The man cleared his throat. ‘I apologize for using the phone for what would normally be accomplished with a written proposal, but I prefer a more direct route.’
‘Who is this?’ asked Alex, making no attempt to disguise his impatience.
His question was ignored. ‘I understand that you have a rose bush on your property that is bearing blue roses. Is that correct?’ the man asked.
Alex almost dropped the phone. ‘What?’ he gasped.
‘This is Alex Sheppard, is it not?’
He swallowed. ‘Yes but how–’
‘Please, Mr Sheppard. It’s my job to know these kinds of things.’
Alex’s mind was still racing. How on earth–?
‘You haven’t answered my question.’
‘You know, I can’t hear you very well, this is a bad line,’ Alex said, playing for time. Wait – hadn’t Adell mentioned a couple of growers? Perhaps it was one of them. No, they were English and Dutch, he clearly recalled. Besides, Adell wouldn’t have given out his and Kate’s name and phone number. Alex was now annoyed. ‘How did you come by this information?’ he demanded.
Again, his question was ignored. ‘It must have been a rewarding moment – discovering a blue rose. I’m sure, by now, that you are aware of the impact such a plant will have on the world of commerce.’
‘Who are you?’ Alex asked.
The man laughed. It wasn’t a pleasant laugh. ‘It’s of no consequence,’ he said. ‘Surely you didn’t think you could keep a discovery of this magnitude secret for long, Mr Sheppard? No, that would be too naive. Look, I’m not going to pussyfoot around. I would like to make you a proposal right now. Then you can forget this dumb auction idea.’
Alex cupped his hand over the mouthpiece of the phone. ‘Jesus Christ,’ he breathed. ‘The man knows everything.’ He removed his hand, now aware of his laboured breathing. ‘I’m not interested in hearing–’
‘If this rose of yours measures up to expectations, the syndicate I represent is prepared to offer you a substantial amount of money – and I mean substantial – in exchange for ownership and all patent rights. Naturally, we will want to have it examined first. If it gets a clean bill of health – if it’s a genuine botanical specimen – then you’ll be presented with an ironclad deal that will include a generous up-front cash advance and royalty payments on sales. It will add up to more money than you’ve ever dreamed of, believe me.’
‘I’m sorry, whoever you are,’ Alex said, ‘you’ll have to discuss all of this with our solicitors, Sheridan, Adell and Broughton.’
‘We know who your solicitors are, Sheppard. I’m making the offer to you. It’ll be a nice clean-cut deal. Within a few days, you and your wife will walk away multi-millionaires. What do you say?’
Alex quickly rejected the idea of lying about the rose. That would be foolish – the man was obviously shrewd and knew too much already. ‘Let me give you Adell’s phone number,’ he said, politely, in an attempt to close the conversation. ‘Whatever he decides is fine with me. But I should tell you that plans for the auction are proceeding. That’s the best I can do – I’m sorry.’
‘Let me tell you something, Sheppard.’ The man’s voice was now cold, bordering on hostile. ‘You and your lawyer are making a big mistake with this auction.’
‘And you’re making a big mistake trying to threaten me. I don’t like it one bit.’
The American laughed again.
Alex was now incensed. Despite what he thought was a civil and firm refusal on his part, the man showed no signs of being deterred.
When he spoke next, the man’s manner was more conciliatory. ‘Okay, Sheppard. It’s a big decision. I understand that. To tell you the truth, I didn’t expect you to give me a definitive answer on the phone. Here’s what I suggest. You talk it over with Kate. Think about my proposal. I’ll get back to you in a couple of days with more specifics. How does that sound?’
The mention of Kate’s name threw Alex completely off balance.
‘Don’t call me again. Do you understand?’ he stammered.
‘Yes, I do understand. It’s probably quite a shock to get a call like this, out of the blue – if you’ll pardon the phrase – but I’m a businessman, Sheppard. And you’ve got something that is of great interest to me and my partners. So,’ his voice hardened again, ‘you and your wife consider my offer. Please.’
There was a momentary pause.
‘Think it over,’ he said, quietly. ‘Real hard.’
Before Alex could say anything, the man hung up.
Five thousand miles away, at his townhouse in iron-gated Vista del Lago country club estate, twenty miles south of Lakeford, Ira Wolff sat in the quiet luxury of his cherry wood-panelled study working at his desk. The phone rang. Before it could ring twice, he picked it up. ‘Yes?’ he said. He listened, nodding his head slowly in approval. ‘Excellent,’ he said, finally. ‘I agree, a couple of days is about right. That should give them plenty of time. Good work. Keep me posted, then.’ He stared at the phone for a moment before putting it down. ‘Black knight to blue queen, six,’ he said quietly.
Chapter Ten
A garden really lives only insofar as it is an expression of faith, the embodiment of a hope and a song of praise.
Russell Page, international garden designer
It was a day much more befitting mid-July. A little after eight thirty, when Alex had left for work, Kate gathered up tools from the potting shed and set off into the garden. Already she could feel the sun’s warmth on her bare arms.
She had tossed and turned all night, thinking the worst about the missing file and the disturbing phone call from the American stranger. She was convinced they were connected. Today, however, she would put aside all negative thoughts and enjoy her day off in the garden. Nothing strenuous – it would be spent simply pottering, enjoying.
A drowsy stillness hung over the garden, stirred every now and then by a gentle breeze that rustled only the topmost leaves of the old elms. High above, in the eggshell blue sky, the twittering of swallows and lazy cawing of rooks crystallized the sights and senses. It was so easy to shut off the outside world.
She busied herself deadheading roses, staking droopy delphiniums and foxgloves, and raking rose petals and dead leaves from under the thickly planted beds. Not for the first time, she was reminded of Frances Hodgson Burnett’s story,
Of late, Kate found herself consciously avoiding the blue rose as much as possible. She had no rational explanation for doing so, but for some time now a nagging voice skulking deep inside her warned her to be cautious. Don’t be lured by its captivating beauty and promise of vast riches, the voice kept saying. She knew that if she gave Alex even the slightest hint of her uneasiness it would only aggravate matters. She still had not been able to convince him of the downside potential of their discovery.
She stopped raking, to stare in fascination at a velvety bumblebee rolling drunkenly in the golden pollen of a peony. Quickly the bee flew off to find other temptations. Just as quickly, thoughts of the blue rose returned. The whole idea of turning it over to the lawyer had been to absolve themselves of responsibility and worry, to allow more time to themselves and enjoy their new home to the fullest. None of this was happening now. Worse, the sequence of unsettling developments was now starting to adversely affect their marriage, giving rise to ripples of
