Takeover

by Brian Freemantle

  Buckland did not rise at once. When he did, it was with fitting gravity. Solemn-faced he said to the man, “Unhesitatingly I give that assurance. I have already referred to the involvement within this company of Mr Rudd, of whom many of you will have heard as chairman of a very large and very successful American conglomerate. I am confident that the expertise he is going to bring to Buckland House, in addition to the savings already mentioned, make this company what it has, throughout its history, consistently proved to be: a sound, profitable, worthwhile investment.”

  The reference brought Margaret’s attention to Rudd at last. Despite his earlier thoughts about reassurance, Rudd kept his face expressionless, aware he was a focal point. She gazed back at him, with matching blankness. Vanessa looked at him, too. She smiled.

  Judging the moment, Condway stood and said, “The purpose of this meeting has already been explained. On your chairs when you entered were voting forms. I would ask you to complete them and hand them to the tellers who will move among you.”

  There was a rustle of papers and renewed noise, louder now than ever. From beside Rudd, Prince Faysel said, “It’s been a disaster for Haffaford’s.”

  “They’ll get some professional votes,” guessed Rudd.

  “But not enough.”

  “No,” agreed Rudd. “Not enough.”

  “Pleased?” said Faysel softly.

  “I suppose so,” said Rudd. He was unsettled by Margaret’s attitude.

  It took thirty minutes for the floor votes to be counted. When the results were handed to Condway he looked both ways along the directors’ bench and said, “I’d welcome an open declaration. For those in favour of the no confidence motion?”

  First Snaith’s and then Smallwood’s hand went up.

  Condway nodded, checking the figures before him. “In terms of block votes, that represents four per cent,” he said. “Those against?”

  The voting from the other five directors was practically simultaneous.

  Condway made another notation. “Combined with the floor vote, the figures are 3300 against the motion, with 1100 supporting it. I therefore declare the motion of no confidence against the chairman to have been lost.”

  There was a spontaneous outburst of applause from the floor. Condway stood and shook hands with Buckland. Gore-Pelham and Penhardy jostled around the man, eager to add their congratulations. Buckland was beaming his pleasure, laughing out towards where his family still sat. Lady Buckland made a small, waving gesture.

  Buckland took the gavel from the vice-chairman, knocking for the attention of the disintegrating meeting. “Please,” he said. “Please. There is more to be said.”

  Rudd was leaning forward, assessing the voting figures against the shareholding list. The Buckland family and directors accounted for the majority of votes in Buckland’s favour. There appeared to be a substantial block of nominee votes and the remainder came almost entirely from the small shareholders. The institutions and funds had gone solidly behind Haffaford.

  Buckland, in the chairman’s position now, succeeded in getting order and said, “I thank you for your confidence. And now I think that confidence has to be extended outside this room. I intend keeping the assurance I have already made to meet the press. I think I should be accompanied by the other directors. Is it the wish of this meeting that we do so?”

  The vote in favour was so overwhelming that there was no need for a recorded count.

  “A fiasco,” said Condway loudly, looking towards Snaith and Smallwood as the meeting broke up. “A complete bloody fiasco.”

  They used the staff corridors again to reach the conference room where the press had been assembled. The room was crowded when they entered, already too hot from the television lights which had been tested and which were switched full on the moment they came through the door. At once there was the stuttering glare of camera flashes. The directors filed to the table set out for them and all of them sat except Buckland.

  “I would like to make an opening statement,” said Buckland. “As you are all aware, a special shareholders’ meeting has been called here today. It was convened under the democratic articles which govern the running of the Buckland House company, permitting directors to challenge the fitness of other directors. That challenge was made against me. This morning it has been fully and openly debated, before one of the largest gatherings of shareholders I can remember. The overwhelming decision of the meeting was a vote of confidence in me to continue as chairman. This whole affair has been one of misunderstanding which has now been completely resolved.”

  Buckland sat down and there was a momentary pause. Then the questions began in a babble and Buckland had to shout for order. The first question came from a grey-haired man, in the front. “Two sums of money have been mentioned in connection with this boardroom dispute,” he said. “In total the amount is around £1,000,000. Was the suggestion that this sum has been misappropriated?”

  Buckland rose, waiting for the room to quieten. “An unfortunate feature of this whole affair has been that it was based upon rumour and never upon fact. The sums involved were not around £1,000,000. They were precisely £785,000. They compose a properly agreed director’s loan to me. And salary and fees, in my favour. There were some technical errors involving both sums which led to the misunderstanding to which I have referred.”

  “Wasn’t it a misunderstanding that could have been resolved in the boardroom?” persisted the man.

  “It was the wish of certain directors that it should be brought before the shareholders,” said Buckland.

  “How many directors and which ones?” someone shouted from the centre of the room.

  “Another unfortunate feature of this business has been the degeneration into personalities. I have said it was a misunderstanding and that it has been resolved. The board are now completely united and I do not intend singling out individuals.”

  Rudd sat with his hands cupped beneath his chin. Buckland’s performance here was as good as it had been in the ballroom. The persistent lights were making him squint.

  Buckland gestured to a waving figure at the back near the television cameras, and an unidentified voice said, “Could you explain the misuse of the company house?”

  “There was no misuse,” said Buckland. “This was another misunderstanding. The house was properly let, to the knowledge of the people who needed to know, and a proper rental paid for it.”

  “Was the woman who occupied it a friend of yours?” demanded a woman’s voice.

  “She was a friend of my family,” said Buckland.

  A man sitting alongside the original questioner said, “Is her name Fiona Harvey, the ex-wife of Sir Peter Harvey?”

  “I have no intention of naming the person,” said Buckland. His voice sounded uneven and Rudd looked anxiously along the table towards the man.

  “Why not?” asked someone.

  “I have already made my position clear about naming individuals,” said Buckland.

  “Was your wife aware of the lady’s use of the house?” said the woman who had asked the earlier question.

  Buckland frowned against the lights, trying to identify her. “I resent the implication of that question,” he said. “But I shall answer it, in the hope of reducing the amount of misinformation that has built up around my company. I repeat that the tenant of the house was a friend of my family and occupied it at all times with the full knowledge of my wife, Lady Margaret.”

  “Is she still the tenant?”

  “No,” said Buckland.

  “Why not?”

  “It is my understanding that she had no wish to become associated with the salacious suggestions and innuendo which have formed part of the sustained newspaper coverage of the past weeks,” said Buckland.

  Rudd thought the indignation justified but hoped Buckland hadn’t overstressed it.

  “Is there still contact between Lady Harvey and yourself?”

  “What has Lady Harvey got to do with this?” avoided
Buckland.

  “Is Lady Harvey a friend of you and your family?” demanded the man in the front.

  “Lady Harvey is known to my family, yes,” said Buckland. His voice almost broke. He said, “If there are no further questions about today’s meeting, then I’ll consider the conference closed.”

  Thank Christ, thought Rudd.

  There was an eruption of protest. Reluctantly Buckland isolated someone at the rear. “Can I put a question to Mr Rudd?” said an American voice. “Burr, New York Times. Can I ask Mr Rudd if he’s happy for his company to be associated with Buckland House, in view of the recent developments?”

  Rudd shaded his eyes, trying to locate the man. “If I hadn’t been happy with the business potential of Buckland House I would not have allied myself to it,” he said.

  “What about the recent developments?” persisted the man.

  “By which I assume you mean today’s meeting,” said Rudd. “Nothing that has happened today or since my share exchange or purchase of the Buckland House fleet has altered my original view.”

  “Do you, Sir Ian, foresee any directional changes on the holding company of Buckland House?” asked the man who had begun the questioning.

  Buckland hesitated. “I think it is too early at this stage to forecast any board changes,” he said.

  “What about resignations?” called someone.

  It was a bad question, easy to answer. “I’ve been given no intimations of any resignations,” said Buckland. “Certainly I don’t intend tendering mine, after the enthusiasm of this morning’s meeting.”

  “Is Buckland House in any sort of trading difficulties?” asked someone shielded by the glare of lights.

  “Absolutely and utterly not,” insisted Buckland, glad of the question. “There was a working deficit, which was quite acceptable with the resources of the group, but even that has been removed by the disposal of the liners. Buckland House has always been the best and it remains the best.”

  It was a good reply to end upon and Rudd was relieved that Buckland realized it. He stood away from the table and the men on either side of him correctly interpreted the move and rose. Once more there was a flurry of questions but Buckland shook his head, leading the way out towards the corridors by which they had entered. Immediately beyond the doors there was a small ante-room, normally used by waiters when the public room was being used for small banquets. Buckland paused there, turning around to the other men. Buckland was limp with sweat, his suit crumpled to his body. He looked bitterly towards Snaith and Smallwood and said, “I hope you’re bloody satisfied!”

  Buckland invited Rudd and Prince Faysel to join the rest of the family for the celebration lunch, but Rudd excused himself, nervous of embarrassing Margaret. Faysel also made his apologies. Rudd led the way into the Berridge suite he had adopted as an office and Hallett emerged from the dressing-room in which the tape and telex machines had been installed.

  “There’s a message from New York,” announced the personal assistant at once. “A request from the board for you to return for a full meeting.”

  Rudd frowned. “Morrison was supposed to have handled that.”

  “It doesn’t look as if he has,” said Hallett. “The message came from him.” Hallett handed Rudd the torn-off slip.

  “Get him on the telephone,” he instructed.

  “What did you think of today?” asked the Arab, as Hallett moved towards the telephone bank: a booster circuit had been installed for the three extra receivers.

  “I thought Buckland was impressive,” said Rudd honestly. “He asked for guidance and he certainly took it, but I got the impression he could have handled himself well enough without us.”

  “I was the only investment fund manager not to support Haffaford.”

  “I’ve already made the break-down,” said Rudd.

  “If they keep withdrawing from Buckland House, it’ll become obvious. Today will have done nothing to make the shares pick up.”

  “I worked that out too,” said Rudd.

  Hallett gestured to him and the Best Rest chairman crossed to the desk; it was a good connection, without any distortion. “Why the request for a special meeting?” demanded Rudd at once. It was more forceful than the tone he would normally have used to his father-in-law but his mind was still occupied with the meeting. And with Margaret.

  “They’re not happy.”

  “Didn’t you make it clear that it wasn’t serious?”

  “Of course I did. But from here it doesn’t look that way. How did the meeting go?”

  “Overwhelming support for Buckland.”

  “So we go ahead as planned?”

  “Of course.”

  “I think you should come back,” said Morrison.

  “Can’t you handle it?” said Rudd irritably.

  “You’re the chairman,” said Morrison. “It’s you they want to hear from.”

  “It’s inconvenient.”

  “That’s the way they feel about having $4,000,000 value wiped off Best Rest shares.”

  The responsibility was his, conceded Rudd. It was still a bastard. Belatedly he realized that there was none of the usual reserved hostility in his father-in-law’s voice. Cupping his hand over the mouthpiece, Rudd said to Hallett, “What’s the time of the lawyers’ meeting tomorrow?”

  “Eleven,” said the personal assistant.

  Into the telephone Rudd said, “I’ll come out tomorrow afternoon: if they’re that concerned they can come to an evening meeting, New York time.”

  “I’ll arrange it for six,” said Morrison.

  Rudd replaced the receiver hastily and said, “They’re getting nervous in New York.”

  “I can’t say I blame them,” said Faysel. “I’m not altogether happy myself.”

  Rudd frowned across at the Arab. “You think we should abandon the takeover?”

  Faysel shrugged. “I know there’s no practical reason why we should but it’s got an unhappy feel about it.”

  “We’ve got $4,000,000 to pick up on the New York exchange,” reminded Rudd.

  “You’re part of the board here already,” said the Arab. Buckland seems to rely upon you more than people he’s known for years. You can control him.”

  Rudd shook his head. “All or nothing,” he reminded. He said to Hallett, “Any idea how we can contact Bunch?”

  “I’ve got a Washington number,” said the personal assistant.

  “Get him,” said Rudd. “Stop him coming directly back here. There’s a board meeting in New York tomorrow. Six o’clock.”

  “Think we can do better than Haffaford’s?” said Faysel.

  “We’d better,” said Rudd.

  The final three editions of the New Standard led its front page with the Buckland House story and it was the major news coverage on television and radio. The tone of them all was of Buckland rejecting criticism and getting unanimous and overwhelming support.

  Buckland began celebrating early with champagne, and continued with more wine throughout dinner and then with brandy afterwards. Lady Buckland retired early and Vanessa excused herself for a meeting with the Yorkshire solicitor who had travelled to London to meet her. Buckland sat in a wing-backed chair on the opposite side of the fireplace from Margaret, the brandy decanter easily to hand on a wine table. “Coup,” he said, with an obvious effort to enunciate clearly. “That’s what it’s being described as. A coup in the entrepreneurial tradition of the Buckland family.”

  “There was nothing entrepreneurial about it,” said Margaret objectively. “You were bloody lucky.”

  Buckland squeezed his eyes shut and then opened them as if he were having difficulty in focusing upon his wife. “I beat the bastards,” he insisted.

  “You were shown how to do it,” she said dismissively. She was unhappy at the constant exposure to publicity.

  “You don’t know the half of it,” he said belligerently.

  “I know enough,” said Margaret. “And from now on you’d better understand
something, Ian. I won’t do again what I did for you today. I sat in that bloody room feeling the suspicion wash over me and I dried up inside. I think you’re a bastard, a stupid, silly bastard.”

  Buckland added more liquor to the brandy balloon, spilling some on his trousers. He regarded the stain curiously and then made ineffectual attempts to brush it off. “Got a position to maintain,” he said. “Don’t forget we’ve a position to maintain.”

  “I never forget it,” she said. “It’s about time you stopped doing so.”

  27

  The two men went through a complete transcript of the press conference and then Rudd detailed what had occurred at the shareholders’ meeting. It took more than an hour, Sir Henry Dray constantly making notes in his briefing ledger. At the end he said, “We did well to wait. Almost all the work has been done for us.”

  “Is there a hearing date?”

  “The twenty-ninth,” said the barrister.

  Just under three weeks, thought Rudd. He said, “When are you going to serve notice?”

  “Maybe a week,” said Dray. “I’d expect Buckland’s counsel to demand an immediate postponement for preparation time, but I’m pressing it as a matter of urgency so we might be able to go ahead.”

  “How do you consider our chances?”

  “Very good,” said Dray. “The summoning of the shareholders’ meeting, with Initial and Preferential being lumped together instead of separately, is proof of how Buckland and his family can manipulate the structure to their advantage. The introduction of the man from Hong Kong was unexpected.…” He looked back to his notes. “Sinclair,” he reminded himself. “Do you think he’s lying about that telephone call?”

  “I don’t know,” said Rudd.