Emma could sense that if it was put to a vote, the board were, with one or two exceptions, broadly in agreement with the new deputy chairman’s proposal. She gathered up her things and quietly left the room.
Mellor was about to move into her chair when Admiral Summers rose from his place, and fixed him with a stare as if he were a German U boat commander, before saying, “This is not the board I joined twenty years ago, and I no longer care to be a member of it.”
As he left the room, Bob Bingham and David Dixon joined him.
When the door closed behind them, Mellor turned to Knowles and said, “That’s a bonus I hadn’t anticipated.”
Sebastian Clifton
1970
33
“What do i tell your father when he phones to ask me how the board meeting went?”
“The truth. He’ll expect nothing less.”
“But if I do, he’ll turn around and come straight back home.”
“Why, where is he?”
“At Heathrow, waiting to board a flight to Leningrad.”
“How unlike him to leave when—”
“It’s my fault. I told him we couldn’t possibly lose the vote, and he took my word for it.”
“And we wouldn’t have done if I’d arrived on time.”
“True enough. Perhaps it would have been more sensible if you’d come down the night before,” said Emma.
“And if you’d taken my advice, none of this would have happened,” snapped Seb.
Both of them remained silent for some time.
“How important is Dad’s trip to Leningrad?”
“Every bit as important as this morning’s vote was for me. He’s been preparing for it for weeks, and if he doesn’t go now, he won’t get another chance for a very long time, if ever. Anyway, he’s only going to be away for a couple of days.” She looked at her son. “Perhaps you could take the call when he phones.”
“And say what?” asked Seb. “If he asks me how the meeting went, I’ll have to tell him the truth otherwise he’ll never trust me again.” He brought the car to a halt outside the Manor House. “What time did you say he was likely to call?”
“His flight’s at four, so I suppose it will be some time around three.”
Seb looked at his watch. “Don’t worry, I’ll come up with something by then.”
Harry didn’t need to check in his luggage because he’d only brought an overnight bag. He knew exactly what he needed to do from the moment he landed and he would have more than enough time to fine-tune his plan on the long flight across the continent. If the impossible had happened and Emma had lost the vote, then it wouldn’t matter anyway, because he’d be taking the next train back to Bristol.
“This is the first call for all passengers on BOAC flight 726 to Leningrad. Would you please make your way to gate number three where the flight is now boarding.”
Harry strode across to the nearest phone booth, clutching a handful of coins. He dialed his home number and fed in enough money to allow him three minutes.
“Bristol 4313,” said a voice he recognized immediately.
“Seb, hi. What are you doing at home?”
“Helping Mum celebrate. I’ll go and get her so she can tell you the good news herself.”
“This is the second call for passengers traveling to Leningrad on BOAC flight number...”
“Hello, darling,” said Emma. “I’m so glad you called, because—” The line went dead.
“Emma, are you there?” There was no reply. “Emma?” he tried again, but there was still no response and he didn’t have enough coins left over to call a second time.
“This is the third and final call for passengers on BOAC flight 726 to Leningrad.”
Harry replaced the receiver, trying to recall Seb’s exact words — “Helping Mum celebrate. I’ll go and get her so she can tell you the good news herself.” When Emma had come on the line, she had sounded unusually cheerful. She must have won the vote, Harry concluded. Despite this, he hesitated for a moment.
“Would Mr. Harry Clifton please make his way to gate number three, as the gate is about to close.”
“What are we celebrating?” asked Emma.
“I don’t know,” said Seb, “but I’ll think of something by the time Dad gets back from Russia. But for now we have to concentrate on more immediate problems.”
“There’s not much we can do until the trial is over.”
“Mother, you must stop acting like a Girl Guide, and begin to think like Mellor and Knowles.”
“And what are they thinking at this moment?”
“That it couldn’t have gone better for them if they’d planned it. Not only did they get rid of you, but three of your most trusted lieutenants at the same time.”
“Three honorable men,” said Emma.
“Just like Brutus, and look where that got him.”
“I wish I’d still been in the boardroom when Admiral Summers—”
“You’re back in your Girl Guide uniform, Mother. Now snap out of it, and listen carefully. The first thing you must do is ring Admiral Summers, Bob Bingham, and Mr. Dixon, and tell them that under no circumstances are they to resign from the board.”
“But they walked out, Seb. Knowles and Mellor won’t give a damn why they did.”
“But I do give a damn, because I only care about the three votes we would sacrifice for the sake of a pointless gesture. If they were to remain on the board, with my vote, yours and Dobbs’s, we’d have six votes to their five.”
“But I won’t be in the chair again until after the trial. Have you forgotten that I stood down?”
“No, you didn’t. You just walked out of the meeting. So you can walk back in again, because if you don’t, you won’t be chairman after the trial, win or lose.”
“You’re a devious individual, Sebastian Clifton.”
“And as long as Mellor and Knowles don’t work that out, we’re still in with a chance. But first, you’ve got three calls to make. Because, believe me, Mellor and Knowles will only ever accept defeat if we win every vote.”
“Perhaps you should be chairman,” said Emma.
“All in good time, Mother. But what I need you to do now is get straight on the phone to Admiral Summers, because he’s probably already written his resignation letter. Let’s just hope he hasn’t posted it.”
Emma picked up the phone book and began flicking through the S’s.
“And if you need me for anything, I’ll be in the library making a long-distance call,” said Seb.
Adrian Sloane was standing in the entrance hall of Farthings Bank at five minutes to eleven. No one could remember the chairman ever coming down to meet a guest before.
Mr. Bishara’s Bentley drew up outside the bank four minutes later and a doorman rushed across to open the car’s back door. As Bishara and his two colleagues entered the building, Sloane stepped forward to greet him.
“Good morning, Mr. Bishara,” he said as they shook hands. “Welcome to your bank.”
“Thank you, Mr. Sloane. I’m sure you’ll remember Mr. Moreland, my lawyer, and Mr. Pirie, my chief accountant.”
“Of course,” said Sloane, shaking hands with both men. He then guided his guests toward a waiting lift as the staff burst into well-rehearsed applause to welcome their new president.
Bishara gave a slight bow and smiled at the three young porters who stood behind the reception desk. “That’s where I began my banking career,” he said to Sloane as he stepped into the lift.
“And now you’re about to become the owner of one of the City’s most respected financial institutions.”