Although the arrivals board showed that the aircraft was on time, Sebastian was an hour early. He bought a lukewarm coffee from a small, overcrowded café, picked up a copy of the Daily Mail, and read about two monkeys the Americans had sent into space that had just returned safely to Earth. He went to the lavatory, twice, checked his tie in the mirror, three times – Gwyneth had been right – and walked up and down the concourse countless times rehearsing ‘Good morning, Mr Morita, welcome to England’, in Japanese, followed by a low bow.
‘Japan Airlines flight number 1027 from Tokyo has just landed,’ announced a prim voice over the loudspeaker.
Sebastian immediately selected a place outside the arrivals gate from where he would have a good view of the passengers as they came out of customs. What he hadn’t anticipated was that there would be a large number of Japanese businessmen disembarking from flight 1027, and he had no idea what Mr Morita or his colleagues looked like.
Every time three passengers came through the gate together, he immediately stepped forward, bowed low and introduced himself. He managed to get it right the fourth time, but he had become so flustered that he delivered his little speech in English.
‘Good morning, Mr Morita, welcome to England,’ he said before bowing low. ‘I am Mr Hardcastle’s personal assistant, and I have a car waiting to take you to the Savoy.’
‘Thank you,’ said Mr Morita, immediately revealing that his English was far superior to Sebastian’s Japanese. ‘It was most considerate of Mr Hardcastle to go to so much trouble.’
As Morita made no attempt to introduce his two colleagues, Sebastian immediately led them out of the terminal. He was relieved to find Tom standing to attention by the open back door of the car.
‘Good morning, sir,’ said Tom, bowing low, but Mr Morita and his colleagues climbed into the car without acknowledging him.
Sebastian jumped into the front seat, and the car joined the slow-moving traffic into London. He remained silent during the journey to the Savoy, while Mr Morita chatted quietly to his colleagues in their native tongue. Forty minutes later, the Daimler came to a halt outside the hotel. Three porters rushed to the back of the car and began unloading the luggage.
When Mr Morita stepped out on to the pavement, Sebastian bowed low. ‘I will return at eleven thirty, sir,’ he said in English, ‘so that you will be in time for your meeting with Mr Hardcastle at twelve o’clock.’
Mr Morita managed a nod as the manager of the hotel stepped forward and said, ‘Welcome back to the Savoy, Morita San.’ He bowed low.
Sebastian didn’t get back into the car until Mr Morita had disappeared through the hotel’s revolving doors. ‘We need to get back to the office, and as quickly as possible.’
‘But my instructions are to stay put,’ said Tom, not budging, ‘in case Mr Morita needs to use the car.’
‘I don’t give a damn what your instructions were,’ said Sebastian. ‘We’re going back to the office, and right now, so step on it.’
‘On your head be it,’ said Tom, before shooting down the wrong side of the road and out on to the Strand.
Twenty-two minutes later, they drew up outside Farthings. ‘Turn the car round and keep the engine running,’ said Sebastian. ‘I’ll be back as quickly as I can.’ He leapt out of the car, ran into the building, headed for the nearest lift and, on arriving on the fifth floor, charged down the corridor and marched into the chairman’s office without knocking. Adrian Sloane turned round, and made no attempt to hide his disapproval at having his meeting with the chairman interrupted so abruptly.
‘I thought I gave you instructions to remain at the Savoy,’ said Cedric.
‘Something’s come up, chairman, and I’ve only got a few minutes to brief you.’
Sloane looked even less pleased when Hardcastle asked him to leave them and to come back in a few minutes. ‘So what’s the problem?’ he asked Sebastian once the door was closed.
‘Mr Morita has an appointment with the Westminster Bank at three this afternoon, and another with Barclays at ten tomorrow morning. He and his advisers are concerned that Farthings hasn’t done many company loans before, and you’ll have to convince them that you’re capable of handling such a large deal. And by the way, they know everything about you, including the fact that you left school at fifteen.’
‘So he can read English,’ said Cedric. ‘But how did you come across the rest of the information, because I can’t believe they volunteered it.’
‘They didn’t. But then, they have no idea that I speak Japanese.’
‘Let’s keep it that way,’ said Cedric. ‘It might come in useful later. But for now, you’d better get back to the Savoy, and sharpish.’
‘One more thing,’ said Sebastian as he headed towards the door. ‘It’s not the first time Mr Morita has stayed at the Savoy. In fact, the hotel manager greeted him as if he was a regular guest. And I’ve just remembered, they’re hoping to get three tickets for My Fair Lady, but they’ve been told it’s sold out.’
The chairman picked up the phone and said, ‘Find out which theatre My Fair Lady is playing at, and get the box office on the line.’
Sebastian ran out of the room and down the corridor, willing the lift to be on the top floor. It wasn’t, and it seemed to take forever to return. When it finally appeared, it stopped at every floor on the way down. He ran out of the building, jumped into the car, checked his watch and said, ‘We’ve got twenty-six minutes to be back at the Savoy.’
Sebastian could never remember the traffic moving so slowly. Every light seemed to turn red just as they approached it. And why were the zebra crossings so packed with pedestrians at this time in the morning?
Tom turned into Savoy Place at twenty-seven minutes past eleven, to face a fleet of stationary limousines disgorging their passengers outside the hotel. Sebastian couldn’t afford to wait, so, with Professor Marsh’s words ringing in his ears, The Japanese are never late for a meeting and consider it an insult if you fail to be on time, he jumped out and began running down the street towards the hotel.
Why didn’t I use the hotel phone, he was asking himself long before he’d reached the front entrance. But it was too late to worry about that. He ran past the doorman, and pushed through the revolving doors propelling a lady out on to the street far more quickly than she had intended.
He looked up at the foyer clock: 11.29. He walked quickly across to the lifts, checked his tie in the mirror and took a deep breath. The clock struck twice, the lift doors opened and out stepped Mr Morita and his two colleagues. He graced Sebastian with a smile, but then, he assumed the young man had been standing there for the past hour.