A child was jumping up and down in the water and his mother was begging him to come out. Just beyond them was a bald-headed man wearing an open-neck shirt, dark blue blazer and jeans, whose eyes never left her. She walked across to him and handed over the shopping bag. He didn’t even look inside, just turned his back and disappeared among a crowd of tourists.
Virginia breathed a sigh of relief. The operation had gone without a hitch, and she was already looking forward to having lunch with Priscilla. She made her way towards the National Gallery and hailed a taxi, while the bald man continued striding in the opposite direction. He couldn’t miss the silver-grey Bentley that was parked outside South Africa House. As he approached the car a tinted window purred down and a hand appeared. He passed over the Swan and Edgar bag and waited.
Conrad Sorkin checked the ten cellophane packets before handing one of them back to the courier.
‘Thank you, Mr Graves. Please let Mr Nash know that Lady Virginia failed to turn up.’
16
SIX MEN SAT opposite each other preparing for battle, although in truth they were all on the same side. Three of them represented Farthings Kaufman, and the other three Thomas Cook Ltd, one of the bank’s oldest clients.
Hakim Bishara, chairman of Farthings Kaufman, sat on one side of the table, with Sebastian Clifton, his CEO, on his right, and the bank’s in-house lawyer, Arnold Hardcastle, on his left. Opposite Hakim sat Ray Brook, the chairman of Cook’s, on his right the company’s MD, Brian Dawson, and on his left Naynesh Desai, his legal advisor.
‘Allow me to open this meeting by welcoming all of you,’ said Hakim. ‘May I add how delighted we are to be representing Cook’s in their attempt to take over Mellor Travel Ltd. Sadly, this is unlikely to be a mutually agreed takeover. In fact, it is more likely to be an all-out war, and a bloody one at that. But let me assure you, gentlemen, we will succeed. I will now ask Sebastian Clifton, who has been working on the project for some weeks, to bring us all up to speed.’
‘Thank you, chairman,’ said Seb as he opened a thick file in front of him. ‘Allow me to begin by summing up our present position. Cook’s have, for some time, expressed an interest in acquiring Mellor Travel, which has certain assets that would bring added value to their business. In particular, their forty-two high street shops, some in towns where Cook’s do not have a presence, or where their present location is not as well placed as their rival’s. Mellors also have a first-class, well-trained staff, although some of them have felt it necessary to leave the company during the past year.’
‘One or two of them to join us,’ interrupted Brook.
‘Perhaps this is the time to mention the elephant in the room,’ continued Seb. ‘Namely Mr Desmond Mellor, who, although no longer chairman of the company, does retain fifty-one per cent of its shares. Therefore a takeover would be nigh on impossible without his blessing.’
‘I understand that you’ve had dealings with Mr Mellor in the past,’ said Dawson, removing his glasses. ‘How is your present relationship?’
‘I don’t think it could be much worse,’ admitted Seb. ‘We both sat on the board of Barrington Shipping at a time when my mother was chairman. Not only did Mellor attempt to have her removed from the board, but after failing to do so, he tried to take over the company using tactics that were found to be unacceptable by the takeover panel. My mother prevailed, and continued to run Barrington’s for several more years until the company was bought by Cunard.’
‘I invited your mother to join our board,’ said Brook, ‘but unfortunately Margaret Thatcher trumped us.’
‘I didn’t know that,’ said Seb.
‘But you will recall that when Barrington’s launched the Buckingham, and later the Balmoral, Mrs Clifton appointed Cook’s as their preferred booking agent. We’ve never had a better partner, even if I did have to get used to her calling at six o’clock in the morning or ten at night.’
‘You too?’ said Seb with a grin. ‘However, I have a confession to make. Before you approached us concerning this takeover, at his request I visited Desmond Mellor in prison.’
Jessica would have enjoyed drawing the expressions that appeared on the faces of the three men sitting opposite her father.
‘Even worse, on that occasion Mellor offered to sell me fifty-one per cent of the company for one pound.’
‘What did he want in exchange?’ asked Brook.
‘That once he was released from prison, we would return his fifty-one per cent, also for one pound.’
‘Not a very seductive proposition,’ suggested Dawson. ‘Although it must have been tempting at the time.’
‘But not tempting enough,’ said Hakim, ‘if as a result you have to rub shoulders with scumbags like Sloane and Knowles, who in my opinion should be locked up in the same cell as Mellor.’
‘That was off the record,’ interjected Arnold firmly, ‘and does not represent the views of the bank.’