The Fourth Estate

Tom looked bemused by this statement.

“I can’t believe it was suicide,” said Townsend.

“Why do you say that?” asked Tom.

“It’s just not his style. The damned man always believed he could survive anything.”

“Whatever it was, London’s leaking like a sieve,” said Tom. “It seems that Armstrong’s endless flow of cash came from the company’s pension fund, which he was not only using to buy up his own shares, but also to pay off the unions in New York.”

“The company’s pension fund?” said Townsend. “What are you talking about?”

“Apparently Armstrong discovered there was far more cash in the fund than was legally necessary, so he began siphoning it off at a few million a time, until his chairman found out what he was up to and handed in his resignation.”

Townsend picked up an internal phone and pressed three digits.

“What are you doing?” asked Tom.

“Shh,” said Townsend, placing a finger up to his lips. When he heard a voice on the other end of the line, he asked, “Is that the accounts department?”

“Yes, sir,” said someone who immediately recognized the Australian accent. “It’s Hank Turner, I’m the company’s deputy chief accountant.”

“You’re exactly the man I need, Hank. First, tell me, does Global have a separate pension fund account?”

“Yes, of course it does, sir.”

“And how much are we holding in that account at the present time?” he asked.

He hung on and waited for the answer. E.B.’s lift had reached the ninth floor on the way back up by the time the deputy chief accountant was able to inform Townsend, “As of nine o’clock this morning, sir, that account is showing a balance of $723 million.”

“And how much are we required to hold by law in order to fulfill our pension fund obligations?”

“A little over $400 million,” came back the accountant’s reply. “Thanks to our fund manager’s shrewd investment policy, we’ve been able to keep well ahead of inflation.”

“So we’re carrying a surplus of more than $300 million over and above our statutory obligation?”

“That is correct, sir, but the legal position is that at all times we must…”

Townsend replaced the receiver and looked up to find his lawyer staring at him in disbelief.

E.B. stepped out of the lift and into the corridor.

“I hope you’re not thinking what I think you’re thinking,” said Tom, as E.B. walked into Heather’s office.

“I need to see Mr. Townsend urgently,” she said.

“Don’t tell me Pierson has changed his mind?” said Heather.

“No, it’s nothing to do with Pierson. It’s Richard Armstrong.”

“Armstrong?”

“He’s been found dead at sea. The first reports are suggesting that he committed suicide.”

“Good heavens. You’d better go in immediately, Mrs. Beresford. He’s got Tom Spencer with him at the moment.”

E.B. headed toward Townsend’s room. Tom had left the door open when he had rushed in, so before she reached the office, E.B. was aware that a heated discussion was taking place. When she heard the words “pension fund” she froze on the spot, and listened in disbelief to the conversation taking place between Townsend and his lawyer.

“No, hear me out, Tom,” Townsend was saying. “My idea would still fall well within any legal requirements.”