This time the pencils wrote down his every word.
Sitting in his newly acquired apartment on the thirty-seventh floor of Trump Tower, Armstrong read over Townsend’s press release. He chuckled when he came to the paragraph in which Townsend praised the work of the Summers Foundation. ‘Too late,’ he said out loud. ‘That 5 percent belongs to me.’
He immediately gave instructions to his brokers to buy up any Star stock that came on the market, whatever the price. The shares rocketed as it became clear that Townsend had given the same order. Some financial analysts suggested that because of ‘a strong personal animosity,’ both men were paying well above the real value.
For the next four weeks Armstrong and Townsend, accompanied by a battery of lawyers and accountants, spent every waking hour in planes, trains and cars as they zigzagged across America, trying to convince banks and institutions, trusts and even the occasional wealthy widow to support them in the battle to take over the Star.
The chairman of the paper, Cornelius J. Adams IV, announced that he would hand over the reins of power at the AGM to whichever contender controlled 51 percent of the shares. With only two weeks to go before the Star’s AGM, the financial editors were still unable to agree on who had the largest shareholding in the company. Townsend announced that he now controlled 46 percent of the stock, while Armstrong claimed that he had 41 percent. The analysts therefore concluded that whichever one of them was able to capture the 10 percent held by the Applebaum Corporation must surely carry the day.
Vic Applebaum was determined to enjoy his fifteen minutes of fame, and declared to anyone who cared to listen that it was his intention to see both would-be proprietors before he came to a final decision. He chose the Tuesday before the AGM to conduct the interviews which would decide on whom he should bestow his favor.
The two rivals’ lawyers met on neutral ground, and agreed that Armstrong should be allowed to see Applebaum first, which Tom Spencer assured his client was a tactical error. Townsend agreed, until Armstrong emerged from the meeting clutching the share certificates which proved he was in possession of Applebaum’s 10 percent.
‘How did he manage that?’ Townsend asked in disbelief.
Tom didn’t have an answer until he read the first edition of the New York Times at breakfast the following morning. Its media correspondent informed readers on the front page that Armstrong had not spent a great deal of time explaining to Mr. Applebaum how he would manage the Star, but had concentrated more on telling him in Yiddish that he had never really recovered from losing his entire family in the Holocaust, and that he had ended their meeting by disclosing that the proudest moment in his life had been when the prime minister of Israel had appointed him as the country’s roving ambassador to the USSR, with a special brief to assist Russian Jews who wished to emigrate to Israel. At this point Applebaum apparently broke down in tears, handed over the stock and refused to see Townsend.
Armstrong announced that as he now controlled 51 percent of the company, he was therefore the new owner of the New York Star. The Wall Street Journal concurred, declaring that the Star’s AGM would be nothing more than an anointing ceremony. But it added a postscript pointing out that Keith Townsend shouldn’t be too depressed about having lost the paper to his great rival. Because of the huge rise in the share price, he would make a profit in excess of $20 million.
The New York Times arts section reminded its readers that the Summers Foundation would be opening an avant-garde exhibition on Thursday evening, After the press barons’ claims of support for Lloyd Summers and the foundation’s work, it said, it would be interesting to see if either of them bothered to turn up.
Tom Spencer advised Townsend that it might be wise to drop in for a few minutes, as Armstrong was certain to be there, and you never knew what you might pick up on such occasions.
Townsend regretted his decision to attend the exhibition moments after he arrived. He circled the room once, glanced at the selection of paintings chosen by the trustees and concluded that they were, without exception, what Kate would have described as ‘pretentious rubbish.’ He decided to leave as quickly as possible. He had successfully negotiated a route to the door when Summers tapped a microphone and called for silence. The director then proceeded to ‘say a few words.’ Townsend checked his watch. When he looked up he saw Armstrong, firmly clutching a catalog, standing next to Summers and beaming at the assembled guests.
Summers began by saying how sad he was that his mother was unable to be with them because of a prolonged illness, and delivered a lengthy disquisition extolling the virtues of the artists whose works he had selected. He declared twenty minutes later how delighted he was that the New York Star’s new chairman had been able to find the time to attend ‘one of our little soirées.’
There was a smattering of applause, hampered by the holding of wine glasses, and Armstrong beamed once again. Townsend assumed that Summers had come to the end of his speech and turned to leave, but he added, ‘Unhappily, this will be the last exhibition to be held at this venue. As I’m sure you all know, our lease is coming to an end in December.’ A sigh went up around the room, but Summers raised his hands and said, ‘Fear not, my friends. I do believe I have, after a long search, found the perfect site to house the foundation. I hope that we will all meet there for our next exhibition.’
‘Though only one or two of us really know why that particular site was chosen,’ someone murmured sotto voce behind Townsend. He glanced round to see a slim woman who must have been in her mid-thirties, with short-cropped auburn hair and wearing a white blouse and a floral-patterned skirt. The little label on her blouse announced that she was Ms. Angela Humphries, deputy director.
‘And it would be a wonderful start,’ continued Summers, ‘if the first exhibition in our new building were to be opened by the Star’s next chairman, who has so generously pledged his continued support for the foundation.’
Armstrong beamed and nodded.
‘Not if he’s got any sense, he won’t,’ said the woman behind Townsend. He took a pace back so that he was standing next to Ms. Angela Humphries, who was sipping a glass of Spanish champagne.
‘Thank you, my dear friends,’ said Summers. ‘Now, do please continue to enjoy the exhibition.’ There followed another round of applause, after which Armstrong stepped forward and shook the director warmly by the hand. Summers began moving among the guests, introducing Armstrong to those he considered important.
Townsend turned to face Angela Humphries as she finished her drink. He quickly grabbed a bottle of Spanish champagne from the table behind them and refilled her glass.
‘Thank you,’ she said, looking at him for the first time. ‘As you can see, I’m Angela Humphries. Who are you?’
‘I’m from out of town.’ He hesitated. ‘Just visiting New York on a business trip.’
Angela took a sip before asking, ‘What sort of business?’
‘I’m in transport, actually. Mainly planes and haulage. Though I do own a couple of coalmines.’
‘Most of these would be better off down a coalmine,’ said Angela, her free arm gesturing toward the pictures.
‘I couldn’t agree more,’ said Townsend.
‘Then what made you come in the first place?’
‘I was on my own in New York and read about the exhibition in the Times,’ he replied.