Best Kept Secret

by Jeffrey Archer

  ‘All the indications do seem to point in Fisher’s direction,’ said Buchanan. ‘On both occasions a trade of two hundred thousand shares was executed, which happens to be almost exactly the seven and a half per cent of the company he represents. The first was just hours before the AGM at which we announced our change of policy, and the second immediately followed Sir William’s untimely death.’

  ‘It’s too much of a coincidence,’ said Emma.

  ‘It gets worse,’ said Buchanan. ‘On each occasion, during the three-week window, after the share price had fallen so precipitously, the broker who sold them repurchased exactly the same amount, making his client a handsome profit.’

  ‘And you think that client was Fisher?’ asked Emma.

  ‘No, it’s too large a sum for him,’ said Giles.

  ‘I’m sure you’re right,’ said Buchanan. ‘He must have been acting on behalf of someone else.’

  ‘Lady Virginia Barrington would be my guess,’ said Giles.

  ‘That had crossed my mind,’ admitted Buchanan, ‘but I can prove that Fisher was behind it.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘I had the stock exchange records for both three-week periods checked,’ said Compton, ‘and both sales came out of Hong Kong, through a dealer called Benny Driscoll. It didn’t take a lot of research to discover that not so long ago Driscoll left Dublin only a few hours ahead of the Garda, and he certainly won’t be returning to the Emerald Isle in the near future.’

  ‘It’s thanks to your sister that we were able to get to the bottom of it,’ said Buchanan. Giles looked at Emma in surprise. ‘She recommended that we employ a Mr Derek Mitchell, who had assisted her in the past. Mr Mitchell flew to Hong Kong at our request, and once he located the one bar on the island that serves Guinness, it took him about a week and several emptied crates to find out the name of Benny Driscoll’s biggest client.’

  ‘So at last we can remove Fisher from the board,’ said Giles.

  ‘I wish it were that easy,’ said Buchanan. ‘He has the right to a place on the board, as long as he represents seven and a half per cent of the company’s stock. And the only proof we have of his duplicity is a drunken stockbroker living in Hong Kong.’

  ‘Does that mean there’s nothing we can do?’

  ‘Far from it,’ said Buchanan. ‘That’s the reason I needed to see you and Mrs Clifton urgently. I believe the time has come to play Major Fisher at his own game.’

  ‘Count me in.’

  ‘I’d like to hear what you have in mind before I make a decision,’ said Emma.

  ‘Of course.’ Buchanan opened a file in front of him. ‘Between the two of you, you own twenty-two per cent of the company’s stock. That makes you by far the largest shareholders, and I wouldn’t consider going ahead with any plan without your blessing.’

  ‘We have no doubt,’ chipped in Ray Compton, ‘that Lady Virginia’s long-term aim is to cripple the company, making regular raids on our stock position until we lose all credibility.’

  ‘And you think she’d do that simply to get back at me?’ said Giles.

  ‘As long as she’s got someone on the inside, she knows exactly when to strike,’ said Buchanan, avoiding Giles’s question.

  ‘But doesn’t she risk losing a great deal of money using these tactics?’ asked Emma.

  ‘Virginia won’t give a damn about that,’ said Giles. ‘If she could destroy the company and me along with it, she’d be more than satisfied, as my mother worked out long before I did.’

  ‘What makes matters worse,’ said the chairman, ‘is that we estimate that her two previous raids on our stock have shown her a profit of over seventy thousand pounds. That’s why we’ve got to move now, before she strikes again.’

  ‘What do you have in mind?’ asked Emma.

  ‘Let us assume,’ said Compton, ‘that Fisher is just waiting for another piece of bad news so he can repeat the whole exercise again.’

  ‘And if we were to supply him with it . . .’ said Buchanan.

  ‘But how does that help us?’ said Emma.

  ‘Because this time it would be our turn to be the insider traders,’ said Compton.

  ‘When Driscoll puts Lady Virginia’s seven and a half per cent on the market, we’ll buy it immediately, and the share price will go up, not down.’

  ‘But that could cost us a fortune,’ said Emma.

  ‘Not if we feed Fisher the wrong information,’ said Buchanan. ‘With your blessing, I’m going to try to convince him that the company is facing a financial crisis that might threaten its very existence. I’ll let him know we won’t be declaring a profit this year due to the cost of building the Buckingham, which is already running twenty per cent over budget, so it won’t be possible to offer our shareholders a dividend.’

  ‘If you do that,’ said Emma, ‘you’re assuming he’ll advise Virginia to sell her stock, with the intention of buying it all back at a lower price during the three-week trading period.’

  ‘Exactly. But if the share price were to rise during those three weeks,’ continued Ray, ‘Lady Virginia might be unwilling to buy her seven and a half per cent back, in which case Fisher would lose his place on the board, and we’d be rid of both of them.’

  ‘How much are you going to need to make this happen?’ asked Giles.

  ‘I’m confident,’ said Buchanan, ‘if I had a war chest of half a million pounds, I could keep them at bay.’

  ‘And the timing?’

  ‘I’ll deliver the bad news in confidence at the next board meeting, pointing out that the shareholders will have to be informed at the AGM.’

  ‘When is the AGM?’

  ‘That’s where I need your advice, Sir Giles. Do you have any idea when the general election will be called?’

  ‘The smart money’s on May twenty-sixth, and that’s certainly the date I’m planning on.’

  ‘When will we know for certain?’ asked Buchanan.

  ‘There’s usually about a month’s warning before Parliament is prorogued.’

  ‘Good, then I’ll call the board meeting for –’ he turned some pages in his diary – ‘April eighteenth, and schedule the AGM for May fifth.’

  ‘Why would you want to hold the AGM in the middle of an election campaign?’ asked Emma.

  ‘Because it’s the one time I can guarantee that a constituency chairman will not be able to attend.’

  ‘Chairman?’ queried Giles, showing far more interest.

  ‘You clearly haven’t read the evening paper,’ said Ray Compton, handing him a copy of the Bristol Evening Post.

  Giles read the headline: Former Tobruk hero becomes Bristol Docklands Conservative Chairman. Major Alex Fisher was unanimously voted . . .

  ‘What’s that man up to?’ he said.

  ‘He assumes you’re going to lose the election, and wants to be chairman when—’

  ‘If that was true, he would have backed Neville Simpson and not Greg Dunnett to be the Conservative candidate, because Simpson would have proved a far more formidable opponent. He’s up to something.’

  ‘What would you like us to do, Mr Buchanan?’ asked Emma, remembering why the chairman had asked to see her and Giles in the first place.

  ‘I need your authority to buy every share that comes on to the market on May fifth, and to keep on buying for the following three weeks.’

  ‘How much could we lose?’

  ‘I’m afraid it might be as much as twenty to thirty thousand pounds. But at least this time we’ve chosen the date of the battle, and the battlefield, so you should break even at worst, and you might possibly make a bob or two.’

  ‘If it means replacing Fisher on the board,’ said Giles, ‘as well as spiking Virginia’s guns, thirty thousand pounds would be a cheap price to pay.’

  ‘While we’re on the subject of replacing Fisher as a board member . . .’

  ‘I’m not available,’ said Giles, ‘even if I do lose my seat at the election.’

  ‘I wasn’t thinking
of you, Sir Giles. I was rather hoping Mrs Clifton might agree to become a member of the board.’

  ‘The prime minister, Sir Anthony Eden, visited Buckingham Palace at four o’clock this afternoon, for an audience with Her Majesty The Queen. Sir Anthony asked Her Majesty’s permission to dissolve Parliament in order that a General Election could be held on May 26th. Her Majesty graciously agreed to his request.’

  ‘Just as you predicted,’ said Virginia as she switched off the radio. ‘When do you intend to tell the unfortunate Mr Dunnett what you have in mind for him?’

  ‘Timing is everything,’ said Fisher. ‘I thought I’d wait until Sunday afternoon before I asked him to come and see me.’

  ‘Why Sunday afternoon?’

  ‘I don’t want any other members of the committee to be around at the time.’

  ‘Machiavelli would have been proud to have you as chairman of his committee,’ said Virginia.

  ‘Machiavelli didn’t believe in committees.’

  Virginia laughed. ‘And when do you plan to ring our friend in Hong Kong?’

  ‘I’ll call Benny the night before the AGM. It’s important that he places the sell order the moment Buchanan rises to address the meeting.’

  Virginia took a Passing Cloud out of her cigarette case, sat back, and waited for the major to strike a match. She inhaled a couple of times before she said, ‘Don’t you think it’s a coincidence, major, that everything is falling so neatly into place on the same day?’

  21

  ‘DUNNETT, IT’S GOOD of you to drop in at such short notice, especially on a Sunday afternoon.’

  ‘My pleasure, Mr Chairman. I know you’ll be pleased to hear how well our canvassing is going. The early returns suggest we should win the seat by over a thousand votes.’

  ‘Let’s hope you’re right, Dunnett, for the party’s sake, because I’m afraid my news is not so good. You’d better have a seat.’

  The cheerful smile on the candidate’s face was replaced with a quizzical look. ‘What’s the problem, Mr Chairman?’ he asked as he sat down in the chair opposite Fisher.

  ‘I think you know only too well what the problem is.’

  Dunnett began biting his lower lip as he stared at the chairman.

  ‘When you applied for this seat and supplied the committee with your CV,’ continued Fisher, ‘it appears you weren’t entirely frank with us.’ Fisher had only ever seen a man turn that white on the battlefield. ‘You’ll recall that you were asked to state what role you played during the war.’ Fisher picked up Dunnett’s CV from his desk and read out loud: ‘Because of an injury sustained on the rugby field, I had no choice but to serve in the Royal Ambulance Corps.’

  Dunnett slumped in his chair, like a marionette that had had its strings cut.

  ‘I have recently discovered that this statement was at best misleading, and at worst duplicitous.’ Dunnett closed his eyes. ‘The truth is that you were a conscientious objector, and served six months in prison. It was only after being released that you joined the ambulance service.’

  ‘But that was more than ten years ago,’ said Dunnett desperately. ‘There’s no reason that anyone else should find out.’

  ‘I wish that were the case, Dunnett, but sadly we’ve had a letter from someone who served in Parkhurst with you,’ said Fisher, holding up an envelope that contained nothing more than a gas bill. ‘If I were to go along with this deception, Dunnett, I would be condoning your dishonesty. And if the truth came out during the campaign or, even worse, when you were a Member of Parliament, I would have to admit to my colleagues that I already knew about it, and they would rightly call for my resignation.’

  ‘But I can still win this election, if only you’ll back me.’

  ‘And Barrington would win by a landslide if the Labour Party got to hear of this. Don’t forget that he not only won an MC, but escaped from a German prisoner-of-war camp.’

  Dunnett bowed his head and began to weep.

  ‘Pull yourself together, Dunnett, and behave like a gentleman. There’s still an honourable way out.’

  Dunnett looked up, and for a moment an expression of hope flickered across his face. Fisher pushed a blank sheet of the constituency’s headed notepaper across to Dunnett, and took the top off his fountain pen.

  ‘Why don’t we work on this together?’ he said as he handed the pen to him.

  ‘Dear Mr Chairman,’ dictated Fisher, as Dunnett reluctantly began to write. ‘It is with great regret that I find it necessary to tender my resignation as the Conservative Party candidate at the forthcoming general election –’ Fisher paused before adding – ‘for health reasons.’

  Dunnett looked up.

  ‘Does your wife know you were a conscientious objector?’

  Dunnett shook his head.

  ‘Then let’s keep it that way, shall we?’ Fisher gave him an understanding smile before continuing. ‘I would like to say how sorry I am to have caused the committee this inconvenience so close to the election –’ Fisher paused again, and watched as Dunnett’s trembling hand stuttered across the page – ‘and wish whoever is fortunate enough to take my place the best of luck. Yours sincerely. . .’ He didn’t speak again until Dunnett had written his signature at the bottom of the page.

  Fisher picked up the letter and checked the text carefully. Satisfied, he slipped it into an envelope and pushed it back across the table.

  ‘Just address it “The Chairman, private and personal”.’

  Dunnett obeyed, having accepted his fate.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Dunnett,’ said Fisher as he screwed the top back on his pen. ‘I really do feel for you.’ He placed the envelope in the top drawer of his desk, which he then locked. ‘But chin up, old fellow.’ He rose from his chair and took Dunnett by the elbow. ‘I’m sure you’ll realize I’ve always had your best interests at heart,’ he added as he led him slowly to the door. ‘It might be wise if you were to leave the constituency as quickly as possible. Wouldn’t want some nosy journalist to get his hands on the story, would we?’

  Dunnett looked horrified.

  ‘And before you ask, Greg, you can rely on my discretion.’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Chairman,’ said Dunnett as the door closed.

  Fisher returned to his office, picked up the phone on his desk and dialled a number that was written on the pad in front of him.

  ‘Peter, it’s Alex Fisher. Sorry to bother you on a Sunday afternoon, but a problem has arisen that I need to discuss with you urgently. I wonder if you’re free to join me for dinner?’

  ‘Gentlemen, it is with considerable regret that I have to inform you that yesterday afternoon I had a visit from Gregory Dunnett, who sadly felt he had to tender his resignation as our parliamentary candidate, which is why I called this emergency meeting.’

  Almost every member of the executive committee started talking at the same time. The word that kept being repeated was, why?

  Fisher waited patiently for order to be restored before he answered that question. ‘Dunnett confessed to me that he misled the committee when he suggested he had served with the Royal Ambulance Corps during the war, when in fact he had been a conscientious objector who served a six-month prison sentence. He got wind that one of his fellow inmates at Parkhurst had been approached by the press, which he felt left him with no option but to resign.’

  The second outburst of opinions and questions was even more vociferous, but once again Fisher bided his time. He could afford to. He’d written the script and knew what was on the next page.

  ‘I felt I was left with no choice but to accept his resignation on your behalf, and we agreed that he should leave the constituency as quickly as possible. I hope you won’t feel I was too lenient on the young man.’

  ‘How can we possibly find another candidate at such short notice?’ asked Peter Maynard, bang on cue.

  ‘That was also my first reaction,’ said Fisher, ‘so I immediately phoned Central Office to seek their guidance, but there were not many
people at their desks on a Sunday afternoon. However, I did discover one thing when I spoke to their legal department, which you may feel is significant. Should we fail to adopt a candidate before May the twelfth, next Thursday, under electoral law we will be disqualified from taking any part in the election, which would guarantee Barrington a landslide victory, as his only opponent would be the Liberal candidate.’

  The noise around the table reached fever pitch, but Fisher had never doubted it would. Once a semblance of order had returned, he continued. ‘My next call was to Neville Simpson.’

  A few hopeful smiles appeared among the committee members.

  ‘But sadly he’s been snapped up by Fulham Central, and has already signed his adoption papers. I then scoured the original list sent to us by Central Office, only to find that the better candidates have already secured a seat, and those who are still available would, frankly, be eaten alive by Barrington. So, I’m in your hands, gentlemen.’

  Several hands shot up and Fisher selected Peter Maynard, as if he’d been the first person to catch his eye.

  ‘This is a sad day for the party, Mr Chairman, but I don’t feel anyone could have handled this delicate situation better than you have done.’

  A general murmur of approval swept around the table.

  ‘It’s kind of you to say so, Peter. I simply did what I felt was best for the association.’

  ‘And I can only speak for myself, Mr Chairman,’ continued Maynard, ‘when I say that, given the problem we find ourselves with, is it at all possible that you could be prevailed upon to step into the breach?’

  ‘No, no,’ said Fisher, waving a Cassius-like hand. ‘I’m sure you’ll be able to find someone far better qualified than me to represent you.’

  ‘But no one knows the constituency, or for that matter our opponent, better than you, Mr Chairman.’

  Fisher allowed several similar sentiments to be aired, before the party secretary said, ‘I agree with Peter. We certainly can’t afford to waste any more time. The longer we procrastinate, the happier Barrington will be.’

  After Fisher felt confident that this opinion seemed to be accepted by the majority of the committee, he bowed his head, a sign for Maynard to stand up and say, ‘I propose that Major Alex Fisher be invited to stand as the Conservative prospective parliamentary candidate for the Bristol Docklands division.’