The Fourth Estate Read online

  “Is WRG really that important to you?” Kate had asked him.

  “No, but a man who would stoop so low as to use my mother as a bargaining chip will get what’s coming to him.”

  So far Townsend had been briefed on Armstrong’s purchases from Stoke-on-Trent to Durham. He now controlled nineteen local and regional papers and five county magazines, and he had certainly pulled off a coup when he captured 25 percent of Lancashire Television and 49 percent of the regional radio station, in exchange for preference shares in his own company. His latest venture had been to launch the London Evening Post. But Townsend knew that, like himself, what Armstrong most craved was to be the proprietor of a national daily.

  Over the past four years Townsend had purchased three more Australian dailies, a Sunday and a weekly news magazine. He now controlled newspapers in every state of Australia, and there wasn’t a politician or businessman in the country who wasn’t available whenever Townsend picked up a phone. He had also visited America a dozen times in the past year, selecting cities where the main employers were in steel, coal, or automobiles, because he nearly always found that companies involved in those ailing industries also controlled the local newspapers. Whenever he discovered such a company having cash-flow problems he moved in, and was often able to close a deal for the newspaper quickly. In almost every case he then found his new acquisition overstaffed and badly managed, because it was rare for anyone on the main board to have any first-hand experience of running a newspaper. By sacking half the staff and replacing most of the senior management with his own people, he could turn the balance sheet round in a matter of months.

  Using this approach he had succeeded in picking up nine city papers, from Seattle to North Carolina, and that in turn had allowed him to build up a company which would be large enough to bid for one of America’s flagship newspapers, should the opportunity ever arise.

  Kate had accompanied him on several of these trips, and although he was in no doubt that he wanted to marry her, he still wasn’t sure, after his experiences with Susan, that he could ask anyone to spend the rest of her life living out of suitcases and never being quite sure where their roots were.

  If he ever envied Armstrong anything, it was that he had a son to take over his empire.

  23.

  The Times

  29 October 1966

  CHANNEL TUNNEL TARGET DATE 1975. FOUR YEARS TO BUILD

  “Miss Levitt will be accompanying me to Paris,” said Armstrong. “Book me two first class tickets and my usual suite at the George V.”

  Sally carried out his orders as if it was a normal business transaction. She smiled at the thought of the promises that would be made over the weekend and then not kept, of the presents that would be offered but never materialize. On Monday morning she would be expected to settle up with the girl, in cash, just like her predecessors—but at a far higher hourly rate than any agency would have dared to charge for even the most experienced temp.

  When Armstrong arrived back from Paris on Monday morning, there was no sign of Sharon. Sally assumed she would be hearing from her later that day. “How did the meeting with Alexander Sherwood go?” she asked after she had placed the morning post on his desk.

  “We agreed on a price for his third of the Globe,” Armstrong said triumphantly. Before Sally could ask for any details, he added, “Your next task is to get hold of the catalog for a sale at Sotheby’s in Geneva that’s taking place on Thursday morning.”

  She didn’t bat an eyelid as she flicked over three pages of the diary. “You’ve got appointments that morning at ten, eleven and eleven forty-five, and a lunch with William Barnetson, the chairman of Reuters. You’ve already rearranged it twice.”

  “Then you’ll just have to rearrange it for a third time,” said Armstrong, not even looking up.

  “Including the meeting with the chief secretary to the Treasury?”

  “Including everything,” he said. “Book me two first class tickets for Geneva on Wednesday evening, and my usual room at Le Richemond overlooking the lake.”

  So Sharon whatever-her-name-was must have survived for a second outing.

  Sally put a line through the seven appointments in the diary on Thursday, well aware that there had to be a good reason for Dick to postpone a cabinet minister and the chairman of Reuters. But what could he be buying? The only thing he had ever bid for in the past had been newspapers, and you couldn’t pick up one of those at an auction house.

  Sally returned to her office and asked Benson to drive over to Sotheby’s in Bond Street and purchase a copy of their catalog for the Geneva sale. When he presented it to her an hour later, she was even more surprised. Dick had never shown any interest in collecting eggs in the past. Could it be the Russian connection? Because surely Sharon wasn’t expecting a Fabergé for two nights’ work?

  * * *

  On the Wednesday evening, Dick and Sharon flew into the Swiss city and checked into Le Richemond. Before dinner they strolled over to the Hôtel de Bergues in the center of the city, where Sotheby’s always conduct their Geneva auctions, to inspect the room where the sale would be taking place.

  Armstrong watched as the hotel staff put out the chairs on a floor which he estimated would hold about four hundred people. He walked slowly round the room, deciding where he needed to sit to be sure that he had a clear view of the auctioneer as well as the bank of nine telephones placed on a raised platform at one side of the room. As he and Sharon were about to leave, he stopped to glance round the room once more.

  As soon as they arrived back at their hotel, Armstrong marched into the small dining room overlooking the lake and headed straight for the alcove table in the corner. He had sat down long before the head waiter could tell him the table was reserved for another guest. He ordered for himself and then passed the menu to Sharon.

  As he waited for the first course, he began to butter the bread roll on the plate by his side. When he had eaten it, he leaned across and took Sharon’s roll from her plate. She continued to turn the pages of the Sotheby’s catalog.

  “Page forty-nine,” he said between mouthfuls. Sharon quickly flicked over a few more pages. Her eyes settled on an object whose name she couldn’t pronounce.

  “Is this to be added to a collection?” she asked, hoping it might be a gift for her.

  “Yes,” he replied, with his mouth full, “but not mine. I’d never heard of Fabergé until last week,” he admitted. “It’s just part of a bigger deal I’m involved in.”

  Sharon’s eyes continued down the page, passing over the detailed description of how the masterpiece had been smuggled out of Russia in 1917, until they settled on the estimated price.

  Armstrong reached under the table and put a hand on her thigh.

  “How high will you go?” she asked, as a waiter appeared by their side and placed a large bowl of caviar in front of them.

  Armstrong quickly removed his hand and switched his attention to the first course.

  Since their weekend in Paris they had spent every night together, and Dick couldn’t remember how long it was since he had been so obsessed by anyone—if ever. Much to Sally’s surprise, he had taken to leaving the office in the early evening, and not reappearing until ten the next day.

  Over breakfast each morning he would offer to buy her presents, but she always rejected them, which made him fearful of losing her. He knew it wasn’t love, but whatever it was, he hoped it would go on for a long time. He had always dreaded the thought of a divorce, even though he rarely saw Charlotte nowadays other than at official functions and couldn’t even remember when they had last slept together. But to his relief Sharon never talked about marriage. The only suggestion she ever made would, she kept reminding him, allow them the best of both worlds. He was slowly coming round to falling in with her wishes.

  After the empty caviar bowl had been whisked away, Armstrong began to attack a steak which took up so much of his plate that the extra vegetables he had demanded had to be placed on s