“That’s wonderful news,” said Sam, giving him a hug.
“And it shouldn’t be too difficult to pick up good staff, since Sloane’s sacked my entire team, not to mention several others who’ve resigned, including Rachel.”
“Rachel?”
“She used to be Cedric’s secretary, but she only lasted a week under the new regime. I’ve asked her to join me. We start on Monday with a clean sheet. Well, not exactly a clean sheet, because Sloane sacked my assistant, and ordered him to remove everything from the office that even hinted of me, so he gathered up all the files I was working on, walked across to Cheapside, and handed them to me.”
“Is that legal?”
“Who gives a damn, when Sloane’s never going to find out?”
“Farthings Bank is not just Adrian Sloane, and you still have an obligation to it.”
“After the way Sloane treated me?”
“No, after the way Cedric treated you.”
“But that doesn’t apply to Shifnal Farm, because Sloane was working behind Cedric’s back on that deal.”
“And now you’re working behind his.”
“You bet I am, if it’s going to make it possible for us to buy a flat in Chelsea.”
“We shouldn’t be thinking about buying anything until you’ve paid off all your debts.”
“Mr. Kaufman has promised me a forty-thousand-pound bonus when the government makes its announcement, so I won’t have any debts then.”
“If the government makes an announcement,” said Sam. “Don’t start spending the money before you’ve got it. And even if you do pull the deal off, you’ll still owe Mr. Swann over eight thousand pounds, so perhaps we ought not to be thinking about moving quite yet.”
That was something else Seb decided he wasn’t going to tell Sam about.
* * *
Seb spent the next few weeks working hours that would have impressed even Cedric and, with the help of Rachel and his old team from Farthings, they were up and running far more quickly than Mr. Kaufman would have thought possible.
Seb wasn’t satisfied with just being reunited with his old customers, but like a marauding pirate he began to plunder several of Farthings’ other clients, convincing himself that it was no more than Sloane deserved.
It was about three months after he’d begun working at Kaufman’s that the chairman called him into his office.
“Did you read the Financial Times this morning?” he said, even before Seb had closed the door.
“Only the front page and the property section. Why?”
“Because we’re about to find out if Mr. Swann’s prediction is correct.” Seb didn’t interrupt Kaufman’s flow. “It seems the transport minister wil
l be making a statement in the House at three o’clock this afternoon. Perhaps you and Victor should go along and hear what he has to say, then call and let me know if I’ve made or lost a fortune.”
As soon as Seb returned to his office, he called Uncle Giles at the Commons and asked if he could arrange a couple of tickets for the Strangers’ Gallery that afternoon, so he and a friend could hear the statement by the minister of transport.
“I’ll leave them in Central Lobby,” said Giles.
After he’d put the phone down, Giles studied the order paper, and wondered why Sebastian would be interested in a decision that would only affect a handful of people living in Shropshire.
* * *
Seb and Vic were seated in the fourth row of the Strangers’ Gallery long before the minister rose to deliver his statement. Uncle Giles smiled up at them from the government benches, still puzzled as to what would be in the statement that could possibly be of any interest to his nephew.
The two young bankers were sitting on the edge of the green leather bench when the Speaker called for the Secretary of State for Transport to deliver his statement to the House.