A Dangerous Fortune (1994)

by Ken Follett

  Hugh nodded. "Anyway, investors who like railroads can get five and six percent on their money in the United States--why go to Cordova?"

  "Exactly."

  Hugh scratched his head. "Well, I'll try to find out what they're thinking about."

  Mulberry flourished a bundle of papers. "Mr. Samuel asked for a summary of liabilities on Far East acceptances. You could take the figures to him."

  Hugh grinned. "You think of everything." He took the papers and went down to the Partners' Room.

  Only Samuel and Joseph were there. Joseph was dictating letters to a shorthand writer and Samuel was poring over a map of China. Hugh put the report on Samuel's table and said: "Mulberry asked me to give you this."

  "Thank you." Samuel looked up and smiled. "Something else on your mind?"

  "Yes. I'm wondering why we're backing the Santamaria railroad."

  Hugh heard Joseph pause in his dictation, then resume.

  Samuel said: "It's not the most attractive investment we've ever launched, I grant you, but with the backing of the Pilaster name it should go off all right."

  "You could say that of just about any issue that is proposed to us," Hugh objected. "The reason we have such a high reputation is that we never do offer the investors a bond that is only 'all right.'"

  "Your uncle Joseph feels that South America may be ready for a revival."

  Hearing his name, Joseph joined in. "This is a toe dipped into the water to feel the temperature."

  "It's risky, then."

  "If my great-grandfather had never taken a risk he would not have put all his money into one slave ship and there would be no such thing as Pilasters Bank today."

  Hugh said: "But since then, Pilasters has always left it to smaller, more speculative houses to dip their toes into unknown waters."

  Uncle Joseph did not like to be argued with and he replied in an irritated tone: "One exception will not harm us."

  "But the willingness to make exceptions may harm us deeply."

  "That's not for you to judge."

  Hugh frowned. His instinct had been right: the investment did not make commercial sense, and Joseph could not justify it. So why had they done it? As soon as he put the question to himself that way he saw the answer. "You've done this because it's Edward, haven't you? You want to encourage him, and this is the first deal he has come up with since you made him a partner, so you're letting him do it, even though it's a poor prospect."

  "It's not your place to question my motives!"

  "It's not your place to risk other people's money as a favor to your son. Small investors in Brighton and Harrogate will put up the money for this railroad, and they will lose everything if it fails."

  "You're not a partner, so your opinion oil these matters is not sought."

  Hugh hated people to shift their ground during a discussion and he responded waspishly. "I'm a Pilaster, though, and when you damage the good name of the bank you injure me."

  Samuel cut in: "I think you've probably said enough, Hugh--"

  Hugh knew he should shut up but he could not restrain himself. "I'm afraid I haven't said enough." He heard himself shouting and tried to lower his voice. "You're dissipating the bank's reputation by doing this. Our good name is our greatest asset. To use it up in this way is like spending your capital."

  Uncle Joseph was now beyond civility. "Don't you dare stand here in my bank and lecture me on the principles of investment, you insolent young whippersnapper. Get out of this room."

  Hugh stared at his uncle for a long moment. He was furious and depressed. Foolish, weak Edward was a partner, and leading the bank into bad business deals with the help of his injudicious father, and there was nothing anyone could do about it. Boiling with frustration, Hugh turned and left the room, slamming the door.

  Ten minutes later he went to ask Solly Greenbourne for a job.

  He was not certain Greenbournes would take him on. He was an asset that any bank would covet, because of his contacts in the United States and Canada, but bankers felt it was not quite gentlemanly to pirate top managers from their rivals. In addition, the Greenbournes might fear that Hugh would tell secrets to his family at the dinner table, and the fact that he was not Jewish could only increase that fear.

  However, Pilasters had become a dead-end street for him. He had to get out.

  It had rained earlier but by midmorning the sun was out, and steam rose from the horse manure that carpeted the streets of London. The architecture of the City was a mixture of grand classical buildings and tumbledown old houses: the Pilaster building was the grand type, Greenbournes the other. You would not have guessed that Greenbournes Bank was bigger and more important than Pilasters from the appearance of the head office. The business had started, three generations ago, lending to fur importers out of two rooms of an old house in Thames Street. Whenever more space was needed they simply took over another house in the row, and now the bank occupied four adjacent buildings and three others nearby. But more business was done in these ramshackle houses than in the ostentatious splendor of the Pilaster building.

  Inside there was none of the devotional hush of Pilasters' banking hall. Hugh had to fight his way through a crowd of people in the lobby, like petitioners waiting to see a medieval king, every one of them convinced that if only he could get a word with Ben Greenbourne, present his case or pitch his proposal, he could make a fortune. The zigzag corridors and narrow staircases of the interior were obstructed by tin boxes of old files, cartons of stationery and demijohns of ink, and every spare cubbyhole had been made into an office for a clerk. Hugh found Solly in a large room with an uneven floor and a wonky window looking out over the river. Solly's bulk was half hidden behind a desk piled with papers. "I live in a palace and work in a hovel," Solly said ruefully. "I keep trying to persuade Father to commission a purpose-built office like yours, but he says there's no profit in property."

  Hugh sat on a lumpy sofa and accepted a large glass of expensive sherry. He was uncomfortable, because in the back of his mind he was thinking about Maisie. He had seduced her before she became Solly's wife and he would have done it again afterwards if she had let him. But all that was over now, he told himself. Maisie had locked the door at Kingsbridge Manor, and he had married Nora. He did not intend to be an unfaithful husband.

  Still he felt awkward.

  "I came to see you here because I want to talk business," he said.

  Solly made an openhanded gesture. "You have the floor."

  "My area of expertise is North America, as you know."

  "Don't I just! You've got it so well wrapped up that we can't get a look in."

  "Exactly. And you're missing out on a good deal of profitable business as a result."

  "No need to rub it in. Father asks me constantly why I'm not more like you."

  "What you need is someone with North American experience to come in, set up a New York office for you, and go after the business."

  "That and a fairy godmother."

  "I'm serious, Greenbourne. I'm your man."

  "You!"

  "I want to work for you."

  Solly was staggered. He peered over his glasses as if checking that it really was Hugh who had said that. After a moment he said: "It's because of that incident at the duchess of Tenbigh's ball, I suppose."

  "They've said they won't make me a partner because of my wife." Solly would sympathize, Hugh thought, because he too had married a lower-class girl.

  "I'm sorry to hear that," Solly said.

  Hugh said: "But I'm not asking for kindness. I know what I'm worth and you'll have to pay my price if you want me. I'm earning a thousand a year now and I expect it to go up every year as long as I continue to make more and more money for the bank."

  "That's no problem." Solly thought for a moment. "This could be a great coup for me, you know. I'm grateful for the offer. You're a good friend and a formidable businessman." Hugh, thinking of Maisie again, felt a guilty pang at the words "good friend." Solly
continued: "There's nothing I'd like better than to have you working alongside me."

  "I detect an unspoken 'but,'" Hugh said with trepidation in his heart.

  Solly shook his owlish head. "No buts, as far as I'm concerned. Of course I can't hire you the way I'd hire a ledger clerk. I'll have to clear it with my father. But you know how it is in the world of banking: profit is an argument that outweighs all others. I don't see Father turning down the prospect of a chunk of the North American market."

  Hugh did not want to seem too eager, but he could not help saying: "When will you speak to him?"

  "Why not now?" Solly said. He stood up. "I shan't be a minute. Have another glass of sherry." He went out.

  Hugh sipped his sherry but he found it hard to swallow, he was so tense. He had never applied for a job before. It was unnerving that his future depended on the whim of old Ben Greenbourne. For the first time he understood the feelings of the scrubbed young men in starched collars whom he had occasionally interviewed for jobs as clerks. Restlessly he got up and went to the window. On the far side of the river a barge was unloading bales of tobacco into a warehouse: if it was Virginia tobacco, he had probably financed the transaction.

  He had a doomy feeling, a bit like the sensation he had had when he boarded ship for Boston six years ago: a sense that nothing would ever be the same again.

  Solly came back in with his father. Ben Greenbourne had the upright carriage and bullet-shaped head of a Prussian general. Hugh stood up to shake hands and looked anxiously at his face. It was solemn. Did that mean no?

  Ben said: "Solly tells me your family has decided not to offer you a partnership." His speech was coldly precise, the accent clipped. He was so different from his son, Hugh thought.

  "To be exact, they offered it then withdrew the offer," Hugh said.

  Ben nodded. He was a man who appreciated exactness. "It's not for me to criticize their judgment. However, if your North American expertise is for sale, as it were, then I'm certainly a buyer."

  Hugh's heart leaped. That sounded like a job offer. "Thank you!" he said.

  "But I shouldn't wish to take you on under false pretenses, so there's something I must make clear. It is not at all likely that you will ever become a partner here."

  Hugh had not actually thought that far ahead, but all the same it was a blow. "I see," he said.

  "I say this now so that you will never think it a reflection on your work. Many Christians are valued colleagues and dear friends, but the partners have always been Jews, and it will ever be so."

  "I appreciate your frankness," Hugh said. He was thinking: By God, you're a coldhearted old man.

  "Do you still want the job?"

  "Yes, I do."

  Ben Greenbourne shook his hand again. "Then I look forward to working with you," he said, and he left the room.

  Solly smiled broadly. "Welcome to the firm!"

  Hugh sat down. "Thank you," he said. His relief and pleasure were somewhat blighted by the thought that he would never be a partner, but he made an effort to put a good face on it. He would make a good salary, and live comfortably; it was just that he would never be a millionaire--to make that sort of money you had to be a partner.

  "When can you start?" Solly said eagerly.

  Hugh had not thought of that. "I probably should give ninety days notice."

  "Make it less if you can."

  "Of course. Solly, this is great. I can't tell you how pleased I am."

  "Me too."

  Hugh could not think what to say next, so he stood up to go, but Solly said: "Can I make another suggestion?"

  "By all means." He sat down again.

  "It's about Nora. I hope you won't take offense."

  Hugh hesitated. They were old friends, but he really did not want to talk to Solly about his wife. His own feelings were too ambivalent. He was embarrassed about the scene she had made, yet he also felt she had been justified. He felt defensive about her accent, her manners and her low-class background, but he was also proud of her for being so pretty and charming.

  However, he could hardly be touchy with the man who had just rescued his career, so he said: "Go ahead."

  "As you know, I too married a girl who was ... not used to high society."

  Hugh nodded. He knew it perfectly well, but he did not know how Maisie and Solly had coped with the situation, for he had been abroad when they married. They must have handled it well, for Maisie had become one of London's leading society hostesses and if anyone remembered her humble origins they never spoke of it. This was unusual, but not unique: Hugh had heard of two or three celebrated working-class beauties who had been accepted by high society in the past.

  Solly went on: "Maisie knows what Nora's going through. She could help her a lot: tell her what to do and say, what mistakes to avoid, where to get gowns and hats, how to manage the butler and the housekeeper, all that. Maisie's always been fond of you, Hugh, so I feel sure she'd be glad to help. And there's no reason Nora shouldn't pull off the trick Maisie did and end up as a pillar of society."

  Hugh found himself moved almost to tears. This gesture of support from an old friend touched his heart. "I'll suggest it," he said, speaking rather curtly to hide his feelings. He stood up to go.

  "I hope I haven't overstepped the mark," Solly said anxiously as they shook hands.

  Hugh went to the door. "On the contrary. Damn it, Greenbourne, you're a better friend than I deserve."

  When Hugh got back to Pilasters Bank there was a note waiting for him. It read:

  10.30 a.m.

  My dear Pilaster:

  I must see you right away. You will find me in Plage's Coffee House around the corner. I will wait for you. Your old friend--Antonio Silva.

  So Tonio was back! His career had been ruined when he lost more than he could pay in a card game with Edward and Micky. He had left the country in disgrace at about the same time as Hugh. What had happened to him since? Full of curiosity, Hugh went straight to the coffeehouse.

  He found an older, shabbier, more subdued Tonio, sitting in a corner reading The Times. He still had a shock of carrot-colored hair, but otherwise there was nothing left of the mischievous schoolboy or the profligate young man. Although he was only Hugh's age, twenty-six, there were already tiny lines of worry around his eyes.

  "I made a big success of Boston," Hugh said in answer to Tonio's first question. "I came back in January. But now I'm having trouble with my damned family all over again. How about you?"

  "There have been a lot of changes in my country. My family is not as influential as it once was. We still control Milpita, the provincial city we come from, but in the capital others have come between us and President Garcia."

  "Who?"

  "The Miranda faction."

  "Micky's family?"

  "Absolutely. They took over the nitrate mines in the north of the country and that has made them rich. They also monopolize trade with Europe, because of their connection with your family's bank."

  Hugh was surprised. "I knew Edward was doing a lot of business with Cordova, but I didn't realize it was all going through Micky. Still, I don't suppose it matters."

  "But it does," said Tonio. He took a sheaf of papers from inside his coat. "Take a minute to read this. It's an article I've written for. The Times."

  Hugh took the manuscript and began to read. It was a description of conditions at a nitrate mine owned by the Mirandas. Because the trade was financed by Pilasters Bank, Tonio held the bank responsible for the ill-treatment of the miners. At first Hugh was unmoved: long hours, poor wages and child labor were features of mines all over the world. But as he read on he saw this was worse. At the Miranda mines, the overseers were armed with whips and guns, and they used them freely to enforce discipline. Laborers--including women and children--were flogged for being too slow, and if they tried to leave before they had worked out their contracts they could be shot. Tonio had eyewitness accounts of such "executions."

  Hugh was horrifi
ed. "But this is murder!" he said.

  "Exactly."

  "Doesn't your president know about it?"

  "He knows. But the Mirandas are his favorites now."

  "And your own family ..."

  "Once upon a time we could have put a stop to it. Now it takes all our effort to retain control of our own province."

  Hugh was mortified to think his own family and their bank were financing such a brutal industry, but for a moment he tried to put aside his feelings and think coolly about consequences. The article Tonio had written was just the kind of material The Times liked to publish. There would be speeches in Parliament and letters in the weekly journals. The social conscience of businessmen, many of whom were Methodists, would make them hesitate before getting involved with Pilasters. It would all be extremely bad for the bank.

  Do I care? thought Hugh. The bank had treated him badly and he was about to leave it. But despite that, he could not ignore this problem. He was still an employee, he would draw his salary at the end of the month, and he owed Pilasters his loyalty at least until then. He had to do something.

  What did Tonio want? The fact that he was showing Hugh the article before publishing it suggested that he wanted to make a deal. "What's your objective?" Hugh asked him. "Do you want us to stop financing the nitrate trade?"

  Tonio shook his head. "If Pilasters pulled out, someone else would take over--another bank with a thicker hide. No, we must be more subtle."

  "You've got something specific in mind."

  "The Mirandas are planning a railway."

  "Ah, yes. The Santamaria railroad."

  "That railway will make Papa Miranda the wealthiest and most powerful man in the country, excepting only the president. And Papa Miranda is a brute. I want the railway stopped."

  "And that's why you're going to publish this article."

  "Several articles. And I'll hold meetings, make speeches, lobby members of Parliament, and try to get an appointment with the foreign secretary: anything to undermine the financing of this railway."

  It might work, too, Hugh thought. Investors would shy away from anything controversial. It struck him that Tonio had changed a lot, from the young tearaway who couldn't stop gambling into the sober adult who campaigned against ill-treatment of miners. "So why have you come to me?"