Mightier Than the Sword (The Clifton Chronicles 5)

Sloane waited for the inspector to leave his office and close the door behind him before he picked up the phone.

“I need those documents ready for signature by close of business today.”

“I’ve got a team working on them right now, sir.”

Sloane’s second call was to Ralph Vaughan at Savills, who passed on his condolences, but didn’t go into all of the details of his conversation with Cedric Hardcastle on Friday afternoon.

“And like you,” said Sloane, “our thoughts are with Cedric and his family at this time. But the last thing he said to me on Friday evening was to be sure we closed the Shifnal Farm deal.”

“But surely you know he withdrew the bank’s offer on Friday afternoon, which was embarrassing, to say the least.”

“That was before I was able to brief him on the full details, and I know he had intended to call you first thing this morning.”

“If that’s the case, I’m willing to extend the deadline for one more week, but no more,” emphasized Vaughan.

“That’s good of you, Ralph. And be assured the deposit of a hundred and sixty thousand will be with you later today, and we’ll just have to wait and see if anyone outbids me.”

“I can’t imagine anyone will,” said Vaughan. “But I must ask if you have the authority to make an offer of one point six million on behalf of the bank.”

“It’s no more than my duty to see that Cedric’s final wishes are carried out,” said Sloane, before putting down the phone.

Sloane’s third and fourth calls were to two of the bank’s major shareholders, who said they would back him, but only if Mrs. Hardcastle went along with his proposal.

“I’ll have the documents on your desk ready for signature by close of business tomorrow,” he assured them.

Sloane’s fifth call was to the Bank of Zurich in Switzerland.

* * *

Seb phoned his mother from the office that morning and told her the news.

“I’m so sorry,” said Emma. “I know how much you admired Cedric.”

“I can’t help thinking that my days at Farthings are numbered, especially if Adrian Sloane takes Cedric’s place.”

“Just keep your head down, and remember it’s quite hard to sack someone who’s doing a good job.”

“You clearly haven’t met Sloane. He would have sacked Wellington on the morning of Waterloo if it would have guaranteed he became a general.”

“Don’t forget that Ross Buchanan is still the deputy chairman, and the most likely candidate to replace Cedric.”

“I hope you’re right,” said Seb.

“I’m sure Cedric kept Ross well briefed on Sloane’s activities. And please let me know when and where the funeral will take place, as your father and I will want to attend.”

* * *

“I’m so sorry to trouble you at a time like this, Mrs. Hardcastle, but we both know that Cedric would have expected nothing less of me.”

Beryl Hardcastle drew her woollen shawl tightly around her and shrank back, almost disappearing into the large leather armchair.

“What do you need me to do?” she whispered.

“Nothing too demanding,” said Sloane. “Just a couple of documents that need to be signed, and then I know the Reverend Johnson is waiting to take you through the order of service. His only concern is that the church won’t be large enough to accommodate the local community as well as all Cedric’s friends and colleagues who will be traveling up from London on Thursday.”

“He wouldn’t have wanted them to miss a day’s work for his sake,” said Beryl.

“I didn’t have the heart to stop them.”