The Fourth Estate (47 page)

When the subject
at the next table turned to cricket, Armstrong felt that although he had
several pieces of a jig-saw in place, he now needed to return to his office as
soon as possible if he was to have any hope of completing the picture before
twelve o’clock the following day. He checked his watch, and despite having only
just been served with a second helping of bread and butter pudding, he called
for the bill. When it appeared a few moments later, Valchek removed a thick
manuscript from his briefcase and handed it ostentatiously across the table to
his host. Once the bill had been settled, Armstrong rose from his place, tucked
the manuscript under his arm and talked to Valchek in Russian as they strolled
past the next alcove. He glanced at the woman, and thought he detected a look
of relief on her face when she heard them speaking in a foreign language.

When they
reached the door, Armstrong passed a pound note to the head waiter. “An
excellent lunch, Mario,” he said. “And thank you for seating such a stunning
young woman in the next booth.”

“My pleasure,
sir,” said Mario, pocketing the money.

“Dare I ask what
name the table was booked in?”

Mario ran a
finger down the booking list. “A Mr. Keith Townsend, sir.”

That particular
piece of the jigsaw had been well worth a pound, thought Armstrong as he marched
out of the restaurant in front of his guest.

When they
reached the pavement, Armstrong shook hands with the Russian and assured him
that the publication process would be set in motion without delay. ‘That is
good to hear, comrade,” said Valchek, in the most refined English accent. “And
now,” he said, “I must hurry if I’m not to be late for an appointment with my
tailor.” He quickly melted into the stream of people crossing the Strand, and
disappeared in the direction of Savile Row.

As Benson drove
him back to the office, Armstrong’s mind was not on Tulpanov, Yuri Gagarin,
oreven Forsdyke. Once he had reached the top floor he ran straight into Sally’s
office, where he found her talking on the phone. He leaned across the desk and
cut the caller off. “Why should Keith Townsend be interested in something
called WRG?”

Sally, still
holding the receiver, thought for a moment then suggested, “Western Railway
Group?”

“No, that can’t
be right-Townsend’s only interested in newspapers.

“Do you want me
to try and find out?”

“Yes,” said
Armstrong. “If Townsend’s in London to buy something, I want to know what.
Allow only the Berlin team to work on this one, and don’t let anyone else in on
it.”

It took Sally,
Peter Wakeham, Stephen Hallet and Reg Benson a couple of hours to supply
several more pieces of the jigsaw, while Armstrong called his accountant and
banker and warned them to be on twenty- four-hour standby.

By 4:15
Armstrong was studying a report on the West Riding Publishing Group which had
been hand-delivered to him by Dunn & Bradstreet a few minutes earlier.
After he had been through the figure s a second time, he had to agree with
Townsend that E 120,000 was a fair price. But of course that was before Mr.
John Shuttleworth knew he would be receiving a counter-offer.

The team were
all seated around Armstrong’s desk ready to reveal their findings by six
o’clock that evening.

Stephen Hallet
had discovered who the other man at the table was, and which firm of solicitors
he belonged to. “They’ve represented the Shuttleworth family for over half a
century,” he told Armstrong. “Townsend has a meeting with John Shuttleworth,
the present chairman, in Leeds tomorrow, but I couldn’t find out where or the
precise time.” Sally smiled.

“Well done,
Stephen. What have you got to offer, Peter)”

1 have
Wolstenholme’s office and home numbers, the time of the train he’ll be catching
back to Leeds, and the registration number of the car his wife will be driving
when she meets him at the station. I managed to convince his secretary that I’m
an old schoolfriend.”

“Good, you’ve
filled in a couple of corners of the jigsaw,” said Armstrong.

“What about you,
Reg?” It had taken him years to stop addressing him as Private Benson.

“Townsend’s
staying at the Ritz, and so is the girl. She’s called Kate Tulloh. Twenty-two
years old, works on the Stinday Chronicle. “

“I think you’ll
find it’s the Sydney Chronicle,” interrupted Sally.

“Bloody
Australian accent,” said Reg in a cockney twang. “Miss Tulloh,” he continued,
“the head porter assures me, is not only booked into a separate room from her
boss, but is two floors below him.”

“So she’s not
his mistress,” said Armstrong. “Sally, what have you come up with?”

“The connection
between Townsend and Wolstenholme is that they were undergraduates at Oxford at
the same time, as the Worcester College secretary confirmed.

But the bad news
is that John Shuttleworth is the sole shareholder of the West Riding Group, and
virtually a recluse. I can’t find out where he lives, and he’s not on the
telephone. In fact, no one at the group’s headquarters has seen him for several
years. So the idea of making a counter-offer before twelve o’clock tomorrow is
just not realistic.”

Sally’s news
caused a glum silence, finally broken by Armstrong.

“Right then. Our
only hope is somehow to stop Townsend attending the meeting in Leeds, and to
take his place.”

‘That won’t be
easy if we don’t know where the meeting’s going to be held,” said Peter.

“The Queen’s
Hotel,” said Sally.

“How can you be
sure of that?” asked Armstrong.

“I rang all the
large hotels in Leeds and asked if they had a reservation in Wolstenholme’s
name. The Queen’s said he’d booked the White Rose Room from twelve to three,
and would be serving lunch for a party of four at one o’clock. I can even tell
you what’s on the menu.”

“I don’t know
what I’d do without you, Sally,” said Armstrong. “So now, let’s take advantage
of the knowledge we have. Where is Wolst. . .”

“Already on his
way back to Leeds,” interrupted Peter, on the 6:50 from King’s Cross. He’s
expected to be at his desk by nine tomorrow morning.”

“What about
Townsend and the girl?” asked Armstrong. “Reg?”

“Townsend has
ordered a car to take them to King’s Cross at 7:30 tomorrow, so they can catch
the 8:12 which arrives at Leeds Central at 11:47, giving them enough time to
reach the Queen’s Hotel by midday.”

“So between now
and 7:30 tomorrow we somehow have to stop Townsend getting on that train to
Leeds.” Armstrong glanced around the room, but none of them looked at all
hopeful. “And we’ll have to come up with something good,” he added, “because I
can tell you, Townsend is a lot sharper than Julius Hahn. And I have a feeling
Miss Tulloh is no fool either.”

There followed
another long silence before Sally said, I don’t have a particular brainwave,
but I did find out that Townsend was in England when his father died.”

“So what?” said
Armstrong.

DAILY MIRROR

17 OCTOBER 1964

W
ilson’s First Pledge: “It’s Our Job to
Govern, and We Will’

KEITH HAI)
AGREED to meet Kate in the Palm Court for breakfast at seven o’clock. He sat at
a table in the corner reading The Times. He wasn’t surprised that it made so
little money, and couldn’t understand why the Astors didn’t close it down,
because no one else would want to buy it. He sipped a black coffee, and stopped
concentrating on the lead story as his mind drifted back to Kate. She remained
so distant and professional that he began to wonder if there was some other man
in her life, and whether he had been foolish to ask her to accompany him. just
after seven she joined him at the table. She was carrying a copy of the
Guardian. Not the best way to start the day, Keith thought, although he had to
admit he still felt the same excitement as he had the first moment he saw her.

“How are you
this morning?” she asked.

“Never better,”
said Keith.

“Does it feel
like a day for taking something over?” she asked with a grin.

“Yes,” he said.
1 have a feeling that by this time tomorrow, I will own my first paper in
England.”

A waiter poured
Kate a cup of white coffee. She was impressed that after only one day at the
hotel he didn’t need to ask whether she took milk.

“Henry
Wolstenholme telephoned last night just before I went to bed,” said Keith.
“He’d already spoken to Shutfleworth, and by the time we arrive in Leeds the lawyers
will have all the contracts ready to sign.”

“Isn’t it all a
bit risky? You haven’t even seen the presses.”

“No, I’m only
signing subject to a ninety-day due diligence clause, so you’d better be
prepared to spend some time in the north of England. At this time of year it
will be what they call’parky’.”

“Mr. Townsend,
paging Mr. Townsend.” A bellboy, carrying a sign with Keith’s name on it,
walked straight over to them. “Message for you, sir,” he said, handing him an
envelope.

Keith ripped it
open to find a note scribbled on a sheet of paper embossed with the crest of
the Australian High Commissioner. “Please call urgently.

Alexander
Downer.”

He showed it to
Kate. She frowned. “Do you know Downer?” she asked.

“I met him once
at the Melbourne Cup,” said Keith, “but that was long before he became High
Commissioner. I don’t suppose he’ll remember me.”

“What can he
want at this time in the morning?” asked Kate.

“No idea.
Probably wants to know why I turned down his invitation for dinner this evening,”
he said, laughing. “We can always pay him a visit when we get back from the
north. Still, I’d better try and speak to him before we leave for Leeds in case
it’s something important.” He rose from his chair. “I look forward to the day
when they have phones in cars.”

“I’ll pop up to
my room and see you back in the foyer just before 7:30,” said Kate.

“Right,” said
Keith, and left the Palm Court in search of a phone. When he reached the foyer,
the hall porter pointed to a little table opposite the reception desk. Keith
dialed the number at the top of the sheet of paper, and a woman’s voice
answered almost immediately. “Good morning, Australian High Commission.”

“Can I speak to
the High Commissioner?” Keith asked.

“Mr. Downer~s
not in yet, sir,” she replied. “Would you like to call back after 9:30?”

“It’s Keith
Townsend. I was asked to phone him urgently.”

“Oh, yes, sir, I
was told that if you called, I was to put you through to the residence- Please
hold on.”

As Keith waited
to be connected, he checked his watch. It was 7:20.

“Alexander
Downer speaking.”

“It’s Keith
Townsend, High Commissioner. You asked me to call urgently.”

“Yes, thank you,
Keith. We last met at the Melbourne Cup, but I don’tsupposeyou remember.”
HisAustralian accent sounded far more pronounced than Townsend recalled.

“I do remember
actually,” said Townsend.

“I’m sorry to
say it’s not good news, Keith. It seems that your mother has had a heart
attack. She’s at the Royal Melbourne Hospital. Her condition’s stable, but
she’s in intensive care.”

Townsend was
speechless. He had been out of the country when his father had died, and he
wasn’t going to...

“Are you still
there, Keith?”

“Yes, yes,” he
said. “But I had dinner with her the night before I left, and I’ve never seen
her looking better.”

“I’m sorry,
Keith. It’s damned bad luck that it happened while you’re abroad. I’ve arranged
to hold two first class seats on a Qantas flight to Melbourne that takes off at
nine this morning. You can still make it if you leave at once. Or you could
catch the same flight tomorrow morning.”

“No, I’ll leave
immediately,” said Townsend.

“Would you like
me to send my car over to the hotel to take you to the airport?”

“No, that won’t
be necessary. I already have a car booked to drive me to the station. I’ll use
that one.”

“I’ve alerted
the Qantas staff at Heathrow, so you won’t have any delays, but don’t hesitate
to call me if there’s anything else I can do to help.

I hope we meet
again in happier circumstances.”

‘Thank you,”
said Townsend. He put the phone down and ran across to the reception desk.

“I’ll be
checking out immediately,” he said to the man standing behind the counter.
“Please have my bill ready as soon as I come back down.”

“Certainly, sir.
Do you still need the car that’s waiting outside?”

“Yes, I do,”
said Townsend. He turned quickly and ran up the stairs to the first floor, and
jogged along the passageway checking the numbers. When he reached 124, he
banged on the door with his fist. Kate opened it a few moments later, and
immediately saw the anxiety in his face.