Джеффри Арчер - And Thereby Hangs a Tale

‘You’ve already explained all that,’ said the chairman.

‘Yes, but I have to warn you that there are no break clauses. You don’t even get a period in Purgatory with a chance to redeem yourself. There are no buy-back options, no due diligence to enable you to get off the hook at the last moment, as you’ve done so often in the past. You must understand that if you sign the contract, it’s for eternity.’

‘But if I sign, I get the boy’s life, and he gets mine?’

‘Yes, but my inferiors have also decreed that before you put pen to paper, I must honestly answer any questions you might wish to put to me.’

‘What’s the boy’s name?’ asked the chairman.

‘Rod.’

‘And how old is he?’

‘Twenty-five next March.’

‘Then I only have one more question. What’s his life expectancy?’

‘He’s just been put through one of those rigorous medical examinations all your staff are required to undertake, and he came out with a triple A rating. He plays football for his local club, goes to the gym twice a week and plans to run the London Marathon for charity next April. He doesn’t smoke, and drinks only in moderation. He’s what life assurance companies call an actuary’s dream.’

‘It’s a no-brainer,’ said the chairman. ‘Where do I sign?’

Mr De Ath produced several sheets of thick parchment. He turned them over until he had reached the last page of the contract, where his name was written in what looked a lot like blood. The chairman didn’t bother to read the small print — he usually left that to his team of lawyers and in-house advisors, none of whom was available on this occasion.

He signed the document with a flourish and handed the pen to Mr De Ath, who topped and tailed it on behalf of a lower authority.

‘What happens now?’ asked the chairman.

‘You can get dressed,’ said the doctor.

The chairman put on his shirt as the doctor examined the X-rays. ‘For the moment the cancer seems to be in remission,’ he said. ‘So, with a bit of luck, you could live for another five, even ten years.’

‘That’s the best news I’ve heard in months,’ said the chairman. ‘When do you think you’ll need to see me again?’

‘I think it would be wise for you to continue with your usual six-monthly check-ups, if for no other reason than to keep your colleagues happy. I’ll write up my report and have it biked over to your office later today, and I shall make it clear that I can’t see any reason why you shouldn’t continue as chairman for a couple more years.’

‘Thank you, Doctor, that’s a great relief.’

‘Mind you, I do think a holiday might be in order,’ said the doctor as he accompanied his patient to the door.

‘I certainly can’t remember when I last had one,’ said the chairman, ‘so I may well take your advice.’ He shook the doctor warmly by the hand. ‘Thank you. Thank you very much.’

Later that afternoon a large brown box was delivered to the surgery.

‘What’s this?’ the doctor asked his assistant.

‘A gift from the chairman.’

‘Two surprises in one day,’ said the doctor, examining the label on the box. ‘A dozen bottles of a 1994 Côtes du Rhône. How very generous of him.’ He didn’t add until his assistant had closed the door, ‘And how out of character.’

The chairman sat in the front seat of his car and chatted to his chauffeur as he was driven back to the bank. He hadn’t realized that, like him, Fred was an Arsenal supporter.

When the car drew up outside the bank, he leapt out. The doorman saluted and held the door open for him.

‘Good morning, Sam,’ said the chairman, then walked across reception to the lift which a young man was holding open for him.

‘Good morning, Chairman,’ said the young man. ‘Would it be possible to have a word with you?’

‘Yes, of course. By the way, what’s your name?’

‘Rod, sir,’ said the young man.

‘Well, Rod, what can I do for you?’

‘There’s a vacancy coming up on the Commodities floor, and I wondered if I might be considered for it.’

‘Of course, Rod. Why not?’

‘Well, sir, I don’t have any formal qualifications.’

‘Neither did I when I was your age,’ said the chairman. ‘So why don’t you go for it?’

‘I hope you know what you’re up to,’ said the senior clerk when Rod returned to his place behind the reception desk.

‘I sure do. I can tell you I don’t intend to spend the rest of my life on the ground floor like you.’

The chairman held open the lift doors to allow two women to join him. ‘Which floor?’ he asked as the doors closed.

‘The fifth please, sir,’ one of them said nervously.

He pressed the button, then asked, ‘Which department do you work in?’

‘We’re cleaners,’ said one of the girls.

‘Well, I’ve wanted to have a word with you for some time,’ said the chairman.

The girls looked anxiously at each other.

‘Yours must be a thankless task at times, but I can tell you, these are the cleanest offices in the City. You should be very proud of yourselves.’

The lift came to a halt at the fifth floor.

‘Thank you, Chairman,’ the girls both said as they stepped out. They could only wonder if their colleagues would believe them when they told them what had just happened.

When the lift reached the top floor, the chairman strolled into his secretary’s office. ‘Good morning, Sally,’ he said, and sat down in the seat next to her desk. She leapt up. He waved her back down with a smile.

‘How did the medical go?’ she asked nervously.

‘Far better than I’d expected,’ said the chairman. ‘It seems the cancer is in remission, and I could be around for another ten years.’

‘That is good news,’ said Sally. ‘So there’s no longer any reason for you to resign?’

‘That’s what the doctor said, but perhaps the time has come for me to accept the fact that I’m not immortal. So there are going to be a few changes around here.’

‘What exactly did you have in mind?’ the secretary asked anxiously.

‘To start with, I’m going to accept the board’s generous retirement package and stay on as non-executive director, but not before I’ve taken a proper holiday.’

‘But will that be enough for you, Chairman?’ asked his secretary, not certain she was hearing him correctly.

‘More than enough, Sally. Perhaps the time has come for me to do some voluntary work. I could start by helping my local football club. They need some new changing rooms. You know, when I was a youngster, that club was the only thing that kept me off the streets, and who knows, maybe they even need a new chairman?’

His secretary couldn’t think what to say.

‘And there’s something else I must do before I go, Sally.’

She picked up her notepad as the chairman removed a chequebook from an inside pocket.

‘How many years have you been working for me?’

‘It will be twenty-seven at the end of this month, Chairman.’

He wrote out a cheque for twenty-seven thousand pounds and passed it across to her. ‘Perhaps you should take a holiday as well. Heaven knows, I can’t have been the easiest of bosses.’

Sally fainted.

‘Well, I’m off for lunch,’ said Rod, checking his watch.

‘Where have you got in mind?’ asked Sam. ‘The Savoy Grill?’

‘All in good time,’ said Rod. ‘But for now I’ll have to be satisfied with the Garter Arms because the time has come for me to get to know my future colleagues in Commodities.’

‘Aren’t you getting a bit above yourself, lad?’

‘No, Sam, just keep your eyes open. It won’t be long before I’m their boss, because this is just the first step on my way to becoming chairman.’