by Rob Wyllie
'Nice girl that, like you thought,' he said, handing over her badge. 'Clever too. Got an Economics degree from Cambridge. Wants to make a career in financial services.'
Maggie laughed. 'Did you get her shoe size too?'
'Aye, and her phone number as well. No, only joking about that. But what was interesting, she was saying they don't actually work for their employers.'
She wasn't exactly sure what was interesting about that, but she asked him anyway.
'So?'
'So it's like an agency. She told me their name but I've forgotten already. The company just gives them their requirements and they supply the intern.'
'Fascinating,' she lied. 'But hey, look at the time. We'd better get in and grab a seat before they're all taken. Looks like a sell-out.'
They found seats towards the rear of the auditorium, at least twenty or so rows back from the front. It seemed as if proceedings were to be beamed onto the giant screen which filled the wall behind the speakers' platform, itself flanked on both sides by a towering public address system. It was like a rock concert, with Morgan cast in the role of rock god. She was just about to say as much to Jimmy when a blast of music reverberated around the room.
'Fanfare for the Common Man,' Jimmy shouted above the din. 'Our army band used to do this one all the time. Aaron Copland. Great tune.'
And entirely appropriate, Maggie thought. Investment for the common man could easily have been a Brasenose slogan. In fact, she would mention it to Hugo the next time they spoke.
Suddenly the main lights went out, the music faded and a powerful spotlight strafed the stage. In response, the audience started to clap, beating out a rhythmic swell of anticipation which she guessed was a regular feature of these events. Rock concert? It was more like some weird political rally from the nineteen thirties, or some odd evangelical cult. And then a strident thespian voice boomed out from the PA.
'Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome to the stage Mr --- Hugo---Morgan!'
As one, the audience rose to its feet, clapping and cheering wildly. Morgan raised a hand in welcome as the spotlight picked him out, staring out into the auditorium and smiling, standing quite still as he waited for the noise to subside. She thought he might bellow 'Hello London' as musical entertainers were given to do, but no, he simply mouthed a thank you and sat down behind the table, flanked by a man and a woman who Maggie assumed were executives of the firm.
'Bloody impressive eh?' Jimmy said. 'Although I was expecting fireworks, didn't he say there would be some?'
She laughed. 'I guess they'll come later. I did wonder what he meant by that.'
The room had now quietened. Morgan rose, cleared his throat and began to speak.
'Well, thank you for that and welcome to our quarter two update. It won't be any surprise to any of you that we've had a great quarter. Because we always have a great quarter, don't we...?' This drew a collective laugh from the audience and a ripple of applause. '...and yes, as Caroline here will no doubt remind me, I have a legal duty to say that the value of your investments can go up as well as down...' He took a sip of water, '...although of course ours never go down', this time stimulating a raucous cheer. Alongside him, the woman, who Maggie took to be the firm's financial director, raised her eyebrows in mock disapproval.
'So, in a few minutes, Caroline will take you through all the numbing detail of the quarter's numbers. I know all you anoraks out there love a nice PowerPoint chart, and she's got hundreds, believe me.' This time an exaggerated groan from the audience. 'But before that I'll just give you the edited highlights. First slide Harriet please.'
He swivelled to face the screen. 'So as you see, we've had another cracking quarter. The share price is up eleven percent to thirty-two pounds sixty, and the value of the fund has now exceeded three billion pounds for the first time.' He turned back towards the audience as a wave of applause swept through the room.
'Thank you, thank you. So as a result I'm delighted to announce a rise in dividend to sixteen pence per share, up from thirteen pence in quarter one.' He took another sip from glass. 'Good news, I'm sure you'll all agree. So let's look at what we've been getting up to on the investment front. Next slide please Harriet.'
He pointed at an aerial image of some sort of industrial site that now filled the screen. 'Some of you may recognise this as Greenway Mining's new cobalt mine in Cumbria. I say new, but they've been digging their bloody great hole for six years now and still not brought a gram of the stuff to the surface. Which is such a shame, because it's a hot product, in huge demand all over the world. But God, their management was crap. I say was, because as you know, we've taken steps to improve that, haven't we?' A collective nodding of heads across the audience with a few random shouts of yes!
But then, out of the blue, a man a couple of rows in front of them got to his feet and began to shout towards the stage. The few members of the audience who recognised who he was nudged their neighbours or exchanged knowing smiles. This was going to be interesting.
'What do you say to the army of small shareholders who have lost their life savings because of you? All these people up there whose retirement plans have been ruined. Do you have anything to say to them? Come on, do you?' So this was the fireworks that Morgan had been anticipating.
'Ah, Mr Gary McGinley of the Chronicle,' he said, in a condescending tone. 'Holding capitalism to account, that's what your rather pompous by-line says if I recall it correctly.' This drew a loud giggle from the crowd. 'A valuable public service no doubt.' More laughter. 'Yes, it's unfortunate that these people made such foolish investment decisions when they would have done so much better if they had trusted us with their savings. Or in fact, had just put their money on a horse at Doncaster races.' This time, loud whoops from the adoring crowd. 'But I expect even you would be forced to agree the unfortunate losses were entirely the fault of the previous management. What do you say to that Mr McGinley?'
There was something about the way he said it that just underscored what Maggie was already feeling in her gut. It was the big ego on display, like a peacock in heat. Despite the superficial charm, she had decided she didn't like this man one bit.
'So are you trying to claim that your report had nothing to do with it?' the journalist said. His tone was unmistakably combative.
Morgan scanned the audience as if to gather strength from his army of supporters.
'On the contrary Mr McGinley, it had everything to do with it. We pride ourselves on being activist investors, and when we discover incompetence and waste, we see it as our duty to expose it. Holding capitalism to account, you might say. You must approve of that, surely?'
'What I want to know is how you found out?' McGinley said. 'That information was company confidential, only known to the company's most senior executives. So how did you find out? Come on, tell us now. I'm sure we'd all like to know.'
Morgan gave him a steely look. 'Activist investors, Mr McGinley, that's our mission statement and we do what it says on the tin. Unlike some, we don't just sit on our backsides and swallow the spin that the fat over-paid management churns out. We make it our business to know what is really going on, even when management doesn't.' Around the room, more applause.
'You still haven't answered my question,' McGinley persisted. 'How did you find out?'
Morgan with a nod of the head signalled to one of the muscled security men who had slipped in un-noticed just as the session had got underway and were now flanking the door.
'Thank you Mr McGinley, but I think we have had enough of this unscheduled interruption. Vinny, if you wouldn't mind escorting our guest to the door.'
Vinny the security guy had reached the end of McGinley's row and was beckoning for him to join him in the passageway. 'Would you like to come this way sir, please?' he said in a voice loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. 'Don't want no fuss, does we?', his expression making it plain if there was to be a fuss then he was up for it. For the briefest moment, McGinley seemed as if he mig
ht resist, but then evidently thought better of it. He rose to his feet then in a calm voice said,
'If you think you've heard the end of this Morgan, you'd better think again. I'll get to the bottom of this, believe me. I'm not going to let it go.'
'Yes yes no doubt Mr McGinley,' Morgan said, with barely-concealed derision, 'and we'll all look forward to reading about it in your ailing rag. Now if you don't mind...' Another nod to Vinny signalled that for him, the conversation was now over.
'God what was all that about?' Maggie whispered once McGinley had been marched out. 'Was that journalist guy Mr Angry or what?'
'Already on it boss,' Jimmy said, pointing at his phone. 'Just having a wee google to see what comes up. Seems there was some massive screw-up at this Whitehaven mine. Lots of stuff online about it.'
Up on the platform, Morgan had now moved on to discussing the fund's prospects for the coming period, evidently unruffled by the interruption. It was the same super-confident tone, the same relentlessly upbeat message. And the same syrupy air of superiority that was now getting right up Maggie's nose. But as Asvina had often remarked, there was no requirement to like your clients in this line of work. As long as they settled their bills promptly at the end of the month, that was all you needed to concern yourself with.
'And I'm pleased to say you can expect more of the same in quarter two. Growth in the fund value and growth in our share price too, and yes I know Caroline, it is important to note again that the value of your investment can go down as well as up. And on that bombshell, let me hand over to my colleague Ms Short who will go through the detailed numbers. Brace yourselves folks for some weapons-grade tedium.'
He sat down to tumultuous applause, many of the audience on their feet, stomping and cheering. Maggie expected at any moment there would be demands for more, rock-concert style, but eventually the noise subsided and Caroline Short was able to begin her presentation. Morgan had been absolutely right about one thing. This was tedium on an industrial scale, not helped by Short's monotone voice and plodding just-read-the-slide presentation technique. It was all price-earnings ratios and debt indices and multiples of dividend cover and a hundred other technicalities that Maggie didn't even try to understand. But she recognised it for what it was, a carefully choreographed piece of theatre, designed to reassure rather than entertain. Naturally you wanted the charismatic investment genius at the helm, spotting value that others failed to see, picking the right companies and making the audacious calls, buying at the bottom of the cycle and selling at the top. But in the back-office you wanted solid competence and measured calm, giving investors the confidence that the dull but necessary burden of regularity compliance was being met and that as far as could be guaranteed, their money was safe. In its eight years of operation Brasenose Investment Trust had delivered an exemplary performance on that score, and Maggie had little doubt that the dull Ms Caroline Short, doubtless hand-picked by Morgan for her very dullness, would have paid a key role in that. But finally came the words that a thousand numb backsides were literally aching to hear.
'This is my last slide,' she said, giving the audience a bemused look as they applauded her announcement with an enthusiasm born of relief. She kept it mercifully short, Morgan rising to his feet to join in the polite applause that greeted the end of her pitch.
'Thank you Caroline for that tremendously illuminating session. Very interesting to all our friends here, I'm sure.' If he was being ironic then he kept it well hidden. 'So it just leaves me all to thank you for coming today and have a safe onward journey wherever you're heading next.' He raised a hand in acknowledgement then skipped down the steps to shake hands and grab selfies with a group of investors who had congregated at the foot of the platform.
'Popular guy,' Maggie said to Jimmy, who was still buried in his phone.
'What?' he said, distractedly. 'Aye, maybe here but not in West Cumbria. Here, look at this.'
It was an article from the Financial Times, dated around six months earlier. Greenway Shares Voided after Cut-Price Rescue.
Maggie gave him a puzzled look. 'Sorry, I don't understand any of that. What does it mean?'
He frowned. 'I've just skimmed it, so I'm not sure I understand it myself, but according to the article there was some giant technical problem with the mine that forced the firm to go into administration. I'm not sure exactly what that involves, I think it's when a company is kind of bust but they try to keep it going. So then Brasenose came along and offered to mount a rescue, but only if the previous company was liquidated - again, I don't exactly know what that means, but in effect all the existing shareholders lose their money. That's what they mean by voided I suppose.'
Maggie nodded. 'Ok, so that was what the McGinley thing was all about?'
'Aye,' Jimmy said, 'I guess so. But I suppose Morgan was right, it wasn't his fault that the mine had problems. That had to be down to the previous guys, surely?'
'Yes, I get that. But McGinley was talking about some report or other. Does it say anything about that?'
Jimmy shook his head. 'No, it doesn't as far as I can see. But see who's coming over. Maybe you can ask him yourself.'
She looked up to see Morgan strolling up the aisle in their direction, beaming a smile and exchanging a few words with some of his investors on the way.
'Hi guys,' he said as he reached them, 'and thanks for coming. What did you think?'
Maggie assumed he was referring to his own performance rather than the journalist's interruption.
'Very impressive Hugo, very impressive.' And that wasn't a little white lie, it had been impressive, irrespective of what she thought about him personally. But wasn't it telling that with all his millions, he still needed that affirmation, needed to know that he had done alright? She was about to ask him about the McGinley interruption when he brought up the subject himself.
'Yes, despite that little injection of excitement from our man from the Chronicle. I must apologise for that. Most unsavoury.'
'Did you know he was going to be there?' Maggie asked. She guessed he must have, because attendance at the meeting had been by invitation only.
'Yes, yes Maggie, but we can't be seen to exclude the financial correspondents, even the ones who don't like us. I was expecting him to pull a stunt like that of course.'
'Fireworks,' Jimmy said.
He nodded. 'Exactly. Although I think it turned out to be more of a damp squib, don't you?'
'So what did he mean when he said how did you know?' Maggie said. 'I didn't understand that. What was all that about?'
He looked surprised at her question. 'I refer you to my earlier answer. We're activist investors, it's what we do. As to our exact methods, you will forgive me Maggie if I don't choose to share them with my family law advisors. But let's just say we make sure we do our research.'
Out of the corner of her eye, Maggie saw a woman approaching them. She cut a striking figure, tall and very slim, wearing skinny black jeans, stilettos and a crisp white blouse under a black leather blouson. Her hair was sleek, glossy and expensively cut, and her complexion was smooth and flawless. It was hard to say exactly how old the woman was, but she guessed late forties, maybe just fifty.
'Still talking all that crap Hugo? When you and me both know it's all just a heap of bullshit.' She smiled at Maggie. 'I wouldn't believe a word of it darling. It's all lies, every world of it.'
Morgan's head darted around the room, clearly agitated. 'Where the hell is she? Where's Harriet?' Failing to detect the young intern amongst the crowd, he turned to the woman. 'I don't know how the hell you got in here Felicity, but I've got nothing to say to you.'
Felicity. So that's who she was. The recently discarded ex-wife. Maggie gave Jimmy a look that said this might be fun.
'I'm a shareholder Hugo or had you forgotten? So I was invited. And I've got plenty to say to you, believe me.'
'Not here, for Christ sake,' he said, lowering his voice. 'We don't want to make a scene.'
'Oh
no, we wouldn't want that, not if front of your fan club.' You could almost cut the venom with a knife as she spat the words at him. Then she turned to Maggie. 'You see, he really is a shit. Steer clear of him darling, that's my advice, because he really is a shit. Did I say that? He's a shit.' It was then that Maggie noticed. The slurring of the words, the eyes just a fraction out of focus, the repetition. Mrs Felicity Morgan had been drinking. And it was clear that making a scene was the reason she had come.
'You see,' she said, raising her voice, 'I know darling. Just like that reporter. I know how you do it, but you wouldn't want the world to know all about that, would you my love.'
Vinny the security guy had glided onto the scene and was looking at his boss expectantly. Directing a sneer at his ex-wife Morgan said tersely. 'Get her out of here.'
'Sure boss.' He reached over and gripped her upper arm, so tightly that she winced. 'Come on Mrs Morgan, we don't want no trouble, does we?' Pulling her arm free, she directed a withering look at her husband.
'You haven't heard the last of this Hugo. Count on it.' Then summoning as much dignity as she could muster, she swept off.
'Sorry about that,' Morgan said, forcing a smile. 'My ex-wife is finding her new situation rather hard to come to terms with. But no matter.' He seemed anxious to change the subject. 'So, you'll keep me up to date with how our little project is progressing, won't you? And now if you'll forgive me, I want to get round as many of our loyal investors as I can.' And with that he swept off, the fixed smile re-installed for the benefit of his fans.
Jimmy gave her a wry look. 'Christ, that was quite a to-do, wasn't it? First that reporter then the crazy woman.'
She laughed. 'Yeah, mental wasn't it? Massively entertaining.'
'But do you think they're right? Is there something iffy about the way our Hugo goes about his business?'
She shrugged. 'Who knows, it's not something I understand. And I don't really want to either.'