by Stan Mason
The group worked throughout the rest of the day. They laboured hard, perspiring heavily in the thick atmosphere, fuelled by anger and repression, clearing loose rock to secure an easy path along the level. There was no way of knowing the time but at mid-day, Trevelyan advised them to open their lunch boxes and eat the food provided for them. Peter worked beside Anna, with the perspiration pouring off him muttering grievances the whole of the afternoon. It crossed his mind to lead the group to another country, perhaps the United States, escaping in the same way that Ivan had led them to England. Cornwall was a coastal region. They could seize a large vessel and sail to America having gathered enough provisions beforehand. They could leave by night and no one would know where they had gone. The authorities would search for them on the land, not realising that they were in mid-Atlantic. Alternatively, they could head south and go to South America. By they time anyone knew they were missing, they would be beyond the Bay of Biscay heading for the Panama Canal. Then he thought about Anna and the baby. Would there be any risk to either of them if they decided on that plan? He pondered the question all day long until his head throbbed.
‘Why don’t we leave here and go by boat to South America?’ he ventured to her that evening in Russian. ‘Would you be prepared to take the risk with little Ivan?’
She looked at him astutely, regarding him in a more adventurous light. ‘I think it’s a great idea. Do you think you’re up for it?’
‘I’ll speak with the others tonight,’ he went on with an element of excitement in his voice. ‘We’ll meet to decide what to do but I’ve little doubt of their agreement after what happened today.’
‘I’ll leave it in your good hands, Peter,’ she told him trustingly. ‘I just hope that the South American authorities are more sympathetic to our cause.’
He shrugged his shoulders without being able to give her a meaningful answer. ‘If there was another world, I would gladly consider going there. Until then, we must look for something closer.
The student met an hour later. They were absolutely exhausted being unused to undertaking such heave manual labour. The discussion to leave England for South America was over in ten minutes. They agreed unanimously to leave Britain by stealth and take their chances elsewhere. The plan was on... the world was beginning to shrink!
Chapter Fourteen
It was four o’clock in the morning when Morris was awakened. At first he stirred slightly and rolled over to fall asleep again but the noise of someone rapping loudly on his front door continued with force. He clambered out of bed, wrapped the tatty fur coat around his body to answer the call. Peering into the gloom that still held the dawn, he screwed up his eyes to recognise Hunkin and Tucker standing impassively on the doorstep.
‘What the Hell’s going on?’ he asked sleepily.
They pushed past him rudely into the front room followed by two fierce-looking thugs of giant stature. The hallmarks on their faces showed that they had experienced many years in one boxing ring or another.
‘We’ve come to settle a few scores,’ Hunkin informed him, seating himself in a large armchair.
‘And to right a few wrongs,’ added Tucker pointedly, sitting in another armchair.
The fat man closed the door nervously and joined them with a puzzled expression on his face. ‘What are you talking about?’ he asked innocently. He eyed the two pugilists and shuddered slightly with fear. It was clear that Hunkin and Tucker intended to put pressure on him but he wasn’t sure the reason why or how far they were willing to go. In the first place, Morris would willingly admit that he was a yellow coward when it came to fisticuffs. He hated violence. In the second place, the employment of two morons to fill him with terror was an over-reaction. If they meant business, they could put the fear of God into him on their own account without help from anyone else.. So why the extra muscle? It was like the story of a man held at bay by a vicious dog. ‘He won’t hurt you while he’s barking,’ submitted the owner. ‘I know that,’ replied the man, ‘but does the dog know that too!’ No Hunkin and Tucker were merely firing a broadside across his bows.
‘Would anyone like a drink?’ he offered weakly, trying to calm his nerves rather than act as a host.
One of the tall me lifted a decanter of sherry resting on the top of the cocktail cabinet and dropped it on the floor deliberately so that its contents spilled rapidly all over the carpet.
‘He’s very clumsy,’ explained Tucker in a mock apology, lighting a cigarette and flicking the match carelessly into a corner of the room. ‘You ought to see what he does to people who upset him!’
Morris swallowed hard but retained a calm expression despite the frustrated rage which surged through his mind. ‘All right, Hunkin,’ he muttered after inhaling deeply. ‘Have your fun and get down to the bottom line!’
‘He wants to get down to the bottom line, Mr. Tucker. I wouldn’t put it past him to cheat at cards as well. I wish I’d examined that pack before we started playing.’
‘You know better than to come up with an argument like that weeks after we played,’ snapped Morris irately. He became riled at the spurious allegation. ‘Is that what you’ve come here for... to renege on your debt because you think I cheated? Then you’d better get your heavies to beat me up and put an end to it. You’ll have gained nothing! Absolutely nothing except perhaps two years in jail for assault.’
Hunkin became discomforted by the waning of his advantage. Knowing the fat man’s fear of physical violence, he had hired two men to frighten him. In all sincerity, he had no intention of any harm coming to the trader but a show of strength was necessary to make an impact... and a four o’clock call in the morning would catch his adversary at his weakest. Contrary to expectations, however, the fat man had become so incensed at being called a cheat that the initiative had been lost. For all his failings, including his deviousness and sharp practice, Morris was a man of honour when it came to playing cards. To him, a debt of honour was indeed a debt of honour!
‘All right, Wesley,’ responded Hunkin, changing tack quickly. ‘You know why we’ve come here. When we discussed the state of Botallack, no one knew whether it was in good condition or not... at least that’s what we were led to understand. Now we hear that you had a mining consultant go over the place before we met and what do we find? That you knew the mine was in good condition. You hammered down the price because we weren’t privy to the information.!’
‘How could I have known the results of any survey at that time,’ protested the fat man curtly.
‘You must take us for a pair of prize fools!’ countered Tucker bitterly. ‘Any idiot could have telephoned the consultant before the meeting took place... and that’s what you did, didn’t you?’
Morris glared at him firmly. ‘I don’t know who you think you are, Tucker,’ he riposted. ‘In my book, you still have nothing to do with the arrangement between Hunkin and myself. When we play poker, he was the one who put the option for the mine in the kitty. If you have a problem, it’s not with me!’
‘He has a point there,’ interrupted Hunkin, feeling the situation slipping away from him. He turned to Morris again. ‘But that doesn’t alter the fact that you screwed up the meeting because you had that knowledge. We deserved a higher price!’
‘First of all,’ countered the trader, ‘you’ve no right to use strong-arm tactics... especially at this time of the morning. You don’t gain any chalks with me playing this charade Second, you presume I knew what the consultant was going to say in his report..
One of the ex-pugilists lifted a full decanter of port and flung it at a painting on the wall. It smashed to pieces causing rivulets of dark red wine to run down the wainscoting to the floor.
‘There’s no need for that!’ shouted Morris angrily. ‘You Won’t intimidate me by threatening to smash up the place. ‘
‘We’re her to get satisfaction,’ Tucker told him
bluntly. ‘Either you raise the price or you suffer for it.’
‘Don’t talk like a prat!’ retorted the fat man pulling his fur coat more tightly around his body. ‘You won’t do anything... not now, not ever! If you do, the police will arrest you.’
‘You’d have a hard time proving it,’ laughed Hunkin, feeling a little uneasy at the hard line attitude shown by the other man, ‘No, we wouldn’t touch you. I don’t want the boys to get leprosy!’
‘Very funny!’ spat Morris dryly unwounded by the insult. ‘Don’t think I’m not prepared for people like you. I’ve got fingers in many pies. I have enemies... of course I have enemies, that’s why I’ve taken the precaution of taping every conversation that goes on here. At this moment, everything you’ve said has been recorded. The police will be very interested in what you have said.’
‘You’re bluffing!’ alleged Tucker turning a little pale. ‘You didn’t have time to turn on a tape-recorder!’
Morris smiled and a hoarse laugh peeled from his lips. ‘Ask your friend if I’m bluffing. He knows me far better.
Tucker looked at his colleague with doubt clouding his mind as Hunkin shuffled his feet awkwardly. They were all suddenly involved in a poker game which had no cards and he didn’t like it at all. Was the fat man bluffing or not? It was difficult to tell. The tables were suddenly turned and he was on a hiding to nothing. It became a case of damage limitation. ‘I think we should search for this tape-recorder,’ he suggested to the two ex-boxers. ‘It must be in this room somewhere.’
‘It could be anywhere,’ countered Morris easily. ‘All that’s needed is a tiny microphone. You wouldn’t recognise it even if you saw it.’
‘No... he’s bluffing!’ growled Tucker.
‘Shut up!’ rebuked Hunkin, seeking time to consider the situation. ‘Look Wesley, why don’t you give us another hundred thousand pounds and we’ll call it quits. You tried to pull the wool over our eyes but we found you out. We don’t want any bad feeling between us.’
The fat man stared at him coldly. ‘That’s right. We don’t want any bad feeling between us but it’s not up to me any more. I sold my share in the mine. You ought to keep up with events.’
Silence prevailed for a few moments then Tucker found his voice. ‘Who’s it been sold to?’ he enquired with surprise, knowing that he still retained ten per cent of the shares.
Morris stared at the four men icily. ‘You intrude into my home at this unearthly hour, threatening to smash it up and me into the bargain,. If you want the information, come back in a few hours’ time without your big gorillas.’
One of the thugs made a menacing move towards him , spearing eager to make the fat man pay for his insult. However Hunkin raised his arm to prevent him from getting hurt.
‘All right, Wesley. No threats... no fisticuffs. Who bought the mine?’
Morris moved behind the cocktail bar and poured himself a stiff drink before replying. They watched him in silence waiting to hear the information. ‘I don’t know that I ought to tell you but I will anyway,’ he revealed, sipping his drink. ‘I won the mine in a poker game but I couldn’t raise the capital to buy it. Sadler, the bank manager, had the money but he wanted fifty per cent of the shares. With Tucker owning ten per cent, that would leave me with only forty per cent. Then came the Stannary Court case and it all started to become very messy. So I sold out.’
‘I bet you made a pretty penny out of it,’ assumed Tucker miserably.
‘I don’t know whether to believe you,’ intrudedd Hunkin suspiciously.
‘I’m not going to get into an argument with you at this time of the morning,’ uttered the trader tiredly. ‘All I can say is that there’s no point in flogging a dead horse.’
Hunkin raised his arm to indicate that they were to leave empty-handed but the gesture was taken as a sign to trigger further vandalism. One man picked up a small chair flinging it with great force at the glass doors of the cocktail cabinet causing them to shatter into hundreds of tiny slivers. The other man took an aerosol can from his pocket to spray the walls and furniture with a dark green dye until the canister was exhausted.
‘For God’s sake!’ blasphemed the fat man vehemently. ‘Get them out of here or I’ll not be responsible for my actions!’
Hunkin shouted out an instruction to the two men and they departed swiftly leaving Morris nursing his anger at the vandalised room. If there was one thing that the fat man hated it was a bad loser. Hunkin and Tucker were two typical examples. There were so many of them nursing their grievances for gain in the world. Why didn’t they simply get on with their lives!
***
More than a week passed by before Sadler travelled to London to see Clement Lancaster again. This time there would be a showdown! The tycoon had made him wait nine days and the banker was determined to make him pay for his procrastination. He recalled the last time he had journeyed to the capital when his spirits had been depressed. Now he exuded confidence of a high degree because he failed to see how the magnate could wriggle out of the predicament. However there was one dark cloud looming heavily over the horizon in the guise of Della’s change of heart but Clement wouldn’t know of this and he would decline to keep in touch with his cousin even if he knew where she lived. Yet at the back of Sadler’s mind lurked a bete-noire... the belief that rich successful entrepreneurs always found favour with the Gods. Regardless of the battle ahead, the banker knew that his main task was to obtain sufficient funds to buy the mine and then buy the machinery required to operate it. If so, he would not have to steal the funds from dormant accounts at the bank. At first, when James started proceedings in the Stannary Court, he couldn’t believe his luck. The agreement was that money to buy the mind had to be paid to Hunkin and possible Tucker, if he sold his share, but everything was put on hold because of the Court action. However, now that the action had been dismissed, Sadler realised he would have to come up with the money shortly. If Clement felt obliged to make an investment in the mine, now was the appropriate time to do so!
He approached the mansion once more and was admitted by Bates, the butler, who led him to the library. Sadler sat in Clement’s chair and his eyes moved around the room, staring at the massive collection of books at his leisure. This was the kind of luxury that he wanted for himself. He relaxed in the warm atmosphere, with his hands locked behind his head and his feet outstretched as though he was master of all he surveyed. It became a fool’s paradise which became apparent when Clement Lancaster entered the room.
‘I haven’t any time to spare today, Mr. Sadler,’ he opened brusquely, striding across the room. ‘If you move from my chair we may be able to proceed a little faster.’
Sadler rose and ambled towards the window, hoping to slow th millionaire down by using the strategy of lethargy, He was suspicious that the other man’s tactics would be to rush him off his feet and dispense with him summarily. Clearly it was necessary to deflate the situation by taking one’s time.’
‘What do you want me to do, Mr. Sadler?’
‘I’m asking you to invest in the mind, Clement. It’s your option. You’re not under duress.’
‘Have you seen my cousin recently?’ The words were uttered like a dog barking at a trespasser.
The banker pulled a book from one of the shelves, opening it at random. ‘Why don’t you refer to her by her name, Della Lancaster. Or perhaps you’d prefer to use Della White. She’s all the better for not seeing you, that’s for sure.’ He noticed a flicker of anger in the other man’s eyes. ‘Did you check the facts relating to her child?’
‘You may feel pleased with yourself that you were correct,’ he responded. ‘Our legal department has examined the situation carefully and will be handling it in future.’
Sadler returned the book to its place on the shelf before swivelling to face the magnate. ‘So how stands the wind for France?’
‘I beg your pardon,’ came the request.
‘It could increase your fortune.’
‘I don’t need to increase my fortune!’
‘Don’t toy with me, Clement!’ he growled becoming angry by the intransigence of the other man. ‘The Press are just waiting for me to release the story of how you cheated your cousin out of her inheritance perpetrating a fraud.’
Lancaster’s face hardened. ‘Be very careful when you use the word ‘fraud’! I’d remind you of the poem by the poet laureate John Donne. He wrote: ‘Never ask for whom the bell tolls. It tolls for thee!’
Sadler looked at him with surprise. ‘You think that I’m the one perpetrating a fraud,’ he gasped. You people at the top of the tree think you’ve got it made! I suppose that you and the Chief of Police belong to the same club, or something like that.’
‘Don’t raise your voice to me, Mr. Sadler!’
By this time, the banker was beginning to realise that something was wrong. The tycoon wouldn’t flaunt the situation unless he was certain he stood on solid ground. The man wasn’t concerned the slightest at the threat of adverse publicity which could rock the foundations of his business empire. Sadler pulled another book from the shelves in frustration wondering how to progress from this point. However, during the period of silence that followed, Della Lancaster entered the room, looking radiant in a beautiful white gown. The banker turned to look at her and faced defeat at that moment. Della had visited him to close ranks with the family. Clement must have considered her return as a gift from Heaven. Sadler had been the catalyst bringing them both together. But, by doing so, he had lost all his bargaining power. She went over to the tycoon who put his arms around her shoulders lovingly.
‘I’ve been keeping this gentleman occupied until you arrived, my dear,’ said Clement suavely. He glanced at the banker with a smile of victory on his lips. ‘I think that’s game, match and set, don’t you, old boy!’