‘Jerk,’ said Pike.
‘Wonder how long it’ll take me to think that?’
‘I’ve introduced a sombre note,’ said Pike. ‘I wanted it to be fun.’
‘I’ve had fun: really.’
‘So have I.’
‘Honestly?’
‘Honestly.’
She expected him to suggest going on to a club and became nervous when he didn’t. She’d made herself sound easy, confessing the affair. The nervousness increased when he insisted on walking her beyond the entrance to the door of her flat.
‘Thank you,’ she said, stopping outside. ‘I’ve enjoyed the evening.’
‘I enjoyed it too.’
Knowing she had to, Jane said, ‘Would you like to come in: a coffee or a drink or something?’
‘No, thank you,’ he said, the ploy already decided.
The answer surprised her and it showed. ‘Oh,’ she said.
‘Not unless …’
‘Unless what?’
‘Unless you agree to see me tomorrow: if you say “no” I’ll accept the invitation to a drink and make a nuisance of myself.’
She laughed with him. ‘You were cynical last time,’ she said.
‘First impressions.’
‘This one’s better.’
‘You haven’t agreed about tomorrow.’
‘Eleven?’
‘Ten.’
‘Ten-thirty.’
‘That’s a good banking compromise,’ he said.
‘What do you want to do?’
‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘For as long as I can remember, my weekends have been full of people trying to do lots of things and pretending it was nothing; that they were relaxing. I don’t want us to make any plans or think of anything until I arrive and we’ll work it out from there.’
‘What happens if we can’t think of anything?’ The naïveté of the question came to her the moment she spoke and she waited for his reply with the apprehension with which she’d expected him to come into her apartment.
He shrugged and said, ‘We’ll send out for take-away Chinese,’ he said and she loved him for it.
Which is what they did eventually. He stayed the Saturday night and they made love, badly at first because of her nervousness and then better because he was very patient and very expert.
‘You’re amazing,’ she said.
‘So are you.’
‘No,’she said. ‘Will you teach me?’
‘Yes.’
‘Everything?’
‘Yes.’
‘I want everything you want.’
They walked through Hyde Park on the Sunday and in Piccadilly he bought her a painting from one of the pavement displays and they made a ceremony of hanging it when they got back to her flat.
‘When are you going to Basel?’ she said.
‘Wednesday.’
‘And then New York?’
‘I could probably swing another weekend,’ he said. ‘Would you like that?’
‘I’d like that very much indeed,’ she said. She was still using this amusing, friendly American, Jane realized. But she’d told him about Paul. So there wasn’t any deceit. He probably had a million mistresses in New York.
Pike realised how much he wanted it too.
Chapter 15
To create the maximum impact, details of the new Soviet trade and finance arrangements with Czechoslovakia, Hungary and Romania were released on the eve of the Basel meeting. There was no agenda space and therefore no official discussion, but the announcement was the sole topic of conversation among the bank supervisors from the eleven member countries in the corridors and cocktail party enclaves that Pike found reminiscent of the IMF gathering in Washington. Pike was helped by the way things worked out. With only observer status, he was excluded from many of the scheduled discussions but needed no official accreditation for the corridor talk. There were still dissenters, predominantly the French and the Japanese, but the consensus thinking was that the announcement indicated control. Pike didn’t rush to inform New York, wanting to be absolutely sure before he did. It was three days before he made the telephone call.
‘So we were right!’
Pike was aware of the satisfaction in Volger’s voice. ‘That’s the majority feeling,’ he said.
‘We were the only ones prepared to put our heads on the block!’ said Volger. ‘State, CIA and Treasury all went for options. Which was how the report was written. Now they’ll have to change it.’
‘There are still some doubters,’ warned Pike.
‘There won’t be here, believe me,’ said Volger. ‘There’s only one way this can be read.’
He’d really proved himself, Pike realized: and to others, too. He’d been ahead of everyone all the way: not just people on his own Board but experienced financiers in other parts of the government and in treasuries here, in Europe.
‘Thought I’d stop off in London on my way back,’ said Pike. He deserved a reward.
‘Sorry,’ refused the Federal Reserve chairman.
‘What?’
‘I told you this was important.’
‘I know, but …’
‘There’s a conference this weekend in Washington …’ Volger stopped but Pike knew he hadn’t finished. ‘… with the President.’
‘The President!’ Pike was surprised. ‘Why so high? What’s wrong with the Treasury Secretary?’ As he asked the question Pike remembered the conversation with his father and Nelson Jordan’s determination to adjust the economy before the next election.
‘It’s the President’s idea,’ said Volger. ‘Don’t want to miss out on your proper recognition, do you?’
No, thought Pike: he certainly didn’t want to miss out on that in front of whoever else would be present. ‘I’ll check the direct flights,’ he said.
‘Tonight if possible,’ said Volger. ‘I’d like to go through everything with you myself, before we go down.’
‘Sure,’ said Pike.
‘And Tom.’
‘Sir?’
‘Congratulations.’
‘Thank you,’ said Pike.
Jane picked up the telephone on the first ring and when she heard his voice said, ‘I was waiting.’
‘Bad news,’ he said.
‘What?’
‘I can’t get back to London.’
‘Oh.’ In the London apartment Jane closed her eyes, the knuckles of her free hand against her mouth.
‘I’m sorry: really sorry,’ he said. Why? he wondered. He’d already realized it could only be another affair, like all the rest.
‘I understand.’
‘You don’t,’ he said. ‘There’s a weekend conference in Washington: important. I’ve got to be there.’
‘Of course.’
He wasn’t sure that she believed him and he wanted her to. ‘You all right?’
‘Fine.’
‘I thought your voice sounded strange.’
‘It’s nothing, really,’ she said.
‘I really am very sorry.’
‘Me too.’
‘I enjoyed it.’
‘Yes.’
‘No chance of your getting to America soon?’ Why was he prolonging the conversation?
‘I don’t think so.’
‘Pity.’
‘How about your coming back to Europe?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Keep safe,’ she said.
‘And you. I’ll write.’ Would he? He never did.
‘Do that,’ she said. She didn’t want a penfriend, she thought, suddenly angry in her disappointment: she wanted him.
‘I’m sure I’ll get back, sometime.’
‘That would be nice.’
He couldn’t think of anything else to say but he didn’t want to break the contact.
‘How was the meeting?’ she said, trying to extend the conversation from her end.
‘Like they all are,’ he said. ‘Lots of eating and drinking.’
�
��Little wonder thin bankers are so rare.’
‘I’m glad it happened,’ he said.
‘So am I.’
‘Sure?’
‘Of course.’
‘Keep safe.’
‘We’ve said that,’ she reminded him.
‘Can I call you, as well as write?’ This was getting ridiculous.
‘Of course.’
‘Maybe I could come across one weekend.’
She laughed, despite the way she felt. ‘You trying to impress me?’
‘No,’ he said.
‘You would, if you flew the Atlantic just for the weekend.’ Please do it, she thought.
‘I should go: I’ve got a plane reservation to make.’
‘Of course.’
‘Thanks again.’
‘It was fun,’ she said, not wanting him to become aware of her seriousness.
‘Goodbye,’ he said.
‘Goodbye.’
He really didn’t want to go back to Washington, even for proper recognition and a conference with the President, Pike realized. In London Jane was wondering why, if love was supposed to be so wonderful, she was always crying over it.
‘We’re respectable,’ said Malik. ‘Respectable and responsible.’
‘Yes,’ said Lydia.
The reports from the Russian embassies from every European capital and from Washington and Ottawa as well were piled on the desk between them. The opinion was unanimous.
‘Where do you think we should start?’ said Malik.
‘London,’ replied Lydia at once. ‘London has the influence in world finance. That’s where the first loans should be raised.’
‘I agree,’ said Malik. ‘And I think initially we should stay in Europe.’
‘Yes,’ said Lydia. ‘American banks should feel they’re being left out. It’ll make them all the more eager.’
‘I think you’re very beautiful,’ said Malik.
She smiled at him. ‘We’re supposed to be working.’
‘There’s not going to be a lot for us to do, while the loans are being arranged,’ he said.
‘There’s a cliché in English: something about the lull before the storm.’
‘Looking forward to the storm?’
‘I think so,’ she said.
‘You’re going to be famous,’ he said. Remembering the Western press coverage he added, ‘More famous than you already are.’
‘Infamous,’ she corrected.
‘Depends which side you’re on,’ he said.
‘The winning side,’ she said.
Chapter 16
Pike felt gritty-eyed from tiredness, his mind fogged by crossing time-zones and by the concentration with which he worked on his report on the homeward flight, writing through the night in the darkened aircraft, squinting in the beam of the miniscule overhead light. Volger had a car waiting for him at Kennedy, to take him directly to the bank. The chairman offered breakfast while the account of the Basel meeting was being typed but Pike felt overfed on unmemorable aircraft food and only took coffee. The Federal Reserve chairman had pedantically listed his queries on a jotting pad and went carefully through them with Pike after reading the written account, determined to make a good showing in Washington.
‘We came out ahead on this one,’ said Volger. ‘I’m very pleased.’
‘I’m glad,’ said Pike.
‘I was right about the combined assessment: it’s being redrafted for this afternoon,’ said the older man.
‘What time are we due?’
‘Three.’
‘I’d like to go to the apartment, to change and shower.’
‘Keep the car.’
‘Thanks.’
‘But don’t risk the flight. I need you with me.’
Pike’s mailbox was overflowing. He went quickly through the correspondence, isolating the bills from the advertising brochures, which he discarded unread. There were two letters addressed in Janet’s handwriting, which he put into his briefcase for later. There were also three messages from her on his machine, the first a week earlier. There was a call-back message from his father, too. Pike decided he didn’t have time to return them. He booked an alarm call and fell immediately to sleep, wishing he hadn’t when the telephone rang after just two hours because he didn’t feel any better. The shower and fresh clothes helped.
Volger was standing impatiently in the departure lounge of the private section in La Guardia, between Funtle and Bellows. The chairman’s face cleared when he saw Pike’s car pull in.
‘I was getting worried,’ said Volger.
‘More traffic than I expected for a weekend on the Triboro Bridge,’ said Pike. He nodded to the two deputies.
‘See it was a successful trip,’ said Funtle, indicating that morning’s report which he had in his hand.
‘Things seemed to happen at the right time,’ said Pike modestly. He wondered why the two men hadn’t been summoned to the bank that morning.
‘Been to the White House before?’ asked Volger, as the plane climbed out over the water, circled and then set down for a flightpath along the coast.
‘Couple of times,’ said Pike. ‘Not in this administration though. How big a conference is this going to be?’
‘Big,’ assured Volger.
It was, bigger than Pike has imagined even from Volger’s warning. There was a jam of official cars outside the entrance to the East Wing, limousines even parked on the pavement in front of the Treasury building as the police tried to clear the obstruction. It was easier to walk down from Pennsylvannia Avenue but they still had to wait while their accreditation was checked by the Secret Service officials. There were nods and smiles of recognition between the assembling bankers and politicians as they filed slowly through the outer rooms, towards the meeting.
It was one of the larger conference rooms, overlooking the lawns and the monuments beyond. As he entered Pike detected the black line of tourists waiting their turn to enter the Washington obelisk. Jane had said she would take him to the Tower of London today. He checked his watch, calculating the time difference; in London it would be seven-thirty in the evening. He wondered what she would be doing. He’d forgotten to read Janet’s letters on the plane. There was no hurry.
The room was dominated by the huge rectangular table. The President’s position was marked by a small lectern in the middle, so he would be sitting with his back to the gardens. On either side there were settings for cabinet officers and behind their seats were smaller tables and chairs for their support officials. The arrangement continued around the table, so that only the heads of the various agencies and their immediate deputies would actually sit at the President’s table, with the advisory staff in second tiers. The Central Intelligence Agency contingent separated the Federal Reserve position from that of State. Next came Treasury and then in line were the chairmen of the big banks. Further down the line he identified the chairmen of Morgan Guarantee Trust, Chase Manhatten, Citibank, the Bank of America, the Manufacturers’ Hanover Bank and the Marine Midland and then stopped bothering.
Almost at once a side door opened and the President strode briskly in, nodding and smiling to the standing assembly. He was followed by the Secretaries of State, Treasury and Commerce. Jordan gestured for the assembly to be seated; he remained standing at the lectern. He was a tall, heavily featured man who knew how to use his size to dominate any gathering: before his accession to the presidency he’d been a legend in the Senate, with a reputation as one of the best caucus politicians since Lyndon Johnson, whom he physically resembled. The impression was heightened by the Texan accent.
‘Sorry to cut into your weekends, gentlemen,’ he said. ‘Decided this was an interesting one that needed immediate attention. I want to get this right, from the outset.’
He hesitated, looking around the table. ‘If this thing shakes down the way it seems to be, then we’re looking at a change of policy within the Soviet Union more dramatic than anything we’ve seen for years … many yea
rs. Which is why I want to get it right …’ He drove the fist of one hand theatrically into the palm of his other. ‘Because I’ve got to respond to it. Respond correctly: the right reaction could be vital to the relationship between our two countries.’
And to you achieving a second term of office, thought Pike.
Jordon looked to his immediate left, to where the Secretary of State was sitting. ‘Secretary Bowen has some views,’ he announced, seating himself.
Henry Bowen was a bespectacled, rotund man given to the tweeds of the academic he had been until Jordan plucked him from Harvard to put into practical effect a theory of global politics already expounded in three bestselling books. Pike had read them all and found them facile, an argument for being fast on the draw with the biggest gun possible, like some Wild West shoot-out. Collecting frontier memorabilia was Bowen’s hobby: he was supposed to own a palm-held derringer that had once belonged to William Hickock.
‘There seems to be … and I say “seems” because I’m still holding back on positive judgment about this … a dramatic change in the financial attitude of the Soviet Union.’ He held out a cupped hand, as if he were holding something. ‘Money is at the heart of it, but if the change is as it’s being interpreted by our experts …’ He paused, nodding in the direction of the Federal Reserve delegation. Volger half turned, to include Pike in the praise. ‘… then it could be interpreted to show other changes as well, changes as important if not more so than the new, apparent financial responsibility. The most important is the seeming willingness of the Soviet authorities to countenance some sort of trades unionism in Poland. That’s a direct contradiction to every previous attitude: something that could spread to other bloc countries and undermine the whole concept of the current communism propagated by Moscow….’
He stopped, at a gesture from the President.
‘Anyone any points, so far?’ demanded Jordan.
He was seeing a master survivor politician at work, decided Pike: get every opinion before reaching a conclusion.
To Pike’s left there was movement from the CIA delegation and Jordan nodded permission to the Director, Richard Adam, a thin, erudite-looking man.
‘I think the snowball is running away down the hill,’ said Adam. ‘We’ve had our financial people look at it in Langley and certainly the indications are that there’s new control and a new attitude. But there’s the possibility for another analysis. The Soviet Union has always been linked financially and with trade to their satellites through COMCON. We’ve had rebellions in Czechoslovakia and rebellions in Hungary and more recently rebellions against Soviet control in Poland.’ There was a slow, almost patronizing tone to his voice.
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