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

“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Fisher. “I’ve always thought that you brought wisdom and gravitas to our discussions.”

“It’s kind of you to say so, and indeed that’s why I wanted to see you.” Fisher smiled, wondering if it was just possible … “I have watched you carefully over the past five years, Alex, and what has impressed me most has been your loyal support for our chairman, especially remembering that when you stood against her, she only defeated you because of the outgoing chairman’s casting vote.”

“One must never allow one’s personal feelings to get in the way of what is best for the company.”

“I couldn’t have put it better myself, Alex, which is why I was hoping I might be able to persuade you to take my place on the board now that you will no longer be representing Mr. Martinez’s interests.”

“That’s a very generous offer, Cedric.”

“No, it’s quite selfish really, because if you felt able to do so, it would help to guarantee stability and continuity both for Barrington’s and for Farthings Bank.”

“Yes, I can see that.”

“In addition to the thousand pounds a year you currently receive as a director, Farthings would pay you a further thousand to represent the bank’s interests. After all, I’ll need to be fully briefed after every board meeting, which would require you to come up to London and stay overnight. Any expenses would of course be covered by the bank.”

“That’s most generous of you, Cedric, but I’ll need a little time to think about it,” said the major, clearly wrestling with a problem.

“Of course, you will,” said Cedric, knowing only too well what that problem was.

“When do you need to know my decision?”

“By the end of the week. I’d like to have the matter settled before the AGM next Monday. I had originally planned to ask my son Arnold to replace me, but that was before I realized you might be available.”

“I’ll let you know by Friday.”

“That’s good of you, Alex. I’ll write a letter confirming the offer immediately, and put it in the post tonight.”

“Thank you, Cedric. I’ll certainly give it my full consideration.”

“Excellent. Now, I won’t detain you any longer, because, if I recall, you said you have a meeting in Westminster.”

“Indeed I do,” said Fisher, rising slowly from his place and shaking hands with Cedric, who accompanied him to the door.

Cedric returned to his desk, sat down and began writing his letter to the major, wondering if his offer would be more tempting than the one Martinez was clearly about to make him.

* * *

The red Rolls-Royce drew up outside Agnew’s gallery. Don Pedro stepped out on to the pavement and looked in the window to see a full-length portrait of Mrs. Kathleen Newton, Tissot’s beautiful mistress. He smiled when he saw the red dot.

An even bigger smile appeared on his face after he had entered the gallery. It was not the sight of so many magnificent paintings and sculptures that caused him to smile, but the plethora of red dots by the side of them.

“Can I help you, sir?” asked a middle-aged woman.

Don Pedro wondered what had happened to the beautiful young woman who’d met him the last time he’d visited the gallery.

“I want to speak to Mr. Agnew.”

“I’m not sure if he’s available at the moment. Perhaps I might be able to assist you.”

“He’ll be available for me,” said Don Pedro. “After all, this is my show,” he added, raising his arms aloft as if he were blessing a congregation.

She quickly backed off, and without another word knocked on the door of Mr. Agnew’s office and disappeared inside. Moments later the owner appeared.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Martinez,” he said a little stiffly, which Don Pedro dismissed as English reserve.

“I can see how well the sale is going, but how much have you taken so far?”

“I wonder if we might go into my office, where it’s a little more private.”