“Fourteen thousand for the first time then,” said the auctioneer, raising the little gavel a few inches in the air.
“She must have been over the moon,” said Robin.
“Burst into tears,” said Adam. “All she could say was ‘I wish Pa could have lived to see it.” Ironic really. If only he had opened that letter.”
“Fourteen thousand for the second time,” said the auctioneer, the gavel now hovering.
“How do you fancy a celebration lunch at the Ritz?” said Adam, delighted with how well the sale was turning out.
“No, thank you,” said Robin.
Adam looked at his companion in surprise.
“It won’t be much fun if every time I ask you a question I only get the official Foreign Office briefing.”
Adam looked sheepish. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“No, that wasn’t fair,” said Robin. “Now you’re on the inside it can’t be easy, so I suppose I will have to go to my grave wondering what treaty was inside that icon.”
Adam looked away from the girl who had saved his life.
“Destined to remain the Foreign Office’s best kept secret,” she added.
He turned back slowly to face her.
“Alas …” he began, but just at that moment the auctioneer’s hammer came down with a thud. They both looked up.
“Sold to the gentleman at the front for fourteen thousand pounds.”
“Not a bad price,” said Adam, smiling.
“A bargain in my opinion,” said Robin.
Adam turned back to her. “After all,” he said in a whisper, “imagine what the forty-ninth state would have fetched if it had come up for auction.”
ALSO BY JEFFREY ARCHER
NOVELS
A Prisoner of Birth
False Impression
Not a Penny More, Not a Penny Less
Shall We Tell the President?
Kane & Abel
First Among Equals
The Prodigal Daughter
As the Crow Flies
Honor Among Thieves
The Fourth Estate
The Eleventh Commandment
Sons of Fortune
SHORT STORIES
Cat O’ Nine Tales
A Quiver Full of Arrows
A Twist in the Tale
Twelve Red Herrings
To Cut a Long Story Short
The Collected Short Stories
PLAYS
Beyond Reasonable Doubt
Exclusive
The Accused
PRISON DIARIES
Volume One: Hell
Volume Two: Purgatory
Volume Three: Heaven
SCREENPLAYS
Mallory: Walking Off the Map
False Impression
PRAISE FOR JEFFREY ARCHER AND HIS BESTSELLING NOVELS
“Archer is a master entertainer.”
—Time
“One of the top ten storytellers in the world”
—Los Angeles Times
“There isn’t a better storyteller alive.”
—Larry King
“Archer is one of the most captivating storytellers writing today. His novels are dramatic, fast-moving, totally entertaining—and almost impossible to put down.”
—Pittsburgh Press
“Cunning plots, silken style … Archer plays a cat-and-mouse game with the reader.”
—The New York Times
“A storyteller in the class of Alexandre Dumas … Unsurpassed skill … making the reader wonder intensely what will happen next.”
—The Washington Post
A TWIST IN THE TALE
“Archer is a smoothly accomplished writer, able to produce a touching pause as well as a snappy pace.”
—Cosmopolitan
“Archer’s talent as a raconteur is evident … [His] straightforward style actually enhances each concluding jolt. Archer’s understanding of human nature and his talent for surprise endings make this volume a must.”
—Publishers Weekly
FIRST AMONG EQUALS
“A dramatic plot … An absorbing read.”
—Detroit Free Press
“This engrossing, well-spun tale of ambition and will-to-power is a pick-hit in the summer sweepstakes. Archer received his usual high marks for readability and gives his novel a pleasing sense of substance.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Not since Gore Vidal’s 1876 has there been such a cliffhanger aspect to an election and to the selection of a head of government … At the conclusion, Archer brings the reader to a moment of truth … a surprising finish.”
—The San Diego Union-Tribune
THE PRODIGAL DAUGHTER
“Chalk up another smash hit for Jeffrey Archer … An exceptional storyteller.”
—John Barkham Reviews
“Fast-moving and compelling.”
—Library Journal
KANE & ABEL
“A smashing good read!”
—The Des Moines Register
“I defy anyone not to enjoy this book, which is one of the best novels I have ever read.”
—Otto Preminger
“A sprawling blockbuster!”
—Publishers Weekly
“Grips the reader from the first page to the last. A smash hit.”
—John Barkham Reviews
AS THE CROW FLIES
“A certified page-turner.”
—New York Daily News
“Archer … has an extraordinary talent for turning notoriety into gold, and telling fast-moving stories.”
—The Philadelphia Inquirer
“An endearing story.”
—The Wall Street Journal
“Archer plots with skill, and keeps you turning the pages.”
—The Boston Globe
“Top flight … Mr. Archer tells a story to keep you turning those pages.”
—The Washington Post
“Great fun!”
—Kirkus Reviews
THE FOURTH ESTATE
“Telling … Triumphant … Proceeds in bursts of energy, like automatic fire.”
—London Times
“Well-crafted and accomplished.”
—The Spectator
HONOR AMONG THIEVES
“The action is furious.”
—Los Angeles Times Book Review
“Outrageous and top-notch terror.”
—Vogue
“Witty, action-filled … Archer’s masterful narrative provides thrills and surprises.”
—Publishers Weekly
“A taut, international political thriller, professionally crafted and plotted. The action and dialogue move forward seamlessly with no loose ends … Honor Among Thieves has excitement, currency and humor, and is expertly constructed. It will be another in the string of wildly successful novels by Jeffrey Archer.”
—The Milwaukee Journal Sentinel
A QUIVER FULL OF ARROWS
“Exciting … Archer offers versatility, laughter, inventive plotting and a gift for characterization … A Quiver Full of Arrows is everything a reader could want.”
—Baltimore Sun
“Amusing … Poignant.”
—The New York Times
This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
A MATTER OF HONOR
Copyright © 1986 by Jeffrey Archer.
Cover photo © Vine-London.
All rights reserved.
For information address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.
St. Martin’s Paperbacks are published by St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.
eISBN 9781429954020
First eBook Edition : February 2011
ISBN: 0-312-93354-1
EAN: 80312-93354-8
Pocket Books edition published 1987
HarperPaperbacks edition / December 1993
St. Martin’s Paperbacks edition / January 2005
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SINS OF THE FATHER
JEFFREY ARCHER
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1
“MY NAME IS Harry Clifton.”
“Sure, and I’m Babe Ruth,” said Detective Kolowski as he lit a cigarette.
“No,” said Harry, “you don’t understand, there’s been a terrible mistake. I’m Harry Clifton, an Englishman from Bristol. I served on the same ship as Tom Bradshaw.”
“Save it for your lawyer,” said the detective, exhaling deeply and filling the small cell with a cloud of smoke.
“I don’t have a lawyer,” protested Harry.
“If I was in the trouble you’re in, kid, I’d consider having Sefton Jelks on my side to be about my only hope.”
“Who’s Sefton Jelks?”
“You may not have heard of the sharpest lawyer in New York,” said the detective as he blew out another plume of smoke, “but he has an appointment to see you at nine o’clock tomorrow morning, and Jelks don’t leave his office unless his bill has been paid in advance.”
“But—” began Harry, as Kolowski banged the palm of his hand on the cell door.
“So when Jelks turns up tomorrow morning,” Kolowski continued, ignoring Harry’s interruption, “you’d better come up with a more convincing story than we’ve arrested the wrong man. You told the immigration officer that you were Tom Bradshaw, and if it was good enough for him, it’s going to be good enough for the judge.”
The cell door swung open, but not before the detective had exhaled another plume of smoke that made Harry cough. Kolowski stepped out into the corridor without another word and slammed the door behind him. Harry collapsed on to a bunk that was attached to the wall and rested his head on a brickhard pillow. He looked up at the ceiling and began to think about how he’d ended up in a police cell on the other side of the world on a murder charge.
The door opened long before the morning light could creep through the bars of the window and into the cell. Despite the early hour, Harry was wide awake.
A warder strolled in carrying a tray of food that the Salvation Army wouldn’t have considered offering a penniless hobo. Once he’d placed the tray on the little wooden table, he left without a word.
Harry took one look at the food before beginning to pace up and down. With each step, he grew more confident that once he explained to Mr. Jelks the reason he’d exchanged his name with Tom Bradshaw, the matter would quickly be sorted out. Surely the worst punishment they could exact would be to deport him, and as he’d always intended to return to England and join the navy, it all fitted in with his original plan.
At 8:55 a.m., Harry was sitting on the end of the bunk, impatient for Mr. Jelks to appear. The massive iron door didn’t swing open until twelve minutes past nine. Harry leaped up as a prison guard stood to one side and allowed a tall, elegant man with silver gray hair to enter. Harry thought he must have been about the same age as Grandpa. Mr. Jelks wore a dark blue pinstripe, double-breasted suit, a white shirt and a striped tie. The weary look on his face suggested that little would surprise him.
“Good morning,” he said, giving Harry a faint smile. “My name is Sefton Jelks. I am the se nior partner of Jelks, Myers and Abernathy, and my clients, Mr. and Mrs. Bradshaw, have asked me to represent you in your upcoming trial.”
Harry offered Jelks the only chair in his cell, as if he was an old friend who had dropped in to his study at Oxford for a cup of tea. He perched on the bunk and watched the lawyer as he opened his briefcase, extracted a yellow pad and placed it on the table.
Jelks took a pen from an inside pocket and said, “Perhaps you might begin by telling me who you are, as we both know you’re not Lieutenant Bradshaw.”
If the lawyer was surprised by Harry’s story he showed no sign of it. Head bowed, he wrote copious notes on his yellow pad while Harry explained how he’d ended up spending the night in jail. Once he’d finished, Harry assumed his problems must surely be over, as he had such a senior lawyer on his side—that was, until he heard Jelks’s first question.
“You say that you wrote a letter to your mother while you were on board the Kansas Star, explaining why you had assumed Tom Bradshaw’s identity?”
“That’s correct, sir. I didn’t want my mother to suffer unnecessarily, but at the same time I needed her to understand why I’d made such a drastic decision.”
“Yes, I can understand why you might have considered that changing your identity would solve all your immediate problems, while not appreciating that it could involve you in a series of even more complicated ones,” said Jelks. His next question surprised Harry even more. “Do you recall the contents of that letter?”
“Of course. I wrote and rewrote it so many times I could reproduce it almost verbatim.”
“Then allow me to test your memory,” Jelks said and, without another word, tore off a sheet from his yellow pad and handed it and his fountain pen to Harry.
Harry spent some time recalling the exact words, before he set about rewriting the letter.
My dearest mother,
I have done everything in my power to make sure you receive this letter before anyone can tell you that I died at sea. As the date on this letter shows, I did not perish when the Devonian was sunk on September 4th. In fact, I was plucked out of the sea by a sailor from an American ship and thanks to him, I’m still very much alive. However, an unexpected opportunity arose for me to assume another man’s identity, and I did so willingly, in the hope it would release Emma from the many problems I seem to have unwittingly caused her and her family over the years.
It is important that you realize my love for Emma has in no way diminished; far from it. I cannot believe I shall ever experience such love again. But I do not feel I have the right to expect her to spend the rest of her life clinging on to the vain hope that at some time in the future I might be able to prove that Hugo Barrington is not my father, and that I am, in fact, the son of Arthur Clifton. At least this way, she can consider a future with someone else. I envy that man.
I plan to return to England on the first available ship, so should you receive any communication from a Tom Bradshaw, you can assume it’s me. I’ll be in touch with you the moment I set foot in Bristol, but in the meantime, I must beg you to keep my secret as steadfastly as you kept your own for so many years.
Your loving son,
Harry
When Jelks had finished reading the letter, he once again took Harry by surprise. “Did you post the letter yourself, Mr. Clifton,” he asked, “or did you give that responsibility to someone else?”
For the first time Harry felt suspicious, and decided not to mention that he’d asked Dr. Wallace to deliver the letter to his mother when he returned to Bristol in a fortnight’s time. He feared that Jelks might persuade Dr. Wallace to hand over the letter and then his mother would have no way of knowing he was still alive.
“I posted the letter when I came ashore,” he said.
The elderly lawyer took his time before he responded. “Do you have any proof that you are Harry Clifton, and not Thomas Bradshaw?”
“No, sir, I do not,” said Harry without hesitation, painfully aware that no one on board the Kansas Star had any reason to believe he wasn’t Tom Bradshaw, and the only people who could verify his story were on the other side of the ocean, more than three thousand miles away, and it would not be long before they were all informed that Harry Clifton had been buried at sea.
“Then I may be able to assist you, Mr. Clifton. That’s assuming you still wish Miss Emma Barrington to believe you are dead. If you do,” said Jelks, an insincere smile on his
face, “I may be able to offer a solution to your problem.”
“A solution?” said Harry, looking hopeful for the first time.
“But only if you felt able to retain the persona of Thomas Bradshaw.”
Harry remained silent.
“The district attorney’s office has accepted that the charge against Bradshaw is at best circumstantial, and the only real evidence they are clinging on to is that he left the country the day after the murder had been committed. Aware of the weakness of their case, they have agreed to drop the charge of murder if you felt able to plead guilty to the lesser charge of desertion while serving in the armed forces.”
A Matter of Honor Page 35