‘Yes, straight away. I’d completely forgotten. When I’ve finished with him, get me Kate.’
As Townsend returned to his office, Elizabeth stood in the corridor, waiting for one of the six lifts to arrive at the top floor. She was in a hurry to get to the bank and clear her desk — she hadn’t spent a weekend at home for the past month, and had promised her husband that she would be back in time to see their daughter perform the role of Gwendolen in the school play. When a lift finally reached the executive level, she stepped inside and pressed the button for the ground floor just as another lift door opened on the other side of the corridor. But the doors closed before she could see who it was who had leaped out and run off in the direction of Townsend’s office.
The lift stopped at the forty-first floor, and E.B. was joined by three young men who continued their animated conversation as if she wasn’t there. When one of them mentioned Armstrong’s name, she began to pay closer attention. She couldn’t believe what they were saying. Every time the lift stopped and new people came in, she picked up a fresh piece of information.
A breathless Tom came rushing into Heather’s office. All he said was, ‘Is he in?’
‘Yes, Mr. Spencer,’ she replied. ‘He’s just finished speaking to the President. Why don’t you go straight through?’
Tom walked toward the executive suite and threw open the door just as Townsend completed dialing a number on his private phone. ‘Have you heard the news?’ he gasped.
‘Yes,’ said Townsend, looking up. ‘I was just phoning Kate to let her know that Pierson’s agreed to extend the loan.’
‘I’m delighted to hear it. But that’s not news, it’s history,’ said Tom, falling into the seat E.B. had recently vacated.
‘What do you mean?’ asked Townsend. ‘I only heard it myself a few minutes ago.’
A voice came on the line and said, ‘Hello, Kate Townsend.’
‘I mean, have you heard about Armstrong?’
‘Armstrong? No, what’s he been up to now?’ asked Townsend, ignoring the phone.
‘Hello,’ Kate repeated. ‘Is anyone there?’
‘He’s committed suicide,’ said Tom.
‘Is that you, Keith?’ said Kate.
‘He’s done what?’ said Townsend, dropping the receiver back in place.
‘It seems he was lost at sea for several hours, and some fishermen have just picked up his body off the coast of Sardinia.’
‘Armstrong dead?’ Townsend swiveled his chair round, and for a few moments just stared out of the window over Fifth Avenue. ‘And to think my mother outlived him,’ he said eventually.
Tom looked bemused by this statement.
‘I can’t believe it was suicide,’ said Townsend.
‘Why do you say that?’ asked Tom.
‘It’s just not his style. The damned man always believed he could survive anything.’
‘Whatever it was, London’s leaking like a sieve,’ said Tom. ‘It seems that Armstrong’s endless flow of cash came from the company’s pension fund, which he was not only using to buy up his own shares, but also to pay off the unions in New York.’
‘The company’s pension fund?’ said Townsend. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘Apparently Armstrong discovered there was far more cash in the fund than was legally necessary, so he began siphoning it off at a few million a time, until his chairman found out what he was up to and handed in his resignation.’
Townsend picked up an internal phone and pressed three digits.
‘What are you doing?’ asked Tom.
‘Shh,’ said Townsend, placing a finger up to his lips. When he heard a voice on the other end of the line, he asked, ‘Is that the accounts department?’
‘Yes, sir,’ said someone who immediately recognized the Australian accent. ‘It’s Hank Turner, I’m the company’s deputy chief accountant.’
‘You’re exactly the man I need, Hank. First, tell me, does Global have a separate pension fund account?’
‘Yes, of course it does, sir.’
‘And how much are we holding in that account at the present time?’ he asked.
He hung on and waited for the answer. E.B.’s lift had reached the ninth floor on the way back up by the time the deputy chief accountant was able to inform Townsend, ‘As of nine o’clock this morning, sir, that account is showing a balance of $723 million.’
‘And how much are we required to hold by law in order to fulfill our pension fund obligations?’
‘A little over $400 million,’ came back the accountant’s reply. ‘Thanks to our fund manager’s shrewd investment policy, we’ve been able to keep well ahead of inflation.’
‘So we’re carrying a surplus of more than $300 million over and above our statutory obligation?’
‘That is correct, sir, but the legal position is that at all times we must...’
Townsend replaced the receiver and looked up to find his lawyer staring at him in disbelief.
E.B. stepped out of the lift and into the corridor.
‘I hope you’re not thinking what I think you’re thinking,’ said Tom, as E.B. walked into Heather’s office.
‘I need to see Mr. Townsend urgently,’ she said.
‘Don’t tell me Pierson has changed his mind?’ said Heather.
‘No, it’s nothing to do with Pierson. It’s Richard Armstrong.’
‘Armstrong?’
‘He’s been found dead at sea. The first reports are suggesting that he committed suicide.’
‘Good heavens. You’d better go in immediately, Mrs. Beresford. He’s got Tom Spencer with him at the moment.’
E.B. headed toward Townsend’s room. Tom had left the door open when he had rushed in, so before she reached the office, E.B. was aware that a heated discussion was taking place. When she heard the words ‘pension fund’ she froze on the spot, and listened in disbelief to the conversation taking place between Townsend and his lawyer.
‘No, hear me out, Tom,’ Townsend was saying. ‘My idea would still fall well within any legal requirements.’
‘I hope you’ll allow me to be the judge of that,’ said Tom.
‘Let’s assume that trading in Armstrong Communications shares will be suspended later today.’
‘That’s a fair assumption,’ agreed Tom.
‘So it would be pointless at this stage for me to try and lay my hands on any of their stock. All we know at present is that Armstrong was bleeding the pension fund dry, so when the shares come back on the market, they’re certain to be at an all-time low.’
‘I still can’t see how that helps you,’ said Tom.
‘Because, like the crusaders of old, dressed in the armor of righteousness, I shall ride in and save the day.’
‘And how do you propose to do that?’
‘Simply by merging the two companies.’
‘But they would never agree to that. To start with, the trustees of the Citizen’s pension fund wouldn’t risk a further...’
‘They might when they discover that the surplus in our pension fund more than covers the losses in theirs. It would conveniently solve two problems at the same time. First, the British government wouldn’t have to dip into its special reserve fund.’
‘And second?’ said Tom, still looking highly skeptical.
‘The pensioners themselves could sleep secure in the knowledge that they would not be spending the rest of their lives facing penury.’
‘But the Monopolies and Mergers Commission would never agree to you owning both of the two biggest tabloids in Britain,’ said Tom.
‘Perhaps not,’ said Townsend, ‘but they couldn’t object to my taking over all of Armstrong’s regional publications — which should have been mine in the first place.’
‘I suppose they just might wear that,’ said Tom, ‘but the shareholders wouldn’t...’