A Prisoner of Birth

by Jeffrey Archer

  ‘I would normally agree with you,’ said Payne, looking a little disappointed, ‘but don’t you think that market is already rather overcrowded?’

  ‘Yes I do,’ said Danny, ‘if your mind is only focused on the main stadium, the swimming pool, the gymnastics hall, the athletes’ village or even the equestrian centre. But I’ve identified an opportunity that hasn’t attracted press attention or any public interest.’

  Payne leant forward and placed his elbows on the table as Danny sat back and relaxed for the first time. ‘Almost no one has noticed,’ Danny continued, ‘that the Olympic Committee has been considering six sites for the building of a velodrome. How many people can even tell you what takes place in a velodrome?’

  ‘Cycling,’ said Gary Hall.

  ‘Well done,’ said Danny. ‘And in a fortnight’s time we’ll learn which two sites the Olympic Committee has provisionally shortlisted. My bet is that even after the announcement is made, it won’t get much more than the odd paragraph in the local paper, and then only on the sports pages.’ Neither Payne nor Hall interrupted him. ‘But I have some inside information,’ said Danny, ‘which I acquired at a cost of four pounds ninety-nine.’

  ‘Four ninety-nine?’ repeated Payne, looking mystified.

  ‘The price of Cycling Monthly,’ said Danny, removing a copy from his briefcase. ‘In this month’s issue, they leave no doubt which two sites the Olympic Committee will be shortlisting, and their editor clearly has the ear of the minister.’ Danny passed the magazine over to Payne, open at the relevant page.

  ‘And you say the press haven’t followed this up?’ said Payne once he’d finished reading the magazine’s leader.

  ‘Why should they?’ said Danny.

  ‘But once the site has been announced,’ said Payne, ‘dozens of developers will apply for the contract.’

  ‘I’m not interested in building the velodrome,’ said Danny. ‘I intend to have made my money long before the first excavator moves on to the site.’

  ‘And how do you expect to do that?’

  ‘That, I admit, has cost me a little more than four ninety-nine, but if you look on the back of Cycling Monthly,’ said Danny, turning the magazine over, ‘you’ll see the name of the publishers printed in the bottom right-hand corner. The next edition won’t be on the stands for another ten days, but for a little more than the cover price I managed to get my hands on an early proof. There’s an article on page seventeen by the president of the British Cycling Federation, in which he says that the minister has assured him that only two sites are being taken seriously. The minister will be making an announcement to that effect in the House of Commons the day before the magazine goes on sale. But he goes on to point out which of the two sites his committee will be backing.’

  ‘Brilliant,’ said Payne. ‘But surely the owners of that site must be aware that they may be sitting on a fortune?’

  ‘Only if they can get their hands on next month’s Cycling Monthly, because at the moment they still think they’re on a shortlist of six.’

  ‘So what are you planning to do about it?’ asked Payne.

  ‘The site that is favoured by the Cycling Federation changed hands quite recently for three million pounds, although I haven’t been able to identify the buyer. However, once the minister has made her announcement, the site could be worth fifteen, perhaps even twenty million. While there are still six possible sites on the shortlist, if someone were to offer the present owner say four or five million, I suspect they might be tempted to take a quick turn rather than risk ending up with nothing. Our problem is that we have less than a fortnight before the shortlist of two is announced, and once the views of the Cycling Federation’s president become public, there will be nothing left in it for us.’

  ‘Can I make a suggestion?’ said Payne.

  ‘Go ahead,’ said Danny.

  ‘If you’re so certain there are only two sites in contention, why not purchase both of them? Your profit may not be as large, but it would be impossible for you to lose.’

  Danny now realized why Payne had become the youngest partner in the firm’s history.

  ‘Good idea,’ said Danny, ‘but there’s not much point in doing that until we’ve found out if the site we’re really interested in can be purchased. That’s where you come in. You’ll find all the details you need in this file, apart from who owns the site; after all, you have to do something to earn your money.’

  Payne laughed. ‘I’ll get straight on to it, Nick, and be back in touch with you as soon as I’ve tracked down the owner.’

  ‘Don’t hang about,’ said Danny, standing up. ‘The rewards will only be high if we can move quickly.’

  Payne produced the same smile as he stood to shake hands with his new client. As Danny turned to leave, he spotted a familiar invitation on the mantelpiece. ‘Will you be at Charlie Duncan’s drinks party this evening?’ he asked, sounding surprised.

  ‘Yes, I will. I occasionally invest in his shows.’

  ‘Then I may see you there,’ said Danny. ‘In which case you’ll be able to bring me up to date.’

  ‘Will do,’ said Payne. ‘Can I just check on one thing before I get started?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ said Danny, trying not to sound anxious.

  ‘When it comes to the investment, will you be putting up the full amount yourself ?’

  ‘Every penny,’ said Danny.

  ‘And you wouldn’t consider allowing anyone else to have a piece of the action?’

  ‘No,’ said Danny firmly.

  ‘Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,’ said Beth. ‘It’s been two weeks since my last confession.’

  Father Michael smiled the moment he recognized Beth’s gentle voice. He was always moved by her confessions, because what she considered to be a sin, most of his parishioners would not have thought worthy of mention.

  ‘I am ready to hear your confession, my child,’ he said, as if he had no idea who it was on the other side of the lattice window.

  ‘I have thought unworthily of another, and wished them ill.’

  Father Michael stirred. ‘Are you able to tell me what caused you to have such evil thoughts, my child?’

  ‘I wanted my daughter to have a better start in life than I did, and I felt that the headmistress of the school I had chosen did not give me a fair hearing.’

  ‘Is it possible that you were unable to see things from her point of view?’ said Father Michael. ‘After all, you may have misjudged her motives.’ When Beth didn’t respond, he added, ‘You must always remember, my child, that it is not for us to judge the Lord’s will, as He might have other plans for your little girl.’

  ‘Then I must ask for the Lord’s forgiveness,’ said Beth, ‘and wait to discover what is His will.’

  ‘I think that would be the wise course to take, my child. Meanwhile, you should pray and seek the Lord’s guidance.’

  ‘And what penance should I perform, Father, for my sins?’

  ‘You must learn to be contrite, and to forgive those who cannot hope to understand your problems,’ said Father Michael. ‘You will say one Our Father and two Hail Marys.’

  ‘Thank you, Father.’

  Father Michael waited until he heard the little door close and was sure that Beth had departed. He sat alone for some time while he gave Beth’s problem considerable thought, only relieved that he was not interrupted by another parishioner. He stepped out of the confessional box and headed for the vestry. He walked quickly past Beth who was on her knees, head bowed, a rosary in her hand.

  Once he’d reached the vestry, Father Michael locked the door, went over to his desk and dialled a number. This was one of those rare occasions when he felt the Lord’s will needed a little assistance.

  Big Al dropped the boss outside the front door a few minutes after eight. Once Danny had entered the building, he didn’t need to be told where Charlie Duncan’s office was. The sound of laughter and exuberant chatter was coming from the first floor,
and one or two of the guests had spilled out on to the landing.

  Danny climbed the shabby, badly lit staircase, passing framed posters of previous shows Duncan had produced, not one of which Danny remembered being a hit. He made his way past an intertwined young couple who didn’t give him as much as a glance. He walked into what was clearly Duncan’s office and quickly discovered why people were spilling out on to the landing. It was so crowded, the guests could hardly move. A young girl standing by the door offered him a drink and Danny asked for a glass of water – after all, he needed to concentrate if his investment was to show a dividend.

  Danny glanced around the room looking for someone he knew, and spotted Katie. She turned away the moment she saw him. It only made him smile and think of Beth. She’d always teased him about how shy he was, especially when he entered a room full of strangers. If Beth had been there, by now she would have been chatting to a group of people she’d never met before. How he missed her. Someone touched his arm, interrupting his thoughts, and he turned to find Gerald Payne standing by his side.

  ‘Nick,’ he said as if they were old friends. ‘Good news. I’ve tracked down the bank which represents the owner of one of the sites.’

  ‘And do you have any contacts there?’

  ‘Unfortunately not,’ admitted Payne, ‘but as they are based in Geneva, the owner may well be a foreigner who has no idea of the site’s potential value.’

  ‘Or he may be an Englishman who knows only too well.’ Danny had already discovered that Payne’s bottles were always three-quarters full.

  ‘Either way,’ said Payne, ‘we’ll find out tomorrow because the banker, a Monsieur Segat, has promised to call back in the morning and let me know if his client is willing to sell.’

  ‘And the other site?’ asked Danny.

  ‘Not much point in chasing after that if the owner of the first site is unwilling to sell.’

  ‘You’re probably right,’ said Danny, not bothering to point out that was what he had recommended in the first place.

  ‘Gerald,’ said Lawrence Davenport, leaning down to kiss Payne on both cheeks.

  Danny was surprised to see that Davenport was unshaven, and wearing a shirt that had clearly already been worn more than once that week. As the two men exchanged greetings, he felt such loathing for both of them that he found himself unable to join in the conversation.

  ‘Do you know Nick Moncrieff ?’ asked Payne.

  Davenport showed neither recognition nor interest.

  ‘We met at your closing-night party,’ said Danny.

  ‘Oh, right,’ said Davenport, showing a little more interest.

  ‘I saw the play twice.’

  ‘How flattering,’ said Davenport, giving him the smile reserved for his fans.

  ‘Will you be starring in Charlie’s next production?’ asked Danny.

  ‘No,’ replied Davenport. ‘Much as I adored being in Earnest, I can’t afford to devote my talents to the stage alone.’

  ‘Why’s that?’ asked Danny innocently.

  ‘You have to turn down so many opportunities if you commit yourself to a long run. You never know when someone’s going to ask you to star in a film, or take the lead in a new mini-series.’

  ‘That’s a pity,’ said Danny. ‘I would have invested considerably more if you’d been a member of the cast.’

  ‘How nice of you to say so,’ said Davenport. ‘Perhaps you’ll have another opportunity at some time in the future.’

  ‘I do hope so,’ said Danny, ‘because you’re a real star.’ He was becoming aware that there was no such thing as over-the-top with Lawrence Davenport, as long as you were talking to Lawrence Davenport about Lawrence Davenport.

  ‘Well,’ said Davenport, ‘if you really did want to make a shrewd investment, I have—’

  ‘Larry!’ said a voice. Davenport turned away and kissed another man, far younger than himself. The moment had gone, but Davenport had left the door wide open and Danny intended to barge in unannounced at some later date.

  ‘Sad,’ said Payne as Davenport drifted off.

  ‘Sad?’ prompted Danny.

  ‘He was the star of our generation at Cambridge,’ said Payne. ‘We all assumed he would have a glittering career, but it wasn’t to be.’

  ‘I notice that you call him Larry,’ said Danny. ‘Like Laurence Olivier.’

  ‘That’s about the only thing he has in common with Olivier.’

  Danny almost felt sorry for Davenport when he recalled Dumas’s words, With friends like these . . . ‘Well, time is still on his side,’ he added.

  ‘Not with his problems, it isn’t,’ said Payne.

  ‘His problems?’ said Danny as he felt a slap on the back.

  ‘Hi, Nick,’ said Charlie Duncan, another instant friend that money attracts.

  ‘Hi, Charlie,’ replied Danny.

  ‘Hope you’re enjoying the party,’ said Duncan, as he filled Danny’s empty glass with champagne.

  ‘Yes, thank you.’

  ‘Are you still thinking of investing in Bling Bling, old boy?’ whispered Duncan.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ said Danny. ‘You can put me down for ten thousand.’ He didn’t add, despite its being an unfathomable script.

  ‘Shrewd fellow,’ said Duncan, and slapped him on the back again. ‘I’ll drop a contract in the post tomorrow.’

  ‘Is Lawrence Davenport doing a film at the moment?’ Danny asked.

  ‘What makes you ask that?’

  ‘The unshaven look and the shabby clothes. I thought they might involve some part he’s playing.’

  ‘No, no,’ said Duncan laughing. ‘He’s not playing a part, he’s only just got out of bed.’ Once again he lowered his voice. ‘I’d steer clear of him at the moment, old boy.’

  ‘And why’s that?’ asked Danny.

  ‘He’s on the scrounge. Don’t lend him anything, because you’ll never get it back. God knows how much he owes just to the people in this room.’

  ‘Thanks for the warning,’ said Danny, putting the full glass of champagne on a passing tray. I must be off. But thanks, it’s been a great party.’

  ‘So soon? But you haven’t even met the stars you’ll be investing in.’

  ‘Yes I have,’ said Danny.

  She picked up the phone on her desk, and recognized the voice immediately.

  ‘Good evening, Father,’ she said. ‘How may I assist you?’

  ‘No, Miss Sutherland, it is I who wish to assist you.’

  ‘And what do you have in mind?’

  ‘I was hoping to help you come to a decision concerning Christy Cartwright, a young member of my congregation.’

  ‘Christy Cartwright?’ said the headmistress. ‘The name rings a bell.’

  ‘As indeed it should, Miss Sutherland. Any conscientious headmistress couldn’t fail to notice that Christy is potentially scholarship material in this dreadful age of league tables.’

  ‘And any conscientious headmistress could also not have failed to notice that the child’s parents were unmarried, a state of affairs that the governors of St Veronica’s still frown upon, as I’m sure you will recall from the days when you served on the board.’

  ‘And rightly so, Miss Sutherland,’ responded Father Michael. ‘But let me put your mind at rest by assuring you that I read the marriage banns three times at St Mary’s, and posted the date of their wedding on the church noticeboard as well as the parish magazine.’

  ‘But unfortunately the marriage never took place,’ the headmistress reminded him.

  ‘Due to unforeseen circumstances,’ murmured Father Michael.

  ‘I am sure that I don’t have to remind you, Father, of Pope John Paul’s encyclical Evangelium Vitae making it clear that suicide, and indeed murder, are still, in the eyes of the Church, mortal sins. This, I fear, leaves me with no choice but to wash my hands of the matter.’

  ‘You wouldn’t be the first person in history to do that, Miss Sutherland.’

  ‘That was unworthy
of you, Father,’ snapped the headmistress.

  ‘You are right to rebuke me, Miss Sutherland, and I apologize. I fear that I am only human, and am therefore prone to making mistakes. Perhaps one of them was when an exceptionally talented young woman made an application to be headmistress of St Veronica’s, and I failed to inform the governors that she had recently had an abortion. I’m sure I don’t need to remind you, Miss Sutherland, that the Holy Father also considers that to be a mortal sin.’

  59

  FOR SEVERAL WEEKS, Danny had been avoiding Professor Mori. He feared his effort for the essay competition would not have impressed the garrulous professor.

  But after he left the morning lecture, Danny saw Mori standing by the door of his office. There was no escaping the beckoning finger. Like a schoolboy who knows he’s about to be given a flogging, Danny meekly followed him into his study. He waited for the stinging remarks, the barbed witticisms, the poisoned arrows aimed at a static target.

  ‘I’m disappointed,’ began Professor Mori as Danny lowered his head. How was it possible that he could handle Swiss bankers, West End impresarios, senior partners and seasoned solicitors, but was a quivering wreck in the presence of this man? ‘So now you know,’ continued the professor, ‘how it must feel to be an Olympic finalist who fails to step on to the podium.’

  Danny looked up, puzzled.

  ‘Congratulations,’ said a beaming Professor Mori. ‘You came fourth in the prize essay competition. As it counts towards your degree, I’m expecting great things from you when you sit your final exams.’ He rose, still smiling. ‘Congratulations,’ he repeated, shaking Danny warmly by the hand.

  ‘Thank you, professor,’ said Danny, trying to take in the news. He could hear Nick saying, Damn good show, old chap, and he only wished he could share the news with Beth. She would be so proud. How much longer could he survive without seeing her?

  He left the professor and ran along the corridor, out of the door and down the steps, to see Big Al standing by the back door of the car looking anxiously at his watch. Danny inhabited three different worlds, and in the next one he couldn’t afford to be late for his probation officer.