Not a Penny More, Not a Penny Less (32 page)

In the diversion caused by the waiters
clearing the table, Anne whispered sotto voce, “Don’t try to be clever, darling–he’s
not as stupid as he sounds.”

“Well, what do you think of her?”

“I beg your pardon, sir?”

“Rosalie.”

“Magnificent. I put five pounds each way on
her.”

“Yes, it was a great occasion for me and I
was sorry you missed it, Rosalie, because you would have met the Queen and a
nice guy called Professor Porter.”

“Professor Porter?” enquired James, burying
his face in his wineglass.

“Yes, Professor Porter, James. Do you know
him?”

“No, sir, I can’t say I know him, but didn’t
he win a Nobel Prize?”

“He sure did and he gave me a wonderful time
at Oxford. I enjoyed myself so much that I ended up giving him a cheque for
$250,000 for research of some kind, so he should be happy.”

“Daddy, you know you’re not meant to tell
anybody that.”

“I know, but James is family now.”

James was still not going to let Anne get
away with her duplicity.

“Why can’t you tell anyone else, sir?”

“Well, it’s a long story, James, but it was
quite an honour for me. You do understand this is highly confidential, but I
was Professor Porter’s guest at Encaenia. I lunched at All Souls with Mr. Harry
Macmillan, your dear old Prime Minister, and then I attended the Garden Party,
and afterwards I had a meeting with the vice chancellor in his private rooms
along with the registrar and the secretary of the University Chest. Were you at
Oxford, James?”

“Yes, sir.
The House.”

“The House?” queried Harvey.

“Christ Church, sir.”

“I’ll never understand Oxford.”

“No, sir.”

“You must call me Harvey. Well, we all met
at the Clarendon and they stammered and stuttered and were lost for words,
except for one funny old guy, who was ninety if he was a day. These people just
don’t know how to approach millionaires for money, so I put them out of their
embarrassment and took over. They would have gone on all day about their
beloved Oxford, so eventually I had to shut them up and I simply wrote out a
cheque for $250,000.”

“That was very generous, Harvey.”

“I would have given them $500,000 if they’d
asked. James, you look a bit pale, do you feel all right?”

“I am sorry. Yes, I’m fine. I was quite
carried away with your description of Oxford.”

Anne joined in. “Daddy, you made a promise
to the vice chancellor that you would keep your gift as a bond between the
university and yourself, and you must promise never to tell that story again.”

“I think I shall wear the robes for the
first time when I open the new library at Harvard in the fall.”

“Oh no, sir,” said James hastily, “that
wouldn’t be quite the thing. You should only wear those robes in Oxford on
ceremonial occasions.”

“Gee, what a shame. Still, I know what
sticklers you English are for etiquette.
Which reminds me, we
ought to discuss your wedding.
I suppose you two will want to live in
England?”

“Yes, Daddy, but we will visit you every
year and when you make your annual trip to Europe you can come and stay with
us.”

The waiters cleared the table again and
reappeared with Harvey’s favourite strawberries. Anne tried to keep the
conversation on domestic issues and stop her father returning to what he’d been
up to during the past two months, while James spent his time trying to get him
back on the subject.

“Coffee or liqueur, sir?”

“No, thank you,” said Harvey.
“Just the check.
I thought we’d have a drink in my suite at
Claridge’s, Rosalie. I have something I want to show you both. It’s a bit of a
surprise.”

“I can’t wait, Daddy. I love surprises. Come
on, James.”

James left them and drove the Alfa Romeo to
Claridge’s garage so that Anne could have a few moments alone with her father.
They strolled along Curzon Street, arm in arm.

“Isn’t he wonderful, Daddy?”

“Yeah, great guy.
Didn’t seem too bright to begin with, but
he cheered up as the meal went on. And fancy my little girl turning out to be a
genuine English lady. Your momma’s tickled pink and I’m happy that we have
patched up our quarrel.”

“Oh, I’ve got things back into perspective
in the last few weeks. Now tell me, what is your little surprise, Daddy?”

“Wait and see, honey. It’s your wedding
present.”

James joined them again at the entrance to
Claridge’s. He could tell from Anne’s look that Harvey had given him the seal
of parental approval.

“Good evening, sir. Good evening, my lord.”

“Hi there, Albert.
Could you fix for coffee and a bottle of
Remy Martin to be sent up to my suite?”

“Immediately, sir.”

The Royal Suite is on the first floor of
Claridge’s–James and Anne had never seen it before. Off the small entrance
room, there is the master bedroom on the right and a sitting room on the left,
Harvey took them straight to the sitting room.

“Children, you are about to see your wedding
present.” He threw the door open in dramatic style and there on the far wall
was the Van Gogh. They both stared, quite unable to speak.

“That’s exactly how it left me,” said
Harvey. “Speechless.”

“Daddy.”
Anne swallowed.
“A Van
Gogh.
But you always wanted a Van Gogh. You always dreamed of possessing
such a picture, and anyway I can’t possibly have anything so valuable in my
house. Think of the security risk, we don’t have the protection you have. We
can’t let you give us the pride of your collection, can we, James?”

“Absolutely not,” said James with great
feeling. “I wouldn’t have a moment’s peace with that on the premises.”

“Keep it in Boston, Daddy, in a setting
worthy of it. You can always leave it to James and me if you like.”

“What a great idea, Rosalie. That way we can
both enjoy it. Now I shall have to think of another wedding present. She nearly
got the better of me then, James, and she hasn’t done that in twenty-four
years.”

“Well, I’ve managed it two or three times,
Daddy, and I am hoping for just once more.”

Harvey ignored Anne’s remark and went on
talking,

“That’s the King George and Elizabeth
trophy,” he said, pointing to a magnificent bronze sculpture of a horse and
jockey with his hoop and quartered cap studded in diamonds. “They give a new
trophy every year because of the importance of the race, so it’s mine for life.”

James was thankful that the trophy at least
was genuine.

The coffee and brandy arrived and they
settled down to discuss the wedding in detail.

“Now, Rosalie, you must fly over to Lincoln
next week and help your mother with the arrangements; otherwise she’ll panic
and nothing will get done. And, James, you let me know how many people you will
have coming over and we’ll put them up in the Statler Hilton. The wedding will
be in Trinity Church, Copley Square, and we’ll have a real English style
reception back in my home in Lincoln. Does all that make sense, James?”

“Sounds wonderful.
You are a very well organised man, Harvey.”

“Always have been, James. Find it pays in
the long run. Now, you and Rosalie must get the details sewn up before she
comes over next week, because I’m flying to America tomorrow.”

James and Anne spent another hour chatting
about the wedding arrangements and left Harvey just before midnight.

“I’ll see you first thing in the morning,
Daddy.”

“Good night, sir.” James shook hands and
left.

“I told you he was super.”

“He’s a fine young man and your mother will
be very pleased.”

James said nothing in the lift on the way
down because two other men stood behind them in silence, also waiting to reach
the ground floor. But once they were in the Alfa Romeo he took Anne by the
scruff of the neck and spanked her on her bottom so hard that she didn’t know
whether to laugh or cry.

“What’s that for?”

“Just in case you ever forget after we’re
married who’s the head of this household.”

“You male chauvinist pig.
I was only trying to help.”

James drove at furious speed to Anne’s flat.

“What about all your-so-called background–’My
parents live in Washington and Daddy’s in the Diplomatic Corps,’
“ James
mimicked. “
Some diplomat.”

“I know, darling, but I had to think of
something once I’d realised who it was.”

“What in hell’s name am I going to tell the
others?”

“Nothing.
You invite them to the wedding, explaining
that my mother is American and that’s the reason we are getting married in
Boston. I’d give the earth to see their faces when they finally discover who
your father-in-law is. In any case, you still have a plan to think of and under
no circumstances can you let them down.”

“But circumstances have changed.”

“No, they haven’t. The truth of the matter
is that they have all succeeded and you have not, so you must be sure you have
a plan by the time you reach America.”

“It’s obvious we wouldn’t have succeeded
without your help.”

“Nonsense, darling.
I had nothing to do with Jean Pierre. I
just added some background colour here and there.”

“How much did you help with Oxford?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, my love? Promise
you’ll never spank me again?”

“Certainly I will, every time I think of
that picture, but now, darling...”

“James, you are a sex maniac!”

“I know, darling. How do you think we
Brigsleys reared tribes of little lords for generations?”

Anne left James early the next morning to
spend some time with her father and they both saw him off at the airport on the
midday flight to Boston. Anne could not resist asking in the car on the way
back what James had decided to tell the others. She could get no response other
than:

“Wait and see, I’m not having it all changed
behind my back. I am only too glad you’re off to America on Monday!”

M
onday was a double hell for James. First, he
had to see Anne off on the morning TWA flight for Boston, and then he spent the
rest of the day preparing for the Team meeting in the evening. The other three
had now completed their operations and would be waiting to hear what he had
come up with. It was twice as hard now he knew that his victim was to become
his father-in-law, but he accepted that Anne was right and that he could not
make that an excuse. It meant that he still had to relieve Harvey of $250,000.
To think he could have done it with one sentence at Oxford; that was something
he could not tell the rest of the Team either.

As Oxford had been Stephen’s victory, the
Team dinner was at Magdalen College and James travelled out of London just
after the rush hour, past the White City Stadium and on
down
the M40 to Oxford.

“You’re always last, James,” said Stephen.

“Sorry, I have been up to my eyes...”

“In a good plan, I hope,” said Jean Pierre.

James didn’t answer. How well they all knew
each other now, he thought. In twelve weeks James felt he knew more about these
three men than any of the so-called friends he’d known for twenty years. For
the first time he understood why his father always referred back to friendships
formed during the war. He began to realise how much he was going to miss
Stephen when he returned to America. Success was in fact going to split them up
and James would have been the first to admit that he didn’t want to go through
the agony of another Discovery Oil, but it had certainly had its compensations.

Stephen never could treat any occasion as a
celebration, and when the servants had served the first course and left, he
banged the table and declared that the meeting was in progress.

“Make me a promise,” said Jean Pierre.

“What’s that?” asked Stephen.

“When we have every last penny back, I can
sit at the top of the table and you won’t speak until you are spoken to.”

“Agreed,” said Stephen, “but not until we do
have every last penny. The position at the moment is that we have received
$777,560. Expenses on this operation have totalled $5,178, making a grand total
of $27,661.24 cents. Therefore, Metcalfe still owes us $250,101.24.” Stephen
handed round a copy of the current balance sheet.

“Three sheets to be added to your own
folders.
Any questions?”