Night Over Water - Ken Follett [103]
This is what it must be like, she thought, when the man you have been married to for twenty years tells you he’s having an affair with his secretary and he doesn’t love you anymore.
She felt dizzy, as if she had banged her head. It was going to take a while to adjust to this.
Peter was not merely being foolish, or mean, or spiteful. He was actually doing himself harm in order to ruin his sister. That was pure hatred.
He had to be at least a little bit crazy.
She needed to think. She decided to leave this hot, smoky bar and get some air. She stood up and left them without saying goodbye.
As soon as she stepped outside she felt a little better. There was a cool breeze blowing in off the estuary. She crossed the road and walked along the dockside, listening to the seagulls cry.
The Clipper was out in midchannel. It was bigger than she had imagined: the men refueling it looked tiny. She found its huge engines and enormous propellers reassuring. She would not feel nervous on this plane, she thought, not after surviving a trip across the Irish Sea in a single-engined Tiger Moth.
But what would she do when she got home? Peter, would never be talked out of his plan. There were too many years of hidden anger behind his behavior. She felt sorry for him, in a way: he had been so unhappy all this time. But she was not going to give in to him. There might still be a way to save her birthright.
Danny Riley was the weak link. A man who could be bribed by one side could be bribed by the other. Perhaps Nancy could think of something else to offer him, something that would tempt him to change sides. But that would be tough. Peter’s bribe, a chunk of General Textiles’s law business, was hard to top.
Maybe she could threaten him. It would be cheaper. But how? She could take away some family and personal business from his firm, but that would not amount to much, nothing compared to the new business he would get from General Textiles. What Danny would like best would be straight cash, of course, but her fortune was mostly tied up in Black’s Boots. She could lay her hands on a few thousand dollars without much trouble, but Danny would want more, maybe a hundred grand. She could not get hold of that much cash in time.
While she was deep in thought, her name was called. She turned around to see the fresh young Pan American employee waving at her. “There’s a telephone call for you,” he shouted. “A Mr. MacBride from Boston.”
She felt suddenly hopeful. Maybe Mac could think of a way out of this. He knew Danny Riley. Both men were like her father, second-generation Irish who spent all their time with other Irishmen and were suspicious of Protestants even if they were Irish. Mac was honest and Danny was not, but otherwise they were alike. Pa had been honest, but he had been willing to turn a blind eye to a little sharp practice, especially if it would help a buddy from the old country.
Pa had saved Danny from ruin once, she recalled, as she hurried back along the dock. It was just a few years ago, not long before Pa died. Danny had been losing a big and important case, and in desperation he had approached the judge at their golf club and tried to bribe him. The judge had not been bribable, and he had told Danny to retire or be disbarred. Pa had intervened with the judge and persuaded him that it was a momentary lapse. Nancy knew all about it: Pa had confided in her a lot toward the end of his life.
That was Danny: slippery, unreliable, rather foolish, easily swayed. Surely she could win him back to her own side.
But she only had two days.
She went into the building, and the young man showed her the phone. She put the earpiece to her ear and picked up the stand. It was good to hear Mac’s familiar, affectionate voice. “So you caught up with the Clipper,” he said jubilantly. “Attagirl!”
“I’ll be at the board meeting—but the bad news is that Peter says he’s got Danny’s vote tied up.”
“Do you believe him?”
“Yes. General Textiles is giving Danny a chunk of corporate business.”
Mac’s voice became despondent. “Are you sure it’s true?