A Woman of Courage

by J. H. Fletcher

  She was one third of the way down the list when financial director Robert Clarke stuck his nose around the door.

  ‘Any news?’

  Vivienne’s hopes jumped momentarily but subsided at once as Robert shook his head. ‘I rang your place but they said you’d come in so I came too.’

  The way he spoke set Vivienne’s nerves on edge. ‘Any particular reason?’

  ‘I heard a rumour at the Willis, Roebuck annual party just before Christmas. I thought you ought to know about it.’

  Now Vivienne was more nervous still; Willis, Roebuck was the corporation’s principal stockbrokers and rumours from that source were likely to be significant.

  ‘Tom Willis was telling me there seems to have been some accelerated dealing in Brand stock.’

  ‘Everyone’s heard about the tsunami,’ Vivienne said. ‘The market will know Hilary is missing, probably dead. It’s bound to have a huge impact on the share price.’

  ‘Of course it will. But this was before the tsunami.’

  ‘Before the tsunami? That’s strange. What does it mean?’

  Robert shrugged. ‘Could be coincidence. Or someone could be stalking us.’

  ‘A takeover? Surely not. Who could it be?’

  ‘Tom has no idea. If there is someone, he’s keeping his head down.’

  ‘What do we do?’

  ‘We monitor the situation. That’s about all we can do.’

  Vivienne watched him go out the door. A sense of helplessness engulfed her.

  I had two years to go and not a care in the world, she thought. And now this. Why did Hilary have to dump this lot on me? I was pleased at the time: who wouldn’t be? It tickled my ego. To be the big boss of Brand… It really meant something. What a fool I was. I’d lived beside her all those years but had never realised what being the boss really meant. I know now. Know, too, that the burden is too heavy. I look in the mirror every morning and see a fraud. I have the top job but know I am only going through the motions. The truth is I am not a top person.

  Now Hilary was gone; Vivienne had seen the pictures and knew that not even Hilary Brand could have survived such a disaster. Here she was in Hilary’s chair behind Hilary’s desk in Hilary’s office, responsible for the wellbeing of Hilary’s company, knowing she was not up to the job and facing the daunting prospect of what might prove to be a hostile takeover bid.

  Dear God, she thought despairingly. What do I do now?

  4

  It was mid-morning and Sara was sitting at her desk contemplating a depressingly large pile of reports and accounts when Janet buzzed her.

  ‘There is a Dolores Morrison in reception, says she wants to see you.’

  ‘Show her in.’

  ‘Sit down,’ Sara said with what she hoped was a pleasant smile. ‘Do you have anything for me?’

  ‘You could say so.’ Dolores took from her bag a tiny metal object about half the size of a matchbox.

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘It’s a voice recorder.’

  ‘The smallest one I’ve ever seen.’

  ‘The smallest one there is. Even so, it isn’t easy to smuggle it into bed when you’ve no clothes on.’

  Sara was intrigued. ‘How d’you manage it?’

  ‘You don’t want to know.’ She pressed what Sara assumed was the playback button.

  The machine might be small but its sound was clear.

  You’re mighty cheerful tonight.

  Who wouldn’t be with a woman like you in his bed?

  That’s sweet. (Pause) My, you are a big boy, aren’t you?

  ‘Do I have to listen to this?’ Sara said.

  ‘Just wait. We’re coming to it now.’

  Thanks for the compliment, baby, but don’t try and kid me. Something else has put that smile on your face.

  You could be right.

  So tell me.

  Just now.

  Careful, baby. Ooh, that’s nice. Oh my!

  Dolores reached out a hand and switched off. ‘I’ll fast-forward a bit.’

  ‘I’m relieved to hear you say so,’ said Sara.

  ‘Par for the course,’ Dolores said. She fiddled with the recorder and pressed the play button. ‘Here we are.’

  Well, something certainly fired you up. You going to tell me about it?

  Why should you care?’

  Baby, a man like you doesn’t come along every day. Of course I care. I want to know everything about you.

  ‘Put it to them right, men will tell you anything,’ Dolores said.

  I had the word today an old enemy of mine has carked it. Not before time, either. That one owed me a few, I can tell you. My oath she did!

  What did she do to you?

  Only stole my share of a company I’d set up. Helped herself to two million bucks of my money and did a runner just as the market crashed on my head. Now it’s payback time.

  But if she’s dead..?

  Now I’m going to get it all back: my share, her kids’ share, the lot.

  Any woman tried to cross a man like you got to be crazy. How are you going to do it?

  Sitting silently at Sara’s desk the two women listened as Haskins Gould, luxuriating in his companion’s awed admiration, explained. Finally, after several minutes, Dolores spoke again.

  This scheme of yours… Is it legal?

  Who cares?

  I can see you’ve got it all worked out. But I’m afraid it’s all beyond me.

  No reason for you to worry your head about that. You got other talents.

  You’re not such a slouch yourself. Want to show me?

  Dolores Morrison switched off the machine. The two women looked at each other.

  ‘I’ve done a report, too,’ Dolores said.

  She handed Sara a slender file which Sara read with increasing amazement. ‘You really got all this out of him like that?’

  ‘Not entirely. Even he wasn’t mug enough for that. But he gave me some clues. I doubt he even realised he’d done it but they got me started. I poked around a bit and soon ferreted out the rest.’

  ‘How?’

  Dolores smiled. ‘Trade secrets, sweetie.’

  ‘Can I have the tape?’ Sara asked.

  Dolores shook her head. ‘He’ll know where you got it from. He’d send somebody after me. I can’t risk it.’

  ‘If I just make notes of what he’s been doing? If I give you my word I’ll show it to nobody else? Nobody at all?’

  Dolores stared at her sharp-eyed and for a moment did not answer.

  ‘My word is good,’ Sara said.

  The scrutiny lasted a few seconds longer then Dolores nodded. ‘I believe it is,’ she said. ‘And you won’t tell him how you found out?’

  ‘No.’

  Dolores nodded again. ‘OK, then.’ She looked at her watch. ‘I’ve got to dash.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Another client. If you’re good at what you do there’s always a demand, isn’t that so?’ She winked. ‘I daresay you find the same.’

  ‘I’ll be a couple of hours with the tape, then I’ll leave it in a sealed envelope at reception,’ Sara said. ‘You can pick it up whenever you like.’

  She watched her go. Interesting life she must lead, she thought. She did not feel in the least judgmental about it but Haskins Gould was a different story. As far as that one was concerned, judgment day was coming down on him like an avalanche and she couldn’t wait.

  She listened to the tape again, making notes and somehow managing to avoid most of the pillow talk. When she was ready she picked up the phone.

  ‘Get me Mr Haskins Gould, Janet. If you please.’

  5

  ‘I don’t even know why I’m talking to you,’ Haskins said, but cautiously: if Sara had nothing she wouldn’t be on the phone now.

  ‘Fern Robin,’ Sara Brand said. ‘Name mean anything to you?’

  The blood paused in his veins; she had no business knowing about Fern Robin. Along with several of his other shelf companies i
t had recently built up a sizeable holding in Brand Corporation.

  ‘Should it mean anything?’

  ‘I would have thought it likely. Since you own it.’

  ‘I certainly do not!’

  ‘Of course you don’t. Forgive me. Henry Ward owns it. And Henry Ward works for you, does he not?’

  How the hell had she found that out?

  ‘Let us run through a few more names.’

  He heard, rage gathering, as the bitch from hell proceeded calmly and methodically to list the names of every one of the companies in which he had for several months been lodging the shares he had bought in Brand. They were all public companies and their records could be accessed by anyone but how could she have known to check them out?

  But questions could wait. What mattered now was what came next. Against his every inclination he forced himself to listen to what Sara Brand was saying.

  ‘Between them these companies control significantly more than twenty per cent of Brand’s shares. Indirectly you control them all. Given the requirement of the act, I presume you have notified the authorities?’

  Haskins Gould did not answer.

  ‘Bearing in mind the trouble you’ve had with them in the past,’ Sara said, ‘I am not sure how they would react if it came out that you were once again in breach of the regulations. Assuming, of course, that you are.’ He could almost hear her smile. ‘My own feeling is they might come down quite heavily on you. If you really have broken the rules, Haskins. Yet again. And if they found out.’

  He was in denial, unable to believe that for the second time members of this unspeakable family had cut the ground from under him. ‘You can’t prove any of this.’

  That was the way: defy and deny, defy and deny.

  ‘But you see I can,’ Sara said. ‘I have all the details I need. How else would I have the information I have just given you?’

  Haskins had never been afraid of a fight as long as it was with words and not fists. Despite being Jewish he’d always had a soft spot for Dr Goebbels’s cult of the big lie. He sat back in his chair, took a deep breath and laughed loud and long. In his time he’d spent days practising that laugh, a clever combination of contempt and tolerant amusement. It had got him off the hook more than once in days gone by.

  ‘Information? Is that what you call it? Sorry, darling,’ he said. ‘You’re on the wrong track there. That’s not information. That’s a fairy story. A nice one, I grant you. A sweet one.’ Sarcasm was a blade. ‘But it’s bullshit, sweetie. You know how many people I got working for me? I’ll tell you. Over a thousand. You saying they’re not permitted to have their own companies because they work for me? Not to own shares? Attila the Hun: that who you think I am? Genghis Khan, maybe? In your dreams, darling. I’ll tell you this for free. No court in the land would listen to your nonsense. Not for five minutes, Sara! Now stop wasting my time.’

  Haskins had hoped that would have blown her out of the water but seemingly it had not. Her voice when she answered was as unruffled as a mountain pond. With a touch of ice on it too. ‘You’re the one talking bullshit,’ she said. ‘You and I both know what you’re doing. I will say it to you only once: back off.’

  ‘And if I don’t?’

  ‘You’ll be looking at more trouble than you can handle.’

  6

  Sara replaced the phone hard on its stand. Take that, you bastard. She sat and considered the situation.

  Point one. No question about it, the rumours were right. Haskins Gould was planning a move on Brand.

  Point two. She had to stop him.

  Well and good; no argument about that. But how? All she really knew was she had to act and act fast. If Haskins Gould got hold of Brand it would mean the end not only of Hilary’s legacy but her own future.

  Trouble was, what he was doing might be against the regulations but was not necessarily criminal, and stopping him would not be easy. Her only real evidence was the tape recording Dolores had given her but that would never stand up in court.

  She phoned Channel 12 again, this time to speak to Aaron, an old friend on the financial desk, and Aaron told her what she already knew, that Haskins Gould was one of the biggest crooks in the corporate world.

  ‘Sell his mother for a quid if there were takers,’ he told her. ‘Not that there would be.’

  ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘She gave birth to him, didn’t she?’

  Which said it all, Sara thought, but didn’t help.

  ‘I’ll tell you what you should do,’ Aaron said. ‘Make some enquiries in Switzerland.’

  ‘But how? Swiss banks never give details of their clients’ affairs, do they?’

  ‘Speak to Günter Flüry at the Bernese Land Bank,’ Aaron said.

  ‘I’ve never heard of him. Anyway, why should he help me? He doesn’t know me from a bar of soap.’

  ‘But he knows me. And he hates Haskins Gould like poison.’

  ‘May I mention your name?’

  ‘He won’t tell you anything if you don’t. He may not, anyway. I can’t guarantee anything. But if he’s sticky, ask him to give me a bell.’

  ‘I owe you one,’ Sara said.

  ‘How do you plan to settle the debt?’

  Aaron had always liked her. She laughed. ‘Let’s find out what he has to tell me first, OK?’

  7

  Whichever way you looked at it, Haskins thought, it was a problem he didn’t need.

  Maybe he’d seen Sara Brand off, maybe not, but either way he couldn’t afford to let the Stock Exchange boys get on his case. They’d come close to catching him several times in the past; nifty footwork had saved him but he was older now and neither his footwork nor his nerves were what they’d been once, when the market had been a casino and those upon whom fate smiled had made fortunes. He’d been one of the lucky ones; he still had millions in Switzerland that no one knew about. Where else would he find the funds to go after Brand? But this was his last big play; with age his appetite for the razzmatazz of the markets had dulled. He still wanted this final coup, though. What an exit that would be, to have the scalp of the Brand Corporation hanging from his belt! That would give him crowing rights loud enough to give Hilary indigestion even in the afterlife. Let’s hope it chokes her, he thought.

  But he’d have to move; now the bitch’s daughter was in the know he couldn’t hang about. He must grab all the stock he could; once he had the company the regulators could scream all they liked but it would be too late.

  Time to throw caution to the winds.

  8

  It took a while, first phoning Günter Flüry in Switzerland, then waiting while he phoned Aaron in Sydney, then having to phone him again, but at last she got the information she needed.

  ‘People will want to know where you got it from,’ Günter said.

  Sara looked at the notes she had made during their conversation. ‘I have no information. I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘And if the police ask?’

  ‘I shall say it has nothing to do with me and I know nothing about it.’

  ‘Good. Please be sure to keep it that way.’

  By then it was nearly eleven o’clock and everyone else had long gone home. No matter, she thought, I shall speak to Vivienne in the morning. And say what?

  It gave her time, both in bed and over breakfast the next day, to think where she was heading. Was Vivienne up to the challenge of taking Brand Corporation past Hilary’s legacy and into the future? She sat and thought carefully about that. No, she thought. She isn’t. It’s not in her. Very well. Mind made up, she picked up the phone.

  ‘Vivienne? It’s Sara. I’ll be in the office in an hour. I’d like to see you, if you’re free.’

  9

  The discussion was amicable and brief. Vivienne would retain the title of CEO for the next six months but at the AGM would announce she was stepping down for health reasons. Sara would replace her officially at that time but Vivienne would retain her place on
the board in an advisory capacity.

  ‘Wouldn’t you sooner I quit altogether?’ Vivienne said. ‘I’d be happy to step down tomorrow if you’d prefer.’

  ‘I’d much sooner you stayed on,’ Sara said. ‘Your experience and advice will be invaluable. In fact I am not sure I could manage without you.’

  Vivienne felt a ton weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She hadn’t been so happy for months and it made her magnanimous. ‘I shall be happy to help in any way I can,’ she said. A thought occurred to her. ‘Do you really think you’ve worked out a way to fend off Haskins Gould?’

  ‘I think I have,’ Sara said.

  Back in her own office Sara phoned Aaron at Channel 12 and fifteen minutes later walked into his office.

  ‘The other day you asked me how I planned to settle my debt to you.’

  A hopeful look momentarily brightened Aaron’s face. ‘A dinner?’ he suggested. ‘A secret rendezvous afterwards?’

  ‘Alas,’ Sara said.

  ‘You can’t blame me for trying,’ Aaron said.

  ‘I would be disappointed if you didn’t.’

  Sara took two sheets of A4 paper out of her briefcase. The sheets contained a typed list of transactions: their nature, dates and the amounts. All the amounts were large; some were huge.

  Aaron looked at the list, frowning, and then at Sara. ‘What is this?’

  ‘A record of Mr Gould’s financial dealings in Switzerland over the last twelve months.’

  ‘My God.’ It might have been a prayer of thanksgiving, the way Aaron spoke.

  ‘You think the ATO might be interested in this?’ Sara said.

  ‘Would they ever.’

  ‘Let’s be quite clear about this,’ Sara said. ‘You never reveal your source.’

  ‘Indeed. And if you are asked any questions?’

  ‘I shall say it is nothing to do with me and I know nothing about any of it.’

  ‘Bully!’ Aaron said.

  ‘If I may suggest: perhaps both the television and the print media?’

  ‘Consider it done,’ Aaron said.