"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?"
Kate looked at the two of them standing together, and there was no way she could deny them. For a brief instant, she envied them. "You have my blessing," she said.
George grinned and walked over to Kate. "May I?" He kissed her on the cheek.
For the next two hours they talked excitedly about wedding plans. "I don't want a large wedding, Gran," Alexandra said. "We don't have to do that, do we?"
"I agree," George replied. "Love is a private matter."
In the end, they decided on a small ceremony, with a judge marrying them.
"Will your father be coming over for the wedding?" Kate inquired.
George laughed. "You couldn't keep him away. My father, my three brothers and my two sisters will all be here."
"I'll be looking forward to meeting them."
"You'll like them, I know." Then his eyes turned back to Alexandra.
Kate was very touched by the whole evening. She was thrilled for her granddaughter - pleased that she was getting a man who loved her so much. I must remember, Kate thought, to tell Brad not to bother about that financial rundown on George.
Before George left, and he was alone with Alexandra, he said casually, "I don't think it's a good idea to have a million dollars in securities lying around the house. I'll put them in my safe-deposit box for now."
"Would you?" Alexandra asked.
George picked up the certificates and put them back into his jacket pocket.
The following morning George repeated the procedure with Helen Thatcher. While she was on her way downstairs to see him ("I have a little something for you"), he was in her office getting the access card. He gave her a Gucci scarf - "a belated birthday present" - and confirmed his luncheon date with her. This time getting into the vault seemed easier. He replaced the stock certificates, returned the access card and met Helen Thatcher at a nearby restaurant.
She held his hand and said, "George, why don't I fix a nice dinner for the two of us tonight?"
And George replied, "I'm afraid that's impossible, Helen. I'm getting married."
Three days before the wedding ceremony was to take place, George arrived at the Blackwell house, his face filled with distress. "I've just had terrible news," he said. "My father suffered another heart attack."
"Oh, I'm so sorry," Kate said. "Is he going to be all right?"
"I've been on the phone with the family all night. They think he'll pull through, but of course they won't be able to attend the wedding."
"We could go to Athens on our honeymoon and see them," Alexandra suggested.
George stroked her cheek. "I have other plans for our honeymoon, matia mou. No family, just us."
The marriage ceremony was held in the drawing room of the Blackwell mansion. There were fewer than a dozen guests in attendance, among them Vince Barnes, Alice Koppel and Marty Bergheimer. Alexandra had pleaded with her grandmother to let Eve attend the wedding, but Kate was adamant. "Your sister will never be welcome in this house again."
Alexandra's eyes filled with tears. "Gran, you're being cruel. I love you both. Can't you forgive her?"
For an instant, Kate was tempted to blurt out the whole story of Eve's disloyalty, but she stopped herself. "I'm doing what I think is best for everyone."
A photographer took pictures of the ceremony, and Kate heard George ask him to make up some extra prints to send to his family. What a considerate man he is, Kate thought.
After the cake-cutting ceremony, George whispered to Alexandra, "Darling, I'm going to have to disappear for an hour or so."
"Is anything wrong?"
"Of course not. But the only way I could persuade the office to let me take time off for our honeymoon was to promise to finish up some business for an important client. I won't be long. Our plane doesn't leave until five o'clock."
She smiled. "Hurry back. I don't want to go on our honeymoon without you."
When George arrived at Eve's apartment, she was waiting for him, wearing a filmy negligee. "Did you enjoy your wedding, darling?"
"Yes, thank you. It was small but elegant. It went off without a hitch."
"Do you know why, George? Because of me. Never forget that."
He looked at her and said slowly, "I won't."
"We're partners all the way."
"Of course."
Eve smiled. "Well, well. So you're married to my little sister."
George looked at his watch. "Yes. And I must get back."
"Not yet," Eve told him.
"Why not?"
"Because you're going to make love to me first, darling. I want to fuck my sister's husband."