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  “Why?” said Hakim. “The tapes prove that Sloane organized the planting of the drugs, and Mellor covered his expenses. And not satisfied with that, they’re now trying to set me up a second time using a doctored tape to leave the impression I was involved in insider trading.”

  “True, but the committee may feel that by secretly taping them, you’ve also broken the law. And they certainly wouldn’t condone that.”

  “Are you suggesting I shouldn’t use the tapes to clear my name?”

  “Yes, because in this case, the means do not justify the end. Anyone who hears those tapes will know they were acquired without the knowledge of the participants, which would make them inadmissible in a court of law. In fact, it could well be you who ends up being referred to the DPP.”

  “But if they’re allowed to present their damning fake tape to the committee and I’m not able to show what they’ve been up to, at best I’ll have to spend another year defending myself, and at worst, I’ll end up losing my banking license.”

  “That’s a risk I’d be willing to take if the alternative is being compared to those two scumbags,” said Arnold. “And for what it’s worth, that’s my advice. Of course, you’re free to ignore it. But should you decide to go down that road, I fear I won’t be able to represent you on this occasion. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m expected back in court at ten.”

  Hakim remained silent until Arnold had closed the door behind him.

  “What do I pay that man for?”

  “To give you his considered judgment,” said Sebastian. “Which might not always be what you want to hear.”

  “But surely you agree with me, Seb, that I should be able to defend myself?”

  “That wasn’t the point Arnold was making. He simply feels that the way you went about acquiring the tape leaves you open to being accused of being no better than Sloane and Mellor.”

  “And you agree with him?”

  “Yes, I do, because I only have to ask myself what Cedric would have done, if he was still sitting in your chair.”

  “So I’m expected to suffer another year of humiliation?”

  “I’ve suffered for fifteen years because I didn’t listen to Cedric’s advice, so I can only recommend you listen to his son.”

  Hakim pushed his chair back, stood up and began to pace restlessly around the room. He finally came to a halt in front of Seb. “If you’re both against me—”

  “Neither of us is against you. We’re on your side, and only want what’s in your best interests. You could of course call Ross and get a third opinion.”

  “I don’t need to call Ross to know what his opinion would be. But what am I expected to do when a member of my own staff delivers that tape to the Bank of England and tells the committee he felt it was no more than his duty to report me?”

  “Think like Cedric, be advised by Arnold, and in the end you’ll defeat the bastards.”

  * * *

  An elderly gentleman shuffled slowly out of the wings, a walking stick in each hand. He came to a halt in the center of the stage and peered down at the packed audience.

  “Mr. Mayor, ladies and gentlemen,” he began, “this is a day I’ve been looking forward to for over forty years. Forty-two to be precise, and there were times when I didn’t think I’d live to see it. Hallelujah!” he shouted, looking up to the skies, which was greeted with laughter and applause. “But before I ask Samantha Sullivan to open the theatre named after her, can I say how delighted I am that Sebastian Clifton was able to join us today. Because without his unstinting support and encouragement, this theatre would never have been built.”

  The audience burst into applause a second time, as Maurice Swann looked down at his benefactor, who was seated in the front row.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you’d honored your agreement?” whispered Samantha as she took Seb’s hand.

  Sebastian had wondered how he would feel about Samantha after the intervening years. Would the memory of things past evaporate into thin air? Or would he … He need not have worried because, if anything, he fell more in love with her “the second time around.” Sam had lost none of her allure, her tenderness, her wit or her beauty. His only fear was that she might not feel the same way. Jessica didn’t help with her less-than-subtle hints that it was high time her parents got married.

  “I now invite Samantha to join me on stage to perform the opening ceremony.”

  Samantha walked up the steps onto the stage and shook hands with the former headmaster. She turned to face the audience, hoping they wouldn’t be able to see how nervous she felt.

  “I’m so honored to have a theatre named after me,” she began, “especially as I’ve never been a good actress and am terrified of public speaking. But I have to say how proud I am of the man who has made it all possible, Sebastian Clifton.”

  When the applause had finally died down, Mr. Swann handed Samantha a large pair of scissors. She cut the tape that stretched across the stage and the whole audience rose to their feet and cheered.

  For the next hour, Samantha, Sebastian and Jessica were surrounded by teachers, parents and pupils who wanted to thank them for all Mr. Clifton had done. Sam looked up at Seb and realized why she had fallen in love with him a second time. Gone were the rough edges of greed, replaced with an understanding of what the other side had the right to expect. Seb kept telling her how lucky he was to have been given a second chance, whereas she felt—

  “You can see how much this means to the entire community,” said Mr. Swann. “If there’s ever anything I can do to show my appreciation, just—”

  “Funny you should mention that,” interrupted Jessica. “Pops told me you used to be a director.”

  “Yes, but that was a long time ago.”

  “Then I’m going to have to bring you out of retirement to direct your swan song.”

  “That was an awful pun, young lady. What do you have in mind?”

  “I want you to put my mom and pops back on stage.”

  The old man turned and walked slowly up the steps and onto the stage.

  “What’s she up to?” whispered Samantha.

  “I have no idea,” said Seb. “But perhaps it would be simpler just to indulge her.” He took Sam’s hand and led her up onto the stage.

  “Now, I want you center stage, Seb,” said Mr. Swann. “Samantha, you stand facing him. Sebastian, you will now fall on one knee, look adoringly up at the woman you love and deliver your opening line.”

  Seb immediately fell on one knee. “Samantha Ethel Sullivan. I adore you and always will,” he said, “and more than anything on earth I want you to be my wife.”

  “Now you reply, Samantha,” said Swann.

  “On one condition,” she said firmly.

  “No, that’s not in the script,” said Jessica. “You’re meant to say, ‘Get up, you idiot. Everyone is staring at us.’”

  “This is when you produce the little leather box,” said Swann. “Samantha, you must look surprised when he opens it.”

  Sebastian took out a small red box from his jacket pocket and opened it to reveal an exquisite blue sapphire surrounded by diamonds that Sam hadn’t seen for ten years. Her expression was one of genuine surprise.

  “And now your final line, Mom, if you can remember it.”

  “Of course I’ll marry you. I’ve loved you since the day you got me arrested.”

  Seb stood up and placed the ring on the third finger of her left hand. He was about to kiss his fiancée when Samantha took a pace back and said, “You lot have been rehearsing behind my back, haven’t you?”

  “True,” admitted Swann. “But you were always going to be our leading lady.”

  Seb took Samantha in his arms and kissed her gently on the lips, which was greeted with a spontaneous burst of applause from an audience who had been sitting on the edges of their seats.

  “Curtain!” said Mr. Swann.

  * * *

  Sir Piers Thornton, the chairman of the court at the Bank of Eng