30
“HOW LONG DO YOU think you’ll be in Russia?” Giles asked Harry as he rose from the dining table and led his guests through to the drawing room for coffee.
“Just a few hours, at most overnight.”
“What takes you back there? No one visits that place a second time without a damn good reason.”
“I’m going shopping.”
“Paris, Rome, New York…” said Giles, “but no one goes shopping in Russia, other than the locals.”
“Unless there’s something they have in Russia you can’t buy in Paris, Rome, or New York?” suggested Emma, as she poured her brother a coffee.
“Ah, how slow of me. I should have remembered that Harry’s just returned from the States, and Harold Guinzburg wasn’t the only person he visited. That’s a clue Inspector Warwick wouldn’t have missed.”
“I would have put off the trip until after Emma’s trial,” said Harry, ignoring Giles’s deduction, “but my visa runs out in a couple of weeks, and the Russian Embassy’s warned me there could be a six-month delay before they issue me with a new one.”
“Just be careful,” said Giles. “The Russians may have their own Inspector Warwick, who could be sitting waiting for you.” After his own experience in East Berlin, Giles doubted if Harry would get beyond customs but he accepted there was no way he could ever hope to dissuade his brother-in-law once he’d made up his mind.
“I’ll be in and out before they realize it,” said Harry, “so there’s nothing for you to be anxious about. In fact, I’m far more worried about the problems Emma’s facing.”
“What in particular?” asked Giles as he handed Harry a brandy.
“Desmond Mellor is standing for deputy chairman at next month’s board meeting,” said Emma.
“Are you telling me that charlatan’s found two directors who are willing to propose and second him?” said Giles.
“Yes, his old friend Jim Knowles, assisted by his even older friend Clive Anscott.”
“But if they fail to get him elected,” said Giles, “surely all three of them will have to resign? So this could turn out to be a blessing in disguise.”
“Not much of a blessing if they do get him elected,” said Harry.
“Why? What’s the worst Mellor can do, even if he does become deputy chairman?” said Giles.
“He could suggest that I stand down until the trial is over,” said Emma, “‘for the good of the company.’”
“And then the deputy chairman would become acting chairman.”
“But only for a few weeks,” said Harry. “You’d return once the trial was over.”
“You can’t afford to give Mellor that much rope,” said Giles. “Once you’re no longer able to attend board meetings, he’ll find a way of making temporary become permanent, believe me.”
“But you could refuse to stand down, Emma, even if he does become your deputy,” suggested Harry.
“I won’t be given a lot of choice if I have to spend the best part of a month stuck in the High Court, defending myself.”
“But once you win…” said Giles.
“If I win.”
“I can’t wait to get in the witness box and tell the jury some home truths about Virginia.”
“We won’t be calling you, Giles,” said Emma quietly.
“But I know more about Virginia than—”
“That’s exactly what my barrister is worried about. After a few well-chosen words from her ex-husband, the jury might even end up feeling sorry for her, and Mr. Trelford, my barrister, says Sir Edward Makepeace, her silk, won’t be shy about raising the subject of your second divorce, and what caused it.”
“So who are you going to call?”
“Major Alex Fisher MP.”
“But won’t he be a defense witness?”
“Mr. Trelford doesn’t think so. Fisher could well be as much of a liability for them as you might be for us.”
“Then perhaps the other side will call me?” said Giles, sounding hopeful.
“Let’s hope not.”
“I’d pay good money to see Fisher in the witness box,” said Giles, ignoring his sister’s barb. “Remind Mr. Trelford that he’s got a very short fuse, especially if he’s not treated with the respect he feels he deserves, and that was true even before he became an MP.”
“The same can be said of Virginia,” said Harry. “She won’t be able to resist reminding everyone that she’s the daughter of an earl. And there won’t be too many of those on the jury.”
“However,” said Giles, “it would be equally foolish to underestimate Sir Edward. If I may quote Trollope when describing another advocate, he is ‘as bright as a diamond, and as cutting, and also as unimpressionable.’”
“And I may need those same qualities at next month’s board meeting when I climb into the ring with Mellor.”
“I have a feeling that Mellor and Virginia must be working together,” said Giles. “The timing’s just a little too convenient.”
“Not to mention Fisher,” added Harry.
“Have you decided yet if you’re going to stand against him at the next election?” asked Emma.
“Perhaps it’s time to tell you that Harold Wilson has offered me a seat in the Lords.”
“Congratulations!” said Emma, leaping up from her chair and throwing her arms around her brother. “Some good news at last.”
“And I turned him down.”
“You did what?”
“I turned him down. I told him I wanted one more crack at Bristol Docklands.”
“And one more crack at Fisher, no doubt,” said Harry.
“That would be part of the reason,” admitted Giles. “But if he beats me again, I’ll call it a day.”
“I think you’re out of your mind,” said Emma.
“Which is exactly what you said when I first told you twenty-five years ago that I was going to stand for Parliament.”
“As a socialist,” Emma reminded him.
“If it makes you feel any better,” said Giles, “Sebastian agrees with you.”
“Does that mean you’ve seen him since he got back from New York?” asked Harry.
“Yes, and before you ask, he clammed up the moment I raised the subject.”
“A pity,” said Harry. “Such a remarkable girl.”
“But what I can tell you is that when I dropped into his office before taking him out to lunch, I spotted a child’s painting on the wall behind his desk that I’d never seen before. It was called My Mom, and I could have sworn it was Jessica’s hand.”
“A painting of me?” asked Emma.
“No, that’s the strange thing,” said Giles. “It was of Samantha.”
* * *
“Sloane offered you ten pounds a share?” said Ross Buchanan. “But that doesn’t make any sense. Farthings are trading at two pounds eight shillings this morning.”
“He was simply trying to find out what my limit was,” said Seb. “Once he realized I wasn’t interested, he threw in the towel and lost his temper.”
“That shouldn’t have come as a surprise. But why’s he so desperate to get his hands on your six percent?”
“And where do Mellor and Fisher fit in?”
“An unholy alliance that’s up to no good, that’s for sure.”
“There was another name in the visitors’ book that just might provide the answer. Have you ever come across someone called Hakim Bishara?”
“I’ve never met him,” said Ross. “But I attended a lecture he gave at the London School of Economics, and I was mightily impressed. He’s Turkish, but was educated in Beirut. He came top in the entrance exam for Oxford, but they didn’t offer him a place.”
“Why?”
“It was assumed he must have cheated. After all, how could a boy called Hakim Bishara, the son of a Turkish carpet trader and a Syrian prostitute, possibly beat the cream of the English public school system? So he went to Yale instead, and after he’d graduated he won a scholarship to Harvard Business School, where he’s now a visiting professor.”
“So he’s an academic?”
“Far from it. Bishara practices what he preaches. When he was twenty-nine he mounted an audacious coup to take over the Beirut Commerce and Trading Bank. It’s now one of the most respected financial institutions in the Middle East.”
“So what’s he doing in England?”
“For some time now he’s been trying to get the Bank of England to grant him a licence to open a branch of BC and T in London, but so far they’ve always turned him down.”
“Why?”
“The Bank of England doesn’t have to give a reason, and don’t forget, its committee is made up of the same breed of chinless wonders who prevented Bishara from going to Oxford. But he’s not a man who gives up easily. I recently read in the Questor column of the Telegraph that he now intends to bypass the committee and take over an English bank. And what bank could be riper for takeover than Farthings?”
“It was staring me in the face, and I didn’t spot it,” said Seb.
“When you put two and two together, they usually make four,” said Ross. “But it still doesn’t make a lot of sense to me, because Bishara is happily married, a devout Muslim, who’s spent years building a reputation for scrupulous honesty and straight dealing, not unlike Cedric. So why would he be willing to deal with Sloane, who’s built a reputation for being unscrupulous and dishonest, and deals from the bottom of the pile?”
“There’s only one way I’m going to find out,” said Seb, “and that’s to meet him. Any ideas?”
“Not unless you’re a world-class backgammon player, because that’s his hobby.”
“I know what to do with a six and a one on the opening throw, but not much more.”
“Well, whenever he’s in London he plays regularly at the Clermont Club. He’s part of the ‘Clermont set’—Goldsmith, Aspinall, Lucan. Loners, like him, who don’t fit easily into London society. But don’t take him on, Seb, unless you want to lose the shirt off your back. Frankly, where Bishara’s concerned you don’t have a lot going for you.”
“I’ve got one thing going for me,” said Seb. “We have something in common.”
* * *
“If I were a betting man, Mrs. Clifton, the answer to your question would be even money, but the one imponderable in any trial is how people perform once they’re in the witness box.”
“Perform? But shouldn’t one just be oneself, and tell the truth?”
“Yes, of course,” said Mr. Trelford. “However, I don’t want the jury to feel they are members of a committee that’s being chaired by you.”
“But that’s what I do,” said Emma.
“Not while you’re in the witness box you don’t. I want all the men on the jury to fall in love with you, and, if possible, the judge as well.”
“And the women?”
“They must feel you had to struggle to achieve your amazing success.”
“Well, at least that’s true. Do you think Sir Edward will be giving Virginia the same advice?”
“Undoubtedly. He’ll want to portray her as a damsel in distress, lost in the cruel world of commerce and finance, and trodden on by a bully who’s used to having her own way.”
“But that couldn’t be further from the truth.”
“I think we’ll have to leave the twelve jurors to decide what the truth is, Mrs. Clifton. But for now, let’s look at the facts in the cold light of day. The first part of your response to Lady Virginia’s question at a well-attended public meeting, and as recorded in the company’s minutes, we will plead as justification. We will point out that Major Fisher was not only Lady Virginia’s chosen vessel on the board, but that it was his inside knowledge as a director of the company that made it possible for her to buy and sell shares to her advantage. Sir Edward will find that hard to refute, and will pass over it as quickly as possible and concentrate on what you added as she was leaving the hall: ‘If it was your intention to bring the company down, Lady Virginia, then you have failed, and failed lamentably, because you were defeated by decent ordinary people who want the company to be a success.’ ‘Decent ordinary people’ is our problem, because that’s how the jury will see themselves, and Sir Edward will claim that not only is his client a decent, ordinary person, but that the reason she continued to buy Barrington shares was that she had faith in the company, and the last thing she would have wanted was to bring it down.”
“But every time Virginia sold her shares she made a vast profit and put the stability of the company at risk.”
“Indeed, that may well be the case, and I’m hoping that Lady Virginia will attempt to present herself as an innocent when it comes to business matters, and try to persuade the jury that all along she was relying on the expertise of her professional advisor, Major Alexander Fisher.”
“But they were working as a team to bring the company down.”
“Quite possibly, but when she’s in the witness box Sir Edward will ask Lady Virginia the one question you avoided answering. ‘Who were you referring to, Lady Virginia, when you said’—” Mr. Trelford pushed his half-moon spectacles up his nose and checked the exact words—“‘is it true that one of your directors sold his vast shareholding over the weekend, in an attempt to bring the company down?’”
“But Cedric Hardcastle wasn’t trying to bring the company down. The exact opposite. He was attempting to save it, as he would have explained himself had he been able to take his place in the witness box.”
“I’ll word this as delicately as I can in the circumstances, Mrs. Clifton, but I am relieved that the other side can’t call Mr. Hardcastle, because we certainly wouldn’t have.”
“But why not, when he was a thoroughly decent and honest man?”
“Of that I have no doubt. But Sir Edward will point out that Mr. Hardcastle was doing exactly the same thing as you are accusing Lady Virginia of.”
“With the intention of saving the company, not bringing it to its knees.”
“Possibly, but by then you will have lost both the argument and the case.”
“I still wish he were alive today,” said Emma.
“Now, I need you to remember the way you delivered those words, Mrs. Clifton, because that’s exactly how I want the jury to think of you when they are considering their verdict.”
“I’m not looking forward to this,” admitted Emma.
“Then perhaps it might be wise for you to consider settling the action.”
“Why would I do that?”
“To avoid a high-profile trial with all the attendant publicity, and to get back to your normal life.”
“But that would be admitting she was in the right.”
“Your statement would be worded carefully—‘the heat of the moment, possibly a little injudicious at the time, and we offer our sincere apologies.’”
“And the financial implications?”
“You would have to pay her costs, my fees, and a small donation to the charity of her choice.”
“Believe me,” said Emma, “if we were to go down that road, Virginia would see it as a sign of weakness and would be even more determined to go ahead with the action. She doesn’t want the case to go away quietly, she wants to be vindicated in court, as well as in the press, preferably with headlines that will humiliate me, day after day.”
“Possibly, but it would be Sir Edward’s professional responsibility also to put the alternative to her: that if she loses the case, she will end up paying your costs as well as his, and, I assure you, there’s nothing cheap about Sir Edward Makepeace.”
“She’ll ignore his advice. Virginia doesn’t believe it’s possible she might lose, and I can prove it.” Mr. Trelford sat back and listened carefully to what his client had to say. When she had finished, he believed for the first time that they just might have a chance.