“Eight days later, his family heard his final wishes in astounded silence. The fortune they had expected to shower down upon them was, they learned, to hang suspended, in sight but out of reach. Three years have now passed. The race that Bernard Gradley set running that day is finished, his last joke nearing its punch line. It is midnight in the City of London, Friday night tipping over into Saturday morning. Three bank accounts - in the names of Zachary, Matthew and George Gradley - lie quiet. ...It is too late now to add more money, cheat new people, earn more cash. The last deposits have been made. The final transfers requested, authorised and executed. As the bells of London peal midnight to the empty city, a coded impulse leaves those silent accounts. Down the wires it travels to a central computer. A printer chatters briefly and is silent once more. The chit of paper lies unmoving in the dark office. When morning breaks, a clerk will come in, stamp and sign the piece of paper, add a certificate of confirmation, and have them couriered to a solicitor in Leeds.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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