Master of the Game (40 page)

Kate heard the front doorbell ring, and a minute later Alexandra came into the drawing room leading a tall, classically handsome stranger by the hand.

“Gran, this is George Mellis.”

“At last,” Kate said. “I was beginning to think you were avoiding me, Mr. Mellis.”

“On the contrary, Mrs. Blackwell, you have no idea how much I’ve been looking forward to this moment.” He was about to say, “You’re even more beautiful than Alex told me,” but he stopped himself.

Be careful. No flattery, George. It’s like a red flag to the old lady
.

A butler came in, fixed drinks and discreetly withdrew.

“Please sit down, Mr. Mellis.”

“Thank you.”

Alexandra sat beside him on the couch, facing her grandmother.

“I understand you’ve been seeing quite a bit of my granddaughter.”

“That’s been my pleasure, yes.”

Kate was studying him with her pale-gray eyes. “Alexandra tells me you’re employed by a brokerage firm.”

“Yes.”

“Frankly, I find it strange, Mr. Mellis, that you should choose to work as a salaried employee when you could be heading a very profitable family business.”

“Gran, I explained that—”

“I would like to hear it from Mr. Mellis, Alexandra.”

Be polite, but for Christ’s sake, don’t kowtow to her. If you show the slightest sign of weakness, she’ll tear you apart
.

“Mrs. Blackwell, I’m not in the habit of discussing my personal life.” He hesitated, as though making a decision. “However,
under the circumstances, I suppose…” He looked Kate Blackwell in the eye and said, “I’m a very independent man. I don’t accept charity. If I had founded Mellis and Company, I would be running it today. But it was founded by my grandfather and built into a very profitable business by my father. It does not need me. I have three brothers who are perfectly capable of running it. I prefer being a salaried employee, as you call it, until I find something that I can build up myself and take pride in.”

Kate nodded slowly. This man was not what she had expected at all. She had been prepared for a playboy, a fortune hunter, the kind who had been pursuing her granddaughters ever since Kate could remember. This one appeared to be different. And yet, there was something disturbing about him that Kate could not define. He seemed almost
too
perfect.

“I understand your family is wealthy.”

All she has to believe is that you’re filthy rich, and madly in love with Alex. Be charming. Keep your temper under control, and you’ve got it made
.

“Money is a necessity, of course, Mrs. Blackwell. But there are a hundred things that interest me more.”

Kate had checked on the net worth of Mellis and Company. According to the Dun & Bradstreet report, it was in excess of thirty million dollars.

“Are you close to your family, Mr. Mellis?”

George’s face lighted up. “Perhaps too close.” He allowed a smile to play on his lips. “We have a saying in our family, Mrs. Blackwell. When one of us cuts his finger, the rest of us bleed. We are in touch with each other constantly.” He had not spoken to any member of his family for more than three years.

Kate nodded approvingly. “I believe in closely knit families.”

Kate glanced at her granddaughter. There was a look of adoration on Alexandra’s face. For one fleeting instant, it reminded Kate of herself and David in those long-ago days when they were so much in love. The years had not dimmed the memory of how she had felt.

Lester came into the room. “Dinner is served, madame.”

The conversation at dinner seemed more casual, but Kate’s questions were pointed. George was prepared for the most important question when it came.

“Do you like children, Mr. Mellis?”

She’s desperate for a great-grandson…She wants that more than anything in the world

George turned toward Kate in surprise. “Like children? What is a man without sons and daughters? I am afraid that when I marry, my poor wife will be kept very busy. In Greece, a man’s worth is measured by the number of children he has sired.”

He seems genuine
, Kate thought.
But, one can’t be too careful. Tomorrow I’ll have Brad Rogers run a check on his personal finances
.

Before Alexandra went to bed, she telephoned Eve. She had told Eve that George Mellis was coming to dinner.

“I can’t wait to hear all about it, darling,” Eve had said. “You must call me the moment he leaves. I want a full report.”

And now Alexandra was reporting. “I think Gran liked him a lot.”

Eve felt a small
frisson
of satisfaction. “What did she say?”

“She asked George a hundred personal questions. He handled himself beautifully.”

So he had behaved
.

“Ah! Are you two lovebirds going to get married?”

“I—He hasn’t asked me yet, Eve, but I think he’s going to.”

She could hear the happiness in Alexandra’s voice. “And Gran will approve?”

“Oh, I’m sure she will. She’s going to check on George’s personal finances, but of course that will be no problem.”

Eve felt her heart lurch.

Alexandra was saying, “You know how cautious Gran is.”

“Yes,” Eve said slowly. “I know.”

They were finished
Unless she could think of something quickly.

“Keep me posted,” Eve said.

“I will. Good night.”

The moment Eve replaced the receiver, she dialed George Mellis’s number. He had not reached home yet. She called him every ten minutes, and when he finally answered Eve said, “Can you get your hands on a million dollars in a hurry?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Kate is checking out your finances.”

“She knows what my family is worth. She—”

“I’m not talking about your family. I’m talking about you. I told you she’s no fool.”

There was a silence. “Where would I get hold of a million dollars?”

“I have an idea,” Eve told him.

When Kate arrived at her office the following morning, she said to her assistant, “Ask Brad Rogers to run a personal financial check on George Mellis. He’s employed by Hanson and Hanson.”

“Mr. Rogers is out of town until tomorrow, Mrs. Blackwell. Can it wait until then or—?”

“Tomorrow will be fine.”

At the lower end of Manhattan on Wall Street, George Mellis was seated at his desk at the brokerage firm of Hanson and Hanson. The stock exchanges were open, and the huge office was a bedlam of noise and activity. There were 225 employees working at the firm’s headquarters: brokers, analysts, accountants, operators and customer representatives, and everyone was working at a feverish speed. Except for George Mellis. He was frozen at his desk, in a panic. What he was about to do would put him in prison if he failed. If he succeeded, he would own the world.

“Aren’t you going to answer your phone?”

One of the partners was standing over him, and George realized that his phone had been ringing for—how long? He must
act normally and not do anything that might arouse suspicion. He scooped up the phone. “George Mellis,” and smiled reassuringly at the partner.

George spent the morning taking buy and sell orders, but his mind was on Eve’s plan to steal a million dollars.
It’s simple, George. All you have to do is borrow some stock certificates for one night. You can return them in the morning, and no one will be the wiser
.

Every stock brokerage firm has millions of dollars in stocks and bonds stored in its vaults as a convenience to customers. Some of the stock certificates bear the name of the owner, but the vast majority are street-name stocks with a coded CUSIP number—the Committee on Uniform Security Identification Procedures—that identifies the owner. The stock certificates are not negotiable, but George Mellis did not plan to cash them in. He had something else in mind. At Hanson and Hanson, the stocks were kept in a huge vault on the seventh floor in a security area guarded by an armed policeman in front of a gate that could only be opened by a coded plastic access card. George Mellis had no such card. But he knew someone who did.

Helen Thatcher was a lonely widow in her forties. She had a pleasant face and a reasonably good figure, and she was a remarkable cook. She had been married for twenty-three years, and the death of her husband had left a void in her life. She needed a man to take care of her. Her problem was that most of the women who worked at Hanson and Hanson were younger than she, and more attractive to the brokers at the office. No one asked Helen out.

She worked in the accounting department on the floor above George Mellis. From the first time Helen had seen George, she had decided he would make a perfect husband for her. Half a dozen times she had invited him to a home-cooked evening, as she phrased it, and had hinted that he would be served more than dinner, but George had always found an excuse. On this particular morning, when her telephone rang and she said, “Accounting, Mrs. Thatcher,” George Mellis’s voice came over the
line. “Helen? This is George.” His voice was warm, and she thrilled to it. “What can I do for you, George?”

“I have a little surprise for you. Can you come down to my office?”

“Now?”

“Yes.”

“I’m afraid I’m in the middle of—”

“Oh, if you’re too busy, never mind. It will keep.”

“No, no. I—I’ll be right down.”

George’s phone was ringing again. He ignored it. He picked up a handful of papers and walked toward the bank of elevators. Looking around to make sure no one was observing him, he walked past the elevators and took the backstairs. When he reached the floor above, he checked to make sure Helen had left her office, then casually walked in as though he had business there. If he was caught—But he could not think of that. He opened the middle drawer where he knew Helen kept her access card to the vault. There it was. He picked it up, slipped it in his pocket, left the office and hurried downstairs. When he reached his desk, Helen was there, looking around for him.

“Sorry,” George said. “I was called away for a minute.”

“Oh, that’s all right. Tell me what the surprise is.”

“Well, a little bird told me it’s your birthday,” George said, “and I want to take you to lunch today.” He watched the expression on her face. She was torn between telling him the truth and missing the chance of a lunch date with him.

“That’s—very nice of you,” she said. “I’d love to have lunch with you.”

“All right,” he told her. “I’ll meet you at Tony’s at one o’clock.” It was a date he could have made with her over the telephone, but Helen Thatcher was too thrilled to even question it. He watched as she left.

The minute she was gone, George went into action. He had a lot to accomplish before he returned the plastic card. He took the elevator to the seventh floor and walked over to the security area where the guard stood in front of the closed grilled gate.
George inserted the plastic card and the gate opened. As he started inside, the guard said, “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.”

George’s heart began to beat faster. He smiled. “No. This isn’t my usual territory. One of my customers suddenly decided he wanted to see his stock certificates, so I’ve got to dig them out. I hope it doesn’t take me the whole blasted afternoon.”

The guard smiled sympathetically. “Good luck.” He watched as George walked into the vault.

The room was concrete, thirty feet by fifteen feet. George walked back to the fireproof file cabinets that contained the stocks and opened the steel drawers. Inside were hundreds of stock certificates that represented shares of every company on the New York and American stock exchanges. The number of shares represented by each certificate was printed on the face of the certificate and ranged from one share to one hundred thousand shares. George went through them swiftly and expertly. He selected certificates of various blue-chip companies, representing a value of one million dollars. He slipped the pieces of paper into his inside jacket pocket, closed the drawer and walked back to the guard.

“That was fast,” the guard said.

George shook his head. “The computers came up with the wrong numbers. I’ll have to straighten it out in the morning.”

“Those damned computers,” the guard commiserated. “They’ll be the ruination of us all yet.”

When George returned to his desk, he found he was soaked with perspiration.
But so far so good
. He picked up the telephone and called Alexandra.

“Darling,” he said, “I want to see you and your grandmother tonight.”

“I thought you had a business engagement tonight, George.”

“I did, but I canceled it. I have something very important to tell you.”

At exactly 1:00
P.M
. George was in Helen Thatcher’s office returning the access card to her desk drawer, while she waited for
him at the restaurant. He desperately wanted to hang on to the card, for he would need it again, but he knew that every card that was not turned in each night was invalidated by the computer the next morning. At ten minutes past one, George was lunching with Helen Thatcher.

He took her hand in his. “I want us to do this more often,” George said, looking at her searchingly. “Are you free for lunch tomorrow?”

She beamed. “Oh, yes, George.”

When George Mellis walked out of his office that afternoon, he was carrying with him one-million-dollars’ worth of stock certificates.

He arrived at the Blackwell house promptly at seven o’clock and was ushered into the library, where Kate and Alexandra were waiting for him.

“Good evening,” George said. “I hope this is not an intrusion, but I had to speak to you both.” He turned to Kate. “I know this is very old-fashioned of me, Mrs. Blackwell, but I would like your permission for your granddaughter’s hand in marriage. I love Alexandra, and I believe she loves me. But it would make both of us happy if you would give us your blessing.” He reached into his jacket pocket, brought out the stock certificates and tossed them on the table in front of Kate. “I’m giving her a million dollars as a wedding present. She won’t need any of your money. But we both need your blessing.”

Kate glanced down at the stock certificates George had carelessly scattered on the table. She recognized the names of every one of the companies. Alexandra had moved to George, her eyes shining. “Oh, darling!” She turned to her grandmother, her eyes imploring, “Gran?”