The admission intercom from the street below startled him, as much as the sound of Bunch’s voice.
“It’s not over,” said Bunch.
Rudd was at the door when the lawyer entered the flat, followed by Prince Faysel.
“What happened?” said Rudd.
“A deferred decision,” said the lawyer.
“What!”
“The judge said he wanted time to consider the submissions and evidence and so he deferred judgment.”
“How long for?” demanded Rudd.
“Monday is a public holiday here in England, so the full week won’t be until the following Tuesday. Buckland has called a shareholders’ meeting the day after.”
“That’s more than a week,” said Rudd. “That’s a week and a half, almost. Didn’t Dray object?”
“You don’t object to this sort of ruling by an English judge.”
“Shit!” said Rudd. “You any idea how this is going to affect the market?”
“The Stock Exchange has already announced that shares remain suspended until the decision,” said the Arab.
“And all that protects Buckland House,” said Rudd. “What about Best Rest? The stockholders are going to see that as further uncertainty. And it gives Haffaford’s perfect time to get their bid together for the Wednesday meeting.”
“You’ve got to go back,” said Bunch.
“To say what? – Don’t worry. I can’t even offer them that as reassurance.”
“You stayed to think it through, Harry,” reminded Faysel.
“And decided nothing,” admitted the American. “We want a lever and there isn’t one. Nowhere!”
Rudd was aware of the disappointment from the other two men. Pride again, he thought.
“The OPEC meeting is only scheduled for three days,” said Faysel. “I’ll be back on Monday or Tuesday.”
Rudd recognized it as an offer of support, for whatever happened, and smiled gratefully.
“That isn’t going to be an easy meeting, either,” said Faysel, in an obvious effort to divert them momentarily from their own insoluble difficulties. “If we don’t get an oil freeze there isn’t going to be any development money available for anyone for years.”
“‘Everyone – even the producers – thinks the wells pump money, not oil’” quoted Rudd abruptly.
Both men stared at him, bewildered. “What?” said Faysel.
“The remark in Zürich, by Prince Hassain,” remembered Rudd, his voice growing in his excitement. “He said, ‘Everyone – even the producers – thinks the wells pump money, not oil.’”
Faysel frowned. “I’m sorry, Harry,” he said. “I don’t see the significance.”
Rudd sat forward on his chair, hands clasped to his face, not responding for several minutes while the idea hardened in his mind. Then he said to Bunch. “How many hotels have Buckland House got in Africa?”
“Eight,” said the lawyer at once, without the need to consult any file.
Rudd turned to Faysel. “And which country holds the chairmanship this year of the Organization of African Unity?”
Faysel hesitated and said, “Nigeria.”
Rudd became reflective again, nodding to himself in silent contradiction. “Senator Jeplow,” he said to Bunch. “Is he on the committee for development aid?”
Bunch went to a file. It took several moments. “Member since 1979,” he said finally.
“You going to tell us what this is all about?” demanded Faysel.
“It’s about staying in the game and getting Buckland House,” said Rudd eagerly. He was excited after the unexpected depression, and he laughed aloud. “I’m coming to Vienna with you for the OPEC meeting,” he said to Faysel. “It’s not the sessions I’m interested in but afterwards.”
“Do I come?” said Bunch.
Rudd shook his head. “I want you here, monitoring the court. And I want to know about the Buckland family, too. When I get back, I want to know where they are, every one of them.”
“What about New York and Best Rest?” said the lawyer. “We’ve got to tell them something.”
“There’s nothing to tell them, until the court decision.” insisted Rudd.
“They’ll dump you, you know. With every justification,” warned Bunch.
“If I don’t get it right, I deserve to be dumped,” said Rudd.
Morrison decided he had been wrong in his assessment of the support for Rudd: he had expected irritation, anger even, but not to the concentrated degree that every one of the directors was showing towards the man. It was making it far easier than he had imagined it would be.
“It’s indefensible,” said Walker. “Who the hell does the man think he is?”
“You can’t say I haven’t warned you,” said Morrison.
“You have and we were wrong in not listening,” said Böch.
“We’ve got to be careful,” said Ottway, the man who had already lost one business. “It’s important the stockholders don’t link us with the same discourtesy as he’s showing.”
“If he wants the rope, let him hang himself with it,” said Walker. “I propose we circularize every stockholder with his request for a delay until after the English court decision. It will be in his name and he will be responsible, so he’ll be the recognized cause for any further loss.”
“That’s a good idea,” agreed Böch.
“And during that time I think a full report should be prepared for the stockholders, setting out the case,” said Morrison. “This whole thing is a story of someone being seized by a delusion of his own grandeur.”
“Rudd’s got a lot to answer for,” said Böch.
“And he will,” said Morrison. “He will.” He decided to visit Angela’s grave when he got back to Boston that night. It had been a long time since he’d been there.
35
Since the embarrassing terrorist seizure in Vienna of Sheikh Yamani and other OPEC oil ministers, the security in the Austrian capital had been quadrupled. Faysel was confident he could obtain observer’s permission for Rudd, but the American decided against it, unwilling to draw any attention to his presence. Instead he watched the proceedings in his suite at the Sacher hotel. Despite Faysel’s extensive briefings, he was still surprised by the degree of back-up for each spokesman. It was difficult to get an accurate assessment from the television coverage, but Rudd guessed that each front man entered the baroque conference hall to take his place behind the designating national flag with a support team of thirty advisers. And unseen behind them, he knew, were analysts and accountants and bankers and a secretariat. Faysel was part of the Saudi team, with Prince Hassain the deputy to the minister, and Rudd several times caught brief glimpses of both of them during the camera sweeps. He concentrated more upon the Nigerian contingent on the far side of the rectangular table arrangement. The division between the groups was more than physical. There was the predictable plea for price restraint from the Saudis, stressing the consumer demand cut of twenty-five per cent, opposed by the equally predictable rebuttal by Libya and Algeria and Nigeria who maintained that the oil glut had been as artificially engineered as the Western cut-backs and that one would be absorbed by the other when the energy conservation relaxed.
“The man’s name is Samuel Odingo,” identified Faysel, at the end of the first session. “He’s the deputy director of Nigeria’s development fund. A tall man, third row from the front, not wearing national costume.”
“What was the response?” said Rudd. They were eating in the Frances Karna restaurant. Twice Faysel had acknowledged other people from the conference.
“Reserved,” said Faysel. “The feeling between us is very strong.”
“Surely there was some indication?”
“Tomorrow,” said the Arab.
The following day Rudd sat again before the hotel television, able from Faysel’s description to isolate the Nigerian he had come to Vienna to meet. Rudd couldn’t understand the commentary and was impatient anyway at the inactivi
ty. Hallett monitored the business tapes and calculated that the uncertainty created by the British court deferment had cost Best Rest another $1,000,000.
“Now it seems to have steadied,” reported the personal assistant.
“Thank Christ for that,” said Rudd. He considered calling Bunch in London, but realized it would be pointless, just timefilling. The lawyer knew where he was and if there was any need could telephone him soon enough. Faysel’s summons came during the afternoon.
“Still reserved,” said the Arab. “But he’s agreed.”
“When?”
“Tonight. You’re going to him. He’s at the Palais Schwarzenberg.”
Rudd had judged that his approach would be sufficiently intriguing to get a meeting, but he still felt relief. And satisfaction, too, at the prospect of doing something after two wasted days. He was early arriving in the Schwarzenbergplatz and waited until just before the appointment time before announcing himself. He was still kept for a further fifteen minutes. When he was finally admitted to Odingo’s suite, there were two aides and someone whom Rudd guessed was a male secretary in the room with him.
The Nigerian was a tall man, immaculately dressed in a Western-style suit, and he greeted Rudd in carefully modulated English. Oxford, Rudd remembered, from Hallett’s fact sheet; the man had a triple first in economics.
“I’ve not been aware of you before, as part of the Saudi investment fund,” said the Nigerian. The handshake had been perfunctory and he had about him an aloof, patronizing manner.
“I’m a member of the controlling board, not its finance negotiating committee,” said Rudd.
“I know your credentials,” smiled Odingo, wanting to show his preparation. “And there is a personal recommendation from Prince Faysel.”
Rudd looked to the other people in the room. “Then Prince Faysel will have told you this was a request for a strictly private meeting.”
“Yes,” said the Nigerian, making no attempt to dismiss the other Africans.
“Which is why I came alone,” said Rudd. He refused to become irritated by the man’s arrogance.
Odingo hesitated, then gave a dismissive gesture and the three men filed out. “Were it not for Prince Faysel, I would not see you like this,” said the Nigerian.
Rudd nodded. “I am not here as a member of the investment fund,” he said.
“What then?”
“A private individual,” said Rudd. “But I am aware from being a member of that investment fund how money committed to your country’s expansion has had to be curtailed.”
Odingo’s face stiffened at the reminder. “Yet they sit in conference rooms lecturing on the need for fiscal maturity!” he said. “These same people who promise money with one hand and trap us into development contracts, then take it away with another. How else are we expected to meet our commitments, if it is not through increasing the price of our own oil?”
“It’s a difficult problem,” agreed Rudd. “There are other countries, of course, who might be prepared to fill the gap.”
Odingo came forward, looking intently across the space separating them, the condescension slipping away. “There is the Soviet Union,” he agreed. “But if we were to turn to the East then the assistance we already receive from America would be stopped. That’s been made very clear.”
“I was thinking of American, not Soviet aid,” said Rudd.
Odingo’s head was to one side, the expression one of curiosity. “Washington’s grant was for $60,000,000, over a two-year period,” he said. “Because of the Saudi cut-back, we’ve had to draw fully upon that. It’s exhausted.”
“Have you sought an increase?”
“Of course,” said Odingo impatiently. “And been refused there, too.”
“What if it were possible to change the American attitude?” said Rudd.
“You’re an emissary?” seized Odingo.
Rudd shook his head. “A businessman with many contacts,” he said.
Odingo smiled. “We live in a hard, cruel world, Mr Rudd,” he said. “I abandoned any belief in altruism a long time ago.”
“This approach isn’t altruistic,” admitted Rudd.
“So what is it you want?”
Rudd told him.
Odingo laughed, a snigger at first and then a burst of amusement. “What on earth do you want that for?”
“You have committed yourself to development and now need money to complete,” said Rudd. “I have committed myself to a course of action and this would help me to complete.”
“What if the countries were to take the suggestion seriously and go through with it?”
“It’s a risk,” conceded Rudd. “But an acceptable one, in the circumstances in which I find myself. If I’m successful I intend changing the operation throughout Africa anyway, with diversification into government participation.”
“Have I your assurance on that point?”
“Absolutely,” said Rudd.
“So there could be no embarrassment to Nigeria?”
“None,” said the American.
“Can you guarantee an increase in the American loan?”
“I cannot guarantee it,” admitted Rudd. “I can guarantee the most influential lobbying possible in Washington, lobbying that rarely fails.”
Odingo looked down into his lap, considering the proposition.
“This session of OPEC is going to end in a compromise,” said Rudd. “Saudi Arabia can easily afford to continue undercutting. With its reserves it can also afford to glut the market. There’s not going to be any money available from them for a year, maybe two.”
Odingo’s head came up in immediate offence. “Are you presenting me with an ultimatum?”
“To present ultimatums a man has to have strength,” said Rudd easily. “What strength do I have? I’m just emphasizing the facts that exist.”
“And they are?”
“That you’ve got absolutely nothing to lose and everything to gain.”
Odingo smiled, an unexpected, bright expression. “That’s what I was thinking,” he said. “The timing will be important?”
“Vital,” agreed Rudd. “The conference opens in Lusaka on the Monday. It must come during the opening, presidential address.”
Odingo nodded. “I could ensure that.”
“I could go to Washington tomorrow.”
“We have an understanding then?” said the Nigerian.
“We have an understanding,” confirmed Rudd.
The time difference with Europe worked in their favour, so Hallett was able to trace Senator Jeplow while it was still late afternoon in Washington. Rudd took the call and arranged the meeting for the following day in the American capital. He dined again with Faysel, briefing him fully on the meeting with Odingo, while Hallett spoke to Bunch in London to warn him of their intended return to London late on Thursday. Rudd and his personal assistant took the first available flight from Vienna, staging at Switzerland before the long haul across the Atlantic.
This time it was Rudd who made the suggestion, once they got into the senator’s office. “Why don’t we stroll in the garden?” he said.
Rudd walked head down, speaking in even, measured tones, revealing that he knew all about Jeplow’s involvement in the Saudi oil embargo and the deal which the administration had made to get the Arab agreement. The senator’s control was superb. There was no outburst or reaction; not even a change in the pace that he was maintaining, by Rudd’s side.
“The President could probably withstand the disclosures,” said Rudd. “But the mid-term state elections are very close. I would foresee a lot of changes in states with strong Jewish votes, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes,” admitted Jeplow. His voice lacked the usual artificial exuberance.
“And the international repercussions would be severe; I doubt if the embargo could be maintained.”
“Did you come to Washington to have a discussion with me about political philosophy, Mr Rudd?”
“No.” T
hey reached the edge of the rectangle and turned right.
“What is it that you want?”
In the same even voice, Rudd detailed his request. He was aware of Jeplow straightening beside him, as if in relief.
“That doesn’t seem unreasonable,” said Jeplow.
“I don’t consider it so,” agreed Rudd.
Jeplow stopped at the re-entry to the office. “We’re going to have to trust each other, aren’t we?”
“That’s always been a requirement, senator.”
“Can I trust you, Mr Rudd?”
“Absolutely,” said Rudd. “Can I trust you, senator?”
“I think so,” said Jeplow.
After the meeting with the politican Rudd drove straight back to Dulles airport, for the first available flight to London.
“How do you think they’d react in New York if they knew we’d been here?” said Hallett as the flight cleared and the pilot set course eastwards.
“Outrage,” said Rudd. “And they’re reacting like that anyway.”
It was midnight before they got back to Grosvenor Square, sag-shouldered with fatigue. Bunch was waiting for them.
“How did it go?” said the lawyer.
“As good as I could have hoped, I suppose,” said Rudd. “I shan’t really know until Monday.” He felt very tired.
“The slide steadied a bit in New York but it’s still pretty bad.”
“I know,” said Rudd. “We monitored it in Vienna. And again today in Washington.”
“Faysel’s back,” said Bunch. “He’s called from Ascot. Said he’s available if you want him. Oil prices were pegged for three months, by the way.”
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