Kane and Abel

by Jeffrey Archer

  ‘Do we?’ George asked hopefully.

  ‘No,’ said Jilks, ‘but it will give me some time to work on our defence. When Mr Rosnovski has had a chance to check through the list of officials he’s supposed to have bribed, it wouldn’t surprise me if he’s never had direct contact with anyone on that list. It’s possible that Osborne always acted as an intermediary without ever putting Mr Rosnovski fully in the picture. So my job will be to prove that Osborne exceeded his authority as a director of the Baron Group. Mind you, Mr Rosnovski, if you have ever met any of the people on the list, for God’s sake tell me, because you can be sure the Justice Department will put every one of them on the witness stand. But for now, go to bed and try to get some sleep. You must be exhausted. I’ll see you first thing in the morning.’

  Abel was arrested in his daughter’s apartment at 8.30 the following morning, and driven by a US marshal to the Federal Court for the Southern District of New York. The brightly coloured St Valentine’s Day decorations in the store windows heightened his sense of loneliness. Jilks had hoped that his arrangements had been so discreet the press would not have found out about them, but when Abel reached the courthouse he was once again surrounded by photographers and reporters. He ran the gauntlet into the courtroom with George in front of him and Jilks behind. They sat silently in the corridor waiting for their case to be called.

  Although they waited for several hours, when they were finally called the indictment hearing lasted only a few minutes, and felt strangely anticlimactic. The clerk read out the seventeen charges, and H. Trafford Jilks answered ‘Not Guilty’ to every one of them on behalf of his client. He then requested bail. The Government, as agreed, made no objection. Jilks asked Judge Prescott for at least three months to prepare his defence. The judge set a trial date of May 17.

  Abel was free again; free to face the press and more of their barbed questions and flashing bulbs. The chauffeur had the car waiting for him at the bottom of the courtroom steps, with the back door open and the engine running. He had to do some very skilful manoeuvring to escape the reporters who were still pursuing their story. When the car came to a halt on East Fifty-Seventh Street, Abel turned to George and put his arm around his shoulder.

  ‘Now listen, George, you’re going to have to run the group while I get my defence sorted out. Let’s hope you don’t have to go on running it after that,’ he said, attempting a laugh.

  ‘Of course I won’t have to, Abel. Mr Jilks will get you off, you’ll see. Keep smiling,’ he said, and left the other two men as they entered the apartment building.

  ‘I don’t know what I’d do without George,’ Abel told Jilks as they settled down in Florentyna’s living room. ‘We came over on the boat together forty years ago, and we’ve been through a hell of a lot since then. Now it looks as if there’s a whole lot more ahead of us to worry about, so let’s get on with it, Mr Jilks. Have you caught up with Osborne yet?’

  ‘No, but I have six men working on it, and I understand the Justice Department has at least another six, so we can be fairly certain one of us will find him. Not that we want the other side to get to him first.’

  ‘What about the man Osborne sold the file to?’ asked Abel.

  ‘I have some people I trust in Chicago detailed to run that down.’

  ‘Good,’ said Abel. ‘Now the time has come to go over that file of names you left with me last night.’

  Jilks began by reading the indictment, and then went over the charges one by one. Abel made notes.

  After nearly three weeks of back-to-back meetings, Jilks was finally convinced there was nothing more Abel could tell him. During those three weeks there had been no leads on the whereabouts of Henry Osborne, for either Jilks’s men or the Justice Department. Nor was there any information on who Henry had sold his information to, and Jilks was beginning to wonder if Abel had guessed right. Not that they could find any direct connection to William Kane.

  As the trial date drew nearer, Abel started to face the possibility that he might actually have to go to jail. He was fifty-four, and fearful of the prospect of spending the last years of his life the same way he had spent the first few. As H. Trafford Jilks pointed out, if the Government was able to prove its case, there was enough evidence in Osborne’s file to send Abel to prison for a very long time. Abel doubted that any new business could make much progress without the kind of handouts and small bribes to various people documented with such sickening accuracy in Jilks’s file. He thought bitterly about the smooth, impassive face of the young William Kane, sitting in his Boston office on a pile of inherited money whose doubtful origins were safely buried under generations of respectability.

  In the midst of Abel’s unhappiness came a ray of light. Florentyna wrote a touching letter enclosing some photographs of her son, and saying that she still loved and respected her father and believed in his innocence.

  Three days before the trial was due to open, the Justice Department tracked Henry Osborne down in New Orleans. They would never have found him if he hadn’t turned up in a local hospital with two broken legs, after welching on several gambling debts. They don’t like that sort of thing in New Orleans. After the hospital had put plaster casts on Osborne’s legs, the Justice Department assisted him onto an Eastern Airlines flight to New York.

  Henry Osborne was charged the next day with conspiracy to defraud, and denied bail. H. Trafford Jilks asked the court’s permission to be allowed to question him. The judge granted his request, but Jilks gained little satisfaction from the hour-long exchange. It was clear that Osborne had already made a deal with the Government, agreeing to testify against Abel in return for facing lesser charges.

  ‘No doubt Mr Osborne will find the charges against him are surprisingly lenient,’ the lawyer commented drily.

  ‘So that’s his game,’ said Abel. ‘I take the rap while he escapes. Now we’ll never find out who he sold that goddamn file to.’

  ‘No, that was the one thing he was willing to talk about. He assured me that it wasn’t William Kane. He said he would never have sold the file to Kane, however much he offered. A man from Chicago called Harry Smith paid Osborne $25,000 for the file. Would you believe it, Harry Smith turns out to be an alias; there are dozens of Harry Smiths in the Chicago area and not one of them fits the description.’

  ‘Find him,’ said Abel. And find him before the trial opens.’

  ‘We’re working around the clock on that,’ said Jilks. ‘If he’s still in Chicago, we’ll track him down. Osborne said that this so-called Harry Smith told him he only wanted the information for private purposes, and had no intention of revealing its contents to anyone in authority.’

  ‘Then why did he want the file in the first place?’

  ‘The inference was blackmail. That’s why Osborne disappeared: he wanted to avoid you. If you think about it, Mr Rosnovski, he could be telling the truth. After all, the contents of the file are extremely damaging to him, and he must have been as alarmed as you when he heard it was in the hands of the Justice Department. No wonder he tried to lie low, and then agreed to testify against you once they’d caught up with him.’

  ‘Do you know,’ said Abel, ‘the only reason I ever employed Osborne was because he hated William Kane as much as I did, and now Kane has turned that to his advantage.’

  ‘There’s no proof that Mr Kane was involved in any way,’ said Jilks.

  ‘I don’t need proof.’

  The trial was delayed at the request of the prosecution, who said they needed more time to question Henry Osborne, who was now their principal witness. Trafford Jilks objected strongly, and informed the court that the health of his client, who was no longer a young man, was failing under the strain of the false accusations against him. The plea did not move Judge Prescott, who agreed to the prosecution’s request and postponed the trial for a further four weeks.

  For Abel, those twenty-eight days could be measured in hours, and two days before the trial was due to open, he resigned himself
to being found guilty and facing a long jail sentence. Then Jilks’s investigator in Chicago found the man called Harry Smith. He turned out to be a local private detective who had used an alias under strict instructions from his client, a firm of lawyers in New York. It cost Jilks a thousand dollars and another twenty-four hours before ‘Harry Smith’ revealed that the firm concerned had been Cohen, Cohen and Yablons.

  ‘Thaddeus Cohen is Kane’s personal lawyer. They go back to Harvard days,’ said Abel. ‘And way back, when I bought the hotel group from Kane’s bank, some of the paperwork was done by a man named Thomas Cohen. For some reason the bank used two lawyers for the transaction.’

  ‘What do you want me to do about this?’ George asked Abel.

  ‘Nothing,’ interrupted Trafford Jilks. ‘We don’t need any more trouble before the trial. Do you understand, Mr Rosnovski?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Abel. ‘I’ll deal with Kane once the trial is over. Now listen, Mr Jilks, and listen carefully. You must go back to Osborne immediately and tell him the file was passed on by “Harry Smith” directly to William Kane, and that Kane is using it to gain revenge on both of us, and stress “both of us”. I promise you, when Osborne hears that, he won’t open his mouth in the witness box, no matter what promises he’s made to the Justice Department. Henry Osborne’s the one man alive who may hate Kane more than I do.’

  ‘If that is your instruction,’ said Jilks, who clearly wasn’t convinced, ‘I will carry it out, but I must warn you, Mr Rosnovski, that Osborne’s placing the blame firmly on your shoulders, and to date he’s been no help to our side at all.’

  ‘You can take my word on this, Mr Jilks. His attitude will change the moment you tell him about Kane’s involvement.’

  H. Trafford Jilks obtained permission to spend a further ten minutes with Henry Osborne in his cell. Osborne listened, but said nothing. It seemed to Jilks that his news had made no impression on him, but he decided he would wait until the next morning before he informed Abel. He wanted his client to get a good night’s sleep before the trial opened the following day.

  Four hours before the trial was due to start, Henry Osborne was found hanging in his cell by the guard bringing in his breakfast.

  He had used a Harvard tie.

  The trial opened for the Government without its star witness, and the prosecuting attorney appealed to the judge for a further extension. After hearing another impassioned plea by H. Trafford Jilks on the state of his client’s health, Judge Prescott refused the request.

  The public followed every word of the Chicago Baron Trial on television and in the newspapers - and to Abel’s dismay, Zaphia sat in the front row of the public gallery, clearly enjoying every moment of his discomfort. After nine days in court, the prosecution knew that their case was not standing up, and offered to make a deal. During an adjournment, Jilks briefed Abel on their proposal.

  ‘They’ll drop all the main indictments of bribery if you plead guilty to misdemeanours on two of the minor counts of attempting to improperly influence a public official.’

  ‘What do you estimate are my chances of getting off completely if I turn them down?’

  ‘Fifty-fifty, I’d say,’ said Jilks.

  And if I don’t get off?’

  ‘Prescott is tough. The sentence wouldn’t be a day under six years.’

  And if I agree to the deal and plead guilty to the two minor charges, what then?’

  A heavy fine. I’d be surprised if it was anything more than that.’

  Abel sat silently for a few moments, considering the alternatives.

  ‘I’ll plead guilty. Let’s get the damn thing over with.’

  The State Attorney informed the judge they were dropping fifteen of the charges against Abel Rosnovski. H. Trafford Jilks rose from his place and told the court his client wished to change his plea to guilty to the two remaining misdemeanour charges. The jury was dismissed. Judge Prescott was uncompromising in his summing up, telling Abel in no uncertain terms that the right to do business did not include the right to suborn public officials. Bribery was a crime, and a worse crime when condoned by an intelligent and competent man who should not need to stoop to such levels. In other countries, he said pointedly, making Abel feel once again like a raw immigrant, bribery might be an accepted way of life, but that was not the case in the United States of America. He gave Abel a six-month suspended sentence and a $25,000 fine, plus costs.

  George took Abel back to the Baron and they sat in the penthouse drinking whiskey for more than an hour before Abel said anything.

  ‘George, I want you to contact Peter Parfitt and pay him the million dollars he wants for his two per cent of Lester’s. Once I have my hands on eight per cent of the bank, I’ll invoke Article Seven and bring William Kane to his knees in his own boardroom.’

  George nodded sadly, aware that no sooner had one battle ended than another was about to begin.

  A few days later, the State Department announced that Poland had been granted most favoured nation status in foreign trade with the United States, and that the next American Ambassador to Warsaw would be John Moors Cabot.

  55

  ON A BITTER February evening, William Kane sat back in his armchair and reread Thaddeus Cohen’s report.

  Henry Osborne had handed over the file that contained all the information he needed to finish Abel Rosnovski, pocketed his $25,000 and disappeared. Very much in character, thought William, as he replaced the copy of the file in his safe. The original had been sent to the Justice Department in Washington, DC by Thaddeus Cohen.

  Once Rosnovski had returned from Turkey and been arrested, William had waited for him to retaliate, expecting him to dump all his Interstate stock immediately. This time, he was prepared. He had warned his broker that Interstate might come onto the market in large amounts, and his instructions were clear. The stock was to be purchased immediately so the price would not drop. He was prepared to put up the money from his trust as a short-term measure, to avoid any unpleasantness at the bank. He had also circulated a memo to all the stockholders of Lester’s asking them not to sell any Interstate shares without first consulting him.

  As the weeks passed and Rosnovski made no move, William began to believe that Thaddeus Cohen had been correct in assessing that nothing was traceable back to him. Rosnovski must be placing all the blame on Osborne’s shoulders.

  Cohen had predicted that with Osborne as the prosecution’s star witness, Rosnovski would end up behind bars for a long time, making it impossible for him to invoke Article Seven and ever be a threat to the bank or William again. William hoped a conviction might also make Richard come to his senses and return home. Surely these revelations about the Rosnovski girl’s father could only make him embarrassed, and realize that his own father had been right all along. Divorce would be William’s final vindication.

  William would happily have welcomed Richard back. There were two vacant places on the board of Lester’s, created by the retirement of Tony Simmons and the recent death of Ted Leach. Thaddeus Cohen had also reported that Richard had made a series of brilliant acquisitions on behalf of Florentyna, but surely the opportunity to become the next chairman of Lester’s would mean more to him than working for a dress shop.

  Something else that spurred William on was that he did not much care for the new breed of directors now working at the bank. Jake Thomas, the vice chairman, was still the favourite to succeed William as chairman. He might have been educated at Princeton and graduated summa cum laude, but he was flashy -too flashy - thought William, and far too ambitious, not at all the right sort to be the next chairman of Lester’s. William would have to hang on until his sixty-fifth birthday in eleven years’ time, hoping he would be able to convince Richard to return to New York and join him at the bank long before then. He knew that Kate would have had Richard back on any terms, but as the years passed he found it more difficult to give way to his better judgement. Thank heavens Virginia’s marriage was prospering; and now she was pregnant.
If Richard refused to give up the Rosnovski girl and come home, William would leave everything to Virginia - if she produced a grandson.

  William was at his desk at the bank when he had his first heart attack. It wasn’t a serious one, and his doctor told him he could live another twenty years if he was willing to slow down.

  William convalesced at home, reluctantly allowing Jake Thomas to take overall responsibility for the bank’s decisions while he was away. But he soon became restless, disobeyed his doctor’s orders and returned to his desk. He quickly re-established his position as chairman, for fear that Thomas had taken on too much authority in his absence.

  From time to time Kate plucked up the courage to suggest that he should make a direct approach to Richard, but William remained adamant. ‘He knows he can come home whenever he wants to. All he has to do is end his relationship with that woman.’

  The day Henry Osborne committed suicide, William had a second heart attack. Kate sat by his bedside all through the night, and his obsession with Abel Rosnovski’s forthcoming trial somehow kept him alive. He followed the proceedings in the columns of The New York Times, although he knew Osborne’s death would put Rosnovski in a far stronger position.

  When Rosnovski escaped with nothing more than a six-month suspended sentence and a $25,000 fine, William was so distressed that Kate feared he would have another heart attack. It wasn’t hard to figure out that the Government must have made a deal with Rosnovski’s lawyer. But within days William was surprised to find himself feeling slightly guilty, and somewhat relieved, that Rosnovski had not been sent to prison.

  Once the trial was over, William didn’t care if Rosnovski dumped his Interstate Airways stock or not. He was ready for him this time. But still nothing happened, and as the weeks passed, William began to lose interest in the Chicago Baron and to think only of Richard, who he now desperately wanted to see again. ‘Old age and fear of death allows for sudden changes of the heart’, he had once read.