This Was a Man

by Jeffrey Archer

  “More likely to be your mother. I told her we were meeting Jessica’s new boyfriend for the first time, so she’s bound to want to know what we think.” She picked up the phone.

  “Good evening, Mrs. Clifton. It’s John Ashley.”

  “Hello, John. Has the bank burnt down?”

  “Not yet, but I do need a word with Seb fairly urgently.”

  “The bank’s burnt down,” said Samantha, handing the phone to her husband.

  “You wish. John, what can I do for you?”

  “Sorry to bother you this late, chairman, but you asked me to alert you if Miss Lombardo presented any more large checks.”

  “How much this time?”

  “Forty-two thousand.”

  “Forty-two thousand pounds?” Seb repeated. “Hold up the payment for now, and if Victor doesn’t turn up tomorrow, I’ll have to speak to our legal team. And, John, go home. As my wife keeps reminding me, it’s outside banking hours, so there’s nothing more you can do about it tonight.”

  “A problem, my darling?” asked Samantha, sounding genuinely concerned.

  “Yes, I’m afraid so. Do you remember that woman we saw dining with Victor at the Caprice?” he said, picking the phone back up and beginning to dial.

  “How could I possibly forget?”

  “Well, I think she’s taking him to the cleaners.”

  “Are you calling Victor?”

  “No, Arnold Hardcastle.”

  “That bad?”

  “That bad.”

  * * *

  “Hi, Jessie, I’m glad you were able to make it,” he said, giving her a hug.

  “There’s no way I would have missed it, Grayson.”

  “Congratulations on winning the Founder’s Prize,” he said. “I bet it won’t be long before a West End gallery is showing your work.”

  “From your lips to God’s ears,” said Jessica as the artist turned away to talk to another student.

  “What do you really think?” whispered Richard, as they strolled around the gallery.

  “It’s a great show, even if I’m not sure about the teddy bear.”

  “I wasn’t talking about his teddy bear. How do you think the meeting with your parents went?”

  “As I told you, Mom thought you were dishy. You’re a lucky girl, were her exact words.”

  “I’m not sure your father felt the same way.”

  “No need to worry about Pops,” said Jessica as she stared at a magnificent vase. “Once Mom starts to work on him, he’ll come around.”

  “I hope so, because it won’t be too long before we have to tell him.”

  * * *

  The chairman, the chief executive, and the bank’s in-house lawyer were seated around an oval table in Sebastian’s office at eight o’clock the following morning.

  “Any sign of Victor?” was Seb’s first question.

  “No one’s seen him since Friday night,” said John Ashley. “He told his secretary he was going on a business trip but would be back in time for the board meeting.”

  “But that’s not for another ten days,” said Seb. “Doesn’t Carol have any idea where he is?”

  “No, and he didn’t leave a contact number.”

  “That’s unlike Victor,” said Seb.

  “Carol told me he’s never done it before.”

  “Curiouser and curiouser.”

  “Do you think the time has come to call in Barry Hammond?” suggested Ashley. “I’m sure it wouldn’t take him long to track Victor down, and also to find out everything there is to know about Miss Candice Lombardo.”

  “No, we can’t have a private detective investigating the deputy chairman of the bank,” said Seb. “Is that understood?”

  “Yes, chairman. But Miss Lombardo presented another check yesterday for immediate clearance,” said Ashley as he opened her growing file.

  “How much this time?” asked Arnold.

  “Forty-two thousand,” said Ashley.

  “Do you have any idea what it’s for?”

  “No, chairman, I do not,” replied Ashley.

  Seb studied a balance sheet that had never been in the black and was about to utter a single word to let his inner team know exactly how he felt, but thought better of it.

  “What’s our legal position?” he asked, turning to the bank’s in-house lawyer.

  “If the account is in funds, or the guarantor is good for that amount, we have no choice but to clear the check within forty-eight hours.”

  “Then let’s hope Victor returns soon, or at least contacts us in the next couple of days.”

  “Isn’t there a paper trail of any sort?” asked Arnold. “Phone calls, credit cards, hotel bills, plane tickets, anything?”

  “Nothing so far,” said Ashley. “His secretary has instructions to call me the moment she hears from him, but I’m not hopeful, because I have a feeling that if we do find Victor, Miss Lombardo won’t be far behind.”

  “There’s one other person who might know where he is,” said Arnold.

  “Who?” asked Seb.

  “His wife.”

  “Absolutely not,” said Seb. “Ruth is the last person I want contacted under any circumstances.”

  “In which case, chairman,” said Arnold, “we have no choice but to clear the latest check within forty-eight hours, unless you want me to report the whole matter to the Bank of England and ask if we can hold up any further payments until Victor returns.”

  “No, allowing the Old Lady of Threadneedle Street to wash our dirty linen in public would be worse than telling Ruth. Clear the check, and let’s hope Miss Lombardo doesn’t present another one before Victor shows up.”

  * * *

  “She’s what?” said Sebastian.

  “Pregnant,” repeated Samantha.

  “I’ll kill him.”

  “You’ll do nothing of the sort. In fact, when you next see Richard, you’ll congratulate him.”

  “Congratulate him?”

  “Yes, and leave them both in no doubt how delighted you are.”

  “Why the hell would I do that?”

  “Because the alternative doesn’t bear thinking about. To lose your daughter and never be able to see your grandchild. Just in case you’ve forgotten, you’ve experienced something similar before, and I don’t need to go through that again.”

  “Are they going to get married?” asked Sebastian, changing tack.

  “I didn’t ask.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it’s none of my business. Anyway, I’m sure they’ll let us know when they’re good and ready.”

  “You’re being very calm, in the circumstances.”

  “Of course I am. I’m looking forward to being a grandmother.”

  “Oh my God,” said Seb. “I’m going to be a grandfather.”

  “And to think The FT described you as one of the sharpest minds in the City!”

  Sebastian grinned, took his wife in his arms, and said, “I sometimes forget, my darling, how lucky I am to have married you.” He switched on the light on his side of the bed and sat up. “We ought to give my mother a call and warn her she’s about to become a great-grandmother.”

  “She already knows.”

  “So was I the last person to be told?”

  “Sorry. I needed to get all the troops on side before you heard the news.”

  “This just hasn’t been my week,” said Seb, turning the light out.

  * * *

  “I’ve found out what the forty-two thousand pounds was for, chairman,” said John Ashley.

  “I’m all ears,” said Seb.

  “It’s a down payment on a building in South Parade that used to be an escort agency.”

  “That’s all I need. So who’s the agent?”

  “Savills.”

  “Well, at least we know the chairman.”

  “I’ve already had a word with Mr. Vaughan. He tells me he’ll be presenting a check signed by Miss Lombardo, in full and final settlement f
or the property, later today, and politely reminded me that if the sale doesn’t go through, Miss Lombardo will lose her deposit.”

  “Let’s hope Victor is back in time for the board meeting, otherwise by the end of next week, she’ll probably have taken over the Playboy Club.”

  43

  “WHAT’S THE MEANING of the word ‘martinet’?” asked Freddie, looking up from his prep.

  “A stickler for discipline,” replied Karin. “I think you’ll find the word derives from the French.”

  “How come your English is so good, Karin, when you grew up in Germany?”

  “I always enjoyed languages when I was at school, so when I went to university I studied Modern Languages and became an interpreter, which is how I met Giles.”

  “Have you thought about what you’re going to read when you go up to university?” asked Giles, looking up from his evening paper.

  “PPC,” said Freddie.

  “I’m aware of politics, philosophy, and economics,” said Karin, “but I’ve never heard of PPC.”

  “Politics, philosophy, and cricket. It’s a well-known degree course at Oxford.”

  “Yes, but not for martinets,” said Giles, “and I suspect that were you to look up the word in the Revised Oxford Shorter, you’d find that Lieutenant Colonel Martinet has been replaced by Margaret Thatcher as the primary source.”

  “Take no notice of him,” said Karin. “He’ll use any excuse to have a go at the prime minister.”

  “But the press seem to think she’s doing rather a good job,” said Freddie.

  “Much too well for my liking,” admitted Giles. “The truth is, we had her on the ropes until the Argentinians invaded the Falklands, but ever since then, even though the bullets are still coming at her from every direction, like James Bond, she always seems to duck at the right moment.”

  “And what about the undersecretary of state for health?” asked Freddie. “Will she have to duck now you’re back on the front bench?”

  “The bullets are just about to hit her,” said Giles with some relish.

  “Giles, behave yourself. It’s your sister you’re talking about, not the enemy.”

  “She’s worse than the enemy. Don’t forget that Emma’s a disciple of the blessed Margaret of Grantham. But when she presents the government’s latest NHS bill to the Upper House, I intend to dismantle it clause by clause, until she’ll consider resignation a blessed relief.”

  “I should be careful if I were you, Giles,” said Karin. “I suspect that having served as the chairman of a major hospital, Emma just might be better informed about the health service than you are.”

  “Ah, but you forget the debate won’t be taking place in a hospital boardroom, but on the floor of the House of Lords where I’ve been lying in wait for some time.”

  “Perhaps you’d be wise to heed Grace’s warning,” said Karin, “that Emma might trip you up on the details, because unlike most politicians she’s actually been at the coalface.”

  “I do believe you’re a closet Tory,” said Giles.

  “I most certainly am not,” said Karin. “I came out of the closet years ago, and it was Emma who converted me.”

  “Traitor.”

  “Not at all. I fell in love with you, not the Labour Party.”

  “For better or worse.”

  “Worse in that particular case.”

  “I’m sorry to interrupt you, but I only wanted to know the meaning of the word ‘martinet.’”

  “Ignore Giles,” said Karin. “He’s always the same just before a major debate, especially when his sister’s involved.”

  “Can I come and watch?” asked Freddie.

  “Depends which party you’re going to support,” said Giles.

  “The party that convinces me it has the better policy.”

  “That’s original,” said Karin.

  “Perhaps now’s not the time to tell you that I’ve joined the Young Conservatives,” said Freddie.

  “You’ve done what?” asked Giles, reeling back and clinging onto the mantelpiece.

  “And it gets worse.”

  “How can it possibly get worse?”

  “We’ve just held a mock election at school, and I stood as the Tory candidate.”

  “And what was the result?” demanded Giles.

  “You don’t want to know.”

  “He not only won by a landslide,” said Karin, “but he now wants to follow in your footsteps and become a Member of Parliament. Just a pity he won’t be sitting on your side of the House.”

  A silence followed that few government ministers had ever managed to impose upon the Rt. Hon. the Lord Barrington of Bristol Docklands.

  * * *

  “When Mr. Kaufman arrives, Tom, would you ask him to drop into my office before the board meeting?”

  “Of course, sir,” said the doorman, as he saluted the chairman.

  Seb made his way quickly across the lobby to the lifts. Although eight hadn’t yet struck, when he stepped out at the top floor, John Ashley and Arnold Hardcastle were already waiting for him in the corridor.

  “Good morning, gentlemen,” said Seb, striding past them and into his office. “Please, have a seat. I thought we should discuss tactics before Victor arrives—assuming he does arrive. Let’s start with you, John. Any further news?”

  Ashley opened a file that was becoming thicker by the day. “The check for £320,000 has been presented. However, Mr. Vaughan has agreed that we needn’t clear it immediately as we’re still within the settlement period.”

  “That’s considerate of him,” said Seb, “but then we have been a reliable customer for many years. What do you think we should do, John, if Victor fails to turn up?”

  “Call in Barry Hammond and instruct him to track Victor down wherever he is, because I’ve no doubt he’ll also find the girl there too.”

  “That has its own risks,” suggested Arnold.

  “Outweighed, in my opinion,” said John, “by the consequences of allowing her to milk Victor dry.”

  “An unfortunate metaphor,” said Seb, checking his watch. “He’s cutting it fine.”

  There was a gentle tap on the door and all three of them looked up expectantly. The door opened and Rachel entered the chairman’s office.

  “Some of the directors have already arrived and are waiting for you in the boardroom,” said his secretary as she handed a copy of the agenda to Seb.

  “Is Mr. Kaufman among them, Rachel?”

  “No, chairman, I haven’t seen him this morning.”

  “Then I suggest we join our colleagues,” said Seb, after glancing at the agenda. “I propose that we say nothing about Miss Lombardo until we’ve had a chance to speak to Victor privately.”

  “Agreed,” said the CEO and the bank’s legal advisor in unison.

  All three men rose without another word, made their way out of the chairman’s office, and headed for the boardroom, where they joined their colleagues.

  “Good morning, Giles,” said Seb, who hadn’t called his uncle by his first name until he’d become chairman. “Am I to understand that you and my mother are no longer on speaking terms, now the NHS bill has been given its first reading?”

  “That is correct, chairman. The only discourse we will have in the future is across the dispatch box.”

  Seb smiled, but couldn’t stop himself from continually glancing toward the door. The other directors took their places around the boardroom table but the chair at the far end of the room remained unoccupied. Like his mother, Seb believed in starting board meetings on time. He checked his watch. One minute to nine. He took his seat at the head of the table and said, “Good morning, gentlemen. I will ask the company secretary to read the minutes of the last meeting.”

  Mr. Whitford rose from his place on the right of the chairman and delivered the minutes as if he were reading the lesson at his local church.

  Seb tried to concentrate but kept glancing in the direction of the door, although he wasn�
��t hopeful, as he’d never known Victor to be late for a board meeting. When Mr. Whitford sat down, Seb forgot to ask his fellow directors if they had any questions. He simply mumbled, “Item number one,” and was about to call on the chief executive to present his monthly report when the boardroom door was flung open and a flustered deputy chairman rushed in.

  Even before he’d taken his seat, Victor said, “I apologize, chairman. My flight was delayed because of fog. We must have passed over this building a dozen times before we were allowed to land.”

  “It’s not a problem, Victor,” said Seb calmly. “You’ve only missed the reading of the minutes of the last meeting, and I was about to move on to item number one, the government’s new banking regulations. John?”

  Ashley opened a file and looked down at the copious notes he had prepared and the précis he was about to share with his colleagues. “It seems that bankers,” he began, “are now ranked alongside estate agents and Members of Parliament as the least trusted members of the community.”

  “Then all I have to do is become an estate agent,” said Giles, “and I’ll have managed all three.”

  “What’s the bottom line?” said Seb, after the laughter had died down.

  “We can expect further scrutiny into the bank’s daily affairs, and far tougher inspections from the regulatory bodies, along with a string of new regulations. Geoffrey Howe is determined to show he’s a new broom cleaning up the City.”

  “Conservative governments always are, but it’s usually forgotten after a few well-chosen homilies from the chancellor at the lord mayor’s banquet.”

  Seb found his mind drifting again, as the directors began to voice their predictable views, the one exception being Giles, who even now he could never second-guess. He snapped back to the real world when he realized his fellow directors were all staring at him.

  “Item number two?” prompted the company secretary.

  “Item number two,” said Seb. “Lord Barrington has just returned from Rome, and I believe he has some rather exciting news to share with us. Giles?”

  Giles briefed the board on his recent visit to the Eternal City, where he’d held meetings with Mr. Menegatti, the chairman of the Cassaldi Bank, with a view to the two institutions forming a long-term partnership. His report was followed by a discussion among the directors, which Seb summed up with the recommendation that Giles, along with a select team, should take the discussions to the next stage and find out if a substantive proposal for a merger could be agreed on that both chairmen would feel able to recommend to their boards.