Kane and Abel Read online

  ‘A week from today. But don’t go and get yourself all worked up about Ted Leach; I’m still confident you’ll win easily. I’ll keep you informed of any further developments.’

  ‘Do you want me to come down to New York, Peter?’

  ‘No, not for the moment. I don’t think that would help matters.’

  William thanked him and put the phone down, then packed his old leather briefcase and left the office, feeling more than a little depressed. Tony Simmons, lugging a suitcase, caught up with him in the directors’ parking lot.

  ‘I didn’t know you were going out of town, Tony.’

  ‘It’s only one of those monthly bankers’ dinners in New York. I’ll be back by tomorrow afternoon. I think I can safely leave Kane and Cabot for twenty-four hours in the capable hands of the next chairman of Lester’s.’

  William laughed. ‘I may already be the ex-chairman,’ he said, and explained the latest development. Once again he was surprised by Simmons’s reaction.

  ‘It’s true that Ted Leach has always hoped to be the next chairman of Lester’s,’ he said. ‘That’s common knowledge in financial circles. But he’s a loyal servant of the bank, and I can’t believe he would oppose Charles Lester’s express wishes.’

  ‘I didn’t realize you knew him,’ said William.

  ‘I don’t know him all that well,’ said Tony. ‘He was a class ahead of me at Yale, and I occasionally come across him at these infernal dinners, which you’ll have to attend once you’re a chairman. He’s bound to be there tonight. I’ll have a word with him if you like.’

  ‘Yes, please do, but do be careful, won’t you?’ said William.

  ‘My dear William, you’ve spent the past ten years of your life telling me I’m far too careful.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Tony. Funny how one’s judgement is influenced when facing a personal problem, however sound it might be considered when dealing with other people’s. I’ll put myself in your hands, and do whatever you advise.’

  ‘Good. Leave it to me. I’ll see what Leach has to say for himself, and call you first thing in the morning.’

  Tony Simmons called from New York a few minutes after midnight, waking William from a fitful sleep.

  ‘Have I woken you, William?’

  ‘Yes, but it doesn’t matter, Tony.’

  William switched on the light by the bed and looked at his alarm clock. ‘Well, you did say you’d call first thing in the morning.’

  Simmons laughed. ‘I’m afraid what I have to tell you won’t seem quite as amusing. The man opposing you for the chairmanship of Lester’s is Peter Parfitt.’

  ‘What?’ said William, suddenly wide awake.

  ‘He’s been trying to steamroller the board into supporting him behind your back. Ted Leach, as I expected, is in favour of your appointment as chairman. However, the board is split down the middle.’

  ‘Damn. First, thank you, Tony, and second, what the hell do I do?’

  ‘If you want to be the next chairman of Lester’s, you’d better get yourself down here pretty fast. Some of the members of the board are asking why you’ve been hiding away in Boston.’

  ‘Hiding away?’

  ‘That’s what Parfitt’s been telling them for the past few days.’

  ‘The bastard.’

  ‘Now that you mention the subject, I’m unable to vouch for his parentage,’ said Simmons.

  William laughed.

  ‘Come and stay at the Yale Club. We can talk the whole thing over first thing in the morning.’

  ‘I’ll get there as quickly as I can.’

  He put the phone down and looked across at the sleeping Kate, blissfully unaware of his latest problem. How he wished he could manage that. A curtain only had to flutter in the breeze and he would wake up. She would probably sleep through the Second Coming. He scribbled a few lines of explanation and put the note on her bedside table; then he dressed, packed - this time including a dinner jacket - and set off for New York.

  The roads were clear at one in the morning, and the run in the Daimler seemed the quickest he had ever managed. He arrived in New York accompanied by cleaners, mailmen, newsboys and the morning sun, and checked in at the Yale Club as the hall clock chimed once. It was six-fifteen. He unpacked and decided to rest for an hour before waking Tony Simmons, but the next thing he heard was an insistent tapping on his door. Sleepily, he got up to open it, to find Simmons standing in the corridor.

  ‘Nice dressing gown, William,’ he said, grinning.

  ‘I must have fallen asleep. If you can wait a minute I’ll be right with you,’ said William.

  ‘No, no, I have to catch a train back to Boston. Someone has to run the office. You take a shower and get dressed while we talk.’

  William went into the bathroom and left the door open.

  ‘Now your main problem—’ started Simmons.

  William put his head around the bathroom door. ‘I can’t hear you while the water’s running.’

  Simmons waited for it to stop. ‘Peter Parfitt is your main problem. He assumed he was going to be the next chairman, and that his would be the name that was read out in Charles Lester’s will. Since then he’s been playing boardroom politics and trying to turn the directors against you. Ted Leach would like you to join him for lunch today at the Metropolitan Club when he’ll fill you in on the finer points. He may bring two or three other board members with him on whom you can rely. The board, by the way, still seems to be split right down the middle.’

  William nicked himself with his razor. ‘Damn. Which club did you say?’

  ‘The Metropolitan, just off Fifth Avenue on East Sixtieth Street.’

  ‘Why there, and not somewhere on Wall Street?’

  ‘William, when you’re dealing with the Peter Parfitts of this world, you don’t telegraph your intentions. Keep your wits about you, and play the whole thing very coolly. From what Leach tells me, he thinks you can still win.’

  William came back into the bedroom with a towel around his waist. ‘I’ll try,’ he said. ‘To be cool, that is.’

  Simmons smiled. ‘Now I must get back to Boston. My train leaves Grand Central in ten minutes.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Damn, six minutes.’ He paused at the bedroom door. ‘You know, your father never trusted Peter Parfitt. A little too smooth, he always used to say. Never anything more, just “a little too smooth”. Good luck, William.’

  ‘How can I begin to thank you, Tony?’

  ‘You can’t. Just put it down to my trying to atone for the lousy way I treated Matthew. But frankly, for Kane and Cabot’s sake, I hope you lose.’

  William smiled as he watched the door close. As he put in his collar stud, he reflected on how curious it was that he had spent years working closely with Tony Simmons without ever really getting to know him, but that after a few days of personal crisis he found himself liking and trusting the man. He went down to the dining room and had a typical club breakfast: a hard boiled egg, one piece of burnt toast, butter and English marmalade from someone else’s table. The porter handed him a copy of The Wall Street Journal, which hinted on an inside page that everything was not running smoothly at Lester’s following the nomination of William Kane as its next chairman. At least the Journal didn’t seem to know who his rival was.

  William returned to his room and asked the operator for a number in Boston. He was kept waiting for a few minutes before he was put through.

  ‘I do apologize, Mr Kane. I had no idea it was you on the line. May I congratulate you on your appointment as chairman of Lester’s. I hope this means our New York office will be seeing a lot more of you in the future.’

  ‘That may well depend on you, Mr Cohen.’

  ‘I’m not sure I understand,’ the lawyer replied.

  William explained what had happened over the past few days, and read out the relevant clause of Charles Lester’s will. ‘Do you think his wishes would stand up in court?’ he asked finally.

  ‘Who knows? I can’t think of a p