Hugo’s blood ran cold. All the triumphs of the day evaporated in an instant. This was not a letter he wanted to read a second time or, more important, that he wished anyone else to become aware of.
He pulled open the top drawer of his desk and took out a box of Swan Vestas. He lit a match, held the letter over the wastepaper basket and didn’t let it go until the frail black cinders had evaporated into dust. The best ten shillings he’d ever spent.
Hugo was confident that he was the only person who knew Clifton was still alive, and he intended it to remain that way. After all, if Clifton kept his word and continued to go by the name of Tom Bradshaw, how could anyone else find out the truth?
He suddenly felt sick when he remembered that Emma was still in America. Had she somehow discovered that Clifton was alive? But surely that wasn’t possible if she hadn’t read the letter. He needed to find out why she’d gone to America.
He had picked up the phone and begun to dial Mitchell’s number when he thought he heard footsteps in the corridor. He replaced the receiver, assuming it must be the night watchman checking to see why his light was still on.
The door opened, and he stared at a woman he had hoped never to see again.
‘How did you get past the guard on the gate?’ he demanded.
‘I told him we had an appointment to see the chairman; a long overdue appointment.’
‘We?’ said Hugo.
‘Yes, I’ve brought you a little present. Not that you can give something to someone when it’s already theirs.’ She placed a wicker basket on Hugo’s desk, and removed a thin muslin cloth to reveal a sleeping baby. ‘I felt it was about time you were introduced to your daughter,’ Olga said, standing aside to allow Hugo to admire her.
‘What makes you think I would have the slightest interest in your bastard?’
‘Because she’s also your bastard,’ said Olga calmly, ‘so I will assume you want to give her the same start in life you gave Emma and Grace.’
‘Why would I even consider making such a ridiculous gesture?’
‘Because Hugo,’ she said, ‘you bled me dry, and now it’s your turn to face up to your responsibility. You can’t assume you will always get away with it.’
‘The only thing I got away from was you,’ said Hugo with a smirk. ‘So you can bugger off and take that basket with you, because I won’t be lifting a finger to help her.’
‘Then perhaps I’ll have to turn to someone who just might be willing to lift a finger to help her.’
‘Like who?’ snapped Hugo.
‘Your mother might be a good place to start, although she’s probably the last person on earth who still believes a word you say.’
Hugo leapt up from his seat, but Olga didn’t flinch. ‘And if I can’t convince her,’ she continued, ‘my next stop would be the Manor House, where I would take afternoon tea with your ex-wife, and we could talk about the fact that she’d already divorced you long before we even met.’
Hugo stepped out from behind his desk, but it didn’t stop Olga continuing. ‘And if Elizabeth is not at home, I can always pay a visit to Mulgelrie Castle and introduce Lord and Lady Harvey to yet another of your offspring.’
‘What makes you think they’d believe you?’
‘What makes you think they wouldn’t?’
Hugo moved towards her, only stopping when they were a few inches apart, but Olga still hadn’t finished.
‘And then finally, I’d feel I owe it to myself to visit Maisie Clifton, a woman I greatly admire, because if all I’ve heard about her—’
Hugo grabbed Olga by the shoulders and began to shake her. He was only surprised that she made no attempt to defend herself.
‘Now you listen to me, you Yid,’ he shouted. ‘If you so much as hint to anyone that I’m the father of that child, I’ll make your life so miserable that you’ll wish you’d been dragged off by the Gestapo with your parents.’
‘You don’t frighten me any longer, Hugo,’ said Olga, with an air of resignation. ‘I only have one interest left in life, and that’s to make sure you don’t get away with it a second time.’
‘A second time?’ repeated Hugo.
‘You think I don’t know about Harry Clifton, and his claim to the family title?’
Hugo let go of her and took a step back, clearly shaken. ‘Clifton is dead. Buried at sea. Everyone knows that.’
‘You know he’s still alive, Hugo, however much you want everyone else to believe he isn’t.’
‘But how can you possibly know—’
‘Because I’ve learnt to think like you, behave like you, and more important, act like you, which is why I decided to hire my own private detective.’
‘But it would have taken you years—’ began Hugo.
‘Not if you come across someone who’s out of work, whose only client has run away a second time and who hasn’t been paid for six months.’ Olga smiled when Hugo clenched his fists, a sure sign that her words had hit home. Even when he raised his arm she didn’t flinch, just stood her ground.
When the first blow came crashing into her face, she toppled back, clutching her broken nose, just as a second punch landed in her stomach, causing her to double up.
Hugo stood back and laughed while she swayed from side to side, trying to stay on her feet. He was about to hit her a third time when her legs crumpled and she collapsed to the ground in a heap, like a puppet whose strings have been cut.
‘Now you know what you can expect if you’re ever foolish enough to bother me again,’ shouted Hugo, as he towered over her. ‘And if you don’t want more of the same, you’ll get out while you’ve still got the chance. Just be sure to take that bastard with you back to London.’
Olga slowly pushed herself up off the floor and on to her knees, blood still pouring from her nose. She attempted to stand, but was so weak that she stumbled forward, only breaking her fall by clinging on to the edge of the desk. She paused for a moment and took several deep breaths as she tried to recover. When she finally raised her head, she was distracted by a long, thin silver object that glistened in a circle of light thrown out by the desk lamp.
‘Didn’t you hear what I said?’ Hugo hollered as he stepped forward, grabbed her by the hair and yanked her head back.
With all the force she could muster, Olga jerked her leg back and rammed the heel of her shoe into his groin.
‘You bitch,’ screamed Hugo as he let go of her hair and fell back, allowing Olga a split second to grab the letter opener and conceal it inside the sleeve of her dress. She turned to face her tormentor. When Hugo had caught his breath, he once again moved towards her. As he passed a side table, he grabbed a heavy glass ashtray and raised it high above his head, determined to deliver a blow from which she would not so easily recover.
When he was only a pace away, she pulled up her sleeve, gripped the letter opener with both hands and pointed the blade towards his heart. Just as he was about to bring the ashtray crashing down on her head, he spotted the blade for the first time, tried to swerve to one side, tripped and lost his balance, falling heavily on top of her.
There was a moment’s silence before he sank slowly to his knees and let out a scream that would have woken all Hades. Olga watched as he grabbed at the handle of the letter opener. She stood mesmerized, as if she was watching a slow-motion clip from a film. It must have been only a moment, although it felt interminable to Olga, before Hugo finally collapsed and slumped to the floor at her feet.
She stared down at the blade of the letter opener. The tip was sticking out of the back of his neck and blood was spurting in every direction, like an out-of-control fire hydrant.
‘Help me,’ Hugo whimpered, trying to raise a hand.
Olga knelt by his side and took the hand of a man she’d once loved. ‘There is nothing I can do to help you, my darling,’ she said, ‘but then there never was.’
His breathing was becoming less regular, although he still gripped her hand tightly. She bent down to be sure that he could hear her every word. ‘You only have a few more moments to live,’ she whispered, ‘and I wouldn’t want you to go to your grave without knowing the details of Mitchell’s latest report.’
Hugo made one last effort to speak. His lips moved, but no words came out.
‘Emma has found Harry,’ said Olga, ‘and I know you’ll be pleased to hear he’s alive and well.’ Hugo’s eyes never left her as she leant even closer, until her lips were almost touching his ear. ‘And he’s on his way back to England to claim his rightful inheritance.’
It wasn’t until Hugo’s hand went limp that she added, ‘Ah, but I forgot to tell you, I’ve also learnt how to lie like you.’
The Bristol Evening Post and the Bristol Evening News ran different headlines on the first editions of their papers the following day.
SIR HUGO BARRINGTON
STABBED TO DEATH
was the banner headline in the Post, while the News preferred to lead with
UNKNOWN WOMAN THROWS HERSELF
IN FRONT OF LONDON EXPRESS
Only Detective Chief Inspector Blakemore, the head of the local CID, worked out the connection between the two.