Mightier Than the Sword (31 page)

“Jessel told me that the three Irishmen were arrested later that morning and transported back to Belfast on a Royal Navy ship before being locked up in a Belfast prison on other charges. They’ve recently been released, and one of their bail conditions is that if they say a word about the
Buckingham
they’ll be back in solitary the same day. And let’s face it, the IRA don’t talk a lot about their failures.”

“But if the IRA are in no position to corroborate the story, and our only witness is a drunk who was dismissed from his post, why would anyone be interested nearly six years later?” asked Fisher. “And how often,” he added, “have we read headlines claiming the IRA planned to bomb Buckingham Palace, the Bank of England, or the House of Commons?”

“I agree with you, major,” said Mellor, “but the press may take a very different attitude when, as the new chairman of Barrington’s, I decide to put the record straight just weeks before the launch of the
Balmoral
and the announcement of the date of its maiden voyage.”

“But the share price would collapse overnight.”

“And we’ll pick them up for almost nothing with the profit we make on the bank deal. With a new board in place and a change of name, we’ll soon get the company back to its former status.”

“A change of name?” queried Lady Virginia.

Desmond smiled. “Mellor Shipping. Adrian gets the bank, and I get a shipping company.”

“And what do I get?” said Virginia.

“Exactly what you always wanted, Virginia, the pleasure of bringing the Barrington family to their knees. And you still have a vital role to play, because timing will be everything. Another piece of information I picked up at the last board meeting was that Harry and Emma Clifton will be visiting New York next month, which as chairman she does every year. That will be the perfect time for you to let your friends in the press know what they can look forward to at the trial. It’s important that you get your side of the story over while she’s stuck in the middle of the Atlantic. So by the time Mrs. Clifton returns, she’ll have to defend herself on two fronts: the shareholders will want to know why, as chairman of a public company, she failed to let them know what really happened that night, and at the same time she’ll be having to deal with Virginia’s libel case. I predict it won’t be long before she joins her father as a footnote in the company’s history.”

“One snag,” said Virginia. “My lawyers only give me a fifty-fifty chance of winning the case.”

“By the time the trial opens,” said Sloane, “Emma Clifton will have lost whatever credibility she ever had. The jury will be on your side from the moment you enter the witness box.”

“But if I don’t win, I’ll end up with a hefty legal bill,” persisted Virginia.

“After Mrs. Clifton resigns as chairman of Barrington’s, I can’t see how you lose the case. But in that unlikely eventuality, the bank will happily cover all your costs. Pennies in the grand scheme of things.”

“That doesn’t solve the problem of Sebastian Clifton and his six percent,” chipped in Major Fisher. “Because if he gets a place on the board, he’ll know everything we…”

“I’ve got that covered,” said Sloane. “I’m going to call Clifton and suggest we meet.”

“Perhaps he’ll refuse to see you.”

“He won’t be able to resist, and when I offer him five pounds a share for his stock, giving him a hundred percent profit, he’ll roll over. From what I remember of that boy, he forgets any other commitments the moment he sees a chance to make a killing.”

“But if he were to turn down your offer,” said Fisher.

“Then it’s plan B,” said Sloane. “I don’t care either way.”

*   *   *

“As I explained when we first met, Lady Virginia, in my professional opinion, your chances of winning this case are no better than fifty-fifty, so perhaps it might be wise to drop the action.”

“Thank you for your advice, Sir Edward, but it’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

“So be it,” replied her silk. “But I felt it necessary to place my opinion on the record, so there can be no misunderstanding at a later date.”

“You’ve made your position abundantly clear, Sir Edward.”

“Then let’s begin by looking at the facts of the case as objectively as we can. You either did, or did not, sell, and later buy back, a large number of Barrington’s shares with the sole purpose of harming the company.”

“Why would I want to harm the company?”

“Why indeed. I should mention at this juncture that it will be the other side’s responsibility to prove that you did, and not ours to prove that you didn’t. Nevertheless, on three separate occasions, which coincided with the company having to announce bad news, you sold shares at their peak, and then ten days later when they had fallen in price you returned to the market and repurchased them. Is that a fair assessment?”

“Yes. But I only did so after taking Major Fisher’s advice.”

“I think you should avoid mentioning Major Fisher when you’re in the witness box.”

“But he’s a Member of Parliament.”

“Perhaps this is the time to remind you, Lady Virginia, that lawyers, estate agents, and MPs are only just behind tax collectors in the opinion of most jurors.”

“But why shouldn’t I mention it, when it’s the truth?”

“Because Major Fisher was a director of Barrington’s at the time you sold and repurchased the shares, and as he was your representative on the board, the jury won’t be in any doubt where you were getting your information from. With that in mind, I shall be advising you not to call Major Fisher, although it might be wise for you to alert him to the possibility of his being called by opposing counsel. If I were them, I would subpoena him.”

Virginia looked anxious for the first time.

“And then, at a later date,” continued Sir Edward, “you purchased a large holding in Barrington’s in order to take your place on the board, at a time when the company was selecting a new chairman.”

“Yes. Major Fisher was my choice to chair the board.”

“That’s something else I must advise you against mentioning in the witness box.”

“But why? I thought Major Fisher would make a better chairman.”

“Possibly, but a jury of twelve ordinary citizens selected at random may well feel you were pursuing a vendetta against Mrs. Clifton, which would suggest that your original purpose in buying and selling the shares was indeed to harm her and the company.”

“I simply wanted the best-qualified person as chairman. In any case, I still don’t think a woman is capable of doing the job.”

“Lady Virginia, try to remember that it’s likely half the jury will be women, and such an observation will not exactly endear you to them.”

“This is beginning to sound more like a beauty contest than a trial.”

“If you think along those lines, Lady Virginia, you won’t go far wrong. Now, we must also assume that the other side will call your former husband Sir Giles Barrington as a witness.”

“Why? He wasn’t involved in any way.”

“Except that all these transactions took place after your divorce, and your choice for chairman just happened to be the man who twice stood against him at general elections, which the jury may feel is one coincidence too many.”

“But even if they did call Giles, how can he possibly help their cause? He’s an ex-husband, an ex-MP, and an ex-minister. He hasn’t exactly got a lot going for him.”

“All that may well be true,” said Sir Edward, “but I have a feeling he would still impress the jury.”

“What makes you say that?”

“He has a great deal of experience as a public speaker, and the dispatch box prepares one well for the witness box. So we can’t afford to underestimate him.”

“But the man’s a loser,” said Virginia, unable to control her feelings.

“I must stress that any personal attacks on the other side will play into their hands, so please remember to remain calm when you’re giving evidence, and play to your strengths. You are the injured party, someone who doesn’t understand the ways of the City and who wouldn’t have the first idea how to bring a company down.”

“But that will make me appear weak.”

“No,” said Sir Edward firmly, “that will make you appear vulnerable, which will work in your favor when the jury see you’re up against a shrewd, tough businesswoman.”

“Whose side are you on?”

“I’m on your side, Lady Virginia, but it is my responsibility to be absolutely sure that you know what you’re up against. With that in mind, I must ask you once again, are you certain you want to go ahead with this case?”

“Yes, I most certainly am, because there’s one piece of evidence that I haven’t told you about, Sir Edward, and once it becomes public, I don’t think this case will ever get to court.”

29

“M
R.
S
LOANE CALLED
while you were at lunch,” said Rachel.

“Did he say what he wanted?” asked Seb.

“No, other than that it was a personal matter.”

“I’m sure it is. He’s worked out that I’ve got nearly six percent of Farthings’ stock, so it’s suddenly very personal.”

“He suggested you meet at his office at eleven tomorrow. There’s space in your diary.”

“Forget it. If he wants to see me, he can damn well come here.”

“I’ll ring and find out if that’s convenient.”

“I have a feeling it will be, because this time I’m in the driving seat.” Rachel didn’t comment, and turned to leave the room. “You’re not convinced, are you, Rachel?” said Seb before she reached the door. She turned back, but before she could offer an opinion he asked, “What would Cedric have done?”

“He would have given Sloane the impression that he was falling in with his plans, so he would lower his guard.”

“Would he?” said Seb. “Then tell Sloane to expect me at eleven tomorrow morning, and add how much I’m looking forward to seeing him.”

“No, that would be overdoing it. But don’t be late.”

“Why not?”

“Gives him back the advantage.”

*   *   *

Giles wasn’t looking forward to returning to the House of Commons for the first time since he’d lost his seat. The policeman at the St. Stephen’s entrance saluted him.

“Nice to see you, sir. Hope it won’t be long before you’re back.”

“Thank you,” said Giles as he walked into the building, past Westminster Hall, and along the corridor where members of the public wait patiently, hoping to be allocated a seat in the Strangers’ Gallery so they can follow the business of the day. Giles marched on past them into Central Lobby, walking briskly so as not to be held up by former colleagues offering their commiserations and adding platitudes they rarely meant.

Passing another policeman, he stepped on to the thick green carpet he’d trodden for so many years. He glanced at the ticker-tape machine that kept members up to date with what was happening around the world, but didn’t stop to check the latest headline. On past the members’ library, dreading he might bump into one particular member he didn’t want to see. He took a left when he reached the office of the Leader of the House, and came to a halt outside a room he hadn’t entered for years. He knocked on the door of Her Majesty’s Leader of the Opposition, and walked in to find seated at their desks the same two secretaries who had served the former prime minister when he was in Downing Street.

“Nice to see you again, Sir Giles. You can go straight in, Mr. Wilson is expecting you.”

Another knock on another door, and he entered the room to see the familiar sight of a man attempting to light his pipe. He gave up when he saw Giles.

“Giles, I’ve been looking forward to this all day. It’s good to see you.”

“And it’s good to see you, Harold,” responded Giles, not shaking hands with his colleague in the Palace of Westminster, maintaining a tradition that had been upheld for centuries.

“Such bad luck to lose by only twenty-one votes,” said Wilson. “I can’t pretend I care much for your successor.”

“This place will find him out,” said Giles. “It always does.”

“And how are you coping with the postelection blues?”

“Not that well. I’m bound to admit, I miss the place.”

“I was sorry to hear about you and Gwyneth. I hope you’ll find it possible to remain friends.”

“I hope so too, because I’m to blame. I’m afraid we’d begun to drift apart some time ago.”

“This place doesn’t help,” said Harold. “You need a very understanding wife when you’re rarely home before ten o’clock most nights.”

“And what about you, Harold. How are you taking to being Leader of the Opposition again?”

“Like you, not that well. So tell me, what’s it like out there in the real world?”

“I’m not enjoying it, and I won’t pretend otherwise. When you’ve been in politics for a quarter of a century, you’re not really qualified to do much else.”

“Then why don’t we do something about it,” said Wilson, finally managing to light his pipe. “I need a front-bench spokesman on foreign affairs in the House of Lords, and I can’t think of a better person for the job.”

“I’m flattered, Harold, and I thought that might be the reason you wanted to see me. I’ve given it a great deal of thought, and I wondered if I might ask you a question before I make a decision.”

“Of course.”

“I don’t think Ted Heath is proving to be any better in government than he was in opposition. The voters’ view of him as the grocer rather sums it up. And more important, I’m convinced we still have an excellent chance of winning the next election.”

“As my Jewish friends would say, from your lips to God’s ears.”

“And if I’m right, it won’t be that long before you’re back in Number Ten.”

“Amen to that.”

“And both of us know that the real power is in the Commons, not the Lords. Frankly, it’s a deluxe old people’s retirement home, a reward for party hacks with a record of long service and good conduct.”

“With the possible exception of those who sit on the front bench and revise regulation,” suggested Wilson.

“But I’m only fifty, Harold, and I’m not sure I want to spend the rest of my life waiting to be called to an even higher place.”

“I’d put you to work,” said Wilson, “and you’d have a place in the shadow cabinet.”