Kane and Abel/Sons of Fortune

by Jeffrey Archer

  “It’s your wife, sir, she’s been taken to the hospital.”

  “Why?” asked William, puzzled.

  “The baby,” said his secretary.

  “But it’s not due for at least another six weeks,” said William incredulously.

  “I know, sir, but Dr. MacKenzie sounded rather anxious and wanted you to come to the hospital as quickly as possible.”

  Matthew, who a moment before had seemed a broken reed, took over and drove William to the hospital. Memories of William’s mother’s death and her unborn daughter came flooding back to both of them.

  “Pray God, not Kate,” said Matthew as he drew into the hospital parking lot.

  William did not need to be guided to the Richard Kane maternity wing, which Kate had officially opened only six months before. He found a nurse standing outside the delivery room; she informed him that Dr. MacKenzie was with his wife and that Kate had lost a lot of blood. William paced up and down the corridor helplessly, numbly waiting, exactly as he had done years before. The scene was all too familiar. How unimportant being chairman of the bank was compared with losing Kate. When had he last said to her “I love you”? Matthew sat with William, paced with William, stood with William, but said nothing. There was nothing to be said. William checked his watch each time a nurse ran in or out of the delivery room. Seconds turned into minutes and minutes into hours. Finally Dr. MacKenzie appeared, his forehead shining with little beads of sweat, a surgical mask covering his nose and mouth. William could see no expression on the doctor’s face until he removed the white mask, revealing a large smile.

  “Congratulations, William, you have a boy, and Kate is just fine.”

  “Thank God,” breathed William, clinging onto Matthew.

  “Much as I respect the Almighty,” said Dr. MacKenzie, “I feel I had a little to do with this birth myself.”

  William laughed. “Can I see Kate?”

  “No, not right now. I’ve given her a sedative and she’s fallen asleep. She lost rather more blood than was good for her, but she’ll be fine by morning. A little weak, perhaps, but well ready to see you. But there’s nothing to stop your seeing your son. But don’t be surprised by his size; remember, he’s quite premature.”

  The doctor guided William and Matthew down the corridor to a room in which they stared through a pane of glass at a row of six little pink heads in cribs.

  “That one,” said Dr. MacKenzie, pointing to the infant on the end.

  William stared dubiously at the ugly little face, his vision of a fine, upstanding son receding rapidly.

  “Well, I’ll say one thing for the little devil,” said Dr. MacKenzie cheerfully, “he’s better-looking than you were at that age and you haven’t turned out too badly.”

  William laughed out of relief.

  “What are you going to call him?”

  “Richard Higginson Kane.”

  The doctor patted the new father affectionately on the shoulder. “I hope I live long enough to deliver Richard’s firstborn.”

  William immediately wired the rector of St. Paul’s, who put the boy down for a place in 1943, and the new father and Matthew got thoroughly drunk and were both late arriving at the hospital the next morning to see Kate. William took Matthew for another look at young Richard.

  “Ugly little bastard,” said Matthew. “Not at all like his beautiful mother.”

  “That’s what I thought,” said William.

  “Spitting image of you though.”

  William returned to Kate’s flower-filled room.

  “Do you like your son?” Kate asked her husband. “He’s so like you.”

  “I’ll hit the next person who says that,” William said.

  “He’s the ugliest little thing I’ve ever seen.”

  “Oh, no,” said Kate in mock indignation, “he’s beautiful.”

  “A face only a mother could love,” said William, and he hugged his wife.

  She clung to him, happy in his happiness.

  “What would Grandmother Kane have said about our firstborn entering the world after less than eight months of marriage? ‘I don’t want to appear uncharitable, but anyone born in under fifteen months must be considered of dubious parentage, under nine months definitely unacceptable,’” William mimicked. “By the way, Kate, I forgot to tell you something before they rushed you into the hospital.”

  “What was that?”

  “I love you.”

  Kate and young Richard had to stay in the hospital for nearly three weeks. Not until after Christmas did Kate fully recover her vitality. Richard, on the other hand, grew like an uncontrollable weed, no one having informed him that he was a Kane, and one was not supposed to do that sort of thing. William became the first male Kane to change a diaper and push a perambulator. Kate was very proud of him, and somewhat surprised. William told Matthew that it was high time he found himself a good woman and settled down.

  Matthew laughed defensively. “You’re getting positively middle-aged. I shall be looking for gray hairs next.”

  One or two had already appeared during the chairmanship battle. Matthew hadn’t noticed.

  William was not able to put a finger on exactly when his relationship with Tony Simmons began to deteriorate badly. Tony would continually veto one policy suggestion after another and his negative attitude made William seriously reconsider resignation. Matthew was not helping matters by returning to his old drinking habits. The period of reform had not lasted more than a few months and if anything he was now drinking more heavily than before and arriving at the bank a few minutes later each morning. William wasn’t quite sure how to handle the new situation and found himself continually covering Matthew’s work. At the end of each day William would double-check Matthew’s mail and return his unanswered calls.

  By the spring of 1936, as investors gained more confidence and depositors returned, William decided the time had come to go tentatively back into the stock market, but Tony vetoed the suggestion in an offhand interoffice memorandum to the Financial Committee. William stormed into Tony’s office to ask if his resignation would be welcome.

  “Certainly not, William. I merely want you to recognize that it has always been my policy to run this bank in a conservative manner and that I am not willing to charge headlong back into the market with our investors’ money.”

  “But we’re losing business hand over fist to other banks while we sit on the sidelines watching them take advantage of the present situation. Banks we wouldn’t even have considered as rivals ten years ago will soon be overtaking us.”

  “Overtaking us in what, William? Not in reputation. Quick profits perhaps, but not reputation.”

  “But I’m interested in profits,” said William. “I consider it a bank’s duty to make good returns for its investors, not to mark time in a gentlemanly fashion.”

  “I would rather stand still than lose the reputation that this bank built up under your grandfather and father over the better part of half a century.”

  “Yes, but both of them were always looking for new opportunities to expand the bank’s activities.”

  “In good times,” said Tony.

  “And in bad,” said William.

  “Why are you so upset, William? You still have a free hand in the running of your own department.”

  “Like hell I do. You block anything that even suggests enterprise.”

  “Let’s start being honest with each other, William. One of the reasons I have had to be particularly cautious lately is that Matthew’s judgment is no longer reliable.”

  “Leave Matthew out of this. It’s me you’re blocking; I am head of the department.”

  “I can’t leave Matthew out of it. I wish I could. The final overall responsibility to the board for anyone’s actions is mine, and he is the number two man in the bank’s most important department.”

  “Yes, and therefore my responsibility because I am the number one man in that department.”

  “No, William, it ca
nnot remain your responsibility alone when Matthew comes into the office drunk at eleven o’clock in the morning—no matter how long and close your friendship has been.”

  “Don’t exaggerate.”

  “I am not exaggerating, William. For over a year now this bank has been carrying Matthew Lester, and the only thing that stopped me from mentioning it to you before is your close personal relationship with him and his family. I wouldn’t be sorry to see him hand in his resignation. A bigger man would have done so long ago and his friends would have told him so.”

  “Never,” said William. “If he goes, I go.”

  “So be it, William,” said Tony. “My first responsibility is to our investors, not to your old school chums.”

  “You’ll live to regret that statement, Tony,” said William. He stormed out of the chairman’s office and returned to his own room in a furious temper.

  “Where is Mr. Lester?” William demanded as he passed his secretary.

  “He’s not in yet, sir.”

  William looked at his watch, exasperated. “Tell him I’d like to see him the moment he arrives.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  William paced up and down his office, cursing. Everything Tony Simmons had said about Matthew was true, which only made matters worse. He began to think back to, when it had all begun, searching for a simple explanation. His thoughts were interrupted by his secretary.

  “Mr. Lester has just arrived, sir.”

  Matthew entered the room looking rather sheepish, displaying all the signs of another hangover. He had aged badly in the past year and his skin had lost its fine, athletic glow. William hardly recognized him as the man who had been his closest friend for nearly twenty years.

  “Matthew, where the hell have you been?”

  “I overslept,” Matthew replied, uncharacteristically scratching at his face. “Rather a late night, I’m afraid.”

  “You mean you drank too much.”

  “No, I didn’t have that much. It was a new girlfriend who kept me awake all night. She was insatiable.”

  “When will you stop, Matthew? You’ve slept with nearly every single woman in Boston.”

  “Don’t exaggerate, William. There must be one or two left—at least I hope so. And then don’t forget all the thousands of married ones.”

  “It’s not funny, Matthew.”

  “Oh, come on, William. Give me a break.”

  “Give you a break? I’ve just had Tony Simmons on my back because of you, and what’s more, I know he’s right. You’ll sleep with anything wearing a skirt, and worse, you’re drinking yourself to death. Your judgment has gone to pieces. Why, Matthew? Tell me why. There must be some simple explanation. Up until a year ago you were one of the most reliable men I had ever met in my life. What is it, Matthew? What am I supposed to tell Tony Simmons?”

  “Tell Simmons to go to hell and mind his own business.”

  “Matthew, be fair, it is his business. We’re running a bank, not a bordello, and you came here as a director on my personal recommendation,” said William, unable to hide the anger in his voice.

  “And now I’m not measuring up to your standards, is that what you’re saying?”

  “No, I’m not saying that.”

  “Then what the hell are you saying?”

  “Buckle down and do some work for a few weeks. In no time everyone will have forgotten all about it.”

  “Is that all you want?”

  “Yes,” said William.

  “I shall do as you command, O Master,” said Matthew, and he clicked his heels and walked out of the door.

  “Oh, hell,” said William.

  That afternoon William wanted to go over a client’s portfolio with Matthew, but nobody seemed to be able to find him. He had not returned to the office after lunch and was not seen again that day.

  Even the pleasure of putting young Richard to bed in the evening could not distract William from his worries about Matthew. Richard could already say “two” and William was trying to make him say “three,” but he insisted on saying “tree”

  “If you can’t say ‘three,’ Richard, how can you ever hope to be a banker,” William demanded of his son as Kate entered the nursery.

  “Perhaps he’ll end up doing something worthwhile,” said Kate.

  “What’s more worthwhile than banking?” William inquired.

  “Well, he might be a musician, or a baseball player, or even President of the United States.”

  “Of those three I’d prefer him to be a ball player—it’s the only one of the three that pays a decent salary,” said William as he tucked Richard into bed. Richard’s last words before sleeping were “Tree, Daddy.” William gave up. It wasn’t his day.

  “You look exhausted, darling. I hope you haven’t forgotten that we’re having drinks later at Andrew MacKenzie’s.”

  “Hell, Andrew’s party had totally slipped my mind. What time is he expecting us?”

  “In about an hour.”

  “Well, first I’m going to take a long, hot bath.”

  “I thought that was a woman’s privilege,” said Kate.

  “Tonight I need a little pampering. I’ve had a nerveracking day.”

  “Tony bothering you again?”

  “Yes, but I am afraid this time he’s in the right. He’s been complaining about Matthew’s drinking. I was only thankful he didn’t mention the womanizing. It’s become impossible to take Matthew to any party nowadays unless the eldest daughter—not to mention the occasional wife—has been locked away. Will you run my bath?”

  William sat in the tub for more than half an hour and Kate had to drag him out before he fell asleep. Despite her prompting they arrived at the MacKenzies’ twenty-five minutes late, only to find that Matthew, already well on the way to being inebriated, was trying to pick up a congressman’s wife. William wanted to intervene, but Kate prevented him from doing so.

  “Don’t say anything,” she said.

  “I can’t stand here and watch him going to pieces in front of my eyes,” said William. “He’s my closest friend. I have to do something.”

  But in the end he took Kate’s advice and spent an unhappy evening watching Matthew become progressively drunker. Tony Simmons, from the other side of the room, was glancing pointedly at William, who was relieved at Matthew’s early departure, even though it was in the company of the only unattached woman left at the party. Once Matthew had gone, William started to relax for the first time that day.

  “How is little Richard?” Andrew MacKenzie asked.

  “He can’t say ‘three,’” said William.

  “That’s good news,” said Dr. MacKenzie. “He might end up doing something worthwhile after all.”

  “Exactly what I said,” said Kate. “What a good idea, William: he can be a doctor.”

  “Pretty safe,” said Andrew. “Don’t know many doctors who can count past two.”

  “Except when they send their bills,” said William.

  Andrew laughed. “Will you have another drink, Kate?”

  “No thank you, Andrew. It’s time we went home. If we stay any longer, only Tony Simmons and William will be left, and they can both count past two so we would all have to talk banking the rest of the night.”

  “Agreed,” said William. “Thank you for a lovely party, Andrew. By the way, I must apologize for Matthew’s behavior.”

  “Why?” said Dr. MacKenzie.

  “Oh, come on, Andrew, not only was he drunk, but there wasn’t a woman in the room who felt safe with him.”

  “I might well do the same if I were in his predicament,” said Andrew MacKenzie.

  “What makes you say that?” said William. “You can’t approve of his conduct just because he’s single.”

  “No, I don’t, but I try to understand them and realize I might be a little irresponsible faced with the same problem.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Kate.

  “My God!” said Dr. MacKenzie. “He’s your closest
friend and he hasn’t told you?”

  “Told us what?” they said together.

  Dr. MacKenzie stared at them both, a look of disbelief on his face.

  “Come into my study.”

  William and Kate followed the doctor into a small room, lined almost wall to wall with medical books, interspersed only with occasional, sometimes unframed, photographs of student days at Cornell.

  “Please sit down,” he said. “William, I make no apologies for what I am about to say, because I assumed you knew that Matthew was gravely ill—dying, in fact, of Hodgkin’s disease. He has known about his condition for over a year.”

  William fell back in his chair, for a moment unable to speak. “Hodgkin’s disease?”

  “An almost invariably fatal inflammation and enlargement of the lymph nodes,” said the doctor rather formally.

  William shook his head incredulously. “Why didn’t he tell me?”

  “You’ve known each other since you were at school together. My guess is he’s far too proud to burden anyone else with his problems. He’d rather die in his own way than let anyone know what he’s going through. I have begged him for the last six months to tell his father and I have certainly broken my professional promise to him by letting you know, but I can’t let you go on blaming him for something over which he has absolutely no control.”

  “Thank you, Andrew,” said William. “How can I have been so blind and so stupid?”

  “Don’t blame yourself,” said Dr. MacKenzie. “There’s no way you could have known.”

  “Is there really no hope?” asked William. “Are there no clinics, no specialists? Money would be no problem——”

  “Money can’t buy everything, William, and I have consulted the three best men in America and one in Switzerland. I’m afraid they’re all in agreement with my diagnosis. Medical science hasn’t yet discovered a cure for Hodgkin’s disease.”