by Stan Mason
Wesley Morris stared at him as if demanding an answer to his question. ‘You either had to marry the boss’s daughter, which was impossible in the case of a major bank or be lucky,’ he offered breaking into the banker’s thoughts. ‘That’s what Napoleon asked his generals before he appointed them. ‘Are you lucky?’
The banker came back to reality and turned his attention to the other man as the car sped along the twisting winding roads. ‘You don’t come from the south-west... not with an accent like that.’
Morris smiled and sniffed noisily. ‘A Cockney,’ he replied proudly. ‘Born within the sound of Bow Bells in the East End of London. When the war broke out in 1939, they sent a load of kids from the Docks Area in the East End down to Cornwall. After the war I went back to London but I couldn’t wait to get back to the fresh air in the countryside. You can life at a decent pace here without killing yourself trying to make a fortune. So here I am as large as life enjoying myself.’
The banker shrugged his shoulders aimlessly. A Cockney. He stared at the other man’s clothes again. It figured! No Cornishman would dare to dress like that!
***
It was half an hour later before they reached their destination. Morris stopped the car some distance away to allow the banker to view the area from a vantage point. The mine reached out to the sea from a variety of different angles presenting a forbidding sight as it stood at the edge of the Atlantic Ocean like a gigantic monster searching for prey. It was cast in stone and rock, majestically quiescent, as though waiting patiently to be transformed into something quite beautiful like a toad waiting to be turned into a prince after being kissed by a princess. Yet, at the same time, it gave the impression that it waited in vain. The existing beauty was determined by its ruggedness, sculpted by the wind and rain as nature prescribed, and it possessed an aura which ostensibly resented its lack of attention from mankind. Botallack posed like a grand Amazon, proud and arrogant, scorned by man, defiled and yet still claiming to be a virgin. The main engine houses situated on the left-hand side on a rocky bastion which thrust out to sea were her unseeing eyes. Below them the relentless waves battered the shore persistently even though they seemed to know that they were making little impression on the coastline. A closer examination would show that a great deal of work had taken place in the mine over the years although most of the woodwork had rotted or decayed into a dangerous state. However, from the vantage point at which they stared, the mine in its entirety was magnificent... a wonderful attractive place, understated in natural splendour, reflecting superiority in its rough-hew grandeur.
Sadler was extremely impressed at first sight. He had considered that his task would be to peer down some misbegotten hole in the ground, accessed by means of a wheel, a pulley, and a series of ladders. Contrarily, Botallack took his breath away! From the moment he saw it, an invisible power seemed to grip him, influencing him to become involved in the venture... almost creating an obsession. He recognised the potential immediately and he wanted to be part of it!
Morris watched the banker’s expression very carefully. A lot depended on initial impressions and he badly wanted Sadler to show some interest in the project. At first he was uncertain, and then he noticed the glow in the banker’s eyes and he knew instinctively that he was going to be successful in his quest for finance.
‘The key to the main gate is held by the occupant of that bungalow over there.’ He pointed to a small dwelling and they left the car to reach it by means of a narrow path. Morris snapped the flap covering the letter-box and stepped a pace backward. After a short while, he shuffled forwards to repeat the action. When the door opened, they were confronted by a remarkably tall beautiful woman with blue eyes, long golden-coloured hair, high cheekbones and a perfect complexion. She wore a white bathrobe over her willowy body and fluttered her eyes at them as though she had just emerged from a darkened room. Sadler was surprised by her beauty but her words startled him even more. They rolled off her tongue sweetly in a very controlled manner as though she had been tutoring at a finishing school for young ladies. She stared directly into the banker’s eyes, holding his gaze for what seemed to be a very long time.
‘I’ve come to borrow the keys again, Miss Lancaster,’ explained Morris breaking the spell as he looked on with amusement.
The woman moved inside and reached for the key from a key-rack which she passed to him. ‘Please return it when you’re ready to leave,’ she uttered in smooth golden tones, glancing once more at Sadler before closing the door.
‘Some woman, eh?’ commented Morris as they walked away from the bungalow. ‘She really took a shine to you.’ He stared at Sadler who stood quite still as though lost in thought. ‘Come on, Mr. Banker,’ he continued. ‘We’ve got work to do!’
‘Who is she?’ demanded Sadler, moving to catch up with him.
‘That lady, would you believe it, is a wealthy heiress. Yes, sir! A wealthy heiress!’
‘What’s she doing out here in a decrepit old bungalow looking after a key to an un-worked mine? It doesn’t make sense.’
Morris’s face creased into a smile. ‘It’s the old story,’ he related easily. ‘Poor little rich girl bored with life meets undesirable man and gets in the family way. They cut her off without a penny. Result... poverty as a result of lust or love, whichever way you look at it. Too much passion and a lot of bloody-mindedness on the part of her family. They’ve all got it down here in Cornwall, you know. Poverty! It’s like a damned disease.’
The banker shrugged his shoulders. ‘So she went off with her lover and settled down to a simple life. What’s wrong with that?
‘What’s wrong with it!’ repeated the other man. ‘Don’t you know anything about life. There are no happy endings when you live in these parts. She lost the baby and then the man. Rich girls who’ve been to finishing school and run out of money aren’t fitted to cope with poverty.’
‘Some lover she teamed up with,’ remarked Sadler glumly.
They arrived at the gate and Morris inserted the great key into the padlock. ‘You make the word ‘lover’ sound like Casanova. He was just another slob with a lot of muscle and very little brain-power. He was an idiot who stepped out of his class. She was better off without him.’ He pulled the gate open and entered. ‘I hope you don’t expect too much from this. I mean it’s not a working mine at the moment. I just wanted you to see what’s on offer.’
They went over the terrain for half-an-hour before returning to the dwelling to return the key. This time the woman was dressed and Sadler stared at her admiringly. ‘Here’ the key,’ he said unnecessarily, handing it back to her. ‘What’s your first name?’
She paused for a moment before replying. ‘Della,’ she told him. ‘If you need the key again, don ‘t hesitate to call. ‘ Within an instant, she ushered them out and closed the door behind them.
‘You must tell me more about her,’ demanded the banker as they returned to the car.
‘I thought you came to get a bird’s eye view of the mine to lend me the money,’ complained Morris bitterly.
Sadler inhaled deeply. The word ‘money’ brought him quickly back to his senses. The man was right! He had come to determine whether the mine was a worthy lending proposition. ‘Tell me more about Wheal Owles and Wheal Edwards,’ he advanced. ‘And don’t try to sidetrack me because it won’t work. What’s it all about?’
Morris chewed on his lower lip angry at the perception of the other man. He realised that he would have to come clean and remained silent until starting the engine and driving off. ‘Uranium!’ he blurted out suddenly. ‘It’s no secret but not many people know about it. They prospected uranium in Wheal Edwards many years ago. They found quite a lot but it didn’t have much value in those days. They didn’t know what to do with it. It’s a different story now. But mining uranium’s not the main reason for buying the mine. It’s simply a bonus.’
The banker looked straight ahead at the winding road with a number of thoughts passing through his mind ‘Is there anything else you have to tell me?’
‘There’s nothing more. I swear it.’
‘If I help you to buy the mine, it will be encrusted with conditions. You’d best know that from the start... and you won’t like some of them. I want you to be clear on that point.’
The big man stopped the car and slapped Sadler sharply on the knee causing him an element of pain. ‘I knew you’d come through!’ he said triumphantly. ‘I had that feeling in my water and if it costs me a higher amount of fees... well that’s no problem.’
‘I’m not talking about interest rates, Mr. Morris but we’ll come to that later. Talk to me about Della Lancaster.’
Morris gave him a puzzled glance but decided in his euphoria to humour the banker, ‘Family of millionaires,’ he repeated. ‘The trouble is a young rich girl doesn’t get much satisfaction from toffee-nosed upper-class males. Most of them are posers frequenti8ng tennis clubs, croquet grounds an polo fields. One day the family hired a carpenter to do some work on Lancaster Castle. That’s when Homer White came in. A full-blooded West Indian from Jamaica as black as the ace of spades. But she saw him in a different light. Three months later, she confessed to the family that she was pregnant. The family was disgusted but they believed that the father was one of the toffee-nosed tennis players. Who’d believe it? A long line of Lancasters running for seven hundred years from Nrman times ending with a five second orgasm. I ask you. When the family found out it was White, they exiled her. She went off with him and then lost the baby. That’s all I know except that she got the job of keeping the key to the gate of the mine.’ He started the engine again and drove off. ‘So what are these conditions you have in mind?’ he asked nonchalantly.
Sadler stared out of the window for a while framing the reply. ‘The main condition is simply this... if I lend you the money, I want fifty per cent of the business.’ He waited for the onslaught but the was nothing but silence.
The fat man’s eyes narrowed as he fought his surprise, keeping the car on a straight course. ‘Are you telling me that this is something personal and nothing to do with the bank?’ he countered perceptively beginning to lose his temper. ‘Are you sure fifty per cent’s enough? Why don’t you take the lot and operate the bloody mine yourself!’
The banker was unmoved by the irrational display of temper. ‘We’ll form a limited company with fifty per cent of the share capital each. Everything will be documented and recorded... no more need to rely on memory. I’ll control the policy, the planning, the finance, the administration, and the organisation. You’ll conduct the business operation at the mine. What do you say?’
‘I’ll tell you what I have to say,’ came the caustic reply. ‘Give me one good reason why I should give you half the business.’
‘Half of what business? Without me you can’t even start. No finance... no prospects. If the mine’s successful there’ll be enough for both of us. Trust me!’
Morris glanced at him for a moment turning back to look at the road ahead. He smiled slowly at first and then began to bellow with laughter. ‘Trust you!’ he roared to the discomfort of the other man. ‘I don’t even know you!’ You’re a lender at the bank yet you ask for fifty per cent of the business for yourself. They call that corrupt where I come from. Either you’re out of your mind or you’re crooked and I know which one I’d choose.’ He thought about the other conditions... the responsibility of a limited company, the bureaucracy, and the documentation. He would be at the mercy of the banker at all times. Sadler had no problems with the project. If Morris refused to agree to his terms, nothing would be lost except a good commercial opportunity.
Some time later, the banker sat at his desk thoughtfully. He was now at the threshold of an action which, if it went wrong, might end with his incarceration in a penal institution for a very long time. It wouldn’t be the first time a bank manager had resorted to theft and fraud but there was no other way to raise the money required. There was always the possibility that he might be able to repay the deficit before it was discovered. It all depended on how quickly the mine could make a profit. There was another factor which he needed to consider. What if he stole the money and the mine failed? He pressed a button on the communication system to speak to the Accountant. ‘Brown!’ he called out. ‘Can you let me have a list of dormant accounts?’
‘I’ll bring it in right away, sir,’ came the reply.
Milking dormant accounts was the only way. In some cases, customers had died and as no one realised that they had saved funds with the bank, the funds remained untouched for eternity. It was easy to spot them because large amounts lay in the accounts for years and no withdrawals were made during that time. There were also cases where people simply forgot that they had deposited sums of money with the bank. What a strange world it was when millions of people struggled daily to earn a crust... or died from poverty... yet large sums of money idled away uselessly in the treasure chests of the bank.
He telephoned Tyrone Baker, the sales director of his former empire who arrived at the branch a little later. The man was filled with curiosity and excitement knowing that the banker would not have called him on a fool’s errand. They hadn’t spoken to each other for over four years and now... out of the blue... there was an urgent summons.
‘I think we’re on to something big, Tyrone,’ he began, telling the visitor all about the project.
‘Sounds good,’ responded the other man when he had finished. ‘I’ll organised production of the tin and uranium, and arrange for the storage of nuclear waste. But I’ll have to do some research on mining. It’s not one of my strong points.’
The banker nodded in agreement, ‘We can make it work like in the old days... fast... professional... with a fortune in mind. What say you?’
‘How long will it be before you ditch Morris?’ enquired Baker.
‘Ditch Morris?’ retorted Sadler. ‘He’ll own half the business.’
Baker gave him a knowing smile. ‘It’s going to be like old times, I can see that already. Just like old times!’
‘Find a company that’s been running about three years. I don’t care what state it’s in. There’s so much potential, my head’s already started spinning.’
Baker produced a pen and a notepad from his jacket pocket. ‘By the way,’ he asked casually. ‘What’s my share in this venture?’
‘Just keep your powder dry for the moment, old friend,’ parried the banker. ‘There’s enough in this for all of us. Now shoot off and devise a plan.’
The other man saluted jokingly in a smart military fashion and made for the door with a grin on his face. After his departure, thee was a knock on the door and Phyllis Roberts entered.
‘You left a message that you wanted to see me,’ she prompted sweetly.
‘Can you find out whether the bank handles any one of the Lancaster accounts. I need to discuss something with Clement Lancaster, the Chief Executive of the Group. You have a lot of contacts at Head Office from the old days, don’t you?’
She chewed on the end of her shorthand pencil for a few moments. I think I can arrange that,’ she replied. ‘Wasn’t that Tyrone Baker in here just now? One of the generals of your old empire.’
His jaw dropped a fraction in surprise at her comment. Miss Roberts was a curious cat with a very long nose. It was obvious that she had researched everything about him and his past life. ‘You’re wasted in this organisation, Phyllis,’ he told her glumly. ‘I haven’t forgotten about Thursday.’
‘And Sunday morning.’
He stared at her for a moment with a silent gasp. ‘What?’
‘I want to wake up on Sunday morning with you beside me. I’ve been waiting for a long time for it to happen.’ She went to the door and turned slowly. ‘Mr. Baker’s photograph
was splashed all over the newspaper when your business collapsed.’
‘But that was almost five years ago,’ he managed to say.
She smiled sweetly leaving the room, closing the door quietly behind her.,
Phyllis Roberts was becoming a millstone around his neck. If he transferred her to another branch in the bank she would retaliate viciously. He could ill afford the attention from senior management. Inevitably he would have to dance to her tune for a while. There had to be a way to keep her quiet once and for all... something of a permanent nature!
Chapter Five
When the train arrived at Plymouth, Ivan and Peter alighted to be met by Charles Morton, the Member of Parliament, dealing with the case. They shook hands and he took them to a nearby restaurant. Morton ordered lunch and, as they waited for the food to be brought, he cleared his throat to talk amiably about the weather and other trivial matters. Ivan stopped him after a short while, frustrated by the idle chatter.
‘Please!’ he remonstrated angrily. ‘We would like to know what is happening with our application for asylum!’
Morton shifted uncomfortably before replying, uneasy that the Russian was so direct. ‘Well, to put it bluntly,’ he responded, ‘we’ve hit a snag.’
‘What does that mean?’ asked Ivan, becoming suspicious that either the bureaucracy or corruptness in the West was as bad as that in the East.
‘It’s most unfortunate,’ continued the Member of Parliament, ‘but the British Government finds itself at the centre of a great deal of embarrassment,’
‘Embarrassment!’ echoed the Russian irately at the top of his voice.
The politician paused, glancing nervously at other diners nearby. ‘Your Government is demanding that we return you all immediately. If not, they threaten to punish your families and treat you as criminals. They also threaten to close all diplomatic channels with us if we don’t comply. So you see it’s become extremely complicated.’
