“Funny you should mention that,” interrupted Jessica. “Pops told me you used to be a director.”
“Yes, but that was a long time ago.”
“Then I’m going to have to bring you out of retirement to direct your swan song.”
“That was an awful pun, young lady. What do you have in mind?”
“I want you to put my mom and pops back on stage.”
The old man turned and walked slowly up the steps and onto the stage.
“What’s she up to?” whispered Samantha.
“I have no idea,” said Seb. “But perhaps it would be simpler just to indulge her.” He took Sam’s hand and led her up onto the stage.
“Now, I want you center stage, Seb,” said Mr. Swann. “Samantha, you stand facing him. Sebastian, you will now fall on one knee, look adoringly up at the woman you love and deliver your opening line.”
Seb immediately fell on one knee. “Samantha Ethel Sullivan. I adore you and always will,” he said, “and more than anything on earth I want you to be my wife.”
“Now you reply, Samantha,” said Swann.
“On one condition,” she said firmly.
“No, that’s not in the script,” said Jessica. “You’re meant to say, ‘Get up, you idiot. Everyone is staring at us.’”
“This is when you produce the little leather box,” said Swann. “Samantha, you must look surprised when he opens it.”
Sebastian took out a small red box from his jacket pocket and opened it to reveal an exquisite blue sapphire surrounded by diamonds that Sam hadn’t seen for ten years. Her expression was one of genuine surprise.
“And now your final line, Mom, if you can remember it.”
“Of course I’ll marry you. I’ve loved you since the day you got me arrested.”
Seb stood up and placed the ring on the third finger of her left hand. He was about to kiss his fiancée when Samantha took a pace back and said, “You lot have been rehearsing behind my back, haven’t you?”
“True,” admitted Swann. “But you were always going to be our leading lady.”
Seb took Samantha in his arms and kissed her gently on the lips, which was greeted with a spontaneous burst of applause from an audience who had been sitting on the edges of their seats.
“Curtain!” said Mr. Swann.
*
Sir Piers Thornton, the chairman of the court at the Bank of England, wrote to the chairman of Farthings Bank to invite him to appear before the Ethics Committee. He detailed what the bank wished to discuss with him, and enclosed a copy of the tape recording as well as the evidence given by one of the bank’s brokers, which had been given in camera. The committee offered Mr. Bishara four weeks to prepare his case and recommended that he had a legal representative present.
Arnold Hardcastle replied by return of post that his client would prefer to appear before the committee as soon as was convenient. A date was agreed.
*
On the car journey back to London, Sebastian told Samantha about the contents of the damning faked tape and the problem Hakim was facing.
“Cedric would have agreed with your advice,” said Sam, “just as I do. Sloane and Mellor are obviously both crooks, and Mr. Bishara shouldn’t need to lower his standards to theirs to prove he’s innocent.”
“Let’s hope you’re right,” said Seb, as he turned onto the new motorway. “Hakim will be appearing in front of the Ethics Committee next Wednesday and he hasn’t got much more to rely on than his good name.”
“That should be more than enough,” said Sam. “After all, it will be obvious he’s telling the truth.”
“I wish it were that easy. Mellor and Sloane nearly got away with it last time, and if Hakim can’t prove the tape has been doctored, things could go badly wrong for him. And worse, the four tapes that prove Hakim’s innocence have somehow disappeared from the storeroom.”
“So they’ve got someone working on the inside.”
“A commodity trader called Gavin Buckland, who’s already given evidence to the committee. He told them that—”
“Mom?”
“I thought you were asleep,” said Sam as she looked around to see her daughter curled up on the backseat.
“How could I get any sleep with you two chattering away.” She sat up. “So let me see if I’ve fully understood the situation, because it’s clear to me, Mom, that you haven’t been paying attention.”
“Out of the mouths of babes…” said Seb.
“So what is it you think I’ve missed, Jessie?”
“For a start, why don’t you tell Pops about Professor Daniel Horowitz?”
“Who’s he?” asked Seb.
“A colleague of mine at the Smithsonian, who … of course, how dumb of me.”
“I sometimes wonder if either of you is really my parent,” said Jessica.
42