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?"