Be Careful What You Wish For (The Clifton Chronicles 4)
“What are you insinuating?”
“That on two separate occasions when Major Fisher represented you on the board, you allowed him to sell all your shares over a weekend, and then, after you’d made a handsome profit, you bought them back during the three-week trading period. When the share price recovered and reached a new high, you carried out the same exercise a second time, making an even larger profit. If it was your intention to bring the company down, Lady Virginia, then, like Mr. Martinez, you have failed, and failed lamentably, because you were defeated by decent ordinary people who want this company to be a success.”
Spontaneous applause broke out throughout the hall as Lady Virginia pushed her way along the crowded row, not caring whose toes she trod on. When she reached the aisle, she looked back up at the stage and shouted, “You’ll be hearing from my solicitor.”
“I do hope so,” said Emma, “because then Major Fisher will be able to tell a jury who he was representing when he bought and sold your s
hares.”
This knockout blow received the loudest ovation of the day. Emma even had time to glance down at the front row and wink at Cedric Hardcastle.
She spent the next hour dealing with myriad questions from shareholders, City analysts and journalists alike, with a confidence and authority Harry had rarely witnessed. After she’d answered the last question, she closed the meeting with the words, “I hope that many of you will join me on the maiden voyage to New York in a couple of months’ time, as I’m confident it will be an experience you will never forget.”
“I think we can guarantee that,” whispered a man with a cultured Irish lilt who’d been sitting at the back of the hall. He slipped out while Emma enjoyed a standing ovation.
42
“GOOD MORNING. THOMAS Cook and Son. How can I assist you?”
“It’s Lord Glenarthur. I was hoping you’d be able to help me with a personal matter.”
“I’ll do my best, sir.”
“I’m a family friend of the Barringtons and the Cliftons, and I told Harry Clifton that sadly I wouldn’t be able to join them on the Buckingham’s maiden voyage to New York due to business commitments. Those commitments have now fallen through, and I thought it would be rather fun not to tell them I’d be on board. A sort of surprise, if you get my drift.”
“I certainly do, my lord.”
“So I was calling to find out if it might be possible to book a cabin somewhere near the family.”
“I’ll see what I can do, if you’d be kind enough to hold the line for a moment.” The man on the other end of the line took a sip of Jameson’s and waited. “My lord, there are still two first-class cabins available on the upper deck, numbers three and five.”
“I’d like to be as close to the family as possible.”
“Well, Sir Giles Barrington is in cabin number two.”
“And Emma?”
“Emma?”
“I do apologize. Mrs. Clifton.”
“She’s in cabin number one.”
“Then I’ll take cabin number three. I’m most grateful for your assistance.”
“My pleasure, sir. I hope you have a pleasant trip. May I ask where we should send the tickets?”
“No, don’t bother yourself. I’ll get my chauffeur to collect them.”
* * *
Don Pedro unlocked the safe in his study and removed what was left of his money. He placed bundles of five-pound notes in neat stacks of ten thousand, until they took up every inch of his desk. He returned £23,645 to the safe and locked it, then double-checked the remaining £250,000 before placing the money in the rucksack they had provided. He sat down at his desk, picked up the morning paper and waited.
Ten days had passed before the chauffeur returned his call, to say the operation had been sanctioned, but only if he was willing to pay £500,000. When he’d queried the amount, it was pointed out to him that considerable risks were involved, because if any of the lads were caught, they would probably spend the rest of their days in Crumlin Road, or even worse.
He didn’t bother to bargain. After all, he had no intention of paying the second installment, as he doubted that there were many IRA sympathizers in Buenos Aires.
* * *