by Stan Mason
‘You’d obviously have a minority stake. As major shareholders they could do anything they wished with it.’
The mining consultant pursed his lips tightly. ‘What more can they do with a mine except work it?’
The banker wondered what James would have said had he known that it was his intention to store nuclear waste at certain levels of the mine. It ws preferable at this stage to keep him ignorant of the matter.
After James had gone, Sadler considered the situation with Wesley Morris. There was no doubt that the first stage of the transaction would be to clear the debt of honour.. Until that happened, there was stalemate. The problem was that the fat man as too astute and he would never allow his fifty per cent shareholding to be diluted. Then there was the matter of the application to the Stannary Court. It was yet another fly in the ointment. Astonishing Morris seemed to have a crystal ball which allowed him to tie up all the ends neatly, except the most important thing... finance. He .seemed to be prepared for every contingency and Sadler had to admit that it was a pleasure to work with someone who had such foresight... if only the man didn’t look like a tramp!
Miss Roberts entered the room after knocking gently on the door, holding a sheet of paper in her hand. Her face carried a serious expression and the banker knew that she was hunting for information.
‘Research Department have sent me a list of details relating to Company Law. Did you request it?’
‘I did.’
‘I didn’t know we had such problems with any of our customers.’
He held back his temper, biting his tongue. ‘We don’t!’ he responded curtly. ‘It’s a private request.’
She appeared to ignore his explanation and tried to probe deeper. ‘I can’t understand the part about special conditions relating to an inheritor having an illegitimate child contrary to the contents of a Will and the rights thereafter. I hope you’re not involved in a personal situation which might affect your professional capacity.’
That was it in a nutshell! She was trying to find out whether he was implicated in an unsavoury relationship with another woman. ‘Why do you say that?’ he asked, keeping control of his feelings.
‘Because it’s my duty to report anything to senior management relating to an employee of the bank involved in something which might affect the image or status of the bank adversely. If a member of staff gets into difficulties of any kind, the bank should know about it immediately.’
The bitch was perfectly correct. The rules of the bank stated that any immoral or indecent act committed by a member of staff had to be reported without delay. However he resented the way she was prying deeply into his personal life, perched outside his office like a vulture waiting for the kill.
‘I’m seeking this information for a friend,’ Miss Roberts,’ he told her sharply hoping that it would be the end of the interrogation.
She stared at him coldly in disbelief. ‘Isn’t that a bit sneaky.’ she retaliated, ‘getting information from the bank for non-customers? If it was procured for personal involvement, I ought to know about it otherwise, as your secretary, the bank could come down heavily on me as an accessory. He remained silent but she hadn’t finished yet. ‘By the way, I’d like you to have dinner with me on Saturday evening so that you can make me breakfast on Sunday morning.’
He pressed the buzzer on his communication system. ‘I’d like an outside line please,’ he said, forcing her to return to the outer office.
She placed the memo on his desk before turning towards the door. ‘Don’t forget, Saturday night... and Sunday morning,’ she reminded im before leaving the room.
He waited for a few seconds before slamming his fist down hard on the desk in anger. What rotten luck to have a secretary like Phyllis Roberts allocated to him, snapping at his heels all the time! She was like cold steel being driven slowly into his flesh... time and time again!
***
Sadler should have been extremely ecstatic at the alliance made with Della Lancaster. Equally, the journey to London for the rendezvous with Clement ought to have been exciting in the sense that h was going to battle with the giants. However neither of these issues caused his adrenalin to flow. The time involved in travelling to the metropolis was extensive during which he had too long to dwell of his pessimistic thoughts. It was all starting to become too complicated. Far too complicated! By the time he reached his destination, he felt less than inspired to tackle the magnate.
When he arrived there, the butler showed him into the library and he stood gazing at the shelves of expensively bound books. It was furnished in late Victorian style. The desk, tables and chairs displayed a high-glossed veneer, trimmed with ormulu, enhanced by the reflection from the brilliant crystal chandelier that hung from the ceiling. He admired the rich golden wallpaper where the bookshelves ended enriched with a number of sporting prints and a few large oil paintings. He particularly liked the windows festooned with yellow silk, hung in lengths, t hid the contents of the room from the world outside.
The door opened and Clement entered, cold and expressionless, bristling with an air of officialdom. He seated himself behind the desk deliberately neglected to offer his guest a seat.
‘Let’s get this over as quickly as possible, Mr. Sadler,’ he muttered curtly. ‘I’m sure that you find it equally distasteful.’
‘Do you want me to start from the beginning,’ responded the banker, a trifle uneasy as he stood awkwardly at the side of one of the tables.
‘That won’t be necessary. Firstly, let’s review you position. You’re a branch manager of a bank who’s playing a very dangerous game. You’re holding my cousin hostage to obtain money to buy a mine. That’s both criminal and extortion! I have two options to hand. I could telephone the police and report it or I could ring the Chief Executive of your bank to report you. However, if you agree to draw a line under this matter and forget all about it, I’m willing to do the honourable thing and let sleeping dogs lie. I suggest strongly that you give more thought to my proposition.’
Sadler stared at the bookshelves for a short while without speaking until the tycoon began to fidget with a paperknife. Then he stared into the eyes of the millionaire with a determined expression on his face. ‘I’ve got you over a barrel, Clement,’ he stated boldly with the tone of his voice reaching a level of excitement.
Clement looked at him as though the man had lost his reason. ‘I don’t follow your line of thinking,’ he returned smartly.
The banker moved to sit down on one of the chairs. ‘I’ve been dong a lot of research on company law and inheritance to find out the reason why Della was disinherited. She’s the direct descendant of Harcourt Lancaster and ought to be entitled to both the shares and the dividends in the business which were left to her in his Will. I’m aware of the clause in the Will prohibiting her from inheriting if she bore a child out of wedlock and not being allowed to touch the trust until she reached the age of thirty.’
The magnate shifted his feet under the desk in obvious irritation and moved in his seat. ‘So what?’ he challenged. ‘What’s that got to do with anything? Please come to the point if there is a point to be made.’
‘Oh there’s a point to be made all right,’ continued Sadler easily. It’s simply really. She didn’t have the child out of wedlock.’
Clement sat upright in his chair. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘She didn’t actually bear a child. She had a miscarriage but no child was born. The clause definitely stated that she would not succeed to the Will if she bore a child out of wedlock... but she didn’t! You’ve robbed her of the shares and the dividends.’
The magnate almost choked at the accusation. ‘Really!’ he spluttered. ‘These are matters of family concern and have nothing to do with you!’
‘I think it might be my turn to ring the police or the Stock Exchange, to advise them of
your position.’ The banker stood up and walked to the window. ‘They told me you were very bright, Clement, very sharp.I’m sure you’ve got the drift by now. You have broken the law. It’s really a matter for the Court.’
The magnate remained rigid at his desk like an awkwardly placed statue. His breathing seemed to have stopped and his face turned pale. ‘You’ve got it all wrong,’ he uttered in terms of an explanation. ‘She did bear a child.’
‘If that was what you were told, you were misinformed. She had a miscarriage. So where does that leave us?’
The tycoon sprang into action and pressed a button on the communication system on his desk. ‘I want to speak with Gerald immediately!’ he barked into the speaker before turning back to the banker. ‘I hardly expected to say this to you but if you’re right, I’m extremely grateful for your help. Let me say that Miss Lancaster’s financial interests are completely untouched. She hasn’t been affected at all with the exception of not voting a meetings. I very much doubt whether any decision might have made would have had any bearing on the future of the company or have altered any course of our direction.’
‘Stout words, Clement, but you’ve forced your cousin to live in a damp draughty hovel near the Botallack mine. She lives there in poverty. What use are her financial possessions being stored in a bank vault when she’s living in poverty?’
The door opened and Gerald Lancaster entered the room, staring at both men as he approached the desk.
‘What’s the crisis?’ he enquired benignly. There was little doubt that when sharpness, incisiveness and business acumen were being meted out, he was the last in line for he showed very little of it.
‘When we had the unfortunate family disaster with Della, I sent you to check the details and report back to me. You returned to tell me that she had given birth to a child. A son. Do you still stand by that story?’
The man seemed discomforted at the question and nodded. ‘I was told that she had a son and the boy died.’
Clement lost his temper and flew into a rage. ‘You were told?’ he remonstrated angrily. ‘I asked you to check it out!’
Gerald shrugged his shoulders aimlessly. ‘I thought the man could be trusted.’
‘You thought the man could be trusted!’ snarled Clement contemptuously. ‘Which detective agency did you use?’
There was a wave of silence during which Gerald shifted his feet in embarrassment. ‘I didn’t use a detective agency. I sent old Tendler.’
‘Tendler... our chauffeur!’ He threw his hands up in the air with frustration. It was the first time Sadler had seen any emotion from the man. ‘How could you do that. He’s a drunken old fool. He’d sell his soul for a glass of whisky. If what I’m now told is true, you’ve created a very embarrassing situation. Excellent work, Gerald!’ He stared fiercely at his brother who kept shrugging his shoulders like a bird which had just come in from the rain. ‘Oh, get out! For Heaven’s sake, get out!’
He sat for a while in contemplation after his brother had left the room while Sadler idled away the time examining the titles of some of the works on the bookshelves. It had started to look much better for Della but the banker wasn’t certain that it would be beneficial for him in the end. The tycoon was far too smart to part with his money.
‘I’ll check out the details,’ Clement told him at length. ‘If it’s so, the trustees will have to recover the situation. They relied on false information which was believed to be true. The man who provided it... our chauffeur... died shortly afterwards. My brother will not escape the whip for his negligence. I assure you of that!’
The banker began to view him like Captain Bligh of The Bounty punishing the sailors for their misdemeanours. ‘What’s my position in all this now?’ he asked.
‘Are you suggesting that you deserve some kind of reward? The investment in a mining venture? Well I’m afraid it’s a little too high a price to pay for revealing an error made my a member of my family. No, Mr. Sadler. You’re on a very poor wicket!’
The banker stared at him coldly, chewing on his lower lip. ‘We’re birds of a feather, Clement. Neither of us likes to give ground. This time, however, you’re the one on a sticky wicket.’
‘Explain!’ The word shot out like a ball fired by a cannon.
‘Della’s on my side, not yours,’ he clarified. ‘She deserves compensation for all the years of suffering... for the years of lost income... for the privileges lost in time. I’m asking for a hundred-and-fifty thousand. She could sue you for a million and there would be masses of bad publicity for the company. It’s all very well to tell me that your dead chauffeur was the culprit but the Press would tear you to pieces.’
Clement was concerned at the threat but he tried not to show it. ‘If you knew anything about Miss Lancaster, you’d know that she wouldn’t pull a stunt like that.’
You haven’t seen her in a long time. You don’t know her any more. My way is far more economical.’
The tycoon sat up straight intending to end the discussion. ‘I’d like some time to evaluate the situation,’ he declared bluntly.
The banker had the feeling that the man was like a cobra swaying to the music of a flute with an element of fascination, ready to strike as soon as it stopped. It was astonishing that one could claim victory over him, routing him in defeat, and yet still have an uncomfortable pain in the pit of one’s stomach that one hadn’t done enough. Della had warned him about her cousin and he recalled the story of how his father had let him fall to the ground from the top of a chest at the age of six having promised to catch him and trust him. It was a heartless tale but one which bordered on the edge of reality from a cruel heritage.
‘I’ll give you one week,’ exclaimed Sadler. ‘I think that’s long enough.
Clement pressed a button on the communication system and the butler entered. ‘Show this gentleman to the door, Bates,’ he commanded, bringing the conversation to an end.
Sadler stared at his coolly with a small smile appearing at the corners of his mouth. The magnate didn’t like losing battles even if they were small. However there was a long way to go before the war was won.
The journey to London had a dual purpose. The main objective related to the interview with Clement Lancaster. On the same day, Morris had come to the City to discuss the contract for the storage of low-level nuclear waste with a Government official. The banker had arranged to meet the fat man in the afternoon and after the initial greeting, the fat man sat heavily on a seat in the restaurant, opened his fur coat, and pushed the battered trilby hat to the back of his head.
‘Oh, boy!’ began the trader. ‘It’s tough cutting through the red-tape in Government offices. You could waste a morning just trying to find the right person to talk to.’
The banker was disinterested in the finer details and moved on. ‘Did you have any luck?’
‘I think we may have a fair chance,’ returned the fat man thoughtfully. He waved the lapels of his fur coat forwards and backwards to induce cool air to fan his face. ‘They’ve targeted three sites in Britain. One isn’t suitable at all. The second is under siege from the local inhabitants with the weight of the Member of Parliament behind them and various environmental groups. That leaves us. A mine stuck away in the far south-west corner of the country with hardly anyone around. What could be better? So I reckon we’re in with a good chance.’
‘How long will it take for them to come to a decision?’
‘Your guess is as good as mine. There’s so much red-tape to cut through. By the way, why are you in London?’
‘A private matter. Nothing of great importance.’ related Sadler casually.
The fat man pushed him playfully with his fist. ‘I don’t believe a word of it,’ he laughed hoarsely. ‘You’re up to some kind of mischief.’ His eyes suddenly lit up. ‘I know what it is. Something to do with that Lancaster woman,
isn’t it?’
‘Why do you say that?’ asked the banker pretending to be innocent.
‘Nothing goes unnoticed in Cornwall. There are two things to remember about the people in the country. Firstly they’re all related to each other. Secondly, they always know your business. He tucked a serviette into the top of his old woollen pullover before drinking his soup noisily. ‘They always know your business!’
The banker stared at his dismally. The fat man was very canny and what he didn’t know he usually guessed. It was astonishing to Sadler that in a world of millions of private lives, there were no secrets any more!
Chapter Eleven
Early the next morning, Ivan awoke in the hut in the park. It had been an uncomfortable night; the dampness inside the hut had chilled his bones to the marrow. Sleeping regularly in a comfortable bed had made him forget this crude way of existence. ‘I’m never coming back here again,’ he promise himself solidly. ‘Never!’ He walked to the water’s edge, climbed into a boat he had hidden amongst the bushes at night time and paddled to the concrete quay. As he climbed over the barbed wire once more, he kept repeating to himself: ‘Never again! Never again!’
His first priority was to return to Elsie’s house to collect his belongings and he sauntered along the road envisaging the dreadful scene that was about to take place. She would beg his to stay, flinging her arms around him... debasing herself until he felt sick. If he didn’t need the clothes she had given him, he wouldn’t bother to return but they were his only possessions. As he approached the house, the pavement was filled with a crowd of people staring morbidly inside the property. A police car had parked nearby indicating the seriousness of the matter.
‘What’s happened?’ he asked a wizened old woman wearing a shabby fur coat, pretending to be an innocent bystander.
‘Poor dear,’ she responded sadly. As dead as a doornail when they found her, These places are so rotten they ought to be condemned. Fell right through the upstairs floorboards. The doctor said it happened late last night.’