Джеффри Арчер - This Was a Man

‘My name’s Sebastian Clifton. I wondered if Kelly Mellor lives here.’

‘You from the IRS?’

‘No,’ said Seb, suppressing a desire to laugh.

‘Or that fuckin’ Child Protective Services?’

‘No.’ Seb no longer wanted to laugh, as he had noticed a fading bruise on the little girl’s arm. ‘I’ve flown over from England to let Kelly know her father has died and left her some money in his will.’

‘How much?’

‘I’m only authorized to disclose the details to Mr Mellor’s next of kin.’

‘If this is some kind of scam,’ the man said, clenching his fist, ‘this will end up in the middle of your pretty face.’ Seb didn’t budge. Without another word the man turned and said, ‘Follow me.’

It was the smell that first hit Seb as he entered the house: half-empty fast-food trays, cigarette ends and empty beer cans littered a small room furnished with two unrelated chairs, a sofa and the latest VCR player. He didn’t sit down, but smiled at the young girl who was now standing in a corner staring up at him.

‘Kelly!’ the man bellowed at the top of his voice without looking round. He hadn’t taken his eyes off Seb.

A few moments later a woman appeared in a dressing gown embroidered with the words The Majestic Hotel . She looked worn out, although Seb knew she was only in her early twenties. But she was unquestionably the young girl’s mother, and she had something else in common with the child — several bruises and, in her case, a black eye that heavy make-up couldn’t disguise.

‘This guy says your old man’s died and left you some money, but he won’t tell me how much.’

Seb noticed the man’s right fist was still clenched. He could see that Kelly was too frightened to speak. She kept glancing towards the door, as if trying to let him know that he ought to leave as quickly as possible.

‘How much?’ the man repeated.

‘Fifty thousand dollars,’ said Seb, having decided that the suggestion of £1.5 million would have been greeted with incredulity and would mean he’d never be rid of the man.

‘Fifty grand? Hand it over.’

‘It’s not quite that easy.’

‘If this is a con,’ said the man, ‘you’ll wish you’d never got off the plane.’

Seb was surprised that he felt no fear. As long as this thug thought there was a chance of picking up some easy money, Seb was confident he had the upper hand.

‘It’s not a con,’ said Seb quietly. ‘But because it’s such a large sum of money, Kelly will have to accompany me to England and sign some legal documents before we can hand over her inheritance.’

In truth, Seb had all the necessary paperwork in his overnight bag should Kelly be unwilling to return to England, Plan B. He only needed a signature and a witness, and then he could have handed over a banker’s draft for the full amount in exchange for 51 per cent of Mellor Travel. But now he’d met her partner, that was never going to happen. He had moved way beyond Plan A, B or C, and his mind was now working overtime.

‘She ain’t goin’ nowhere without me,’ the man said.

‘Fine by me,’ said Seb. ‘But you’ll have to pay your own plane fare to London.’

‘I don’t believe a fuckin’ word you’re saying,’ the man said, picking up a steak knife and advancing towards Seb. For the first time Seb felt frightened, but he stood his ground, and even decided to take a risk.

‘Makes no difference to me,’ he said, looking directly at Kelly. ‘If she doesn’t want the money, it will automatically go to her younger sister.’ He hesitated for a moment. ‘Maureen.’ Seb’s eyes never left hers.

‘I didn’t know you had a sister,’ said the man, swinging round to glare at Kelly.

Seb gave her a slight, almost undetectable nod.

‘I, I haven’t seen her for years, Richie. I didn’t even know she was still alive.’

She had told him everything he needed to know.

‘Maureen is very much alive,’ said Seb. ‘And she rather hopes Kelly won’t be returning to England.’

‘Then she can think again,’ said Richie. ‘Just make sure that bitch comes back with my money,’ he said, squeezing the little girl’s arm until she burst into tears, ‘otherwise she won’t be seein’ Cindy again. So what happens now?’

‘My flight leaves for London at ten o’clock tomorrow morning, so I could pick Kelly up around eight.’

‘Five hundred dollars would help convince me you’ll be back,’ said Richie, brandishing the knife in front of him.

‘I don’t have that much on me,’ said Seb, taking out his wallet. ‘But I can give you everything I do have.’ He handed over $345, which quickly disappeared into the back pocket of Richie’s jeans.

‘I’ll pick you up at eight tomorrow morning,’ said Seb. Kelly nodded, but didn’t speak. Seb smiled at the little girl, and left without saying goodbye.

Once he was back on the street, he began the long walk to his hotel in the centre of town, aware that it would be some time before he came across a cab. He cursed. If only he’d known Kelly had a daughter.

Sebastian woke at two o’clock the next morning, eight o’clock in London. Despite closing his eyes, he knew he wouldn’t get back to sleep, because his body clock was ticking and he was wide awake on another continent. In any case, his mind was buzzing with thoughts about how Kelly Mellor could possibly have ended up living in such circumstances and with a man like that. It had to be the child.

When three o’clock struck on a nearby church tower, Seb phoned Hakim at the bank, and told him in great detail about his encounter with Richie, Kelly and Cindy.

‘It’s sad that she’ll have to go back to Chicago if she wants to be with her daughter,’ were Hakim’s first words.

‘No mother would be willing to leave her child with a monster like that,’ said Seb. ‘In fact, I’m not even certain she won’t have changed her mind about leaving her by the time I get back.’

‘I wonder if you gave him a thousand dollars in cash, he might let the girl go too?’

‘I don’t think so. But twenty-five thousand might do it.’

‘I’ll leave you to decide what Plan C is,’ said Hakim. ‘But make sure you’ve got a thousand dollars on you, just in case,’ he added before putting the phone down.

Seb took a long hot shower, shaved, dressed, then went downstairs to join the other early risers for breakfast. Looking at the menu, he realized he’d forgotten just how much an American could eat first thing in the morning. He politely declined an offer of waffles and maple syrup, fried eggs, sausage, bacon and hash browns, in favour of a bowl of muesli and a boiled egg.

He checked out of the hotel just after seven thirty. The doorman hailed a cab, and once again the driver looked surprised when Seb gave him the address.

‘I’m picking someone up,’ he explained, ‘and then we’ll need to go on to O’Hare.’

The cab pulled up outside 1532 Taft a few minutes early and, after taking one look at the house, the driver kept the engine running. Seb decided to stay put until just before eight o’clock, not wanting to antagonize Richie any more than was necessary. But he hadn’t noticed two pairs of eyes staring expectantly out of the window, and a moment later the front door eased open and a little girl came scampering down the path towards him. Her mother closed the door quietly behind her and then also began to run.

Seb leant across and quickly opened the back door of the taxi to allow them to jump in beside him. Kelly pulled it closed and screamed, ‘Go, go, for God’s sake, go,’ her eyes never leaving the front door of the house even for a moment. The driver happily obeyed her command.

Once they’d turned the corner and were heading towards the airport, Kelly breathed a deep sigh of relief, but didn’t stop clinging on to her daughter. It was some time before she had recovered enough to say, ‘Richie didn’t get back until after two this morning, and he was so drunk he could barely stand. He collapsed on the bed and fell asleep straight away. He probably won’t stir before midday.’