by Ken Follett
"We could shortcut the process. If the bank decides not to underwrite the railway bonds, I won't publish the article. That way, you avoid a great deal of unpleasant publicity and I get what I want too." Tonio gave an embarrassed smile. "I hope you don't think of this as blackmail. It is a bit crude, I know, but nowhere near as crude as flogging children in a nitrate mine."
Hugh shook his head. "Not crude at all. I admire your crusading spirit. The consequences for the bank don't affect me directly--I'm about to resign."
"Really!" Tonio was astonished. "Why?"
"It's a long story. I'll tell you another time. However, the upshot is that all I can do is tell the partners that you've approached me with this proposition. They can decide how they feel about it and what they want to do. I'm quite sure they won't ask my opinion." He was still holding Tonio's manuscript. "May I keep this?"
"Yes. I have a copy."
The sheets of paper bore the letterhead of the Hotel Russe, Berwick Street, Soho. Hugh had never heard of it: it was not one of London's fancy establishments. "I'll let you know what the partners say."
"Thank you." Tonio changed the subject. "I'm sorry our conversation has been all business. Let's get together and talk about the old days."
"You must meet my wife."
"I'd love to."
"I'll get in touch." Hugh left the coffeehouse and walked back to the bank. When he looked at the big clock in the banking hall he was surprised it was not yet one o'clock: so much had happened this morning. He went straight to the Partners' Room, where he found Samuel, Joseph and Edward. He handed Tonio's article to Samuel, who read it and passed it on to Edward.
Edward became apoplectic with rage and was unable to finish it. He went red in the face, pointed his finger at Hugh and said: "You've cooked this up with your old school friend! You're trying to undermine our entire South American business! You're just jealous of me because you weren't made a partner!"
Hugh understood why he was so hysterical. The South American trade was Edward's only significant contribution to business. If that went he was useless. Hugh sighed. "You were Bonehead Ned at school, and you still are," he said. "The question is whether the bank wants to be responsible for increasing the power and influence of Papa Miranda, a man who apparently thinks nothing of flogging women and murdering children."
"I don't believe that!" Edward said. "The Silva family are enemies of the Mirandas. This is just malicious propaganda."
"I'm sure that's what your friend Micky will say. But is it true?"
Uncle Joseph looked suspiciously at Hugh. "You came in here just a few hours ago and tried to talk me out of this issue. I have to wonder whether this whole thing isn't some scheme to undermine Edward's first major piece of business as a partner."
Hugh stood up. "If you're going to cast doubt on my good faith I'll leave right away."
Uncle Samuel stepped in. "Sit down, Hugh," he said. "We don't have to find out whether this tale is true or not. We're bankers, not judges. The fact that the Santamaria railroad is going to be controversial makes the bond issue riskier, and that means we have to reconsider."
Uncle Joseph said aggressively: "I'm not willing to be bullied. Let this South American popinjay publish his article and go to the devil."
"That's one way to handle it," Samuel mused, treating Joseph's belligerence more seriously than it deserved. "We can wait and see what effect the article has on the price of existing South American stocks: there aren't many, but it's enough to serve as a gauge. If they crash, we'll cancel the Santamaria railroad. If not, we go ahead."
Joseph, somewhat mollified, said: "I don't mind submitting to the decision of the market."
"There is one other option we might consider," Samuel went on. "We could get another bank to come in with us on the issue of bonds, and float it jointly. That way, any hostile publicity would be enfeebled by having a divided target."
That made a lot of sense, Hugh thought. It was not what he would have done: he would prefer to cancel the bond issue. But the strategy worked out by Samuel would minimize the risk, and that was what banking was all about. Samuel was a much better banker than Joseph.
"All right," Joseph said with his usual impulsiveness. "Edward, see if you can find us a partner."
"Who should I approach?" Edward said anxiously. Hugh realized he had no idea how to go about something like this.
Samuel answered him. "It's a big issue. On reflection, not many banks would want such a big exposure to South America. You should go to Greenbournes: they might be the only people big enough to take the risk. You know Solly Greenbourne, don't you?"
"Yes. I'll see him."
Hugh wondered whether he should advise Solly to turn Edward down, and immediately thought better of it: he was being hired as an expert on North America, and it would seem presumptuous if he started out by passing judgment on a completely different area. He decided to have one more try at persuading Uncle Joseph to cancel the issue completely. "Why don't we just wash our hands of the Santamaria railroad?" he said. "It's low-grade business. The risk has always been high, and now we're threatened with bad publicity on top. Do we need this?"
Edward said petulantly: "The partners have made their decision and it's not for you to question them."
Hugh gave up. "You're quite right," he said. "I'm not a partner, and soon I won't be an employee either."
Uncle Joseph frowned at him. "What does that mean?"
"I'm resigning from the bank."
Joseph was jolted. "You can't do that!"
"I certainly can. I'm a mere employee, and you've treated me as such. So, like an employee, I'm leaving you for a better job elsewhere."
"Where?"
"As a matter of fact I shall be working at Greenbournes."
Uncle Joseph's eyes looked as if they would pop out. "But you're the one who knows all the North Americans!"
"I imagine that's why Ben Greenbourne was so keen to hire me," Hugh said. He could not help being pleased that Uncle Joseph was so irate.
"But you'll take business away from us!"
"You should have thought of that when you decided to go back on your offer of a partnership."
"How much are they paying you?"
Hugh stood up to leave. "That's not for you to ask," he said firmly.
Edward shrieked: "How dare you speak to my father that way!"
Joseph's indignation burst like a bubble, and to Hugh's surprise he suddenly calmed down. "Oh, shut up, Edward," he said mildly. "A certain amount of low cunning is part of what goes to make a good banker. There are times when I wish you were more like Hugh. He may be the black sheep of the family but at least he's got some spunk." He turned back to Hugh. "Go on, clear off," he said without malice. "I hope you'll come a cropper, but I'm not betting on it."
"No doubt that's the nearest to good wishes that I'm likely to get from your branch of the family," Hugh said. "Good day to you."
Section 4
"AND HOW IS dear Rachel?" Augusta asked Micky as she poured tea.
"She's fine," Micky said. "She may come along later."
In fact he did not quite understand his wife. She had been a virgin when they married, but she acted like a whore. She submitted to him at any time, anywhere, and always with enthusiasm. One of the first things he had tried was tying her to the bedhead, to re-create the vision he had enjoyed when he first became attracted to her; and somewhat to his disappointment she had complied willingly. So far nothing he was able to do had succeeded in making her resist him. He had even taken her in the drawing room, where there was a constant risk that the servants would see; and she had seemed to enjoy it more than ever.
On the other hand, she was the opposite of submissive in every other area of life. She argued with him about the house, the servants, money, politics and religion. When he got fed up with contradicting her he tried ignoring her, then insulting her, but nothing made any difference. She suffered from the delusion that she had as much right to her point of view as a m
an.
"I hope she's a help to you in your work," Augusta said.
Micky nodded. "She's a good hostess at ministry functions," he said. "Attentive and gracious."
"I thought she did very well at the party you gave for Ambassador Portillo," Augusta said. Portillo was the Portuguese envoy and Augusta and Joseph had attended the dinner.
"She has a stupid plan to open a maternity hospital for women without husbands," Micky said, allowing his irritation to show.
Augusta shook her head in disapproval. "It's impossible for a woman in her position in society. Besides, there are already one or two such hospitals."
"She says they're all religious institutions that tell women how wicked they are. Her place will help without preaching."
"Worse and worse," Augusta said. "Think what the press would say about that!"
"Exactly. I've been very firm with her about it."
"She's a lucky girl," Augusta said, and favored Micky with an intimate smile.
He realized that she was flirting and he was failing to respond. The truth was that he was too involved with Rachel. He certainly did not love her, but he was deeply engrossed by his relationship with her and she absorbed all his sexual energy. To compensate for his distraction he held Augusta's hand for a moment as she passed him a cup of tea. "You're flattering me," he said softly.
"No doubt I am. But something is worrying you, I can tell."
"Dear Mrs. Pilaster, as perceptive as always. Why do I ever imagine I can hide anything from you?" He released her hand and took his tea. "Yes, I'm a little tense about the Santamaria railroad."
"I thought the partners had agreed to that."
"They have, but these things take so long to organize."
"The financial world moves slowly."
"I understand that, but my family doesn't. Papa sends me cables weekly. I curse the day the telegraph reached Santamaria."
Edward came in bursting with news. "Antonio Silva's back!" he said before he had closed the door behind him.
Augusta paled. "How do you know?"
"Hugh saw him."
"That's a blow," she said, and Micky was surprised to see that her hand was shaking as she put down her cup and saucer.
"And David Middleton is still asking questions," said Micky, recalling Middleton's conversation with Hugh at the duchess of Tenbigh's ball. Micky was pretending to be worried, but in truth he was not altogether displeased. He liked to have Edward and Augusta reminded, from time to time, of the guilty secret they all shared.
"It's not just that," Edward said. "Antonio's trying to sabotage the Santamaria railroad bond issue."
Micky frowned. Tonio's family had opposed the railway scheme back home in Cordova, but they had been overruled by President Garcia. What could Tonio possibly do here in London?
The same question occurred to Augusta. "How can he do anything?"
Edward handed his mother a sheaf of papers. "Read that."
Micky said: "What is it?"
"An article Tonio plans to publish in The Times about your family's nitrate mines."
Augusta skimmed the pages rapidly. "He claims that life as a nitrate miner is unpleasant and dangerous," she said derisively. "Who ever supposed it was a garden party?"
Edward said: "He also reports that women are flogged and children shot for disobedience."
She said: "But what has this to do with your bond issue?"
"The railway is to carry nitrate to the capital. Investors don't like anything controversial. Many of them will already be wary of a South American bond. Something like this could scare them off completely."
Micky was shaken. This sounded like very bad news. He asked Edward: "What does your father say about all this?"
"We're trying to get another bank to come in with us on the deal, but basically we're going to let Tonio publish and see what happens. If the publicity causes a crash in South American stocks we'll have to abandon the Santamaria railroad."
Damn Tonio to hell. He was clever--and Papa was a fool, to run his mines like slave camps and then expect to raise money in the civilized world.
But what was to be done? Micky racked his brains. Tonio had to be silenced, but he would not be persuaded or bribed. A chill descended over Micky's heart as he realized he would have to use cruder, riskier methods.
He pretended to be calm. "May I see the article, please?"
Augusta handed it to him.
The first thing he noticed was the hotel address at the top of the paper. Putting on an air of insouciance that he did not feel, he said: "Why, this is no problem at all."
Edward protested: "But you haven't read it yet!"
"I don't need to. I've seen the address."
"So what?"
"Now that we know where to find him, we can deal with him," Micky said. "Leave it to me."
Chapter THREE
MAY
Section 1
SOLLY LOVED TO WATCH Maisie getting dressed.
Each evening she would put on her dressing jacket and summon her maids to pin her hair up and thread it with flowers or feathers or beads; then she would dismiss the servants and wait for her husband.
Tonight they were going out, which they did most evenings. The only time they stayed in, during the London season, was when they were giving a party. Between Easter and the end of July they never dined alone.
He came in at half-past six, in his dress trousers and white waistcoat, carrying a large glass of champagne. Maisie's hair was decorated with yellow silk flowers tonight. She slipped out of her bedroom gown and stood naked in front of the mirror. She did a pirouette for Solly's benefit then began to dress.
First she put on a linen chemise with a neckline embroidered with flowers. It had silk tapes at the shoulders to tie it to her dress so that it would not be seen. Next she drew on fine white woolen stockings and fastened them just above her knees with elastic garters. She stepped into a pair of knee-length loose cotton lawn drawers with pretty braiding at the hems and a drawstring waist, then put on yellow silk evening slippers.
Solly picked up her corset from its frame and helped her into it, then drew the laces tight at the back. Most women were helped to dress by one or two maids, for it was impossible for a woman to manage the elaborate corset and gown alone. However, Solly had learned to perform these services himself rather than go without the pleasure of watching.
Crinolines and bustles were no longer in fashion, but Maisie put on a cotton petticoat with a flounced train and a ruffled hem to support the train of her gown. The petticoat was fastened at the back with a bow, and Solly tied it.
At last she was ready for the gown. It was of yellow-and-white striped silk taffeta. The bodice was loosely draped, which flattered her large bosom, and caught at the shoulder with a bow. The rest of the garment was similarly swagged and caught at the waist, knee and hem. It took a maid all day to iron it.
She sat on the floor and Solly lifted the dress over her so that she was sitting inside it like a tent. Then she stood up carefully, putting her hands through the armholes and her head through the neck. Together she and Solly arranged the folds of the drapery until they looked right.
She opened her jewelry box and took out a diamond-and-emerald necklace and matching earrings that Solly had given her on their first wedding anniversary. As she was putting them on he said: "We're going to be seeing a lot more of our old friend Hugh Pilaster from now on."
Maisie muffled a sigh. Solly's trusting nature could be tiresome. The normal suspicious-minded husband would have divined the attraction between Maisie and Hugh, and would be bad-tempered every time the other man's name was mentioned, but Solly was too innocent. He had no idea he was putting temptation in her way. "Why, what's happened?" she said neutrally.
"He's coming to work at the bank."
"Why is he leaving Pilasters? I thought he was doing so well."
"They refused him a partnership."
"Oh, no!" She knew Hugh better than anyone did, and she under
stood how badly he had suffered because of his father's bankruptcy and suicide. She could guess how broken he was by the refusal of a partnership. "The Pilasters are a mean-spirited family," she said with feeling.
"It's because of his wife."
Maisie nodded. "I'm not surprised." She had witnessed the incident at the duchess of Tenbigh's ball. Knowing the Pilasters as she did, she could not help wondering if Augusta had somehow stage-managed the whole incident in order to discredit Hugh.
"You have to feel sorry for Nora."
"Mmm." Maisie had met Nora, some weeks before the wedding, and had taken an instant dislike to her. Indeed, she had wounded Hugh by telling him Nora was a heartless gold digger and he should not marry her.
"Anyway, I suggested to Hugh that you might help her."
"What?" Maisie said sharply. She looked away from her mirror. "Help her?"
"Rehabilitate her. You know what it's like to be looked down on because of your background. You overcame all that prejudice."
"And now I'm supposed to work the same transformation on every other guttersnipe who marries into society?" Maisie snapped.
"I've obviously done something wrong," Solly said worriedly. "I thought you'd be glad to help, you've always been so fond of Hugh."
Maisie went to her cupboard for her gloves. "I wish you'd consulted me first." She opened the cupboard. On the back of the door, framed in wood, hung the old poster she had saved from the circus, showing her in tights, standing on the back of a white horse, over the legend "The Amazing Maisie." The picture jerked her out of her tantrum and she suddenly felt ashamed of herself. She ran to Solly and threw her arms around him. "Oh, Solly, how can I be so ungrateful?"
"There, there," he murmured, stroking her bare shoulders.
"You've been so kind and generous to me and my family, of course I'll do this for you, if you wish."
"I'd hate to force you into something--"
"No, no, you're not forcing me. Why shouldn't I help her get what I got?" She looked at her husband's chubby face, creased now with lines of anxiety. She stroked his cheek. "Stop worrying. I was being horribly selfish for a minute but it's over. Go and put your jacket on. I'm ready." She stood on tiptoe and kissed his lips, then turned away and put on her gloves.
