Cometh the Hour (The Clifton Chronicles 6)

“I apologize, but—”

“You have nothing to apologize for, Dr. Wolfe. But I’d still prefer them not to know I’m coming over.”

“As you wish, Mr. Clifton.”

Sebastian looked up to see his secretary standing in the doorway waving frantically at him.

“I have to leave you, Dr. Wolfe, something’s come up. Thank you for calling, and I look forward to seeing you at the weekend,” he said before putting the phone down. “Rachel, I’m flying to Washington on Friday morning, probably returning Sunday. I’ll need a first-class return, fifteen hundred dollars in cash, and please book me into the Mayflower.” Seb paused. “You have that exasperated look on your face, Rachel.”

“Mr. Hardcastle arrived fifteen minutes ago and they’re all waiting for you in the chairman’s office so the documents can be signed.”

“Of course, the signing ceremony. How could I have forgotten?” Seb ran out of the room and down the corridor. He burst into the chairman’s office to find Hakim Bishara, Victor Kaufman and Arnold Hardcastle poring over the merger documents.

“I apologize, chairman. An unexpected call from the States.”

“No problem, Seb,” said Hakim. “By the way, have you ever been to jail?”

“Is that a trick question?” asked Seb, grinning.

“No, it certainly is not,” said Arnold Hardcastle. “Although it’s only a formality in your case, it’s one of the questions the Bank of England asks whenever an application for a new banking license is submitted.”

“No, I have never been to jail,” said Seb, hoping he sounded suitably chastised.

“Good,” said Arnold. “Now all that’s required is for Mr. Bishara and Mr. Kaufman to sign all three documents, with Mr. Clifton acting as a witness.”

It amused Seb that Arnold Hardcastle would never have considered addressing him by his Christian name while they were in the chairman’s office, although they were old family friends and Arnold had been the firm’s legal advisor for as long as Seb could remember. How like his late father he was, thought Seb, whom he had never once called Cedric.

“Before I part with my mess of pottage,” said Victor, “perhaps Mr. Hardcastle would be kind enough to explain once again the implications of my signing this document. Something my father always insisted on.”

“And quite rightly so,” said Arnold. “When your father died, he owned fifty-one percent of the shares in Kaufman’s Bank, which he bequeathed to you, thus giving you a majority shareholding. That was the position when Mr. Clifton, on behalf of Farthings Bank, approached you to suggest that the two banks should merge. Following a long period of negotiation, it was agreed that you would become a twenty-five percent shareholder of the new bank, Farthings Kaufman, and a full board director, while retaining your position as head of the foreign exchange department—a post you’ve held at Kaufman’s for the past eight years. It was also agreed that Mr. Bishara would remain as chairman, with Mr. Clifton continuing as chief executive.”

“Is there anything I should be worrying about?” asked Victor.

“Not that I’m aware of,” said Hardcastle. “Once all three of you have signed the merger document, all that’s left is for you to await the Bank of England’s approval, which I’m assured by the bank’s compliance officer is a mere formality. He expects the paperwork to be completed within a month.”

“My father would have been delighted to see our two banks merge,” said Victor. “Where do I sign?”

Hakim Bishara, on behalf of Farthings, and Victor Kaufman on behalf of Kaufman’s, signed all three documents, with Sebastian adding his name as a witness. Once Arnold had gathered up all the documents, Hakim walked across to the drinks cabinet, opened a small fridge and took out a bottle of champagne. He popped the cork and poured three glasses.

“To Farthings Kaufman,” he said. “Possibly not the biggest bank on the block, but unquestionably the latest.” The three laughed and raised their glasses. “To Farthings Kaufman.”

“Right, let’s get back to work,” said the chairman. “What’s next on my schedule?”

“Clive Bingham has an appointment to see you in half an hour, chairman,” said Hardcastle, “to discuss a press statement he’s working on. I know everyone in the Square Mile considers it’s a done deal, but I’d still like to see the merger well covered by the financial press. Clive tells me that both the FT and Economist have requested to do profiles on you.”

“And to think it’s less than a decade ago that the Bank of England refused to grant me a secondary banking license.”

“We’ve all come a long way since then,” said Seb.

“We have indeed,” said Hakim. “And the merging of our two banks is just the next stage of what I have planned.”

“Amen to that,” said Victor, raising his glass a second time.

“Seb,” said the chairman when he failed to raise his glass, “you seem a little preoccupied.”

“It’s nothing, chairman. But I should let you know that I’ll be flying to Washington on Friday morning. I expect to be back in the office by Monday.”

“A deal I ought to know about?” asked Hakim, raising an eyebrow.