* * *
Three men boarded the Heysham ferry for Belfast later that evening. One carried a kitbag, one a briefcase and the other carried nothing. They were not friends, or even acquaintances. In fact, it was only their particular skills and beliefs that brought them together.
The voyage to Belfast usually took about eight hours, and during that time, most passengers try to grab some sleep; but not these three men. They made their way to the bar, purchased three pints of Guinness, one of the few things they had in common, and found seats on the top deck.
They agreed that the best time to carry out the job would be at around three in the morning, when most of the other passengers would be asleep, drunk or too exhausted to give a damn. At the appointed hour, one of them left the group, climbed over a chain with a sign warning Crew Only and noiselessly descended the companionway to the cargo deck. He found himself surrounded by large wooden crates, but it wasn’t difficult for him to locate the four he was looking for. After all, they were clearly stamped Harland and Wolff. With the aid of a claw hammer, he loosened all the nails on the blindside of the four crates, 116 of them. Forty minutes later, he rejoined his companions and told them everything was ready. Without another word, his two colleagues made their way down to the cargo deck.
The larger of the two men, who with cauliflower ears and a broken nose looked like a retired heavyweight boxer, possibly because he was, extracted the nails from the first box, then ripped off its wooden slats to reveal an electrical panel consisting of hundreds of red-, green- and blue-coated wires. It was destined for the bridge of the MV Buckingham, and was designed to allow the captain to keep in touch with every section of the ship, from the engine room to the galley. It had taken a group of specialist electrical engineers five months to construct this remarkable piece of machinery. It took a young postgraduate from Queen’s University Belfast, with a PhD in physics and a pair of pliers, twenty-seven minutes to dismantle it. He stood back to admire his handiwork, but only for a moment, before the pugilist shoved the slats from the side of the crate back into place. After checking that they were still alone, he got to work on the second crate.
It contained two bronze propellers that had been lovingly forged by a team of craftsmen in Durham. The workmanship had taken them six weeks, and they were rightly proud of the finished articles. The postgrad opened his briefcase, removed a bottle of nitric acid, unscrewed the top and poured the contents slowly into the grooves of the propellers. When the crate was opened later that morning, the propellers would look as if they were ready for the scrapyard, not for installation.
The contents of the third crate were what the young PhD had been most looking forward to seeing, and when his muscle-bound colleague levered off its side to reveal the prize, he was not disappointed. The Rolex navigational computer was the first of its kind, and would feature in all of Barrington’s promotional material, explaining to potential passengers why, when it came to safety, they should forsake all others in favor of the Buckingham. It only took him twelve minutes to transform the masterpiece from unique to obsolete.
The final crate contained a magnificent oak and brass ship’s wheel built in Dorset, which any captain would have been proud to stand behind on his bridge. The young man smiled. As time was running out and the wheel no longer served any purpose, he left it in its full glory.
Once his colleague had replaced the last of the wooden slats, the two of them returned to the top deck. If anyone had been unfortunate enough to disturb them during the past hour, they would have discovered why the former boxer had been nicknamed the “Destroyer.”
As soon as they reappeared, their colleague made his way back down the spiral staircase. Time was no longer on his side. With the aid of a handkerchief and a hammer, he carefully knocked every one of the 116 nails back into place. He was working on the final crate when he heard two blasts on the ship’s horn.
When the ferry docked alongside Donegall Quay in Belfast, the three men disembarked at fifteen-minute intervals, still unaware of each other’s names and destined never to meet again.
11
“LET ME ASSURE you, major, there are no circumstances in which I would ever consider doing business with the IRA,” said Don Pedro. “They’re nothing more than a bunch of murderous thugs, and the sooner they’re all locked up in Crumlin Road jail, the better it will be for all of us.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” said Fisher, “because if I thought you were making deals with those criminals behind my back, I’d have to resign immediately.”
“And that’s the last thing I want you to do,” protested Martinez. “Don’t forget, I see you as the next chairman of Barrington’s, and perhaps in the not-too-distant future.”
“But Buchanan isn’t expected to retire for some time.”
“It could be sooner if he felt he had to resign.”
“Why would he do that, when he’s just signed up for the biggest investment program in the company’s history?”
“Or the biggest turkey. Because if that investment proves to be an unwise one, after he put his reputation on the line to make sure the board backed him, there will be no one to blame but the man who proposed it, remembering that the Barrington family were against the whole idea in the first place.”
“Possibly. But the situation would have to get a lot worse before he’d consider resigning.”
“How much worse can it get?” said Martinez, pushing a copy of the Daily Telegraph across his desk. Fisher stared at the headline: Police believe IRA behind Heysham Ferry sabotage. “That’s put the building of the Buckingham back another six months, and don’t forget, this is all happening on Buchanan’s watch. What else has to go wrong before he begins to consider his position? I can tell you, if the share price falls any further, he’ll be sacked before he’s given the chance to resign. So you ought to be thinking seriously about taking his place. You may not get an opportunity like this again.”
“Even if Buchanan were to go, the obvious choice to replace him would be Mrs. Clifton. Her family founded the firm, they still own twenty-two percent of the stock and she’s well liked by her fellow directors.”
“I’ve no doubt she’s the favorite, but favorites have been known to fall at the first fence. So I suggest you go on loyally supporting the present chairman, because he may end up with the casting vote.” Martinez rose from his place. “Sorry to leave you, but I have an appointment with my bank to discuss this very subject. Ring me this evening. By then I may have an interesting piece of news for you.”
* * *
Once Martinez had climbed into the back of his Rolls-Royce and the driver had eased out into the morning traffic, he said, “Good morning, Kevin. Your lads did a fine job on the Heysham ferry. I only wish I could have seen the faces when the crates were opened at Harland and Wolff. So what have you got planned next?”
“Nothing, until you pay the hundred grand you still owe us.”
“I will be dealing with that this morning. In fact, it’s one of the reasons I’m visiting my bank.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” said Rafferty. “It would be a pity if you were to lose another of your sons so soon after the unfortunate death of Bruno.”
“Don’t threaten me!” shouted Martinez.
“It wasn’t a threat,” said Rafferty, coming to a halt at the next light. “And it’s only because I like you that I’d let you choose which of your sons would be allowed to survive.”
Martinez fell back in his seat and didn’t open his mouth again as the car continued on its journey, before finally coming to a halt outside the Midland Bank in St. James’s.
Whenever Martinez walked up the steps of the bank, he felt he was entering another world, one in which he was made to feel he didn’t belong. He was just about to grasp the door handle, when it swung open and a young man stepped forward.
“Good morning, Mr. Martinez. Mr. Ledbury is looking forward to seeing you.” Without another word, he led one of the bank’s most valued customer
s straight to the manager’s office.
“Good morning, Martinez,” said the manager as Don Pedro entered the room. “Mild weather we’re having for this time of year.”
It had taken Martinez some time to accept that when an Englishman drops the Mr. and refers to you only by your surname, it is in fact a compliment, because they are treating you as an equal. But not until they call you by your first name can you be considered a friend.
“Good morning, Ledbury,” said Martinez, but he still wasn’t sure how to respond to the English obsession with the weather.
“Can I get you some coffee?”
“No, thank you. I have another appointment at twelve.”
“Of course. We have, as you instructed, continued to purchase Barrington’s shares as and when they come on the market. As you are aware, now that you are in possession of twenty-two point five percent of the company’s stock, you are entitled to nominate two more directors to join Major Fisher on the board. However, I must stress that were your shareholding to increase to twenty-five percent, it would be a legal requirement for the bank to inform the Stock Exchange that you intend to make a takeover bid for the entire company.”
“That’s the last thing I want to do,” said Martinez. “Twenty-two point five percent is quite enough to serve my purpose.”
“Excellent, then all I require is the names of the two new directors you have chosen to represent you on the board of Barrington’s.”
Martinez removed an envelope from an inside pocket and handed it to the bank manager. Ledbury opened it, extracted the nomination form and studied the names. Although he was surprised, he didn’t comment. All he said was, “As your banker, I must add that I hope the unfortunate setbacks Barrington’s has experienced recently will not prove a problem for you in the long term.”
“I have never been more confident about the company’s future.”
“I’m delighted to hear that, because the purchase of such a large number of shares has made considerable inroads into your capital. We must hope that the price will not fall any lower.”
“I think you’ll find that the company will shortly be making an announcement that should please both the shareholders and the City.”
“That is indeed good news. Is there anything else I can do for you at the present time?”
“Yes,” said Martinez. “I would like you to transfer one hundred thousand pounds to an account in Zürich.”
* * *
“I’m sorry to have to inform the board that I have decided to resign as chairman.”
The immediate reaction of Ross Buchanan’s colleagues was shock and disbelief, quickly followed by almost universal protest. One director remained silent: the only one who wasn’t surprised by the announcement. It quickly became clear that almost every member of the board didn’t want Buchanan to stand down. The chairman waited for everyone to settle, before he continued.
“I’m touched by your loyalty, but it’s my duty to inform you that a major shareholder has made it clear that I no longer enjoy his confidence,” he said, stressing the word his. “He reminded me, and quite rightly, that I put my full authority behind the building of the Buckingham, which in his opinion has proved to be ill-judged at best, and irresponsible at worst. We have already missed the first two of our completion dates, and our expenditure is currently running at eighteen percent over budget.”
“All the more reason for you to stay on the bridge,” said the admiral. “The skipper should be the last person to abandon ship when there’s a storm brewing.”
“In this case I think our only hope is for me to abandon ship, admiral,” said Buchanan. One or two heads bowed, and Emma feared that nothing she could say would make Buchanan change his mind. “In my experience,” he continued, “whenever circumstances such as those we are now facing arise, the City looks for fresh leadership to resolve the problem, and resolve it quickly.” Ross looked up at his colleagues, and added, “I am bound to say that I don’t think you’ll have to look beyond the current directors to find the right person to take my place.”
“Perhaps if we were to appoint Mrs. Clifton and Major Fisher as joint deputy chairmen,” suggested Anscott, “that might calm the nerves of our masters who occupy the Square Mile.”
“I’m afraid they would see that for what it is, Anscott, a short-term compromise. If at some time in the future Barrington’s needs to borrow even more cash, your new chairman must go to the banks not cap in hand, but with confidence, the most important word in the City’s dictionary.”
“Would it help, Ross”—the first time Emma had called the chairman by his Christian name during a board meeting—“if I made it clear that my family has full confidence in your stewardship and wishes you to remain as chairman?”
“I’d be touched, of course, but the City would be unmoved, and would regard it as nothing more than a gesture. Although at a personal level, Emma, I am most grateful for your support.”
“And you can always rely on my support,” Fisher chipped in. “I’ll back you to the end.”
“That’s the problem, major. If I don’t go, it may well turn out to be the end, the end of this great company as we know it, and that isn’t something I could live with.” The chairman looked around the table in case anyone else wanted to offer an opinion, but they all now appeared to accept that the die had been cast.
“At five o’clock this afternoon, after the Stock Exchange has closed, I shall announce that for personal reasons, I have tendered my resignation as chairman of the board of Barrington Shipping. However, with your agreement, I will remain in charge of the day-to-day affairs of the company until a new chairman has been appointed.”
No one raised any objection. The meeting broke up a few minutes later, and Emma was not surprised to see Fisher quickly leave the boardroom. He returned twenty minutes later to join his colleagues for lunch.
* * *
“You’ll need to play your one trump card,” said Martinez after Fisher had told him the details of what had happened at the board meeting.
“And what might that be?”
“You’re a man, and there isn’t a publicly listed company in the country that has a female chairman. In fact, few even have a woman on the board.”
“Emma Clifton makes a habit of breaking the mold,” Fisher reminded him.
“Maybe so, but can you think of any of your fellow directors who might not be able to stomach the idea of a woman chairman?”
“No, but—”
“But?”
“I do know that Knowles and Anscott voted against women being allowed inside the club house of the Royal Wyvern Golf Club on match days.”
“Then let them know how much you admire their principled stand, and that you would have done the same had you been a member of the club.”
“I did, and I am,” said the major.
“Then that’s two votes in the bag. What about the admiral? After all, he’s a bachelor.”
“A possibility. I remember he abstained when her name was first put up as a board member.”
“A possible third.”
“But even if they did back me, that’s still only three votes, and I’m fairly certain the other four directors would support Mrs. Clifton.”
“Don’t forget, I’ll be appointing two more directors the day before the meeting is due to take place. That will give you six votes, more than enough to tip the balance in your favor.”
“Not if the Barringtons were to take up all the other places on the board. Then I’d still need another vote to be certain of victory, because if the result was a tie, I’m fairly sure Buchanan would give his casting vote to Mrs. Clifton.”
“Then we’ll need to have another director in place by next Thursday.”
Both men fell silent, until Martinez said, “Can you think of anyone who has a little spare cash, remembering how cheap the shares are at the moment, and who wouldn’t, under any circumstances, want Mrs. Clifton to be the next chairman of Barrington’s?”
<
br /> “Yes,” said Fisher without hesitation. “I know someone who detests Emma Clifton even more than you do, and she’s recently been awarded a large divorce settlement.”
12
“GOOD MORNING,” SAID Ross Buchanan, “and welcome to this extraordinary general meeting. There is only one item on today’s agenda, namely to appoint a new chairman of the Barrington Shipping Company. I would like to open by saying what a privilege it’s been to serve as your chairman for the past five years, and how sad I am to relinquish that post. However, for reasons I do not need to rake over again, I feel this is an appropriate time to stand down and allow someone else to take my place.
“My first responsibility,” he continued, “is to introduce those shareholders who have joined us today and who are entitled to vote at an EGM, as set out in the statutes of the company’s constitution. One or two of those seated around this table will be familiar to the board, while others may not be quite as well known. On my right is Mr. David Dixon, the company’s chief executive, and on my left is Mr. Philip Webster, the company secretary. To his left is our finance director, Mr. Michael Carrick. Seated next to him is Rear Admiral Summers, then Mrs. Clifton, Mr. Anscott, Mr. Knowles, Major Fisher and Mr. Dobbs, all of whom are non-executive directors. They are joined today by individuals or representatives of companies who have a large shareholding in Barrington’s, including Mr. Peter Maynard and Mrs. Alex Fisher, both of whom are Major Fisher’s nominees, as he now represents twenty-two point five percent of the company.” Maynard beamed, while Susan Fisher bowed her head and blushed when everyone turned to look at her.
“Representing the Barrington family and their twenty-two percent holding are Sir Giles Barrington MC MP and his sister, Dr. Grace Barrington. The other two individuals present who have also met the legal requirement to vote on this occasion are the Lady Virginia Fenwick”—Virginia patted Fisher on the back, leaving no one in any doubt where her support lay, “and—” the chairman checked his notes—“Mr. Cedric Hardcastle, who represents Farthings Bank, which currently holds seven point five percent of the company’s stock.”
Be Careful What You Wish For (The Clifton Chronicles) Page 8