Jeffrey Archer - A Prisoner Of Birth

De Coubertin bowed low. "We are touched that you invited us to your beautiful home, Sir Nicholas. May I introduce Monsieur Bresson, the bank's chief executive, and Monsieur Segat, who handles our major accounts." Danny shook hands with all three men as Molly reappeared carrying a tray laden with tea and biscuits.

"Gentlemen," said Danny as he sat down. "Perhaps I could begin by asking you to bring me up to date on the current state of my account."

"Certainly," said Monsieur Bresson, opening an unmarked brown file. "Your number-one account is showing a balance of just over fifty-seven million dollars, which is currently accumulating interest at the rate of 2.75 percent per annum. Your number-two account," he continued, "has a balance of just over one million dollars. This was known at the bank as your grandfather's stamp account, which he used whenever he wanted to add to his collection at short notice."

"You can combine the two accounts," said Danny, "as I won't be buying any stamps." Bresson nodded. "And I have to say, Monsieur Bresson, that I find a 2.75 percent return on my capital unacceptable, and that I shall in future be putting my money to better use."

"Can you tell us what you have in mind?" asked Segat.

"Yes," said Danny. "I shall be investing in three areas-property, stocks and shares, and possibly bonds, which incidentally are showing a current return of 7.12 percent across the board. I will also set aside a small amount, never more than ten percent of my total worth, for speculative ventures."

"Then may I suggest in the circumstances," said Segat, "that we move your money into three separate accounts that cannot be traced back to you, while appointing nominee directors as your representatives."

"In the circumstances?" repeated Danny.

"Since 9/11, the Americans and the British are taking far more interest in anyone who moves large sums of money around. It would not be wise for your name to keep popping up on their radar."

"Good thinking," said Danny.

"Assuming that you agree to our setting up these accounts," added Bresson, "may I ask whether you will wish to make additional use of the bank's expertise in managing your investments? I mention this, because our property department, for example, employs over forty specialists in the field-seven of them in London -who currently manage a portfolio of just under one hundred billion dollars, and our investment department is considerably larger."

"I shall take advantage of everything you have to offer," said Danny, "and do not hesitate to let me know if you think I am making a wrong decision. However, over the past couple of years I have spent a considerable amount of time following the fortunes of twenty-eight particular companies and I have decided to invest some of my capital in eleven of them."

"What will be your policy when it comes to purchasing shares in those companies?" asked Segat.

"I would want you to buy in small tranches whenever they come on the market-never aggressively, as I do not wish to be responsible for influencing the market either way. Also, I never want to hold more than two percent of any one company." Danny handed Bresson a list of the companies whose progress he had been monitoring long before he had escaped from prison.

Bresson ran his finger down the names, and smiled. "We have been keeping an eye on several of these companies ourselves, but I am fascinated to see that you have identified one or two that we have not yet considered."

"Then please double-check them, and if you have any doubts, tell me."

Danny picked up one of his files. "When it comes to property, I intend to act aggressively," he said. "And I will expect you to move quickly if immediate payment will secure a more realistic price."

Bresson handed over a card. It had no name on it, no address, just a phone number embossed in black. "That is my private line. We can wire any amount of money you require to any country on earth at the touch of a button. And when you call, you need never give your name, as the line is voice-activated."

"Thank you," said Danny, placing the card in an inside pocket. "I also require your advice on a more pressing matter, namely my day-to-day living expenses. I have no desire for the taxman to be prying into my affairs, and as I live in this house and employ a housekeeper and driver, while apparently subsisting on nothing more than a student grant, it may be the Inland Revenue's radar that I keep popping up on."

"If I might make a suggestion?" said de Coubertin. "We used to transfer one hundred thousand pounds a month to an account in London for your grandfather. It came from a trust we set up on his behalf. He paid tax on this income in full, and even carried out some of his smaller transactions through a company registered in London."

"I should like you to continue that arrangement," said Danny. "How do I go about it?"

De Coubertin extracted a slim file from his briefcase, removed a single sheet of paper and said, pointing to a dotted line, "If you sign here, Sir Nicholas, I can assure you that everything will be set up and administered to your satisfaction. All I will need to know is to which bank we should make the monthly transfer."

"Coutts and Co. in the Strand," said Danny.

"Just like your grandfather," said the chairman.

"How long will it take to get to Cambridge?" Danny asked Big Al moments after the three Swiss bankers had disappeared into thin air.

"Aboot an hour and a half. So we ought tae be leaving fairly soon, boss."

"Fine," said Danny. "I'll go and change and pack an overnight bag."

"Molly's already done that," said Big Al. "I put it in the boot of the car."

The Friday evening traffic was heavy, and it wasn't until they joined the M11 that Big Al managed to push the speedometer above thirty miles an hour. He drove into King's Parade only minutes before the curtain was due to rise.

Danny had been so preoccupied during the past few weeks with getting the better of Nick's grandfather's will that this was going to be his first visit to the theater since seeing Lawrence Davenport in The Importance of Being Earnest .

Lawrence Davenport. Although Danny had begun to form plans for all three of his antagonists, every time he thought about Davenport, Sarah came into his mind. He was aware that he might well have been back in Belmarsh had it not been for her, and also that he would need to see her again, as she could open doors to which he didn't have a key.

Big Al brought the car to a halt outside the theater. "What time will ye be gon' back tae London, boss?"

"I haven't decided yet," said Danny, "but not before midnight."

He picked up his ticket from the box office, handed over three pounds in exchange for a program, and followed a group of fellow latecomers into the stalls. Once he'd found his seat, he began to turn the pages of the program. He'd meant to read the play before this evening, but it had remained on his desk unopened while he tried to keep up with Milton Friedman.

Danny stopped at a page that displayed a large, glamorous headshot of Katie Benson. Unlike so many actresses, it was not a photograph that had been taken years before. He read the brief résumé of her credits. A Woman of No Importance was clearly the most significant role she had played in her short career.

When the curtain rose, Danny became lost in another world, and resolved that in future he would go to the theater on a regular basis. How he wished that Beth was sitting next to him and sharing in his enjoyment. Katie was standing on stage arranging some flowers in a vase, but all he could think about was Beth. But as the play unfolded, he had to admit that Katie was giving a polished performance, and he soon became engrossed in the story of a woman who suspected her husband of being unfaithful.