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

* * *

Alex leaped out of his car and almost ran into Barrington House. He took the lift to the top floor and quickly made his way to the chairman’s office. A secretary, who had clearly been waiting for him, took him straight through.

“I’m so sorry to be late, chairman,” said a slightly out-of-breath Alex.

“Good morning, major,” said Emma, not getting up from her chair. “All my secretary told me after you rang yesterday was that you wanted to see me to discuss a personal matter of some importance. Naturally I wondered what it could possibly be.”

“It’s nothing for you to worry about,” said Alex. “I just felt I had to let you know that although we’ve had our differences in the past, the board couldn’t have had a better chairman during these difficult times, and I am proud to have served under you.”

Emma didn’t reply immediately. She was trying to work out why he’d changed his mind.

“Indeed, we have had our differences in the past, major,” said Emma, still not offering him a seat, “so I fear in future the board will somehow have to rub along without you.”

“Perhaps not,” said Alex, giving her a warm smile. “Clearly you haven’t heard the news.”

“And what news might that be?”

“Cedric Hardcastle has asked me to take his place on the board, so nothing has really changed.”

“Then it’s you who clearly hasn’t heard the news.” She picked up a letter from her desk. “Cedric recently sold all his shares in the company and has resigned as a director, so he’s no longer entitled to a place on the board.”

Alex spluttered, “But he told me—”

“I have sadly accepted his resignation, and will be writing to let him know how much I appreciate the loyal and unstinting service he has given the company, and how difficult it will be to replace him on the board. I shall add a postscript, saying I hope he’ll be able to attend the naming ceremony of the Buckingham, as well as joining us for the maiden voyage to New York.”

“But—” Alex tried again.

“Whereas in your case, Major Fisher,” said Emma, “as Mr. Martinez has also sold all his shares in the company, you too have no choice but to resign as a director, and, unlike Cedric’s, I am only too happy to accept your resignation. Your contribution to the company over the years has been vindictive, meddlesome and harmful, and I might add that I have no desire to see you at the naming ceremony and you will certainly not be invited to join us on the maiden voyage. Frankly the company will be far better off without you.”

“But I—”

“And if your letter of resignation is not on my desk by five o’clock this afternoon, I will be left with no choice but to issue a statement making it only too clear why you are no longer a member of the board.”

* * *

Don Pedro walked across the room to a safe that was no longer concealed behind a painting, entered a six-figure code, swivelled the dial and pulled the heavy door open. He took out two passports that had never been stamped and a thick wad of pristine five-pound notes, which he divided equally between his two sons. Just after five o’clock, Diego and Luis left the house separately and headed in different directions, knowing that the next time they met would either be behind bars or in Buenos Aires.

Don Pedro sat alone in his study, considering the options that had been left open to him. At six o’clock, he turned on the early evening news, expecting to suffer the humiliation of seeing himself and his sons running out of the court surrounded by baying journalists. But the lead story didn’t come from Chelsea, but from Tel Aviv, and it didn’t feature Diego and Luis, but SS Lieutenant Karl Lunsdorf, who was being paraded in front of the television cameras dressed in a prison uniform, a number hanging around his neck. Don Pedro shouted at the screen, “I’m not beaten yet, you bastards!” His cries were interrupted by a loud banging on the front door. He checked his watch. The boys had been gone for less than an hour. Had one of them already been arrested? If so, he knew which one it was more likely to be. He left his study, walked across the hall and tentatively opened the front door.

“You should have taken my advice, Mr. Martinez,” said Colonel Scott-Hopkins. “But you didn’t, and now Lieutenant Lunsdorf will be facing trial as a war criminal. So Tel Aviv is not a city I would recommend you visit, although you’d make an interesting defense witness. Your sons are on their way back to Buenos Aires, and for their own sake, I hope they never set foot in this country again because, if they were foolish enough to do so, you can be sure that we will not turn a blind eye a second time. As for you, Mr. Martinez, frankly you’ve outstayed your welcome, and I suggest that it’s also time for you to go home. Let’s say twenty-eight days, shall we? Should you fail to take my advice a second time … well, let’s just hope we don’t meet again,” added the colonel, before he turned and disappeared into the dusk.

Don Pedro slammed the door and returned to his study. He sat at his desk for over an hour, before picking up the phone and dialing a number that he had not been allowed to write down, and had been warned that he could call only once.

When the phone was picked up on the third ring, he was not surprised that no one spoke. All Don Pedro said was, “I need a chauffeur.”

HARRY AND EMMA

1964

41

“LAST NIGHT I read the speech that Joshua Barrington delivered at the first AGM of his newly formed company in 1849. Queen Victoria was on the throne, and the sun never set on the British Empire. He told the thirty-seven people present at the Temperance Hall in Bristol that the turnover of Barrington’s Shipping in its first year was four hundred and twenty pounds ten shillings and fourpence, and that he was able to declare a profit of thirty-three pounds four shillings and twopence. He promised the shareholders he would do better next year.

“Today, I rise to address over a thousand Barrington’s shareholders at the one hundred and twenty-fifth AGM in Colston Hall. This year our turnover was twenty-one million, four hundred and twenty-two thousand, seven hundred and sixty pounds and we declared a profit of six hundred and ninety-one thousand, four hundred and seventy-two pounds. Queen Elizabeth II is on the throne, and although we may no longer rule half the world, Barrington’s is still sailing the high seas. But, like Sir Joshua, I intend to do better next year.

“The company still earns its living by carrying passengers and goods to all parts of the globe. We continue trading from the east to the west. We’ve weathered two world wars, and are finding our place in the new world order. We should, of course, look back with pride on our colonial empire, but be willing at the same time to grasp the nettles of opportunity.”

Harry, seated in the front row, was amused to see Giles jotting down his sister’s words, and wondered how long it would be before they were repeated in the House of Commons.