The Prodigal Daughter

by Jeffrey Archer

  “At last Papa woke up to what a nasty piece of work Henry really is.”

  “I think he’s always known, but there’s no denying Henry was useful to your father when he was in Washington. Personally, I think he’s still dangerous despite being removed from Congress.”

  “Why?” asked Florentyna.

  “Because I suspect he knows too much about the enmity between Abel and Richard’s father, and if he gets into any more debt, I fear he may trade that information with Mr. Kane direct.”

  “Never,” said Richard.

  “How can you be so sure?” asked George.

  “You mean after all these years you don’t know?” Richard asked.

  George stared from one to the other. “Know what?”

  “Obviously not,” said Florentyna.

  “You’ll need a double,” said Richard, and poured George another large brandy before continuing.

  “Henry Osborne hates my father even more than Abel does.”

  “What? Why?” said George, leaning forward.

  “Henry was married to my grandmother, after my grandfather died.” Richard poured himself another coffee before continuing. “Many years ago when he was a young man, he tried to part my grandmother from a small family fortune soon after my grandfather had died. Osborne didn’t succeed because my father, aged only seventeen, discovered that Henry’s Harvard and military background was nothing more than a front and proceeded to throw him out of his own home.”

  “Omój Jezu!” said George. “I wonder if Abel knows any of this.” He hadn’t noticed it was his turn to throw the dice.

  “Of course he does,” said Florentyna. “It must have been the deciding factor for employing Henry in the first place. He needed someone on his side who he could be certain would never open his mouth to Kane.”

  “How did you find out?”

  “Pieced it together when Richard discovered I wasn’t Jessie Kovats. Most of the stuff on Henry is in a file locked in the bottom of Papa’s desk.”

  “I thought I was too old to learn so much in one day,” said George.

  “Your day’s learning hasn’t begun,” said Richard. “Henry Osborne never went to Harvard, never served in the war, and his real name is Vittorio Togna.”

  George didn’t speak, just opened his mouth.

  “We also know that Papa has got hold of six percent of Lester’s Bank. Just imagine the problems he could cause if he could lay his hands on another two percent,” said Florentyna.

  “We suspect he’s trying to buy that two percent from Peter Parfitt, the man who opposed my father when he was proposed for chairman of Lester’s. Abel’s final aim is the removal of my father from his own board,” Richard added.

  “That may have been right in the past.”

  “Why not now?” queried Florentyna.

  “Abel won’t become involved with anything as silly as removing your father from the bank while Kennedy has him in mind for Warsaw. So you need have no fear in that direction. And perhaps that might make you consider coming as my guest to see the candidate open the new Baron in Los Angeles?”

  “Is there any hope that Richard will be invited as well?”

  “You know the answer to that, Florentyna.”

  “Another game, George?” said Richard.

  “No, thank you. I know a winner when I see one.” He removed his wallet from an inside pocket and handed over eleven dollars. “Mind you, I still blame the doubles.”

  Chapter

  Sixteen

  Nancy Ching had run the store well while Florentyna was away in the hospital, but with Kane junior safely parked in a crib in the back room, Florentyna was only too happy to return to work. She explained to Miss Tredgold when she sent the first photo of them together that she was hoping to be a responsible mother until it became impossible not to employ someone. “Not that I’ll find anyone like you outside of Much Hadham,” she added. During the first two years of their marriage, both she and Richard had concentrated on building their careers. While Florentyna was acquiring her second store, Richard was advancing another rung on the bank ladder.

  Florentyna would have liked to spend more time concentrating on fashion trends rather than day-to-day finances, but she felt unable to ask Richard to spend every night on her books after he returned from the bank. She discussed her bold ideas for the future with Nancy, who was a little skeptical about placing so many orders for small women’s sizes.

  “It may suit me”—the petite Chinese girl grinned—“but not most American women.”

  “I don’t agree. Small is going to be beautiful and we must be the first to anticipate it. If American women think it’s the trend, we are going to witness a skinny revolution the like of which will even make you look fat.”

  Nancy laughed. “Looking at your future orders for fours and sixes, you’d better be right.”

  Neither Richard nor Florentyna brought up the vexing subject of their families after George’s visit since they both despaired of any reconciliation. They both spoke to their mothers on the phone from time to time, and although Richard received letters from his two sisters, he was particularly sad that he was not invited to attend Virginia’s wedding. This unhappy state of affairs might have drifted on indefinitely had it not been for two events. The first was hard to avoid, while the second was caused when the wrong person picked up the phone.

  The first occurred because it was Los Angeles’ turn to open a Baron. Florentyna followed its progress with great interest while she was preparing to open her third store. The new hotel was completed in September 1960 and Florentyna took the afternoon off to watch Senator John Kennedy perform the opening ceremony. She stood at the back of a large crowd that had come to see the candidate while she kept an eye on her father. He seemed to her a lot older and had certainly put on weight. From those who were surrounding him it was obvious that he was now well connected in Democratic circles. If Kennedy was elected, she wondered, would her father be offered the chance to serve under him. Florentyna was impressed by the competent speech of welcome Abel made, but she was mesmerized by the young Presidential candidate who seemed to her to embody the new America. After she had heard him, she passionately wanted John Kennedy to be the next President. As soon as the speech was over, she left the newly opened Baron resolved to give time in San Francisco and send money to the Ninth District of Illinois for the Kennedy campaign, although she suspected that her father had already contributed a sum that would make her own efforts appear minuscule. Richard remained unshakably Republican and a supporter of Nixon.

  “No doubt you remember what Eisenhower said when he was asked about your standard-bearer?” Florentyna teased.

  “Something unflattering, I’m sure.”

  “‘During your administration,’ a journalist asked him, ‘in which major decisions has Vice President Nixon participated?’”

  “And what was Ike’s reply?” inquired Richard.

  “‘If you give me a week, I might think of one.’”

  During the remaining weeks of the campaign, Florentyna spent what free time she had addressing envelopes and answering phone calls at the party’s headquarters in San Francisco. Unlike the past two elections, she was convinced the Democrats had found a man in whom she could place unreserved support. The final television debate between the candidates re-awakened in her the political ambitions so nearly buried by Henry Osborne. Kennedy’s charisma and political insight were dazzling, and Florentyna was left to wonder how anyone who had followed the campaign could possibly vote Republican. Richard pointed out to her that charisma and good looks were not to be traded for a future policy and a proven record, even if it had to include a five o’clock shadow.

  All through election night Richard and Florentyna sat up watching the results. The twists, the turns and the upsets lasted all the way to California, where by the smallest margin in American electoral history Kennedy became President. Florentyna was ecstatic about the final outcome, while Richard maintained that Kennedy wou
ld never have made it without Mayor Daley and the Cook County ballot boxes—or lack of them.

  “Would you vote the Democratic ticket if I were running for office?”

  “It would depend on your policies. I’m a banker, not a sentimentalist.”

  “Well, unsentimental banker, I want to open another store.”

  “What?” said Richard.

  “There’s a bargain going in San Diego, a building with a lease of only two years to run, but it could be renewable.”

  “How much?”

  “Thirty thousand dollars.”

  “You’re mad, Jessie. That’s your projected profits for this year gone in expansion.”

  “And while you’re on the subject of expansion, I’m pregnant again.”

  When the thirty-fifth President delivered his inaugural address Florentyna and Richard watched the ceremoney on television in the apartment above the main shop.

  “Let the word go forth from this time and place, to friend and foe alike, that the torch has been passed to a new generation of Americans, born in this century, tempered by war, disciplined by a hard and bitter peace.…” Florentyna’s eyes never once left the man in whom so many people had placed their trust. “Ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country….” When President Kennedy concluded his speech, Florentyna watched the crowd rise and found herself joining in the applause. She wondered how many people were clapping in other homes throughout America. She turned to Richard.

  “Not bad for a Democrat,” he said, aware he was also clapping.

  Florentyna smiled. “Do you think my father is there?”

  “Undoubtedly.”

  “So now we sit and wait for the appointment.”

  George wrote the next day to confirm that Abel had been in Washington for the celebrations. He ended on the words: “Your father seems confident about going to Warsaw, and I am equally sure that if he’s offered the position, it will be easier to get him to meet Richard.”

  “What a friend George has turned out to be,” said Florentyna.

  “To Abel as well as to us,” said Richard thoughtfully.

  Each day Florentyna checked the new appointments as they were released by Pierre Salinger, the White House press secretary, but no announcement concerning the Polish ambassador was forthcoming.

  Chapter

  Seventeen

  When Florentyna did see her father’s name in the paper, she could hardly miss it: the banner headline was all across the front page:

  THE CHICAGO BARON ARRESTED

  Florentyna read the story in disbelief.

  NEW YORK—Abel Rosnovski, the international hotelier known as the Chicago Baron, was arrested at 8:30 this morning at an apartment on East Fifty-seventh Street by agents of the FBI. The arrest took place after his return the previous night from a business trip to Turkey, where he had opened the Istanbul Baron, the latest in his chain of hotels. Rosnovski was charged by the FBI with bribery and corruption of government officials in fourteen different states. The FBI also wants to question ex-Congressman Henry Osborne, who has not been seen in Chicago for the past two weeks.

  Rosnovski’s defense attorney, H. Trafford Jilks, made a statement denying the charges and added that his client had a full explanation which would exonerate him completely. Rosnovski was granted bail in his own recognizance of $10,000.

  The news story went on to report that rumors had been circulating in Washington for some time that the White House had been considering Mr. Rosnovski for the post of the next U.S. ambassador to Poland.

  That night Florentyna lay awake wondering how it could have all happened and what her father must be going through. She assumed Henry was involved in some way and determined to follow every scrap of information that was reported in the papers. Richard tried to comfort her by saying there were very few businessmen alive who had not at some stage in their careers been involved in a little bribery.

  Three days before the trial was due to begin, the Justice Department found Henry Osborne in New Orleans. He was arrested, charged and immediately turned State’s evidence. The FBI asked Judge Prescott for a postponement to discuss with ex-Congressman Osborne the contents of a dossier on Rosnovski that had recently come into their possession. Judge Prescott granted the FBI a further four weeks to prepare their case.

  The press soon discovered that Osborne, in order to clear his considerable debts, had originally sold the file that he had compiled over ten years while serving as a director of the Baron Group to a firm of private investigators in Chicago. How the file had then come into the hands of the FBI remained a mystery.

  Florentyna was fearful that with Henry Osborne as star witness for the prosecution her father might have to serve a long jail sentence. After another sleepless night, Richard suggested she ought to contact her father. She concurred and wrote him a letter assuring him of her support and her belief in his innocence. She was about to lick the envelope when she walked over to her desk, took out her favorite picture of her son and sent it to his grandfather.

  Four hours before the trial was due to begin, Henry Osborne was found hanging in his cell by a guard bringing in his breakfast. He had used a Harvard tie.

  “Why did Henry commit suicide?” Florentyna asked her mother on the phone later that morning.

  “Oh, that’s easy to explain,” replied Zaphia. “Henry thought the private investigator who cleared his debts wanted the file for the sole purpose of blackmailing your father.”

  “And what was the real reason?” asked Florentyna.

  “The file had been purchased anonymously in Chicago on behalf of William Kane, who then passed it on to the FBI.”

  Florentyna felt such hatred whenever she thought about William Kane, she couldn’t stop herself from taking it out on Richard. But it was obvious that Richard was every bit as angry about his father’s behavior, which Florentyna discovered when she overheard a phone conversation between him and his mother.

  “That was pretty tough,” said Florentyna when he finally put the phone down.

  “Yes, it was. My poor mother’s getting it from both sides.”

  “We haven’t reached the last act of this tragedy,” said Florentyna. “Papa has wanted to return to Warsaw for as long as I can remember. Now he will never forgive your father.”

  Once the trial began, Florentyna followed the proceedings each day by phoning her mother in the evening after Zaphia had returned from the courtroom. When she listened to her mother’s view on the day’s happenings she wasn’t always convinced they both wanted the same outcome.

  “The trial is beginning to go in your father’s favor,” she said in the middle of the second week.

  “How can you be so sure?” asked Florentyna.

  “Since the FBI has lost its star witness, their case hasn’t stood up to much cross-examination. H. Trafford Jilks is making Henry Osborne sound like Pinocchio with a nose that was four feet long.”

  “Does that mean Papa will be proved innocent?”

  “I wouldn’t think so. But the courtroom officials are predicting that the FBI will have to make a deal.”

  “What sort of deal?”

  “Well, if your father pleads guilty to some minor offenses, they will drop the main charges.”

  “Will he get away with a fine?” asked Florentyna anxiously.

  “If he’s lucky. But Judge Prescott is tough, so he may still end up in jail.”

  “Let’s hope it’s just a fine.”

  Zaphia made no comment.

  “Six-month suspended sentence for the Chicago Baron,” Florentyna heard the newscaster say on her car radio as she was driving to pick up Richard from the bank. She nearly collided with the Buick in front of her and pulled over into a “No Parking” zone so that she could concentrate on what the newscaster had to say.

  “The FBI has dropped all the main indictments of bribery against Abel Rosnovski—known as the Chicago Baron—and the defendant pleaded guilty to misdemeanors on two minor cou
nts of attempting to influence a public official improperly. The jury was dismissed. In his summing up Judge Prescott said: The right to do business does not include the right to suborn public officials. Bribery is a crime and a worse crime when condoned by an intelligent and competent man, who should not need to stoop to such levels.

  “‘In other countries,’ the judge added, ‘bribery might be an accepted way of life, but that is not the case in the United States.’ Judge Prescott gave Rosnovski a six-month suspended sentence and a twenty-five-thousand-dollar fine.

  “In other news, President Kennedy…”

  Florentyna turned off the radio and heard someone tapping on the side window. She wound it down.

  “Do you know you’re in a restricted area, ma’am?”

  “Yes,” replied Florentyna.

  “I’m afraid it’s going to cost you ten dollars.”

  “Twenty-five thousand dollars and a six-month suspended sentence. It could have been worse,” said George in the car on the way back to the Baron.

  “Don’t forget that I lost Poland,” said Abel, “but that’s all history now. Purchase those two percent of Lester’s shares we need from Parfitt even if it costs a million. That will make up the eight percent of Lester’s that I need to invoke Article Seven of their bylaws and then I can slaughter William Kane in his own boardroom.”

  George nodded sadly.

  A few days later the State Department announced that the next American ambassador to Warsaw would be John Moors Cabot.

  Chapter

  Eighteen

  The morning after Judge Prescott had given his verdict on Florentyna’s father, the second event occurred. The extension of the apartment phone rang in the shop and because Nancy was removing the summer clothes from the window, replacing them with the new autumn collection, Florentyna answered it.