Kane and Abel/Sons of Fortune Read online

  “But you told me that her company checked out?”

  “And it did. Kirkbridge and Company is based in New York and made a profit of just over a million dollars last year, and surprise, surprise, the majority shareholder is a Mrs. Julia Kirkbridge. And it was only because Su Ling thought she was a phony that I even called to check and see if the company was having a board meeting that morning. When the switchboard operator informed me that Mrs. Kirkbridge couldn’t be disturbed as she was in that meeting, the last piece of the jigsaw fell neatly into place. Now that’s what I mean by attention to detail.”

  “But there’s still a missing link,” said Tom.

  “Yes, and that’s what turns her from an ordinary flim-flam artist into a fraudster of true genius. It was Harry Gates’s amendment to the finance bill that presented her with a hoop that she knew we would have to jump through.”

  “How does Senator Gates get in on the act?” asked Tom.

  “It was he who proposed the amendment to the property bill stipulating that all future transactions enacted with the council should be paid in full on signature of the agreement.”

  “But I told her that the bank would cover whatever surplus proved necessary.”

  “And she knew that wouldn’t be sufficient,” said Nat, “because the senator’s amendment insisted that the principal beneficiary,” Nat opened the brochure at a passage he had underlined, “had to sign both the check and the agreement. The moment you rushed back to inquire if she had a checkbook with her, Julia knew she had you by the balls.”

  “But what if I’d said the deal is off unless you can come up with the full amount?”

  “She would have returned to New York that night, transferred her half million back to Chase, and you would never have heard from her again.”

  “Whereas she pocketed three point one million dollars of our money and held on to her own $500,000,” said Tom.

  “Correct,” said Nat, “and by the time the banks open in San Francisco this morning, that money will have disappeared off to the Cayman Islands via Zurich or possibly even Moscow, and although I’ll obviously go through the motions, I don’t believe we have a hope in hell of retrieving one cent of it.”

  “Oh, God,” said Tom, “I’ve just remembered that Mr. Cooke will be presenting that check this morning, and I gave him my word that it would be cleared the same day.”

  “Then we shall have to clear it,” said Nat. “It’s one thing for the bank to lose money, quite another for it to lose its reputation, a reputation which your grandfather and father took a hundred years to establish.”

  Tom looked up at Nat. “The first thing I must do is resign.”

  “Despite your naïveté, that’s the last thing you should do. Unless, of course, you want everyone to find out what a fool you’ve made of yourself and immediately transfer their accounts to Fairchild’s. No, the one commodity I need is time, so I suggest you take a few days off. In fact, don’t mention the Cedar Wood project again, and if anyone should raise the subject, you simply refer them to me.”

  Tom remained silent for some time, before he said, “The true irony is that I asked her to marry me.”

  “And her true genius is that she accepted,” replied Nat.

  “How did you know that?” asked Tom.

  “It would have all been part of her plan.”

  “Clever girl,” said Tom.

  “I’m not so sure,” said Nat, “because if you two had become engaged, I was ready to offer her a place on the board.”

  “So she had you fooled as well,” said Tom.

  “Oh yes,” replied Nat, “with her grasp of finance she wouldn’t have been a passenger, and had she married you she would have made a lot more than three point one million, so there must be another man involved.” Nat paused. “I suspect he was the one on the other end of the phone.” Nat turned to leave. “I’ll be in my office,” he said, “and remember, we only ever discuss this matter in private, nothing in writing, never on the phone.”

  Tom nodded as Nat closed the door quietly behind him.

  “Good morning, Mr. Cartwright,” said Nat’s secretary as he walked into his office, “did you have a good vacation?”

  “Yes, I did, thank you, Linda,” he replied cheerily. “I’m not sure who enjoyed Disneyland more, Luke or myself.” She smiled. “Any real problems?” he asked innocently.

  “No, I don’t think so. The final documents for the takeover of Bennett’s came through last Friday, so from January first, you’ll be running two banks.”

  Or none, thought Nat. “I need to speak to a Mrs. Julia Kirkbridge, the director of …”

  “Kirkbridge and Company,” said Linda. Nat froze. “You asked for the details of her company just before you went on vacation.”

  “Of course I did,” said Nat.

  Nat was rehearsing what he would say to Mrs. Kirkbridge, when his secretary buzzed through to tell him that she was on the line.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Kirkbridge, my name is Nat Cartwright, I’m the chief executive of Russell’s Bank in Hartford, Connecticut. We have a proposition we thought your company might be interested in, and as I’m in New York later today, I hoped you would be able to spare me a few minutes.”

  “Can I call you back, Mr. Cartwright?” she replied in a crisp English accent.

  “Of course,” said Nat, “I look forward to hearing from you.”

  He wondered how long it would take Mrs. Kirkbridge to discover that he was the chief executive of Russell’s Bank. She was obviously checking, because she didn’t even ask for his telephone number. When the phone rang again his secretary said, “Mrs. Kirkbridge on the line.”

  Nat checked his watch; it had taken her seven minutes.

  “I could see you at two thirty this afternoon, Mr. Cartwright; would that suit you?”

  “Suits me just fine,” said Nat.

  He put the phone down and buzzed Linda. “I’ll need a ticket on today’s eleven-thirty train to New York.”

  Nat’s next call was to Rigg’s Bank in San Francisco, who confirmed his worst fears. They had been instructed to send the money to Banco Mexico only moments after it had been deposited with them. From there, Nat knew it would follow the sun until it finally disappeared over the horizon. He decided it would be pointless to call in the police unless he wanted half the banking community let in on the secret. He suspected that Julia, or whatever her real name was, had also worked that out.

  Nat got through a great deal of the backlog caused by his absence before leaving the office to catch the train to New York. He made it to the offices of Kirkbridge & Co. on 97th Street with only moments to spare. He hadn’t even had time to take a seat in reception before a door opened. He looked up to see an elegant, well-dressed woman standing in the doorway. “Mr. Cartwright?”

  “Yes,” he said, rising from his seat.

  “I’m Julia Kirkbridge; would you like to come through to my office?” The same crisp English accent. Nat could not recall how long ago it was that a director of any company had come to collect him in the reception area rather than sending a secretary, especially one working out of New York.

  “I was intrigued by your call,” said Mrs. Kirkbridge as she ushered Nat through to a comfortable seat by the fireplace. “It’s not often a Connecticut banker comes to New York to visit me.”

  Nat took some papers out of his case, as he tried to assess the woman sitting opposite him. Her clothes, like those of her impersonator, were smartly tailored, but far more conservative, and although she was slim and in her mid-thirties, her dark hair and dark eyes were a total contrast to the blond from Minnesota.

  “Well, it’s quite simple really,” began Nat. “Hartford City Council has put another site on the market that has planning approval for a shopping mall. The bank has purchased the land as an investment and is looking for a partner. We thought you might be interested.”

  “Why us?” asked Julia.

  “You were among the original companies that bid fo