Next of Kin (12 page)

‘I was led to believe, I was
always
led to believe, that upon my uncle's death the Montignac estate would pass to me.'

‘And let me guess, Owen,' said Delfy with a smile. ‘Things didn't quite go according to plan.'

Montignac shook his head. ‘No,' he said. ‘No they didn't. But I can set them right. You'll get your money. You don't have to worry about that.'

Delfy nodded slowly and considered things. He waited so long before speaking again that Montignac wondered whether he should say something himself, only he didn't feel that would be a sensible idea.

‘What worries me,' Delfy said finally, ‘is that two months ago, shortly before your uncle's untimely passing, I asked you to come to see me to discuss the outstanding amount which, at the time, was some three thousand pounds less than it is now. What with the exorbitant amount of interest I'm forced to charge in order to meet my overheads. You do remember that meeting, don't you?'

‘I remember it,' said Montignac.

‘And you told me this story about being set to inherit the Montignac estate which, if I recall correctly, you stated to be worth in excess of two million pounds.'

‘The capital is,' interjected Montignac. ‘But most of that is landholdings which are untouchable. It's the interest and the rents that form the basis of my income. Would have formed the basis of it, that is.'

‘Indeed. And I asked you what condition your uncle's health was in and you told me that it was passable but that he wasn't getting any younger and that could change any day.'

‘Yes,' said Montignac.

‘And I had no choice but to tell you of some of the things that I might be forced to do to you if you didn't start to pay me back the money you owed me.'

‘Yes,' said Montignac.

‘And then some weeks later I was reading the newspaper and what do I find? Only a front-page story informing me that Peter Montignac has passed away in his sleep at his country home. Quite suddenly. And quite unexpectedly. Well you can imagine my surprise.'

‘I could try,' said Montignac.

Delfy narrowed his eyes; sarcasm was only permitted on his side of the desk. ‘I'm not playing a game with you, Owen,' he said.

‘No. Of course not.'

‘It seems that there was an uncommon stroke of good luck in your uncle's death which was countered by an unfortunate twist of fate when it was discovered that you were not to inherit after all. That must have been disappointing for you.'

‘It was … very surprising,' admitted Montignac.

‘Semantics,' said Delfy quickly. ‘And which am I to be then? Disappointed or surprised?'

‘No one was more shocked than I was when—'

‘All in all it leaves me wondering how long I am going to have to wait for my money.'

Montignac shuffled nervously and leaned forwards. ‘Nicholas, don't think I'm—'

‘I think it's better,' said Delfy sharply, holding up a hand to halt him. ‘If we revert to the formalities. I only allow my friends to call me by my given name. Not those who are trying to steal from me.'

‘I'm not trying to steal from you, Nich—, Mr Delfy. I just need a little more time, that's all.'

‘It's an enormous amount of money, Owen. How much time are you talking about?'

‘Six months,' said Montignac, plucking the figure out of thin air.

‘Six months?' asked Delfy, laughing. ‘You can't be serious.'

‘The figure currently stands at just over fifty, right?' asked Montignac; Delfy nodded. ‘If I can clear off the ten thousand in four weeks' time, as a show of good faith, will you give me five months after that to come up with the balance? Say until Christmas?'

Delfy breathed heavily through his nose and leaned back in his chair, a slight smile crossing his lips. If nothing else, he admired the boy's courage.

‘Ten thousand in four weeks, you say?'

‘It's either that or you do your worst now and there'll be no chance of me being able to get any of it. Trust me and if I haven't delivered in a month's time then what you do next will be for you to decide. But if I manage to fulfil my part of the deal then you give me till Christmas Day to find the rest.'

Delfy considered it; Montignac was quite right. If he did anything to damage the boy now it would be a beating that would cost him fifty thousand pounds. This way at least there was a chance.

‘I suppose I wonder how committed you would be to finding the money,' he said finally in a thoughtful voice.

‘I understand the consequences if I don't.'

‘Indeed,' said Delfy, leaning back in his chair. ‘And tell me this. How far would you go to spare yourself?'

Montignac frowned. ‘As far as I had to,' he said.

‘That's good to hear. Because there would be some who would have moral objections to doing anything a little … unpleasant.'

‘I would suppress any such instincts,' said Montignac, as if it was a point of honour. ‘You can rely on that.'

‘Some would draw the line at stealing, for example.'

‘Some might,' said Montignac.

‘Others would hesitate before hurting someone.'

‘I can imagine,' he replied.

‘And there are those who would never consider the gains that could be made from killing a man.'

Montignac opened his mouth for a moment but hesitated, unwilling to respond.

‘All right,' said Delfy, smiling slightly, gratified to know that there was probably nothing that he wouldn't do if asked. ‘We'll give your little scheme a go. Four weeks from today. Not a minute longer, though.'

Montignac sighed in relief and stood up before Delfy could change his mind. ‘You can trust me,' he said.

‘That's neither here nor there,' said Delfy with a shrug. ‘I'll look forward to seeing you here four weeks from tonight. And I will be extremely disappointed if you don't show up.'

‘I won't let you down,' said Montignac, opening the door and stepping back out on to the corridor quickly.

Delfy sat still for a few moments as the door closed and smiled, shaking his head as he wondered whether the boy would be able to manage it or not. It was an awful lot of money to find in such a short space of time but somehow he didn't put it past him. And it was useful to know that there was something that Montignac might be able to do for him to help them both out. He reached for the phone and dialled a Westminster number.

6

DESPITE HAVING VERY LITTLE
money of his own in his wallet, Jasper Conway insisted on taking Gareth and Alexander into the casino where, he told them, they could end the night with a bang.

‘Of course there are other ways to enjoy oneself in a place like this,' he told his friends. ‘But this might be the best option for tonight.'

Alexander was happy to join him but Gareth wasn't quite so sure; having never gambled before he was nervous of showing himself up among his more experienced friends.

‘Don't be such a drip, Gareth,' said Alexander. ‘It's your birthday after all. If you can't have a little luck about you on your birthday, well when can you?'

Gareth shrugged. ‘Won't the other card players get angry if I have to keep asking for the rules, though?' he asked.

‘We could play roulette,' suggested Jasper. ‘It's perfectly simple, you'll pick it up in a flash. How much money do you have on you anyway?'

Gareth took out his wallet and looked inside. ‘About thirty pounds,' he said.

‘That's plenty,' said Jasper. ‘Hand it over.'

‘Hand it over?'

‘Yes.'

‘Why, for heaven's sake?'

‘Because I have to cash it in for chips,' explained Jasper, looking across at Alexander and shaking his head at the boy's naivety. ‘Don't you know anything? Now come on. Don't look so scared, old man! You could triple or quadruple your money inside an hour if luck's on your side.'

Gareth frowned but took the money from his wallet and gave it to Jasper anyway, who smiled broadly and leapt away from the table with another ten pounds belonging to Alexander and told them he'd be back shortly with their markers.

‘Were you serious about what you were saying earlier?' asked Alexander while they were waiting for him to return.

‘About having to get a job? Perfectly serious. It's rotten luck.'

‘You never know. You might enjoy it.'

Gareth shrugged and an idea came to him. ‘I don't suppose there's anything going in your place, is there? Reviewing books perhaps? Seems like a cushy number.'

‘Eh, no,' said Alexander quickly, for the number of books which could be reviewed for the newspaper was finite and he already tried to grab as many of them as possible for they paid by the word. ‘No, I don't think that would work out. But working for your father does seem a bit extreme. How have you managed till now anyway?'

‘Well until now I've officially been studying, haven't I?' explained Gareth. ‘I only graduated last summer. I've been able to get away with the excuse that I'm taking some time off since then but there's only so much the old man can take. I may have pushed him to the limit.'

‘I'm just surprised it's taken him this long,' said Alexander, who had met Roderick Bentley once or twice over the course of his friendship with Gareth and had been struck by his gravity and strong convictions regarding his own career; he found it hard to imagine that he would be at all happy with his twenty-four-year-old son lurking around the house idly for too long.

‘He didn't really notice me for months at a time,' explained Gareth. ‘With the Domson trial and everything. He spent all his time working on it. It's only now that it's over and done with and the newspaper interest has died away that he's starting to focus on other things again. Mother wants to take him on a long holiday to recover from the strain of the case but he says he can't yet, that he doesn't want it to look like he's running away from the storm over Domson's execution.'

‘Is there a storm?' asked Alexander. ‘I thought everyone agreed that he should swing.'

‘Well, most people did. But Father still thinks he needs to let it all die down before taking time off. I think he's worried that if he should take any leave at all then it'll be an excuse for the Lord Chancellor to retire him behind his back.'

‘Like when those African tyrants skip off to Paris for a few days' R & R and come back to find there's been a
coup d'état
in their absence and they're out of a job,' said Alexander with a smile.

‘Exactly. Anyway, I think I'm his new project.'

‘Well then, my dear Gareth,' said Alexander, lifting his champagne glass and clinking it against the side of his friend's. ‘Then I think you simply have to bite the bullet and let him have his way. Or find something else to do that he will approve of.'

‘The only question is, what?' said Gareth. ‘Keep your ears open, though, will you? I'll do absolutely anything if it means I can steer clear of the law.'

‘Leave it with me,' said Alexander with a wink. ‘I'll let you know if I hear of anything.'

Jasper Conway returned at that moment with handfuls of chips and separated them into two uneven piles; five-sevenths for Gareth and two-sevenths for Alexander.

‘What about you?' asked Gareth. ‘Aren't you playing too?'

‘I'll guide you,' said Jasper with a smile. ‘I'll play the informal role of mentor. And you can cut me in for thirty per cent of your winnings, how does that sound?'

Gareth frowned but allowed himself to be led into the casino silently where they stood around the roulette table and laid their chips out on the baize.

‘The trick is to play the odds,' said Jasper quietly, placing an arm protectively across Gareth's shoulder. ‘With a one-number bet there's less than a three per cent chance of striking. You need to try more than that. Perhaps a four- or five-number bet. Then your odds go up to somewhere between ten and thirteen per cent.'

Gareth frowned. ‘How do you know all this?' he asked.

‘It's not my first time,' said Jasper with a smile, who was bereft of money for that very reason. ‘Of course you can't lay all your chips down in one go, though, or you risk losing them all. Perhaps you should start off with something easy. Try for the colours.'

Gareth nodded and looked down at the pile in front of him. He selected a red chip—three pounds' worth—and waited for the other players to start laying theirs at different points around the table before placing it in the centre of the black square.

The croupier placed the silver ball at the side of the wheel and sent it spinning anticlockwise around the rim while turning the wheel itself in the opposite direction. Gareth watched, transfixed, as it started to slow down, the ball gradually slipping down into the silver cups and skimming from red twenty-one to black two to red twenty-five to black seventeen before finally settling in red thirty-four.

‘Oh bad luck,' said Jasper, shaking his head. ‘But you can try again. It's fifty-fifty with the colours.'

‘Well obviously,' muttered Gareth, a little irritated that he was already three pounds down; he wondered whether Jasper would cover thirty per cent of his losses as well.

‘Try black again,' suggested Alexander, who laid one of his own chips in the black square in a show of solidarity. Gareth nodded and put another red chip on the square and just as the croupier spun the wheel he added to it with two more.

‘Steady on,' said Alexander. ‘You don't want to blow it all too quickly.'

‘He does right,' said Jasper confidently. ‘Win back his losses in a single spin.'

They watched and this time as the ball slowed down it hovered teasingly over black twenty before slipping backwards and coming to rest in red fourteen.