OCTOBER
Section 1
MICKY MIRANDA was worried. He sat in the lounge of the Cowes Club smoking a cigar, wondering what he had done to offend Edward. Edward was avoiding him. He stayed away from the club, he did not go to Nellie's, and he did not even appear in Augusta's drawing room at teatime. Micky had not seen him for a week.
He had asked Augusta what was wrong but she said she did not know. She was a little odd with him and he suspected that she knew but would not say.
This had not happened in over twenty years. Every now and again Edward would take offense at something Micky did and go into a sulk, but it never lasted more than a day or two. This time it was serious--and that meant it could jeopardize the Santamaria harbor money.
In the last decade, Pilasters Bank had issued Cordovan bonds about once a year. Some of the money had been capital for railways, waterworks and mines; some had been simple loans to the government. All of it had benefited the Miranda family directly or indirectly, and Papa Miranda was now the most powerful man in Cordova, after the president.
Micky had taken a commission on everything--although nobody at the bank knew this--and he was now personally very rich. More significantly, his ability to raise the money had made him one of the most important figures in Cordovan politics and the unquestioned heir to his father's power.
And Papa was about to start a revolution.
The plans were laid. The Miranda army would dash south by rail and lay siege to the capital. There would be a simultaneous attack on Milpita, the port on the Pacific coast that served the capital.
But revolutions cost money. Papa had instructed Micky to raise the biggest loan yet, two million pounds sterling, to buy weapons and supplies for a civil war. And Papa had promised a matchless reward. When Papa was president, Micky would be prime minister, with authority over everyone except Papa himself. And he would be designated Papa's successor, to become president when Papa died.
It was everything he had ever wanted.
He would return to his own country a conquering hero, the heir to the throne, the president's right-hand man, and lord over his cousins and uncles and--most gratifyingly--his older brother.
And now all of that had been put at risk by Edward.
Edward was essential to the plan. Micky had given Pilasters an unofficial monopoly of trade with Cordova, in order to boost Edward's prestige and power at the bank. It had worked: Edward was now Senior Partner, something he could never have achieved without help. But no one else in London's financial community had got a chance to develop any expertise in Cordovan trade. Consequently the other banks felt they did not know enough to invest there. And they were doubly suspicious of any project Micky brought to them because they assumed it had already been turned down by Pilasters. Micky had tried raising money for Cordova through other banks, but they had always turned him down.
Edward's sulk was therefore deeply disquieting. It was giving Micky sleepless nights. With Augusta unwilling or unable to shed any light on the problem Micky had no one to ask: he himself was Edward's only close friend.
While he sat smoking and worrying, he spotted Hugh Pilaster. It was seven o'clock, and Hugh was in evening dress, having a drink alone, presumably on his way to meet people for dinner.
Micky did not like Hugh and he knew the feeling was mutual. However, Hugh might know what was going on. And Micky had nothing to lose by asking him. So he stood up and went over to Hugh's table. 'Evening, Pilaster,' he said.
'Evening, Miranda.'
'Have you seen your cousin Edward lately? He seems to have vanished.'
'He comes to the bank every day.'
'Ah.' Micky hesitated. When Hugh did not invite him to take a seat he said: 'May I join you?' and sat down without waiting for a reply. In a lower voice he said: 'Would you happen to know whether I've done anything to offend him?'
Hugh had looked thoughtful for a moment, then said: 'I can't think of any reason why I shouldn't tell you. Edward has discovered that you killed Peter Middleton, and you've been lying to him about it for twenty-four years.'
Micky almost jumped out of his chair. How the devil had that come out? He almost asked the question, then remembered he could not without admitting his guilt. Instead he feigned anger and stood up abruptly. 'I shall forget you ever said that,' he said, and he left the room.
It took him only a few moments to realize that he was in no more danger from the police than he had ever been. No one could prove what he had done and it had all happened so long ago that there would be no point in reopening the investigation. The real danger he faced was that Edward would refuse to raise the two million pounds Papa needed.
He had to win Edward's forgiveness. And to do that he had to see him.
That night he could do nothing, for he was engaged to go to a diplomatic reception at the French embassy and a supper party with some Conservative members of Parliament. But the next day he went to Nellie's at lunchtime, woke April up, and persuaded her to send Edward a note, promising him 'something special' if he would come to the brothel that night.
Micky took April's best room and booked Edward's current favorite, Henrietta, a slim girl with short dark hair. He instructed her to dress in a man's evening clothes with a top hat, an outfit Edward found sexy.
By half-past nine in the evening he was waiting for Edward. The room had a huge four-poster bed, two sofas, a big ornate fireplace, the usual washstand, and a series of vividly obscene paintings set in a mortuary, showing the slavering attendant performing various sexual acts on the pale corpse of a beautiful young girl. Micky reclined on a velvet sofa, wearing nothing but a silk robe, sipping brandy, with Henrietta beside him.
She quickly got bored. 'Do you like these pictures?' she asked him.
He shrugged and did not answer. He did not want to talk to her. He had very little interest in women for their own sake. The sexual act itself was a humdrum mechanical process. What he liked about sex was the power it gave him. Women and men had always fallen in love with him and he never tired of using their infatuation to control, exploit and humiliate them. Even his youthful passion for Augusta Pilaster had been in part the desire to tame and ride a spirited wild mare.
From that point of view, Henrietta offered him nothing: it was no challenge to control her, she had nothing worth exploiting her for, and there was no satisfaction in humiliating someone as low down on the scale as a prostitute. So he smoked his cigar and worried about whether Edward would come.
An hour went by, and then another. Micky began to lose hope. Was there some other way to reach Edward? It was very difficult to get to a man who really did not want to be seen. He could be 'not at home' at his house and unavailable at his place of work. Micky could hang around outside the bank to catch Edward leaving for lunch, but that was undignified, and anyway Edward could easily just ignore him. Sooner or later they would meet at some social occasion, but it might not happen for weeks, and Micky could not afford to wait that long.
Then, just before midnight, April put her head around the door and said: 'He's arrived.'
