Be Careful What You Wish For: The Clifton Chronicles 4 (34 page)

‘London or Princeton. I’ve been offered a place at both but haven’t made my mind up yet. And you?’

‘I haven’t been offered a place at either.’

‘No, stupid, what do you do?’

‘I joined the bank after taking a year off,’ he said as the waiter returned and placed two plates of ham and melon in front of them.

‘So you didn’t go to university?’

‘It’s a long story,’ said Sebastian. ‘Another time perhaps,’ he added as he waited for her to pick up her knife and fork.

‘Ah, so you’re confident there’ll be another time.’

‘Absolutely. I’ve got to come in to the gallery on Thursday to pick up Jess’s paintings, and the following Monday you’ve invited me to the opening of the unknown
gentleman’s art collection. Or do we now know who he is?’

‘No, only Mr Agnew knows that. All I can tell you is that he’s not coming to the opening.’

‘He clearly doesn’t want anyone to find out who he is.’

‘Or where he is,’ said Sam. ‘We can’t even contact him to let him know how the opening went, because he’ll be away for a few days, shooting in Scotland.’

‘Curiouser and curiouser,’ said Sebastian, as their empty plates were whisked away.

‘So what does your father do?’

‘He’s a storyteller.’

‘Aren’t most men?’

‘Yes, but he gets paid for it.’

‘Then he must be very successful.’

‘Number one on the
New York Times
bestseller list,’ said Sebastian proudly.

‘Harry Clifton, of course!’

‘You’ve read my father’s books?’

‘No, I must confess I haven’t, but my mother devours them. In fact, I gave her
William Warwick and the Double-edged Sword
for Christmas,’ she said as two steaks were
placed in front of them. ‘Damn,’ she added. ‘I forgot to order any wine.’

‘Water is just fine,’ said Sebastian.

Sam ignored him. ‘Half a bottle of Fleurie,’ she said to the waiter.

‘You’re so bossy.’

‘Why is a woman always described as bossy, when if a man did the same thing he’d be thought of as decisive, commanding, and displaying qualities of leadership?’

‘You’re a feminist!’

‘And why shouldn’t I be,’ said Samantha, ‘after what you lot have been up to for the past thousand years?’

‘Have you ever read
The Taming of the Shrew
?’ asked Seb with a grin.

‘Written by a man four hundred years ago, when a woman wasn’t even allowed to play the lead. And if Kate were alive today she’d probably be prime minister.’

Sebastian burst out laughing. ‘You should meet my mother, Samantha. She’s every bit as bossy, sorry, decisive, as you.’

‘I told you, only my mother ever calls me Samantha, and my father when he’s cross with me.’

‘I already like your mother.’

‘And your mother?’

‘I adore my mother.’

‘No, silly, what does she do?’

‘She works for a shipping company.’

‘Sounds interesting. What kind of work?’

‘She works in the chairman’s office,’ he said as Samantha tasted the wine.

‘Just what he wanted,’ she told the waiter, who poured two glasses. She raised hers. ‘What do the English say?’

‘Cheers,’ said Sebastian. ‘And the Americans?’

‘Here’s looking at you, kid.’

‘If that was meant to be a Humphrey Bogart impression, it was dreadful.’

‘So tell me about Jessica. Was it always obvious how talented she was?’

‘No, not really, because to begin with, there wasn’t anyone to compare her with. Well, not until she got to the Slade.’

‘I don’t think that changed even then,’ said Sam.

‘Have you always been interested in art?’

‘I started out wanting to be an artist, but the gods decided otherwise. Did you always want to be a banker?’

‘No. I’d planned to go into the diplomatic corps like your father, but it didn’t work out.’

The waiter returned to their table. ‘Would you care for a dessert, madam?’ he asked as he picked up their empty plates.

‘No, thank you,’ said Sebastian. ‘She can’t afford it.’

‘But I just might like—’

‘She just might like the bill,’ said Sebastian.

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Now who’s being bossy?’ said Samantha.

‘Don’t you think conversations on first dates are weird?’

‘Is this a first date?’

‘I hope so,’ said Sebastian, wondering if he dared to touch her hand.

Samantha gave him such a warm smile that he felt confident enough to say, ‘Can I ask you a personal question?’

‘Yes, of course, Seb.’

‘Do you have a boyfriend?’

‘Yes I do,’ she replied, sounding rather serious.

Sebastian couldn’t hide his disappointment. ‘Tell me about him,’ he managed, as the waiter returned with the bill.

‘He’s coming into the gallery on Thursday to pick up some pictures, and I’ve invited him to attend the opening of Mr Mystery Man’s exhibition the following Monday. By
then, I’m rather hoping,’ she said as she checked the bill, ‘he’ll have enough in his bank account to take
me
out to dinner.’

Sebastian blushed as she handed the waiter two pounds and said, ‘Keep the change.’

‘This is a first for me,’ admitted Sebastian.

Samantha smiled, leant across the table and took his hand. ‘Me too.’

Sunday evening

C
EDRIC LOOKED
around the table, but didn’t speak until everyone had settled.

‘I’m sorry to drag you all in at such short notice, but Martinez has left me with no choice.’ Suddenly everyone was fully alert. ‘I have good reason to believe,’ he
continued, ‘that Martinez is planning to offload his entire shareholding in Barrington’s when the Stock Exchange opens a week tomorrow. He’s hoping to get as much of his original
investment back as possible while the shares are riding high, and at the same time to bring the company to its knees. He’ll be doing this exactly one week before the AGM, at the very time
when we most need the public to have confidence in us. If he were to pull it off, Barrington’s could be bankrupt in a matter of days.’

‘Is that legal?’ asked Harry.

Cedric turned to his son, who was sitting on his right. ‘He would only be breaking the law,’ said Arnold, ‘if he intends to buy the shares back at a lower price, and that
clearly isn’t his game plan.’

‘But could the share price really be hit that badly? After all, it’s only one person who’s putting his stock on the market.’

‘If any shareholder who had a representative on a company’s board were to put over a million of its shares on the market without warning or explanation, the City would assume the
worst, and there would be a stampede to get out of the stock. The share price could halve in a matter of hours, even minutes.’ Cedric waited for the implications of his words to sink in
before he added, ‘However, we are not beaten yet, because we have one thing going for us.’

‘And what might that be?’ asked Emma, trying to remain calm.

‘We know exactly what he’s up to, so we can play him at his own game. But if we are to do that, we’ll have to move fast, and we can’t hope to succeed unless everyone
around this table is willing to accept my recommendations and the risks that go with them.’

‘Before you tell us what you have in mind,’ said Emma, ‘I should warn you, that’s not the only thing Martinez has planned for that week.’ Cedric sat back.
‘Alex Fisher is going to resign as a non-executive director on the Friday, just three days before the AGM.’

‘Is that such a bad thing?’ asked Giles. ‘After all, Fisher has never really supported you or the company.’

‘In normal circumstances I’d agree with you, Giles, but in his resignation letter, which I haven’t yet received, although I know it’s dated the Friday before the AGM,
Fisher claims he’s been left with no choice but to resign, because he believes the company is facing bankruptcy, and his only responsibility is to protect the interests of the
shareholders.’

‘That will be a first,’ said Giles. ‘In any case, it’s simply not true, and should be easy to refute.’

‘You’d have thought so, Giles,’ said Emma. ‘But how many of your colleagues in the House of Commons still believe you had a heart attack in Brussels, despite you denying
it a thousand times?’ Giles didn’t respond.

‘How do you know Fisher is going to resign if you haven’t received the letter?’ asked Cedric.

‘I can’t answer that question, but I can assure you that my source is impeccable.’

‘So Martinez plans to hit us on Monday week when he sells his stock,’ said Cedric, ‘and to follow it up on the following Friday with Fisher’s resignation.’

‘Which would leave me with no choice,’ said Emma, ‘but to postpone the naming ceremony with the Queen Mother, not to mention the date of the maiden voyage.’

‘Game, set and match Martinez,’ said Sebastian.

‘What are you advising we should do, Cedric?’ asked Emma, ignoring her son.

‘Kick him in the balls,’ said Giles, ‘and preferably when he’s not looking.’

‘I couldn’t have put it better myself,’ said Cedric, ‘and frankly, that’s exactly what I have in mind. Let us assume that Martinez is planning to place all his
shares on the market in eight days’ time, and then follow it up four days later with Fisher’s resignation, which he hopes will be a double-whammy that will both bring the company down
and cause Emma to resign. In order to counter this, we must land the first punch, and it has to be a sucker punch delivered when he least expects it. With that in mind, I plan to sell all my own
shares, three hundred and eighty thousand of them, this Friday, for whatever price I can get.’

‘But how will that help?’ asked Giles.

‘I’m hoping that I will have caused the shares to collapse by the following Monday, so that when Martinez’s stock comes on the market at nine o’clock that morning,
he’ll stand to lose a fortune. That’s when I intend to kick him in the balls, because I already have a buyer lined up for his million shares at the new low price, so they
shouldn’t be on the market for more than a few minutes.’

‘Is this the man none of us knows, but who hates Martinez as much as we do?’ asked Harry.

Arnold Hardcastle put a hand on his father’s arm and whispered, ‘Don’t answer that question, Pop.’

‘Even if you pull it off,’ said Emma, ‘I’ll still have to explain to the press and the shareholders at the AGM a week later why the share price has collapsed.’

‘Not if I return to the market the moment Martinez’s shares have been picked up, and start buying aggressively, only stopping when the price has returned to its present
level.’

‘But you told us that was against the law.’

‘When I said “I”, what I meant was—’

‘Don’t say another word, Pop,’ said Arnold firmly.

‘But if Martinez was to discover what you were up to . . .’ began Emma.

‘We won’t let him,’ said Cedric, ‘because we’re all going to work to his timetable, as Seb will now explain.’

Sebastian rose from his place, and faced the toughest first-night audience in the West End. ‘Martinez plans to travel up to Scotland at the weekend for some grouse-shooting, and he
won’t be returning to London until Tuesday morning.’

‘How can you be so sure, Seb?’ asked his father.

‘Because his entire art collection is coming up for sale at Agnew’s on the Monday night, and he’s told the proprietor of the gallery that he can’t attend, as he
won’t be back in London by then.’

‘I find it strange,’ said Emma, ‘that he doesn’t want to be around on the day he’s getting rid of all his shares in the company, and selling his art
collection.’

‘That’s easy to explain,’ said Cedric. ‘If Barrington’s looks as if it’s in trouble, he will want to be as far away as possible, preferably somewhere where no
one will be able to contact him, leaving you to handle the baying press and the irate shareholders.’

‘Do we know where he’ll be staying in Scotland?’ asked Giles.

‘Not at the moment,’ said Cedric, ‘but I called Ross Buchanan last night. He’s a first-class shot himself, and tells me there are only about six hotels and shooting
lodges north of the border that Martinez would consider good enough for him to celebrate the glorious twelfth. Ross is going to spend the next couple of days visiting all of them until he discovers
which one Martinez is booked into.’

‘Is there anything the rest of us can do to help?’ asked Harry.

‘Just act normally. Especially you, Emma. You must appear to be preparing for the AGM and the launching of the
Buckingham
. Leave Seb and me to fine-tune the rest of the
operation.’

‘But even if you did manage to pull off the share coup,’ said Giles, ‘that still wouldn’t solve the problem of Fisher’s resignation.’

‘I’ve already set a plan in motion for dealing with Fisher.’

Everyone waited expectantly.

‘You’re not going to tell us what you’re up to, are you?’ said Emma eventually.

‘No,’ replied Cedric. ‘My lawyer,’ he added, touching his son’s arm, ‘has advised against it.’

Tuesday afternoon

C
EDRIC PICKED UP
the phone on his desk, and immediately recognized the slight Scottish burr.

‘Martinez is booked into Glenleven Lodge, from Friday the fourteenth of August until Monday the seventeenth.’

‘That sounds a long way away.’

‘It’s in the middle of nowhere.’

‘What else did you find out?’

‘He and his two sons visit Glenleven twice a year, in March and August. They always book the same three rooms on the second floor, and they eat all their meals in Don Pedro’s suite,
never in the dining room.’

‘Did you find out when they’re expected?’

‘Aye. They’ll be catching the sleeper to Edinburgh this Thursday evening, and will be picked up by the hotel driver around 5.30 the following morning, and driven straight to
Glenleven in time for breakfast. Martinez likes kippers, brown toast and English marmalade.’

‘I’m impressed. How long did all that take you?’

‘Over three hundred miles of driving through the Highlands, and checking several hotels and lodges. After a few drams in the bar at Glenleven, I even knew what his favourite cocktail
is.’