Harry closed the door behind him, walked quickly down the corridor, past the reception desk and didn’t stop until he reached the lobby, where he stepped inside the first available lift. When the doors opened again on the ground floor, he joined the bustle of office workers who were making their way out of the building for their lunch break. He glanced at the two guards, but they didn’t give him a second look as he passed them. They seemed to be focused on someone standing sentinel-like on the opposite side of the street. Harry turned his back on Aaron and hailed a cab.
“Where to?”
“I’m not sure yet,” said Harry, “but could you drive across to the far corner and pick up the gentleman who’s standing there.” The cabbie came to a halt on the other side of the street. Harry wound down the window. “Jump in,” he shouted.
Aaron looked suspiciously inside, but when he saw Harry, he quickly joined him in the back.
“Did you sign the contract?” were his first words.
“No, I did not.”
“What about the Babakov contract?”
“I still have it,” said Harry, touching the inside pocket of his jacket.
“Then we just may be in the clear.”
“Not yet. I persuaded Mrs. Babakova that she should cash Viking’s cheque for $100,000.”
“Help,” said Aaron.
“Where to?” demanded the cabbie again.
“Grand Central Station,” said Harry.
“Can’t you just phone her?” said Aaron.
“She doesn’t have a phone.”
6
“IT’S THE FIRST time I’ve ever known you do something dishonest,” said Emma, as she poured herself a second cup of coffee.
“But surely it’s morally defensible,” said Harry. “After all, the end justified the means.”
“Even that’s questionable. Don’t forget that Mrs. Babakova had already signed the contract and accepted the check in payment.”
“But she hadn’t cashed it and, in any case, she was under the impression Anatoly’s book would be published by Viking.”
“And it still would have been.”
“But not by Aaron Guinzburg, with whom she made the original deal.”
“A High Court judge might consider that an interesting legal dilemma. And who’s going to publish William Warwick, now you’re no longer with Viking?”
“The Guinzburg Press. Anatoly and I will be the company’s first authors, and Aaron will also be presenting me with a new fountain pen.”
“A new pen?”
“It’s a long story, which I’ll save for when you get back from your board meeting,” said Harry, breaking into the top of his egg.
“I’m still a little surprised that Mulberry hadn’t considered the possibility of Aaron setting up his own company and didn’t include a clause in the merger document preventing him from poaching any of Viking’s authors.”
“I’m sure he did consider it, but if he’d inserted such a clause, Aaron’s lawyers would have realized immediately what he was up to.”
“Perhaps he doubted that Aaron would have the resources to set up a new publishing company.”
“Well, he got that wrong,” said Harry. “Aaron’s already had several offers for his shares in Viking Mulberry, including one from Rex Mulberry himself, who clearly doesn’t want any of his rivals to get their hands on Aaron’s thirty-four percent stake.”
“What goes around…” said Emma. Harry smiled as he sprinkled a little salt on his egg. “But however much you like Aaron,” continued Emma, “after his obvious lack of judgment when it came to Mulberry, are you sure he’s the right man to be your American publisher? If you were to sign a three-book contract, and then—”
“I admit I had my doubts,” said Harry, “but I’ve been reassured by the fact that Aaron’s father has agreed to return as president of the new company.”
“Is that a hands-on job?”
“Harold Guinzburg doesn’t do hands-off.”
*
“Item number one,” declared Emma in her crisp, clear chairman’s voice. “The latest update on the building of our second luxury liner, the MV Balmoral.” She glanced toward the group’s new chief executive, Eric Hurst, who was looking down at an already open file.
“The board will be pleased to learn,” he said, “that despite a few unavoidable holdups, which is not unusual in such a major undertaking, we are still well on course to launch the new ship in September. Equally important, we remain within our forecast budget, having anticipated most of the issues that so bedevilled the construction of the Buckingham.”
“With one or two notable exceptions,” said Admiral Summers.
“You’re right, admiral,” said Hurst. “I confess that I didn’t foresee the need for a second cocktail bar on the upper deck.”
“Passengers are allowed to drink on deck?” said the admiral.
“I’m afraid so,” said Emma, suppressing a grin. “But it does mean extra money in our coffers.” The admiral didn’t attempt to suppress a snort.
“Although I still need to keep a watchful eye on the timing of the launch,” continued Hurst, “it shouldn’t be too long before we can announce the first booking period for the Balmoral.”
“I wonder if we’ve bitten off more than we can chew?” chipped in Peter Maynard.