2.

Arrival of the Large Gentleman.

Howard Markham was tense. It wasn't going to plan at all. The stupid bint was having a touch of the seconds, so he'd had to use a little pressure to convince her of the wisdom of not defying him.

He was a big man, now thirty years old, and determined to be a millionaire before he was forty. If this plan succeeded, he would achieve his ambition before his next birthday. If it failed, he shuddered, as he didn't want to think about that.

The son of a self-made man, George Markham, he'd watched powerless, as alcohol and gambling reduced both his father and the fortune to nothing in a matter of a few short years. Now, bitter and determined, Howard thought he'd found the perfect plan.

Letty had gone along with it, up until a few hours ago. So, in a moment of weakness, he'd told her about the letter. He knew now that it had been a mistake, but he so wanted this to work, it was the only lever he had. She'd suddenly seen him for what he was, an opportunist.

“You don't love me at all, do you? All you want is the money!”

He had tried to profess undying love, but he hadn't fooled her.

Then he told her about the letter.

She was stuck, so he knew that he still had a chance. He'd rather she still felt some attraction for him, as it made marriage so much easier, but it was an irrelevant incidental in his plan.

Now she lay sobbing on one of the twin beds in their room. He stood staring out of the window, at the grey rooftops of Hounslow. He was also angry with the girl in the lift. He knew it was his fault, as he didn't want to make a spectacle of their leaving the country, but she should have minded her own business.

A knock came on the door. He walked over and opened it. A young woman in hotel uniform stood there, with two police officers in uniform.

“Yes?”

“Mr Markham?” the woman asked.

“Yes.”

One of the officers stepped forward. Howard observed both officers were carrying pistols in holsters; it was unusual for the UK, but not the Airport.

“Is this your wallet, sir?” the officer asked, holding up a black leather wallet.

Howard's left hand went to his inside jacket pocket.

“Yes, shit, I never knew it was missing. Where did you find it?”

“It was handed into the reception. A waiter found it in the dining area. How much money was in it?”

“About a hundred and fifty quid and five hundred dollars, plus all my cards, why, has it been stolen?”

“It's all there, sir. So we can rule out theft.”

“Thank you. I'm very grateful. But, I have to confess, I'm a little baffled as to why it takes two officers to return it to me.”

“Sir, we aren't returning it. I'm arresting you for possession of a stolen credit card. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention, when questioned, something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.”

Howard felt an icy finger of fear creep up his chest.

“What? This is ridiculous, what stolen credit card?”

“Sir, I do not propose to ask you questions at this time,” the first officer said, as the second PC applied quick-cuffs to the protesting and very surprised man.

Letty Greyson stared in undisguised disbelief and relief, as Howard Markham was pulled from the room. Still sitting on the bed, she became aware of a friendly voice.

“Hi, it seems you've a spot of trouble. Can we help?”

Letty looked at the doorway, seeing the attractive blonde girl from the lift. She was smiling and looking so sympathetic that it was all became much for the poor girl. She hugged Katie, sobbing her heart out. Peter rolled his eyes as Katie smiled at him over Letty's shoulders.

It took a few minutes for her to regain some semblance of control. Peter handed her a glass of water, and she sat with Katie, with the latter's arm around her waist.

“My name is Letty Greyson. What's happened?” she asked.

Peter and Katie exchanged glances.

“Hello Letty, I'm Peter Marriott and this is my sister Katie. Katie hates to see girls being bullied, so she came up with a plan. When he was so rude to her in the lift, she happened to, um, acquire the man's wallet. I had this credit card, I have to say not in my real name, so I reported it stolen, and we wiped it clean, placing it in your nasty man's wallet.

“We then left it on the floor in the Dining room, close to the table you had been sitting at. Conveniently a waiter found it and handed it in. An anonymous call to the police about a stolen card alerted the local police to the possibility, and the rest is history. I doubt they'll keep him for very long, but it'll give us time to spirit you away at least.”

Letty's eyes went as round and as big as saucers.

“You picked his pocket?” she gasped with delight at Katie, who grinned.

“How clever! But, I'm in a real pickle. I thought he loved me, and I him, but he just wanted my money. You see, I've been left millions in trust until I'm twenty-one, and that's a few months away. If I'm married, then my husband automatically becomes a trustee. My grandfather had some really old fashioned ideas about women and money.”

“You have my sympathy. Our father is somewhat eccentric as well,” said Peter.

“Howard was so different. He changed as soon as I said I thought it better to wait. He has this letter which he says will be enough to have Daddy arrested and sent to prison, and if I didn't marry him, he'd send it to the newspapers and the police.”

“Have you seen this letter?” Katie asked.

“No, why?”

“The chances are he's bluffing. However, you can't be blamed for returning to your family now, can you?”

“I can't go back, Daddy'll kill me!”

“I doubt that. You'll find that fathers may bluster a bit, but if he loves you, he'll forgive you and welcome you with open arms,” said Katie.

“Hmm,” said Letty, unconvinced.

“Do you know what was in the letter?” Peter asked.

“No, only it was about something called ‘insider dealings'. I don't even know what that means, do you?”

“What does your father do?”

“He's a businessman. I don't really know what he does. He goes to lots of board meetings and stuff.”

Peter tried to explain.

“Insider dealings related to the business of trading stocks and shares. If, as a company officer, one has inside knowledge about either a product or a company that will affect the value of that company's stocks or shares, and one uses that information to the benefit of oneself or another, or to the detriment of others, then one can be accused of insider dealing.

“For example, if one know that a wonderful new product that a company is about to launch isn't so wonderful, and one sells one's shares before the company collapses. Or one knows that the company has had a takeover offer that would increase the value of the shares, and one buys loads at a lower rate, these are insider dealings.”

“Oh, is it illegal?”

“That's a grey area. Some are, yes, but most of it is irregular at best, and corrupt at worst.”

Letty frowned.

“I don't know. I'd hate for Daddy to get into trouble.”

“If he's been naughty, that's his problem. But for Markham to blackmail you, then you should let the police handle it.”

“I couldn't!”

“We need to get you out of here. If the police don't hold him, he could be back very soon,” Katie said.

“Where can I go?”

“In the meantime, I have a spare bed in my room, why don't you share with me?” Katie suggested.

Peter snorted, coughing violently.

Katie looked daggers at her brother, who went into the bathroom to get some water.

“May I? This is so good of you,” Letty said.

When Peter returned, he found Letty and his sister packing up Letty's case, on the point of vacating the room. A nervous looking assistant manager was hovering in the doorway.

Peter explained that Mr Markham was liable for the bill. The girl had been brought against her will, and he suggested that the hotel debit Mr Markham's credit card just in case he decamped.

They then took the girl up one floor to Katie's room. It was now nearly ten thirty and Katie had yet to have that shower she'd craved.

“Could you call someone for me?” Letty asked.

“Of course, who?”

“My cousin, Tony Fanshaw. He lives not far from here, and I know Daddy would feel happier if I was with him.”

She gave Peter the number, and Peter called it. He briefly outlined the problem, and found himself talking into a dead phone.

He smiled.

“Your gallant cousin is on way, I believe. He hardly let me finish explaining.”

“Oh, Tony is such a sweet guy.”

“Then what are you doing with the odious Mr Markham?” Katie asked.

Letty sighed, shrugging her shoulders.

“I'm a fool, I suppose. He was so, sort of, strong and in control. He was so confident and charming, I fell for it all. Still, I'm worried about the letter.”

“I should tell your father all about it. I don't imagine there's much of a real threat, otherwise, Markham would have tried to blackmail him, instead of you. He was depending on your innocence to work in his favour.” Katie said.

“You're so wise, Katie. How old are you?”

Katie reddened, while Peter had another coughing fit.

“I'm twenty three, but I've been around a bit.”

“And some!” added Peter, sotto voce.

“Peter, shut up!”

Peter sniggered.

“You're no angel,” his sister said.

“True, pax?”

“Pax.”

“I wish I had a brother like you,” said Letty.

“No you don't, girl, he's odious,” said Katie, smiling broadly.

“Hmm, she shows good taste. At least I'm not impetuous and foolhardy.”

“I'm decisive and brave,” Katie replied.

“Yeah, right!”

Letty was now calmer and felt so secure with this young couple. She'd only known them for a short time, yet she felt they were true friends.

She shared some more about her predicament and about her life as an only daughter and heiress to a vast fortune. Educated at the best schools, and yet not desperately academic, she hoped to get a job as a journalist, having a HND in the Media and Journalism.

“Daddy wants me to find a respectable man and get married. But what kind of life is that? I want to travel the world and see all those places before I get too old to appreciate them.”

“You could find the right man and do it with him,” suggested Katie.

“Yeah, as if I'll ever find the right man. I'm so stupid when it comes to men. I always fall for the wrong one.”

“You never know, one might come along and sweep you off your feet!”

“Oh, Katie, I hope so. My problem is that I'm too romantic, and I don't think there are any romantic men left.”

“There might be one for you,” Katie said with a smile.

There was a knock on the door. Peter went and opened it.

“Tony!” said Letty, clearly pleased to see the man who stood in the doorway, filling it very capably.

Tony Fanshaw was six foot five. Having rowed for Oxford, boxed at Sandhurst and played rugby for the Army against the other services, he was broad, lean and looked very strong.

His slightly battered face actually improved his looks, giving him a dashing air. Dressed in brown cords, brogues, a check shirt and a tweed jacket, he was the very epitome of the English Country gentleman, accentuated by his unruly sandy hair. He sported a faintly bored expression of mild amusement.

“Hello Letty, what the hell have you got yourself into now?”

Letty then spoke for ten minutes without breathing. She exaggerated the whole affair beyond recognition, and Katie's part was elevated to the mastermind of a daring espionage ring.

“It seems the family are indebted to you, Miss Marriott,” he said.

“Please call me Katie. It's nothing, I enjoyed it, as he was a class one shit.”

“My sister has a thing about men bullying girls. It's a woman thing,” Peter said.

“I'm Tony Fanshaw, in case she neglected to tell you. I have a farm out in Buckinghamshire.”

“Peter Marriott and my impetuous sister, Katie.”

Tony shook hands with the pair.

“Jolly good. I'm happy you came along; otherwise, I hate to think what would have become of her. Letty, you're an arse.”

“I know, Tony, I'm sorry.”

“I called your father, by the way. I ought to call him again to tell him you're safe.”

Letty made a face.

“Must you?”

“Yes, I must. Unless you want to do it?”

“No thanks, you can.”

Tony walked to the bedside phone and spoke briefly to Letty's father. He replaced the receiver and turned to Letty.

“I'm to take you home. He's not happy, Letty.”

“Duh, tell me something I don't know.”

Tony turned to Peter.

“I can't thank you enough. If you're in town, drop in on Charles Greyson; I'm sure he'll love to see you. I have a small pad in Chelsea that I stay at from time to time. If you want, come and spend some time with the chaps and me. I used to be a donkey wallopper, so am a member of the Cavalry Club.” He handed Peter a card.

“Donkey Wallopper?”

“Sorry, Household Cavalry. I was Blues and Royals before the amalgamation. Short service commission only, but it was jolly good fun.”

“I'd like that, thanks Tony.”

Letty gave Katie a huge hug and kissed Peter goodbye, obediently following her enormous cousin out of the hotel.

“Thank God for that,” said Katie, heading for the shower.