Authors: Stephen Douglass
“I’ll meet you in Terminal One, just outside Arrivals. How will I recognize you?”
“I’ll be wearing a red tam, a white silk blouse, a navy blue blazer, and a gray skirt. I’ll be carrying a black briefcase, and I’ll have a black leather travel bag over my shoulder. I’m twenty-two years of age, and I have blond hair. How will I recognize you?” Kerri asked, curious to know how her father would describe himself.
“I’m fifty years old. I’m six feet tall, and I have blond hair. I’ll be wearing beige trousers, a dark green sweater and a white shirt.”
“That should be easy. See you soon, Mike.”
CHAPTER 85
Toronto.
Kerri stood in one of numerous long lines at Pearson International Airport, waiting impatiently to go through customs. Inching her way toward the Canadian Customs interrogation channels, she could think of nothing but what meeting her father would be like. She had rehearsed numerous ways of telling him who she was, but worried about how he would respond if she actually told him.
When she emerged into the reception area, she was approached by a man wearing a green sweater and beige trousers. She recognized her father immediately. Save and except for the slight graying of his hair, and the perceptible wrinkling under his eyes, he looked identical to the man in her treasured photograph. “Are you Janet Pyper?” he asked, his face expressionless.
“Yes,” Kerri replied, smiling and extending her hand to him, fighting an almost overwhelming urge to hug him. Her heart raced as he accepted her hand and shook it.
“Did you book a return flight?” he asked.
“No. I didn’t know how long I’d be here.”
“Did they feed you on the plane?”
“Peanuts.”
“Then you’re hungry?”
She nodded.
As Kerri sat facing her father in the Airport Hilton restaurant, she experienced every bit of the thrill and excitement she had so often imagined for the time when she would at last be with him. He was much better looking in person. She was unable to take her eyes from him and was hopelessly speechless.
“Now tell me what was important enough to bring you all the way to Toronto,” Mike prodded, leaning forward, his expression exuding suspicion.
Without a word she reached into her briefcase and removed all three copies of the trust’s financial reports. “These,” she said, placing them in front of him.
Mike glanced at the title sheets, then looked up, astounded. “Where the hell did you get these?”
“I borrowed the originals from Mara, Griesdorf and Visconti and made those copies. Don’t worry. No one knows I have them.”
“But why did you…”
“I’ll tell you how and why, but first look at the reports for the last three years and tell me what you see. Pay particular attention to the bottom lines. Start with the eighty-seven report.”
Mike thumbed through the pile, then removed the nineteen eighty-seven report. His face reddened and contorted in obvious anger when he saw the bottom line. He snapped his head upward and glared at Kerri. “There’s no cash!” His expression turned quizzical. “How did you know?”
“Louis gave a copy of that report to my boss, Miles Dennis. That’s when I…”
“Wait a minute. Why did he do that?”
“He took a large short position in crude oil with our company,” Kerri replied, then noticed an expression of surprise and anger in her father’s face. “You weren’t aware of that?”
“I had no idea. How big was the position?”
“Thirty thousand contracts.”
“That’s an atrocity!” Mike declared, stunned and enraged by Kerri’s revelation. He stared at the ceiling to contemplate the enormity of Visconti’s transgression. “How long has he been fooling around with crude oil?” he asked, on the verge of exploding.
“On and off for about two years. Mostly on. Right now he’s on.”
The waiter arrived at the table. “Will you be having drinks before dinner?” he asked.
“Would you like a drink?” Mike asked.
Kerri ordered white wine.
“I’ll have Cutty Sark on the rocks. Make it a double, please,” Mike ordered, then turned again to Kerri. “How’s he doing?”
“I was afraid you’d ask that question. As we speak, he’s off over a hundred and fifty million.’
“You’ve got to be kidding!”
Kerri shook her head.
Mike leaned backward and again looked at the ceiling, his stomach churning as he considered which, if any, courses of action were available to him. “How would you suggest I handle this?” he asked, feeling hopelessly trapped.
“Phone Louis and ask for audited financial statements on the trust.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because of the way in which Phillip’s natural father acquired the money. I can’t risk having it seen by others.”
“How did he acquire it?”
“I’d rather not say.”
Kerri showed an understanding smile. “Is it really a risk? You know Louis won’t let it go that far. He knows he would be finished if he subjected the trust to an independent audit. He’ll delay as much as possible, but ultimately, he’ll have to do something. Then I’ll be in a position to watch him and tell you what he’s doing.”
The muscles of Mike’s face tightened. He focused on Kerri’s eyes, probing for a clue. “Why are you doing this? I have difficulty understanding why, if you really are Visconti’s girlfriend, you would fly all the way to Toronto to give me this information. Please don’t misunderstand me. It’s important and I appreciate it. But why? You don’t even know me.”
Blood rushed to Kerri’s head as she agonized over a proper response. Once again fear of rejection gnawed at her, but gradually surrendered to the overwhelming power of her natural impulses. “I did it because I do know you.”
“How?”
“I’m your daughter.”
Mike’s face blanched. He stared numbly at Kerri, unable to move or speak.
Kerri withdrew her birth certificate from her wallet and handed it to her father.
He stared at it, then her. Kerri’s heart pounded as she watched him stand and approach her. He lifted his arms and extended them to her, beckoning her to come to him. Her tears responded to his silent invitation. Excited, she stood and stepped forward into his arms. She closed her eyes as she hugged him and felt the strength of his arms tightening around her.
“Why did you wait so long to tell me?” Mike asked.
“I was so afraid,” Kerri cried, tears of joy streaming down her cheeks. “When you stopped seeing me and writing to me, I thought you wanted to forget me.”
“I could never forget you. I think of you every day. My heart was ripped from my body when your mother moved away,” he said, holding her tighter. “You have nothing to fear any more, Kerri. You are where you belong.”
They remained standing, hugging in silence, each drawing strength and comfort from the embrace.
“Excuse me,” the waiter said. “Would you like to order dinner now?”
“Just put the drinks on the table,” Mike demanded, continuing to hug Kerri. “We’ll call you.” He glanced over Kerri’s shoulder and noticed everyone in the restaurant was staring at them. “It looks like you and I are famous,” he said chuckling. “They’re probably wondering what an old man like me is doing with you… Let’s sit. We have a lot to talk about.”
They talked, blissfully oblivious to time and their surroundings, through dinner and afterward in the bar. Kerri told her father about her life with Barbara in San Diego, Los Angeles, and finally Vancouver, her disastrous marriage to Brian Pyper, her wonderful job with Iacardi & Sons, her affair with Louis Visconti, and how Phillip had identified her father from her beloved photograph.
Mike told Kerri about the failure of his marriage to Barbara, about his belated marriage to Karen, the love off his life, the incredible story of Jim Servito, how he acquired his fortune, the dramatic death of Servito in Caracas, and finally, how the fortune ended up in Louis Visconti’s hands. “Keeping that money was the dumbest thing I’ve ever done in my life,” Mike admitted. “I kept it because of my stupid pride. I’ve wanted to wash my hands of it for a long time, but that same stupid pride kept getting in the way.”
“Why?”
Mike shrugged his shoulders. “The Feds treated Karen and me like sacrificial lambs. They couldn’t get to Servito, so they arrested us, without the slightest concern for what it would do to our lives and the lives of people who depended on us. We were guilty until proven innocent. There was no way I was going to give the money to them. I still won’t do it.”
“So what now?”
“We’re going to give it to charity. To do that and not get caught, we need an intermediary. Our lawyer advised us to use someone who’s out of the North American loop. So we made arrangements to have it done by a man in Europe. His name is Alfred Schnieder, Jim Servito’s Caracas bank manager until he retired in nineteen eighty and moved to Zurich. He’s made arrangements to do the whole transfer through a bank in Geneva. I was planning to ask Visconti to transfer it to Schnieder’s numbered account in Switzerland. Then Schnieder was going move it from there. He said it would be done by anonymous deposit… I put the whole thing on hold when Phillip got in the way.”
“Did Schnieder tell you the name of the bank?”
Mike nodded. “The Weisscredit Bankhaus. Why do you ask?”
“How well does Louis know Schnieder?”
“Schnieder recommended him to us ten years ago. In fact, he told Karen and me that he would trust Visconti with his life.”
“How was Schnieder going to confirm to you that the money actually went where it was supposed to go?”
“He said the manager of Weisscredit Bankhaus would contact me in some discrete way. Why? Where are you going with this?”
“I’m not sure. It might be coincidental… Louis has asked me to run away with him and live happily ever after in Europe. He said he was close to doing a deal that would give him more money than he could ever spend.”
Mike rolled his eyes and tightened his lips. “Wow!” he said, raising his hands. “You’re very astute. All they needed was my authorization to release the funds, but first Phillip had to convince me he had changed his mind about going to the Feds.”
“Then Phillip will have outlived his usefulness,” Kerri concluded, grimacing. “We have to stop this. If convincing you was the ‘job’ Louis needed him to do, and I suspect it was, then Phillip’s going to be killed. Also, I don’t think you want Louis to live happily ever after in Europe with that money.”
“I agree we have to protect Phillip somehow, but I can’t just march into Visconti’s office and take the money away.”
“Why not?”
“As soon as I do, he’ll suspect you.”
“Don’t worry about me. He can suspect me all he wants.”
“I couldn’t live with myself if I put your life in danger.”
Kerri reached for her father’s hand and showed a smile radiating unalloyed happiness. “My life is your life. You’re my father. I’m so sorry to find you in such a terrible mess.”
“Maybe it’s not so terrible. It brought us together, and I’m thankful for that. From this moment on I want you to be part of my life, a very large part.”
“I want that too.”
“I would be honored if you would stay at my home tonight. I want you to meet Karen and Kevin.”
“I’d like that very much.”
Karen assumed Mike had returned when she heard a noise at the door of the apartment. She hurried to greet him. “Hello,” she said, shocked to see her husband with his arm around a young and very beautiful woman.
“Sorry I’m late,” Mike apologized. “I had an unexpected surprise tonight… I’d like you to meet my daughter.” He smirked as he watched Karen’s reaction.
Karen stared at Mike’s companion, numbed momentarily by Mike’s announcement. “Kerri?” she asked, still disbelieving.
Kerri smiled and nodded.
With a gesture of grace and genuine acceptance, Karen approached Kerri with her arms extended. “Welcome to our home,” she said.
Tears flowing, Kerri moved from under Mike’s arm into Karen’s embrace. “Thank you, Karen. I can’t tell you how much I’ve looked forward to this.”
The two hugged in silence for several seconds, then Karen lifted her head and winked at Mike. “Don’t just stand there, King. Pour some drinks. You owe me a big explanation.”
Mike drove Kerri to Pearson International Airport after breakfast the following morning. They hugged and promised to call each other as often as possible. Kerri broke from the embrace and turned to walk to the terminal. She walked several steps, then turned again and ran back to her father’s arms. “I’m so happy,” she cried. “I thought it was too late for you and me.”
Mike kissed her forehead. “It’s never too late. Remember that always.”
On his way from the airport to his office, Mike called Dan Turner to tell him the wonderful news of finding his daughter and of the information she had given him.
“You lead an interesting life, Mike King.” Turner declared. “Every time I think there can be no more surprises, you manage to come up with another one. Tell me what you’ve decided to do about the money.”
“Nothing. I can’t think of a move that wouldn’t set up more problems.”