Chapter 5

Gunnarson's idea of severance pay made Hardin madder than ever. He tried to complain but could not get past the acidulated spinster who guarded Gunnarsson's office, and neither could he get through on the phone. Gunnarsson's castle was impregnable.

But Richardson came up with the information he needed next day. He gave Hardin an envelope and said, 'You don't know where you got it.'

'Okay.' Hardin opened the envelope and took out a single piece of paper. 'This isn't a computer print-out.'

'You're damned right it isn't,' said Richardson. 'If Gunnarsson found a print-out with that information floating loose he'd head straight for me. Is it what you want?'

Hardin scanned it. A London inquiry agency, Peacemore, Willis and Franks, requested Gunnarsson Associates to search for any living relatives of Jan-Willem Hendrykxx -Hardin blinked at the spelling – and to pass the word back. Hendrykxx was reputed to have married in South Africa and to have had two sons, one of whom was believed to have emigrated to the United States in the 1930s. There was also the address and telephone number of a lawyer in Jersey.

It told Hardin nothing he did not know already except for the unusual spelling of Hendrix, and the Jersey address confused him until he realized that it referred to the original Jersey in the Channel Islands and not the state of New Jersey. He nodded. 'This is it.' There was something more. Peace-more, Willis and Franks was the British end of Gunnarsson Associates, a fact not generally known. It meant that Gunnarsson had been in it right from the start, whatever 'it' was. 'Thanks. It's worth a drink, Jack.'

If Hardin was mad at Gunnarsson he was also broke. He moved out of his apartment on the East Side and into a rooming house in the Bronx. It cost more in subway and bus fares to get into Manhattan but it was still cheaper. He wired instructions to San Francisco to sell his car and wire the money. He did not expect much but he needed the cash, and a car was a needless luxury in the city.

He carefully maintained his pipelines into the offices of Gunnarsson Associates, mainly through Jack Richardson, although there were a couple of secretaries whom he took to frugal lunches and pumped carefully, trying to get a line on That Gunnarsson was doing in the matter of Hank Hendrix. The answer, apparently, was nothing at all. Worse still, Hendrix had vanished.

'Maybe Gunnarsson sent him to England,' Richardson said one day.

"You can check that,' said Hardin thoughtfully. 'There'll be an expense account for the air fare. Do me a favour.'

'Goddamn it!' said Richardson heatedly. 'You'll get me fired.' But he checked and found no record of transatlantic flights since Hendrix had arrived in New York. On his own initiative he checked for any record of medical expenses paid out for the treatment of Hendrix's wound and, again, found nothing. He was a good friend to Hardin.

'Gunnarsson is playing this one close,' commented Hardin. 'He's usually damned hot on record keeping. I'm more and more convinced that the bastard's up to no good. But what the hell is it?'

Richardson had no suggestions.

Probably Hardin would not have pressed on but for a genuine stroke of luck. Nearly a month had passed and he knew he had to get a job. His resentment at Gunnarsson had fuelled him thus far but an eroding bank account was a stronger argument. He had set aside enough for Annette's next payment and that he would not touch, but his own reserves were melting.

Then he got a wire from Annette. 'GOT MARRIED THIS MORNING STOP

NOW MRS KREISS STOP WISH ME LUCK ANNETTE.'

'Thank God!' he said to Richardson. 'Now some other guy can maintain her.' Briefly he wondered what sort of a man this stranger, Kreiss, was- then put the matter out of his mind. For he was now the master of unexpected wealth and his heart was filled with jubilation. 'Now I can do it,' he said.

'Do what?' asked Richardson.

'I'm flying to England.'

'You're nuts!' Richardson protested. 'Ben, this obsession is doing you no good. What can you do in England?'

'I don't know,' said Hardin cheerfully. 'But 'I'll find out when I get there. I haven't had a vacation in years.'

Before leaving for England he flew to Washington on the shuttle where he renewed acquaintance with some of his old buddies in the Company and armed himself with some British addresses, and he visited the British Embassy where he ran into problems. No one knew much about Jersey.

'They're autonomous,' he was told. 'They have their own way of doing things. You say you want to know about a will?'

'That's right.'

'In London a copy would be kept in Somerset House,' said the attache. 'But I don't think that applies to Jersey wills.' He thought for a moment then his face lightened. 'I do believe we have someone who would know.' He picked up a telephone and dialled, then said, 'Pearson here. Mark, you're a Jerseyman, aren't you? Yes I thought so. Would you mind popping in here for a moment?' Pearson put down the telephone. 'Mark le Tissier should know about it.'

And Mark le Tissier did. 'Wills are kept in the Greffe,' he said.

'The w hat?'

'The Greffe.' Le Tissier smiled. 'The Public Records Office. I had the same problem a couple of years ago. They'll give you a copy.'

'All I have to do is to go to this place, the Greffe, and ask?'

'Oh you don't have to go. Just drop a line to the Greffier. We'll go into the library and dig out his address.'

So Hardin went back to New York and wrote to Jersey, giving as return address poste restante at the London office of American Express. A few days later he flew and the day he left from Kennedy Airport the rooming house in the Bronx in which he lived burned to the ground though he did not know about it until long after. Still, it could have been chance; there are, after all, whole blocks burned out in the Bronx.

In the employment of Gunnarsson Associates Hardin had. earned how to travel light. He freshened up before landing it Heathrow in the early morning and cleared Customs quickly while the rest of the passengers were waiting for their baggage, then took the Underground into London where he registered at an inexpensive hotel near Victoria Station. He then walked through St James's Park towards the Haymarket where he picked up his mail.

He enjoyed the walk. The sun was shining and he felt oddly contented and in a holiday mood as he strolled by the lake. It was true that it had been some years since he had taken a real vacation. Perhaps he had been getting in a rut and the split with Gunnarsson was to be good for him in the long run. He had little money and no prospects but he was happy.

After leaving the American Express Office Hardin bought a street plan of London from a news vendor because, although he was no stranger to London, it was many years since he had been there. Then he went into a pub to inspect the single letter he had received. The envelope was bulky and bore Jersey stamps. He ordered a half pint of beer at the bar and took it to a corner table, then opened the envelope.

The will was seven pages long. Jan-Willem Hendrykxx had left 10,000 to Dr Morton, his physician, as a token of esteem for keeping him alive so long, 20,000 to Mr and Mrs Adams, his butler and housekeeper, and various sums of between 1,000 and 4,000 to various members of his staff, which appeared to be large.

Detailed instructions were given for the sale of his real property of which he had a plenitude; a house in Jersey, another in the South of France, yet another in Belgium, and a whole island in the Caribbean. The sums arising from these sales and from the sale of his other possessions were to be added to the main part of his estate. Hendrykxx had evidently been a careful man because the will was up-to-date and he had estimated the current market values of his properties. Thenceforth the terms were expressed in percentages; 8 5 per cent of his estate was to go to the Ol Njorowa Foundation of Kenya, and 15 per cent to be divided equally among his living descendants.