Armstrong couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He turned to his lawyer, a look of fury on his face.
“For $20 million?” Russell Critchley asked the old attorney calmly.
“Yes,” replied Yablon, “the exact figure that your client agreed with her brother-in-law earlier this month.”
“But Alexander assured me only last week that Mrs. Sherwood had agreed to sell her shares in the Globe to me,” said Armstrong. “I’ve flown to New York specially…”
“It was not your flight to New York that influenced me, Mr. Armstrong,” said the old lady firmly. “Rather the one you made to Geneva.”
Armstrong stared at her for some time, then turned and marched back to the lift he had left only a few minutes earlier, and whose doors were still open. As he and his lawyer traveled down he cursed several times before asking, “But how the hell did he manage it?”
“I can only assume he joined Mrs. Sherwood at some point on her cruise.”
“But how could he possibly have found out that I was involved in a deal to take over the Globe in the first place?”
“I have a feeling that you won’t find the answer to that question on this side of the Atlantic,” said Critchley. “But all is not lost.”
“What the hell do you mean?”
“You are already in possession of one third of the shares.”
“So is Townsend,” said Armstrong.
“True. But if you were to pick up Sir Walter Sherwood’s holding, you would then be in possession of two-thirds of the company, and Townsend would be left with no choice but to sell his third to you—at a considerable loss.”
Armstrong looked across at his lawyer, and the hint of a smile broke out across his jowly face.
“And with Alexander Sherwood still supporting your cause, the game’s far from over yet.”
27.
The Globe
10 June 1967
YOUR DECISION!
“Can you get me on the next flight to London?” barked Armstrong when the hotel’s travel desk came on the line.
“Certainly, sir,” she said.
His second call was to his office in London, where Pamela—his latest secretary—confirmed that Sir Walter Sherwood had agreed to see him at ten o’clock the following morning. She didn’t add, reluctantly.
“I’ll also need to speak to Alexander Sherwood in Paris. And make sure Reg is at the airport and Stephen Hallet is in my office when I get back. This all has to be sorted before Townsend gets back to London.”
When Sharon walked into the suite a few minutes later, weighed down by shopping, she was surprised to find Dick was already packing.
“Are we going somewhere?” she asked.
“We’re leaving immediately,” he said without explanation. “Do your packing while I pay the bill.”
A porter took Armstrong’s bags down to a waiting limousine, while he picked up the airline tickets from the travel desk and then went to reception to settle his bill. He checked his watch—he could just make the flight, and would be back in London early the following morning. As long as Townsend didn’t know about the two-thirds rule, he could still end up owning 100 percent of the company. And even if Townsend did know, he was confident Alexander Sherwood would press his claim with Sir Walter.
As soon as Sharon stepped into the back of the limousine, Armstrong ordered the driver to take them to the airport.
“But my bags haven’t been brought down from the room yet,” said Sharon.
“Then they’ll have to be sent on later. I can’t afford to miss this flight.”