Jeffrey Archer - Mightier than the Sword

“But one phone call to Buchanan, and he’ll know...”

“You’ve forgotten, major, that Hardcastle signed a confidentiality agreement, so he won’t be phoning anyone. And I’d love to see his face when he discovers that we’re changing the name of the bank from Farthings to Sloane’s.”

“Can he still change his mind if someone makes him a better offer for the shares?” asked Lady Virginia.

“It’s too late,” said Mellor. “He’s already signed the share transfer certificates, so as long as I pay up within twenty-one days, the stock is mine.”

“And you’ll only be out of pocket for a short time,” said Sloane, “before Hakim Bishara buys the shares, giving you a handsome profit.”

“But if Bishara doesn’t pay up, we’ll all be left in the lurch,” Virginia reminded them.

“He’s been on the phone twice a day wanting updates on everything that’s going on. He even postponed a visit to Beirut for a meeting with the Lebanese president. In fact, I’m thinking of upping the price from five pounds to six, but not until the last moment.”

“Isn’t that a bit of a risk?” asked Fisher.

“Believe me, he’s so desperate to get his hands on Farthings, he’ll agree to almost anything. Let’s move on to the second part of our plan, which involves you, Lady Virginia, and the timing of your trial, which is crucial.”

“Emma Clifton will be served with pleadings next week, and my lawyers have told me they anticipate the trial will begin some time in November.”

“That couldn’t be better,” said Mellor, checking his diary, “because the next Barrington’s board meeting is in three weeks’ time, and I’ll insist that Mrs. Clifton stands down as chairman, for the good of the company, at least until the trial is over.”

“And there are no prizes for guessing who will take her place during that time,” said Sloane.

“Once I’m in the chair,” said Mellor, “I will consider it nothing less than my fiduciary duty to let the shareholders know what really happened on the first night of the Buckingham ’s maiden voyage.”

“But that’s always been shrouded in mystery,” said Fisher, looking a little uneasy.

“Not for much longer it won’t be. When I first joined the board of Barrington’s, Jim Knowles hinted that all had not gone well on that voyage, but however much I pressed him he wouldn’t elaborate. Of course, I checked the minutes of the board meeting that was held on the ship later that morning, but all I could find was an apology from the captain for an explosion that took place in the early hours, which he blamed on the Home Fleet, who he claimed were carrying out night exercises in the North Atlantic. One look at the Admiralty records and you’ll quickly discover that the Home Fleet was anchored off Gibraltar at the time.”

“So what really happened?” asked Fisher. “Because I tried to get the truth out of Knowles myself, and even after a few drams he remained tight-lipped.”

“The only thing I could find out,” said Mellor, “was that he and the other board members had signed a confidentiality agreement. I thought I’d come to a dead end until last month’s board meeting when Mrs. Clifton made a rash decision without realizing its potential consequences.”

No one asked the obvious question.

“The Buckingham ’s captain had reported to the board that during its latest voyage the third officer, a Mr. Jessel, was found drunk while serving on the bridge, and had been confined to his quarters for the rest of the crossing. Admiral Summers demanded that Jessel be sacked immediately without severance pay or a reference. I supported him because, like all the other board members, he’d forgotten that Jessel was the junior flag officer of the watch on the first night of the maiden voyage, and must have witnessed everything that took place.”

Fisher dabbed his forehead with a handkerchief.

“It wasn’t difficult,” continued Mellor, “to track down Jessel, who is not only out of work, but admitted to being three months behind with his rent. I took him off to the local pub, and it didn’t take long to discover that he was still angry and bitter about his dismissal. He went on to claim that he knew things that would bring the company down. A few rums later and he began to elaborate on what those things were, assuming that I’d been sent to make sure he kept his mouth shut, which only made him open it even more. He told me that he saw Harry Clifton and Giles Barrington carrying a large vase of flowers up from one of the first-class cabins to the upper deck. They managed to throw it overboard just moments before it exploded. The following morning three Irishmen were arrested and the captain apologized to the passengers, giving them the Home Fleet story, whereas in truth they were only seconds away from a major disaster that could have killed heaven knows how many people and, quite literally, sunk the company without trace.”

“But why didn’t the IRA publicize what really happened?” demanded Fisher nervously.

“Jessel told me that the three Irishmen were arrested later that morning and transported back to Belfast on a Royal Navy ship before being locked up in a Belfast prison on other charges. They’ve recently been released, and one of their bail conditions is that if they say a word about the Buckingham they’ll be back in solitary the same day. And let’s face it, the IRA don’t talk a lot about their failures.”

“But if the IRA are in no position to corroborate the story, and our only witness is a drunk who was dismissed from his post, why would anyone be interested nearly six years later?” asked Fisher. “And how often,” he added, “have we read headlines claiming the IRA planned to bomb Buckingham Palace, the Bank of England, or the House of Commons?”

“I agree with you, major,” said Mellor, “but the press may take a very different attitude when, as the new chairman of Barrington’s, I decide to put the record straight just weeks before the launch of the Balmoral and the announcement of the date of its maiden voyage.”

“But the share price would collapse overnight.”

“And we’ll pick them up for almost nothing with the profit we make on the bank deal. With a new board in place and a change of name, we’ll soon get the company back to its former status.”

“A change of name?” queried Lady Virginia.

Desmond smiled. “Mellor Shipping. Adrian gets the bank, and I get a shipping company.”

“And what do I get?” said Virginia.

“Exactly what you always wanted, Virginia, the pleasure of bringing the Barrington family to their knees. And you still have a vital role to play, because timing will be everything. Another piece of information I picked up at the last board meeting was that Harry and Emma Clifton will be visiting New York next month, which as chairman she does every year. That will be the perfect time for you to let your friends in the press know what they can look forward to at the trial. It’s important that you get your side of the story over while she’s stuck in the middle of the Atlantic. So by the time Mrs. Clifton returns, she’ll have to defend herself on two fronts: the shareholders will want to know why, as chairman of a public company, she failed to let them know what really happened that night, and at the same time she’ll be having to deal with Virginia’s libel case. I predict it won’t be long before she joins her father as a footnote in the company’s history.”

“One snag,” said Virginia. “My lawyers only give me a fifty-fifty chance of winning the case.”

“By the time the trial opens,” said Sloane, “Emma Clifton will have lost whatever credibility she ever had. The jury will be on your side from the moment you enter the witness box.”