Mightier Than the Sword (The Clifton Chronicles 5)

11

ONCE SEBASTIAN realized that he wouldn’t be expected back at the office before Monday morning, he began to plan a surprise weekend for Samantha. He spent the morning booking trains, planes, hotels, and even checked the opening times of the Rijksmuseum. He wanted the weekend in Amsterdam to be perfect, so when they emerged from customs, he ignored the signs for buses and trains and headed straight for the taxi rank.

“Cedric must have been pleased when you discovered what Sloane was up to,” said Sam as the cab joined the traffic making its way out of the airport. “What do you think will happen next?”

“I expect Sloane will be sacked around five o’clock this afternoon.”

“Why five this afternoon?”

“That’s when he was hoping to close the Shifnal Farm deal.”

“There’s almost an element of Greek tragedy about that,” said Sam. “So, with a bit of luck, Sloane will be gone by the time you turn up for work on Monday.”

“Almost certainly, because Cedric asked me to report to him first thing.”

“Do you think you’ll get Sloane’s job?” asked Sam as the cab headed on to the motorway.

“Possibly. But it’s only likely to be a temporary appointment while Cedric looks for someone more experienced.”

“But if you managed to pull off the Shifnal deal, he might not bother to look for someone else.”

“That’s also a possibility, and I wouldn’t be surprised to find I was on a train back to Shrewsbury on Monday. Did he go left around that roundabout?”

“No, right,” said Sam, laughing. “Don’t forget we’re on the continent.” She turned to Seb, who was clinging on to the front seat, and placed a hand on his leg. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I sometimes forget about that dreadful accident.”

“I’m fine,” said Seb.

“I like the sound of Mr. Swann. Perhaps it would be wise to keep him on your side.”

“Cedric agrees with you. And if we pull off the deal, we’ll probably end up having to build his school a concert hall,” Seb added as they entered the outskirts of the city.

“I assume we’re staying at the Amstel?” said Sam as the deluxe five-star hotel overlooking the Amstel river loomed up in front of them.

“Not this time, that will have to wait until I’m chairman of the bank. But until then, it’s the Pension De Kanaal, a well-known one-star guest house frequented by the up-and-coming.”

Sam smiled as the taxi drew up outside a little guest house wedged between a greengrocer and an Indonesian restaurant. “Far better than the Amstel,” she declared as they walked into the cramped lobby. Once they’d checked in, Seb lugged their bags up to the top floor, as the pension didn’t have a lift or a porter. He unlocked the door of their room and switched on the light.

“Palatial,” Sam declared.

Seb couldn’t believe how small the room was. There was only just enough space for them to stand on each side of the double bed. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “I wanted this weekend to be just perfect.”

Sam took him in her arms. “You are a silly thing at times. This is perfect. I prefer being up-and-coming. Gives us something to look forward to.”

Seb fell back on the bed. “I know what I’m looking forward to.”

“A visit to the Rijksmuseum?” suggested Sam.

* * *

“You wanted to see me?” said Sloane, as he marched into the chairman’s office. He didn’t wait to be offered a seat.

Cedric looked up at the head of his property division, but didn’t smile. “I’ve just finished reading your monthly report.”

“Up two point two percent on last month,” Sloane reminded him.

“Very impressive. But I wonder if you might have done even better if…”

“If what, chairman?” said Sloane abruptly.