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 precedent for such a situation. A nineteenth-century Member of Parliament once bequeathed his constituency in a will and no one objected, and the beneficiary went on to become Prime Minister. But that was over a hundred years ago - and in England. Now, in this case, if the board decided to contest Mr Lester’s will and you took them to court, I wouldn’t care to predict which way the judge might jump. Lord Melbourne didn’t have to contend with a surrogate of New York County. Nevertheless, a nice legal conundrum, Mr Kane.’
‘What do you advise?’
‘I am a Jew, Mr Kane. I came to this country on a ship from Germany at the turn of the century, and I’ve always had to fight for anything I’ve wanted. How badly do you want to be chairman of Lester’s?’
‘Very badly, Mr Cohen.’
‘Then you should listen to an old man who has, over the years, come to view you with great respect and, if I may say so, with some affection. I’ll tell you exactly what I’d do if I were faced with your predicament.’
An hour later William put the phone down and, having some time to kill, strolled up Park Avenue thinking about Cohen’s sage advice. On the way to the Metropolitan Club he passed a site on which a huge building was under construction. A large billboard announced: ‘The next Baron hotel will be in New York. When the Baron has been your host, you’ll never want to stay anywhere else.’ He smiled, and walked with a lighter step towards his lunch appointment.
Ted Leach, a short, dapper man with dark brown hair and a lighter moustache, was standing in the foyer waiting for him, and shook him warmly by the hand. William admired the Renaissance style of the club, which Leach told him had been built by Otto Kuhn and Stanford White in 1891. J. P. Morgan had founded it when one of his closest friends was blackballed at the Union League, Leach told him as they strolled into the bar.
‘An extravagant gesture even for a very close friend,’ William suggested, trying to make conversation.
‘Indeed,’ said Leach. ‘Now, what will you have to drink, Mr Kane?’
‘A dry sherry, please,’ said William.
A boy in a smart blue uniform returned a few moments later with a dry sherry and a scotch and water; he hadn’t needed to ask Mr Leach for his order.
‘To the next chairman of Lester’s,’ said Leach, raising his glass.
William hesitated.
‘Don’t drink, Mr Kane. As you know, you should never drink to yourself.’
William laughed, unsure of what to say.
A few moments later two older men came into the bar and walked across to join them, both tall and assured in their bankers’ uniform of grey three-piece suits, stiff collars and dark, unpatterned ties. Had they been strolling down Wall Street, William would not have given them a second glance. In the Metropolitan Club he studied them carefully as Leach introduced them.
‘Mr Alfred Rodgers and Mr Winthrop Davies. Both board members.’
William’s smile was reserved, now uncertain whose side anyone was on. The two newcomers studied him with interest. No one spoke for a moment.
‘Where do we start?’ asked Rodgers, a monocle falling from his eye as he spoke.
‘By going up to lunch,’ said Leach.
The three of them turned, obviously knowing exactly where they were going. William followed. The dining room on the second floor was vast, with another magnificent high ceiling. The maitre d’ placed them in a window seat, overlooking Central Park, where no one could overhear their conversation.
‘Let’s order and then talk,’ said Leach.
Through the window William could see the Plaza Hotel. Memories of his celebration with the grandmothers and Matthew came flooding back to him - and there was something else he was trying to recall about that tea at the Plaza …
‘Mr Kane, let’s put our cards on the table,’ said Leach. ‘Charles Lester’s decision to appoint you as chairman of the bank came as a surprise to all of us, not to put too fine a point on it. But if the board were to ignore his wishes, the bank could be plunged into chaos, and none of us want that. He was a shrewd old buzzard, and he will have had his reasons for wanting you to be chairman. That’s good enough for me.’
William had heard those sentiments before - from Peter Parfitt.
‘All three of us,’ said Davies, taking over, ‘owe everything we have to Charles Lester, and we will carry out his wishes if it’s the last thing we do as members of the board.’
‘It may turn out to be just that,’ said Leach, ‘if Parfitt succeeds in becoming chairman.’
‘I’m sorry, gentlemen,’ said William, ‘to have caused you so much consternation. If my appointment as chairman came as a surprise to you, it was nothing less than a bolt from the blue for me. When I attended the reading of the will, I imagined I’d receive some minor personal memento in memory of Mr Lester’s son, not the opportunity to run his bank.’
Leach smiled when he heard the word ‘opportunity’. ‘We understand the position you’ve been placed in, Mr Kane, and you must trust us when we say we’re on your side. We are aware you may find that difficult to accept, after the treatment you’ve received from Peter Parfitt.’
‘I have to believe you, Mr Leach, because I have no choice but to place myself in your hands. How would you summarize the current situation?’
‘The situation is clear,’ said Leach. ‘Parfitt’s campaign is well organized, and he now feels he’s acting from a position of strength. I am assuming, Mr Kane, that you have the stomach for a fight.’
‘I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t, Mr Leach. And now that you’ve summed up the position so succinctly, perhaps you’ll allow me to suggest how we should go about defeating Mr Parfitt.’
‘Certainly,’ said Leach.
The eyes of all three bankers were fixed on William.
‘You are undoubtedly right in suggesting that Parfitt feels he’s in a strong position, because until now he’s always been the one on the attack, knowing what’s going to happen next. The time has come for us to go on the attack, where and when he least expects it - in his own boardroom.’
‘How do you propose we go about that, Mr Kane?’ asked Davies.
‘I’ll explain if you’ll first permit me to ask you two questions. How many directors have a vote?’
‘Sixteen,’ said Leach instantly.
‘And with whom does their allegiance lie at this moment?’
‘Not the easiest question to answer, Mr Kane,’ Davies chipped in. He took a crumpled envelope from his inside pocket and studied the back of it before he continued. ‘I estimate that we can count on six certain votes, and Parfitt can be sure of five. But it came as a shock to me to discover this morning that Rupert Cork-Smith - he was Charles Lester’s oldest friend - is unwilling to support you. It’s very odd, because I know he doesn’t care for Parfitt. That would make it six apiece.’
‘So we have until Thursday,’ said Leach, ‘to make sure of three more votes.’
‘Why Thursday?’ asked William.
‘That’s the day of the next board meeting,’ answered Leach, stroking his moustache. ‘And Item One on the agenda is the election of a new chairman.’
‘I was told the next board meeting wasn’t until Monday,’ said William in astonishment.
‘By whom?’ Davies asked.
‘Peter Parfitt,’ said William.
‘His tactics,’ Leach commented, ‘have hardly been those of a gentleman.’
‘I’ve learned enough about that gentleman,’ William said, placing an ironic stress on the word, ‘to make me realize I’ll have to take the battle to him.’
‘Easier said than done, Mr Kane. He’s very much in the driving seat at this moment,’ said Davies, ‘and I’m not sure how we go about removing him from it.’
‘Let’s switch the traffic lights to red,’ replied William. All three men looked puzzled, but didn’t comment. ‘Who has the authority to call a board meeting?’ he continued.
‘While the board is without a chairman, either vice chairman,’ said Ted Leach, ‘which means Parfitt or me.’
‘How many board members form a quorum?’
‘Nine,’ said Davies.
‘And who is the company secretary?’
‘I am,’ said Alfred Rodgers, who until that moment had hardly opened his mouth - one of the many qualities William always looked for in a company secretary.
‘How much notice do you have to give to call an emergency board meeting, Mr Rodgers?’
‘Every director must be informed at least twenty-four hours beforehand, although it has never actually happened since the crash of twenty-nine. Charles Lester always tried to give at least six days’ notice.’
‘But the bank’s rules do allow for an emergency meeting to be held at twenty-four hours’ notice?’ said William.
‘Yes, they do, Mr Kane,’ Rodgers affirmed, his monocle now firmly in place and focused on William.
‘Excellent. Then let’s call our own board meeting.’
The three bankers stared at him as if they had not quite heard him clearly.
‘Think about it, gentlemen,’ William continued. ‘Mr Leach, as vice chairman, calls a board meeting, and Mr Rodgers, as company secretary, immediately informs all the directors.’
‘When would you want this board meeting to take place?’ asked Leach.
‘Three o’clock tomorrow afternoon.’
‘Good God, that’s cutting it a bit fine,’ said Rodgers. ‘I’m not sure—’
‘It’s only cutting it a bit fine for Parfitt, wouldn’t you say?’ said William.
‘Fair point,’ said Leach. ‘And what do you have planned for this meeting?’
‘Leave that to me. Just be sure that it’s legally convened, and that every director is given at least twenty-four hours’ notice.’
‘I wonder how Parfitt will react?’ said Leach.
‘I don’t give a damn,’ said William. ‘That’s the mistake we’ve been making all along. Let him start worrying about us for a change. As long as he’s given the full twenty-four hours’ notice and he’s the last director informed, we have nothing to fear. We don’t want him to have any more time than necessary to stage a counterattack. And gentlemen, don’t be surprised by anything I do or say tomorrow. Trust my judgement; just make sure you’re there to support me.’
‘You don’t feel we ought to know what you have in mind?’
‘No, Mr Leach. You must appear to be uninvolved, and doing no more than carrying out your duty as directors of the bank. However, it will be important for Mr Rodgers to be fully prepared to conduct an election without looking as if he was aware it was coming.’
It was beginning to dawn on Ted Leach and his two colleagues why Charles Lester had chosen William Kane to be their next chairman. They left the Metropolitan Club a few minutes later, more confident than when they had arrived, despite being totally in the dark about what Kane had planned for the board meeting they were about to call. William, on the other hand, having carried out the first part of Thomas Cohen’s instructions to his satisfaction, was actually looking forward to the more difficult second part.
He spent most of the afternoon and evening in his room at the Yale Club, making copious notes and going over his tactics for the next day’s meeting. At six o’clock, he took a short break to call Kate.
‘Where are you, darling?’ she said. ‘Stealing away in the middle of the night to I know not where.’
‘To my New York mistress,’ said William.
‘Poor girl,’ said Kate. ‘What’s her advice on the devious Mr Parfitt?’
‘Haven’t had time to ask her, we’ve been so busy doing other things. While I have you on the phone, what’s your advice?’
‘Do nothing Charles Lester or your father wouldn’t have approved of,’ said Kate, suddenly serious.
‘They’re probably playing golf together on the eighteenth cloud and taking a side bet, while keeping an eye on me the whole time.’
‘Whatever you do, William, you won’t go far wrong if you remember they’re watching you.’
37
WHEN DAWN BROKE William was already awake, having managed to sleep only fitfully. He rose a little after six, had a cold shower, went for a long walk through Central Park to clear his head and returned to the Yale Club for a light breakfast. There was a message waiting for him in the front hall from his wife. He read it, and laughed out loud. ‘If you’re not too busy, could you remember to buy a New York Yankees baseball cap for Richard?’
He picked up a copy of The Wall Street Journal, which was still running the story of friction in Lester’s boardroom over the selection of a new chairman. It now had Parfitt’s version of events, hinting that his appointment would be confirmed at Thursday’s board meeting. William wondered whose version would be reported in tomorrow’s paper. How he would have liked to read Friday’s Journal now.
After another call to Thomas Cohen, he spent the morning double-checking the articles of incorporation and the bylaws of Lester’s Bank. He skipped lunch in favour of F.A.O. Schwarz, where he bought a baseball cap for his son.
