第 52 页

The next thing William knew, he was being carried on a stretcher, but he couldn't hear or see anything and he wondered if it was night or whether he was blind.

It seemed a long journey. When his eye opened, it focused on a short fat colonel limping out of a tent. There was something familiar about him, but he couldn't think what. The stretcher bearers took him into the operating tent and placed him on the table. He tried to fight off sleep for fear it might be death. He slept.

William woke. He was conscious of two people trying to move him. They were turning him over as gently as they could, and then they stuck a needle into him. William dreamed of seeing Kate, and then his mother, and then Matthew playing with his son Richard. He slept.

He woke. He knew they had moved him to another bed; slight hope replaced the thought of inevitable death. He lay motionless, his one eye fixed on the canvas roof of the tenti unable to move his head. A nurse came over to study a chart and then him. He slept.

He woke. How much time had passed? Another nurse. This time he could see a little more and - joy, oh joy - he could move his head, if only with great pain. He lay awake as long as he possibly could; he wanted to live. He slept.

He woke. Four doctors were studying him, deciding what? He could not hear them and so learnt nothing.

They moved him once again. This time he was able to watch them put him in an army ambulance. The doors closed behind him, the engine started, and the ambulance began to move over rough ground while a new nurse sat by his side holding him steady. The journey felt like an hour, but he no longer could be sure of time. The ambulance reached smoother ground and then came to a halt. Once again they moved him. This time they were walking on a flat surface and then up some stairs into a dark room. They waited again and then the room began to move, another car perhaps. The room took off. The nurse stuck another needle into him, and he remembered nothing until he felt a plane landing and ta3ding to a halt. They moved him yet again.

Another ambulance, another nurse, another smell, another city. New York, or at least America, he thought, no other smell like that in the world. The new ambulance took him over another smooth surface, continually stopping and starting, until it finally arrived at where it wanted to be. They carried him out once again and up some more steps into a small white-walled room. They placed him in a comfortable bed. He felt his head touch the pillow, and when next he woke, thought he was totally alone. Then his eye focused and he saw Kate standing in front of him. He tried to lift his hand and touch her, to speak, but no words came. She smiled, but he knew she could not see his smile, and when he woke again Kate was still there but wearing a different dress. Or had she come and gone many times? She smiled again. How long had it been? He tried to move his head a little, and saw his son Richard, so tall, so good-looking. He wanted to see his daughters, but couldn't move his head any further. They moved into his fine of vision, Virginia - she couldn't be that old, and Lucy, it wasn't possible. Where had the years gone? He slept.

He woke. No one was there, but now he could move his head. Some bandages had been removed and he could see more clearly; he tried to say something, but no words came. He slept.

He woke. Less bandages than before. Kate was there again, her fair hair longer, now falling to her shoulders, her soft grown eyes and unforgettable smile, looking beautiful so beautiful. He said her name- She smiled. He slept.

He woke. Even fewer bandages than before. This time his son spoke.

Richard said, 'Hello, Daddy.'

He heard him and replied, 'Hello, Richard,' but didn't recognise the sound of his own voice. The nurse helped him to sit up ready to greet his family. He thanked her. A doctor touched his shoulder.

'The worst is over, Mr. Kane. YouIl soon be well, and then you can return home.'

He smiled as Kate came into the room, followed by Virginia and Lucy. So many questions to ask them. Where should he begin? There was gaps in his memory that demanded satisfaction. Kate told him that he had nearly died.

He knew that but had not realised that over a year had passed since his division had been ambushed in the forest at Remagen.

Where had the months of being unaware gone, life lost resembling death?

Richard was almost twelve, already hoping to go to Havard, Virginia was nine, and Lucy nearly seven. Their dresses seemed rather short. He would have to get to know them all over again.

Kate was somehow more beautiful than William even remembered her. She told William how she never learned to face the fact that he might have died, how well Richard was doing at Buckley and how Virginia and Lucy needed a father. She braced herself to tell him of the scars on his face and chest that would never heal and thanked God that the doctors felt certain there would be nothing wrong with his mind and his sight would be restored. Now all she wanted to do was help him recover. Kate slowly, William quickly.

Each member of the family played their part in the process. First sound, then sight, then speech. Richard helped his father to walk, until he no longer needed the crutches. Lucy helped him with his food, until he could feed himself once more and Virginia read Mark Twain to him.

William was not sure if the reading was for her benefit or his, they both enjoyed it so much. And then at last, after Christmas had passed, they allowed him to return to his own home.

Once William was back in East Sixty-eighth Street, he recovered more quickly, and his doctors were predicting that he would be able to return to work at the bank within six months. A little scarred, but very much alive, he was allowed to see visitors.

The first was Ted Leach, somewhat taken aback at William's appearance.

Something else he would have to learn to live with for the time being.

From Ted Leach, William learned news that brought him satisfaction.

Lester's had progressed in his absence and his colleagues looked forward to welcoming him back as their chairman. A visit from Tony Simmons brought him news that made him sad. Alan Lloyd and Rupert Cork-Smith had both died. He would miss their prudent wisdom. And then Thomas Cohen called to say how glad he was to learn of his recovery and to prove, as if it were still necessary, that time had moved on by inforrming William he was now semi-retired and had turned over many of his clients to his son Thaddeus who had opened an office in New York. William remarked on both of them being named after apostles. Thomas Cohen laughed and expressed the hope that Mr. Kane would continue to use the firm. William assured him he would.

'By the way, I do have one piece of information you ought to know about.'

William listened to the old lawyer in silence and became angry, very angry.

Book Five

26

General Alfred Jodl signed the unconditional surrender at Rheims on 7 May 1945 as Abel arrived back intoa New York preparing for victory celebrations and an end to the war. Once again, the streets were filled with young people in uniform, but this time their faces showed elation, not fear. Abel was saddened by the sight of so many men with one leg, one arm, blind or badly scarred. For them the war would never be over, whatever piece of paper had been signed four thousand miles away.

When Abel walked into the Baron in his colonel's uniform, no one recognised him. Why should they? When they had last seen him in civilian clothes two years before, there were no lines on 1--s still youthful face. The face they now saw was older than its thirty-nine years and the deep, worn ridges on his forehead showed that the war had left its mark on him. Hetook the lift to his forty-second floor office, and a security guard told him firmly he was on the wrong floor.

'Where's George Novak?' asked Abel.

'He's in Chicago, Colonel,' the guard replied.

'Well, get him on the phone,' said Abel.

'Who shall I say is calling him?'

'Abel Rosnovski.'

The guard moved quickly.

George's familiar voice crackled down the line with welcome. At once Abel realised just how good it felt to be back home. He decided not to stay in New York that night but to fly the eight hundred miles on to Chicago.

He took with him George's up-to-date reports to study on the plane. He read every detail of the Baron Group's progress during the war, and it became obvious that George had done well in keeping the group on an even keel-during Abel's absence. His cautious stewartship left Abel with no complaints; the profits were still high because so many staff had been called up to fight in the war, while the hotels had remained full because of the continual movement of personnel across America. Abel decided that he would have to start employing new staff immediately, before other hotels picked up the best of those returning from the Front.

When he arrived at NEdway Airport, Terminal 11C, George was standing by the gate waiting to greet him. He'd hardly changed, a little more weight, a little less hair perhaps, and within an hour of swapping stories and bringing each other up to date on the past three years, it was almost as though Abel had never been away. Abel would always be thankful to the Black Arrow for the introduction to his senior vice-president.

George, however, was uncharitable about Abel's limp which seemed more pronounced since he'd gone off to the war.

'The Hopalong Cassidy of the hotel business,' he said mockingly. 'Now you don't have a leg to stand on.'

'Only a Pole would make such a dumb crack,' replied Abel.

George stared at Abel, looking slightly hurt, as a puppy does when scolded by its master.

'Thank God I had a dumb Polack to take care of every. thing while I was away looking for Germans,' Abel added reassuringly.

Abel couldn't resist checking once around the Chicago Baron before he drove home. The veneer of luxury had worn rather thin during the wartime shortages. He could see several things that needed renovation, but they would have to wait, because now all he wanted to do wag see his wife and daughter. That was when the first shock came. In George he had seen little change in three years, but Florentyna was now eleven and had blossomed into a beautiful young girl, while Zaphia, although only thirty-eight, had become plump, dowdy and distinctly middle-aged.

To begin with, the two of them were not sure quite how to treat one another, and after only a few weeks Abel began to realise that their relationship was never going to be the same again. Zaphia made little effort to excite Abel or take any pride in his achievements. It saddened Abel to observe her lack of interest and he tried to get her involved in his life once again but she did not respond to any of his suggestions.

She only seemed contented when staying at home and having as little to do with the Baron Group as possible. He resigned himself to the fact that she could never change and wondered how long he could remain faithful to her. While he was enchanted with Florentyna, Zaphia, without her looks and with her figure gone, left him cold. When they slept together he avoided making love, and, on the rare occasions when they did, he thought of other women. Soon he began to find any excuse to be away from Chicago and Zaphia's despondent and silently accusing face.

He began by making long trips to his other hotels, taking Florentyna along with him during her school holidays. He spent the first six months after his return to America visiting every hotel in the Baron Group in the same way he had done when he had taken over the company after Davis Leroy's death. Within the year, they were all back to the high standard he expected of them, but Abel wanted to move forward again. He informed Curtis Fenton at the group's next quarterly meeting that his market research team was now advising him to build a hotel in Mexico and another in Brazil, and they were also searching for new lands on which to erect a Baron.

'The Mexico City Baron and the Rio de Janeiro Baron,' said Abel. He liked the ring of those names.

'Well, you have adequate funds to cover the building costs,' said Curtis Fenton. 'The cash has certainly been accumulating in your absence. You could build a Baron almost anywhere you choose. Heaven knows where you'll stop, Mr. Rosnovski.'

'One day, Mr. Fenton, I'll put a Baron in Warsaw, and then I'll think about stopping,' replied Abel. 'I may have licked the Germans, but I still have a little score to settle with the Russians!

Curtis Fenton laughed. Only later that evening when he repeated the story to his wife did he decide that Abel Rosnovski had meant exactly what he had said .., a Baron in Warsaw.

'Now where do I stand with Kane's bank?'

The sudden change in Abel's tone bothered Curtis Fenton. It worried him that Abel Rosnovski still clearly held Kane responsible for Davis Leroy's premature death. He opened the special file and started reading.

'Lester, Kane and Company's shares are divided among fourteen members of the Lester family and six past and present employees while Mr. Kane himself is the largest stockholder, holding eight per cent.'

'Are any of the Lester family wilting to sell their shares?' enquired Abel.

'Perhaps if we can offer the right price. Miss Susan Lester, the late Charles Lester's daughter, has given us reason to believe she might consider parting with her shares, and Mr. Peter Parfitt, a former vice-chairman of Lester's, has also showed some interest in our approaches.'

'What percentage do they both hold?'

'Susan Lester holds six per cent. While Peter Parfitt has only two per cent.'

'How much do they want for their shares?'

Curtis Fenton looked down at his file again while Abel glanced at Lester's latest annual report. His eyes came to a halt on Article Seven.

'Miss Susan Lester wants two million dollars for her six per cent and Mr. Parfitt one million dollars for his two per cent?

'Mr. Parfitt is greedy,' said Abel. 'We will therefore wait until he is hungry. Buy Miss Susan Lester's shares immediately without revealing whom you represent And keep we briefed on any change of heart by Mr. Parfitt.'

Curtis Fenton coughed.

'Is something bothering you, Mr. Fenton?' asked Abel.

Curtis Penton hesitated. 'No, nothing,' he said unconvincingly.

'From now on I am putting someone in overall charge of the account whom you will know or certainly know of -Henry Osbome.'

"Congressman Osbome?' asked Curtis Fenton.