Роберт Фиш - Rough Diamond

“And make money, too, I hope,” Barney said quietly.

“Obviously the company would have to make money, Mr. Barnato. I believe my reputation in this regard does not require investigation. And I might point out,” Rhodes added, quite as if Barney might have forgotten, “that you will be the largest individual stockholder in the new company.”

“I’m quite aware of it,” Barney said. He thought a moment and looked up. “And exactly what are you offering me — other than my dividends — to have me vote my shares as you wish, Mr. Rhodes?”

Rhodes appeared to be considering the answer to this question very carefully. Actually, he had known the question would be the first really important one he faced in the meeting, and had given careful consideration to the concessions he knew he would have to make, for if Barnato voted his shares against him, the entire purpose of fighting for Kimberley would have been lost.

“Well,” he said slowly, “you’d become a director of the new company, of course.”

Barney smiled and shook his head.

“I’ll be frank and tell you I don’t have any great objections to the articles as you’ve outlined them,” he said, “as long as they don’t eat up the profits, and I believe they can be written in such a manner as to prevent this. But I’ll be honest with you, Mr. Rhodes. I wasn’t happy to lose control of Kimberley, but I’m in a strong bargaining position now, and you know it and I know it and you know I know it. I’d be a fool not to take advantage of it. Just being a director of a company means nothing. Regardless of the number of shares I hold, your smart friends could — and would — have me out on the street in no time. I’d want to be a life governor with no problem of reelection.”

Rhodes was looking at him, his hooded eyes steady on Barney’s face.

“I’m sure that would be no problem, Mr. Barnato. What else?”

“Bamato Brothers would be given half the trade in the selling of the company’s stones.”

There was a long silence. Rhodes began to confer with Alfred Beit in whispers at the table and then decided this was not private enough. The two men repaired to the far side of the room and conversed with their faces almost next to each other. Barney took advantage of the break to finish his drink and refill his glass. He glanced at his nephew at his side; Solly’s eyes were intent upon Rhodes across the room. Solly had been listening to the discussion with relief that Barney had not made a fool of himself, and a fool — by association — of Solly, before a man as educated, as refined, as — well, as all-around admirable as Cecil Rhodes. Solly just hoped the air of good will maintained itself to the end of the meeting. In fact, now that Solly had a chance to think about it, maybe it was just as well that Barney had lost control of Kimberley Mines. Maybe it was even better for himself, Solly Loeb. Now they — he — would be associated with Cecil John Rhodes, and who would ask for better than that? Barney should really thank him for having sold his miserable five thousand shares — shares that should have been many more had Barney not been so tightfisted, so unrewarding for work faithfully and well done — to the pasty-faced representative of De Beers, rather than having blamed him. But that’s the way the world was — unappreciative! Or at least that’s the way his uncle was; Solly was sure that Cecil Rhodes would never be like that—

His thoughts were interrupted; Rhodes and Beit had finished their conference and had returned to the table, still murmuring between them. Rhodes nodded his head at some last word of Beit’s and then turned to Barney.

“We would be in agreement that one half the trade in the sale of the stones be carried on by Barnato Brothers in London,” he said, “on one condition. Prices will be set by the company, not by Barnato Brothers, and Barnato Brothers must abide by those prices. Is that agreed?”

Barney nodded. “I’ll agree to that.”

“Is there anything else?”

Barney smiled. “Just one thing.” For a moment his old, always latent resentment at Rhodes’ past treatment of him seemed to gleam in his spectacled eyes; now, when people insulted Jews, they insulted his beloved Fay as well. As if he could feel the look trying to escape his eyes, he transferred his glance to his whiskey glass, swirling the glass idly as he searched for and found the words he wanted. Then he looked up innocently. “It isn’t important,” he said. His tone indicated it might very well be extremely important, might even disrupt the entire negotiations. “But I want to become a member of the Kimberley Club.”

Rhodes did not even hesitate. “I was going to suggest it,” he said at once. The two men looked each other in the eye a moment, and then both smiled with a bit of embarrassment. “I wasn’t going to suggest anything of the sort,” Rhodes confessed ruefully, “but I obviously will, now.”

“You mean, you have no choice?”

“I mean, I wasn’t going to, before. But now I think I want to,” Rhodes said, and held his hand across the table.

Barney took the offered hand, feeling the softness of it, feeling almost sorry for a man whose hand was that soft while at the same time being a man as hard, as ruthless, as Cecil John Rhodes. As well as being a man as dedicated to an ideal as Cecil Rhodes.

“We’ll get along,” Barney said, meaning it. “You have your dreams, and I have mine. You want the world, and I suppose if we can we must give it to you. All I want is money and peace.”

“And I suppose, if we can, we must give you those,” Rhodes said. “Is there anything else?”

Barney smiled. “Yes, one very important feature. Let us now begin to discuss the matter of money. Kimberley Mines will have to be liquidated before any new company can be formed. I wish to be assigned twenty-six per cent of the new shares; these I will pay for at the established rate. But the shares held by myself and my family, in Kimberley Mines, as well as any shares you failed to pick up in the raid from other shareholders, will have to be purchased by the new company. Let us now begin to discuss the price you will have to pay for those shares. I realize the prices you offered today are not a realistic expectation, so may I suggest a figure of sixty pounds per share?”

Rhodes smiled. “Before the raid began, the price at the closing of the Exchange on Friday last, was a bit under fifty pounds. May I suggest that even at that price, the stock was higher than the output of the Kimberley Mines warranted. May I therefore suggest a price per share of forty-five pounds?”

“Ah!” Barney said, enjoying himself, “but that was based on prices for diamonds that you yourself said were too low. Considering that you will now be able to raise those prices considerably, the output of the Kimberley Mine will be worth far more than at present. Therefore I believe the price of sixty pounds to be eminently fair…”

Everyone filled his whiskey glass and prepared for the longest and hardest part of the evening’s negotiations.

Fay stared at Barney, appalled. “You lost the company? When?”

The two were in bed after the almost all-night session Barney had spent with Rhodes; Fay had known he was tied up in a business meeting, but had not been told as of that moment what that meeting had involved. Barney, despite the hour, was not in the least sleepy; he was still too exhilarated by the bargaining session and the deal he had finally consummated.

“Today,” he said equably.

“You lost the company in one day? In one day? How?”

Barney smiled. He was slowly becoming accustomed to the fact that he would not have to go into the office at any particular hour anymore; that Solly Loeb had only to transfer the records and the registry books to the De Beers people and he, too, would be free. The agreement the night before had promised continued employment to all of the Kimberley staff of diggers and sorters who wished to stay, with the exception of Barney and Solly. He looked at Fay affectionately.