Chapter 37
- Chapter 38
- Chapter 39
- Chapter 40
- Chapter 41
- Chapter 42
- Chapter 43
- Chapter 44
- Chapter 45
- Chapter 46
- Chapter 47
- About the Author
- Also by Jeffrey Archer
- Newsletter Sign-up
“Mr. Davis tells me he’s never known you to telephone on a Saturday morning before.”
Sloane didn’t rise to the bait.
“The pathologist has issued a death certificate concluding that Mr. Hardcastle died of a heart attack, which I have no doubt the coroner will confirm at the inquest.” Still Sloane said nothing. “Can I assume that you’ll be around for the next few days, Mr. Sloane, should I have any more questions?”
“Yes, you can, although I was planning to travel up to Huddersfield tomorrow to pay my respects to Mr. Hardcastle’s widow, and to see if there’s anything I can do to help with the funeral arrangements.”
“How very thoughtful of you. Well, I only have one or two more people to interview, Mr. Sloane, and then I’ll be on my way.”
Sloane waited for the inspector to leave his office and close the door behind him before he picked up the phone.
“I need those documents ready for signature by close of business today.”
“I’ve got a team working on them right now, sir.”
Sloane’s second call was to Ralph Vaughan at Savills, who passed on his condolences, but didn’t go into all of the details of his conversation with Cedric Hardcastle on Friday afternoon.
“And like you,” said Sloane, “our thoughts are with Cedric and his family at this time. But the last thing he said to me on Friday evening was to be sure we closed the Shifnal Farm deal.”
“But surely you know he withdrew the bank’s offer on Friday afternoon, which was embarrassing, to say the least.”
“That was before I was able to brief him on the full details, and I know he had intended to call you first thing this morning.”
“If that’s the case, I’m willing to extend the deadline for one more week, but no more,” emphasized Vaughan.
“That’s good of you, Ralph. And be assured the deposit of a hundred and sixty thousand will be with you later today, and we’ll just have to wait and see if anyone outbids me.”
“I can’t imagine anyone will,” said Vaughan. “But I must ask if you have the authority to make an offer of one point six million on behalf of the bank.”
“It’s no more than my duty to see that Cedric’s final wishes are carried out,” said Sloane, before putting down the phone.
Sloane’s third and fourth calls were to two of the bank’s major shareholders, who said they would back him, but only if Mrs. Hardcastle went along with his proposal.
“I’ll have the documents on your desk ready for signature by close of business tomorrow,” he assured them.
Sloane’s fifth call was to the Bank of Zurich in Switzerland.
* * *
Seb phoned his mother from the office that morning and told her the news.