Jeffrey Archer - Cometh the Hour

“All agents are being instructed to spread a rumor that the real reason Harold Wilson resigned as prime minister was because MI6 had discovered he was in the pay of the Russians.”

“Then it’s time he bought himself a new Gannex mac with all that extra money he must have been earning.” She took another bite, before adding, “It would be funny, except some fools might actually believe it.”

“He also asked me to tell Giles that I’d heard the rumor and see how he reacted.”

“I’ll get Sir John to brief Giles on the real reason for Harold’s resignation. Mind you, it would have helped if the PM had been willing to admit he’d got Alzheimer’s at the time.”

“Do you have anything you want me to pass on?”

“Yes, I think the time has come for your tiresome ‘father’ to be called back to East Germany. So why don’t you tell him...”

“My lord.”

“Governor.”

“Swap?”

“Well, it’s funny you should mention that,” said Giles. “While I’ve never wanted to be a governor, I’ve always fancied being a senator.”

“And if you held your equivalent post in the Senate, you’d be Majority Leader Barrington.”

“Majority Leader Barrington. I rather like the sound of that.”

“So how much would I have to raise to become Lord Rankin of Louisiana?”

“Not a penny. It would be a political appointment, made on my recommendation to the prime minister.”

“No money involved and you didn’t even need to be elected.”

“Certainly not.”

“And Britain still doesn’t have a constitution or a bill of rights?”

“What a dreadful idea,” said Giles. “No, we work on legal precedent.”

“And even your head of state isn’t elected!”

“Of course not, she’s a hereditary monarch, appointed by the Almighty.”

“And you have the nerve to claim you’re a democracy.”

“Yes, we do. And just think how much money we save, and you waste, by electing everyone from dog catcher to president, just to prove how democratic you are.”

“You’re trying to get off the hook, Giles.”

“All right, then tell me how much you had to raise before you could even consider running for governor?”

“Five, six million. And it’s getting more expensive with every election.”

“What did you spend it on?”

“Mostly negative advertising. Letting the electorate know why they shouldn’t be voting for the other guy.”

“That’s something else we’ll never do. Which is another reason our system is more civilized than yours.”

“You may well have a point, my lord, but let’s get back to the real world,” said Hayden. “Because I need your advice.”

“Fire away, Hayden. I was intrigued by your letter and I can’t wait to find out how one of your constituents can possibly have come across my ex-wife.”

“Cyrus T. Grant III is one of my oldest friends, and has also been one of my biggest financial backers over the years, so I’m hugely indebted to him. He’s a good, kind and decent man, and although I don’t know what the T stands for, it might as well be ‘trusting.’”

“If he’s that trusting, how did he make his fortune?”

“He didn’t. He owes that piece of luck to his grandfather, who founded the canning business that bears his name. Cyrus’s father took the company on to the New York Stock Exchange, and his son now lives comfortably off the dividends.”

“And you have the nerve to criticize the hereditary system. But that doesn’t explain how this kind, decent and trusting man crossed swords with Virginia.”

“Some five years ago, Cyrus was visiting London and was invited to lunch by someone with the unlikely name of Bofie Bridgwater.”

“I’m afraid Lord Bridgwater is not a convincing argument for the hereditary system. He makes Bertie Wooster look shrewd and decisive.”

“During lunch, Cyrus sat next to Lady Virginia Fenwick and he was clearly overwhelmed by all her ‘member of the royal family’ and ‘distant niece of the Queen Mother’ rubbish. Afterwards, she went shopping with him in Bond Street to buy an engagement ring for his high school sweetheart, Ellie May Campbell, whom he later married. After Cyrus had bought the ring, he invited Lady Virginia back to his suite at the Ritz for tea, and the next thing he remembers is waking up in bed beside her, and the only thing she was wearing was the engagement ring.”

“That’s impressive, even by Virginia’s standards,” said Giles. “So what happened next?”

“That was when Cyrus made his first big mistake. Instead of grabbing the ring and telling her to get lost, he took the next flight back to the States. For a while, all he thought he’d lost was the ring, until Lady Virginia turned up at his wedding looking seven months pregnant.”

“Not the sort of wedding present he was hoping for.”

“Gift-wrapped. The next day, Buck Trend, one of the sharpest and meanest lawyers west of the Mississippi, gave Cyrus’s in-house lawyer a call, and once again my friend panicked. He ended up instructing his lawyer to settle before he and Ellie May returned from their honeymoon. Trend extracted more than a pound of flesh, and Cyrus ended up paying a million dollars up front, and a further ten thousand a month until the child has completed his education.”

“That’s not a bad return for a one-night stand.”

“If it ever was a one-night stand. What Virginia hadn’t bargained for was Ellie May Campbell — now Ellie May Grant — who turns out to be cut from the same Scottish cloth as her ladyship. When Cyrus finally confessed to what had taken place in London, Ellie May didn’t believe a word of Virginia’s story. She hired a Pinkerton detective and sent him across the Atlantic with instructions not to return until he’d found out the truth.”

“And did he come up with anything?” said Giles.

“He reported back that he wasn’t convinced Lady Virginia had ever had a child, and that even if she had, there was no reason to believe Cyrus was the father of the Hon. Frederick Archibald Iain Bruce Fenwick.”

“A blood test might narrow down the possibility.”

“And it might not. But in any case, while the boy’s at pre-prep in Scotland, Cyrus can hardly drop in and ask the headmaster for a sample.”

“But if he contested a paternity suit in open court the judge would have to call for a blood test.”

“Yes, but even if they turned out to share the same blood group it still wouldn’t be absolutely conclusive.”

“As I well know,” said Giles, without explanation. “So how can I help?”

“As Lady Virginia is your ex-wife, Cyrus and I wondered if you could throw any light on what she was up to during the time he was in London.”

“All I can remember is that she’d been having some financial difficulties and had disappeared off the scene for some time. But when she reappeared, she’d moved into a far larger establishment and was once again employing a butler and a housekeeper as well as a nanny. And as for her son, Freddie, he’s rarely seen in London. He even spends the school holidays at Fenwick Hall in Scotland.”

“Well, that at least confirms what our detective has been telling us,” said the governor. “And according to his report, the nanny, a Mrs. Crawford, is five foot one in her stockinged feet and weighs about ninety pounds. Although she looks as if she could be blown away by a puff of wind, the detective said he’d prefer to deal with the Mafia than have to face her again.”

“If she’s not proving helpful,” said Giles, “what about all the other people Virginia’s employed over the years? Butlers, chauffeurs, housekeepers? Surely one of them must know something and be willing to talk.”