Takeover

by Brian Freemantle

  “That’ll put the pressure on Nigeria,” said Rudd.

  “I’ve got virtual confirmation of the revaluation from Penhardy,” said Bunch. “It’s limited to the London properties and Haffaford’s people are putting it at $120,000,000.”

  “Not quiet as bad as we predicted,” said Hallett.

  “Bad enough,” said Rudd. “What else?”

  “Penhardy is still uncertain which way to jump,” said Bunch. “We talked today. According to him, Sir Ian and his wife, Vanessa and the mother are gathering at Cambridge this weekend. Some sort of conference in advance of the court decision.”

  Rudd stretched wearily. “I’m going to try to do a deal,” he announced.

  “Who with?” said Bunch.

  “The Buckland family,” said Rudd.

  “I knew he was a swine. I always knew he was a swine.” Vanessa had drunk too much wine with dinner and her words were blurring.

  “Everything wrecked,” said Lady Buckland. “In less than a year, everything destroyed.”

  “That’s an exaggeration, mother,” said Buckland. “We haven’t lost yet.”

  “It’ll never be the same again,” said the old lady. “It can’t be.”

  “The company will continue to exist, whatever the outcome of the hearing.”

  “And what part will be left for us to play in it?” demanded Lady Buckland.

  “Do you know what I think!” said Vanessa. She was swirling the brandy around her glass, watching the liquor hold and form legs down the sides.

  “What?” said Margaret.

  “I think Rudd is homosexual, too. Doesn’t he strike you as being homosexual?”

  “No,” said Margaret. “I didn’t get that impression.”

  “Homosexual,” she insisted drunkenly. “Definitely homosexual.”

  36

  Rudd was waiting for the landmark, and saw the lake as the vehicle topped the hill. Then the car started to descend the other side and just as abruptly he lost it. Not long now; maybe ten minutes. Was he contravening any legal rule, coming here before the case ended? He frowned at the uncertainty. Perhaps he should have checked with Dray. But Dray would have seen it as trickery; maybe even forbidden it. Too late now, either way. He was confronting so many risks that one more didn’t matter very much.

  The car turned off the main road to the minor lane and immediately picked up the meandering, looping perimeter wall, yellow-bricked and mottled with moss. Beyond he could just discern the top of the trees and wondered if it were the wood against which he’d seen the deer, when he’d ridden with Margaret. There wouldn’t be any unsteady horse-rides and snatched, embarrassed kisses today. How would she react at seeing him? She didn’t hate him, Rudd decided. There’d had to be the stern-faced court aloofness but he knew she didn’t hate him. He’d make contact, when everything was over: talk things through, quietly and sensibly. It had been natural for her to erupt as she had, when he’d told her in the apartment. Definitely didn’t hate him, he thought again.

  The gates were open but Rudd saw movement at the lodge window as they went through. He would have passed too quickly for any recognition, he decided. The park spread out before him on either side of the parade of trees, a soft, tranquil place where nothing harsh or brutal could ever happen. The house rose up in front of him, massively squat and sure of itself.

  The notification from the gatehouse would have gone to the servants, not to the family, but there was always the possibility that one of them might look from the window out of curiosity at the approaching car. Rudd stayed deep in the back until it pulled up in front of the door and then emerged hurriedly, not waiting for the driver. The bell echoed, deep inside. Holmes answered, and for a moment there was no recognition, then the uncertainty registered in the man’s face.

  “Sir Ian’s expecting me,” lied Rudd.

  “He said nothing…” stumbled the man.

  “There’s an appointment,” insisted Rudd, moving forward.

  Accustomed always to taking instructions, the butler moved back and Rudd gained the entry that he wanted.

  “Where is he?” demanded Rudd.

  “If you’ll wait, sir, I’ll tell him you’re here,” said Holmes, recovering.

  Rudd stayed where he was in the huge open hallway, not moving until he saw the door towards which the man was heading. He reached it in time to hear Buckland say “He’s what!” from the other side and then he was in the room. They were all there. Lady Buckland was on the settee beside Margaret and Vanessa was at the window, staring out at the car as if she expected Rudd to be in it. Buckland was standing between the women. He looked beyond the butler as Rudd entered the room, eyes bulging with outrage.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing here!”

  At Buckland’s shout they all turned. Holmes started to move back to the door with his arm out in an ushering movement and then hesitated, looking back to Buckland.

  “I want to talk,” said Rudd.

  “Get out!” said Buckland, voice low in his fury. “If you don’t get out then I’m going to call the police and have you arrested.”

  “And risk even more publicity?” chanced Rudd.

  “Sir?” asked Holmes.

  “You bastard,” said Vanessa, from the window. “You arrogant, conceited bastard.”

  “Listen to me,” said Rudd, “Just listen.”

  “There’s nothing we ever want to hear from you,” said Lady Buckland.

  Rudd looked to the woman. At their previous meeting there had been a haughty uprightness about her. Now she seemed bowed, smaller even, and very old.

  “Then you’ll lose Buckland House,” said Rudd.

  The remark got through, as he hoped it would Buckland shook his head dismissively to the butler and said, “What do you mean?”

  Rudd didn’t reply at once. Instead he looked from Lady Buckland to Margaret. She was gazing at him as expressionlessly as she had done every day in the courtroom, as if she couldn’t see him.

  “I said, what do you mean?” repeated Buckland.

  Rudd broke away, going back to the man. “At the moment you have lost, either way,” he said. “If the court ruling is that you dispose of your share apportionment, then with it goes your control. And if it isn’t the ruling, then Haffaford’s will make another resignation demand at the shareholders’ meeting next week. And after the evidence in court, there wouldn’t be the support there was last time. Not from the floor, nor from me, nor from Prince Faysel, nor from the other directors. “You’ll be voted from office and Haffaford’s people will go ahead with the takeover. You’ll have lost everything.”

  “Because of you,” said Vanessa venomously. “Because of what you did!”

  “What I did, ultimately, will save the company,” said Rudd. “Surely to God you heard enough at the shareholders’ meeting and in court to realize that!”

  “All I’ve heard is filth, dredged up and thrown by you, to disgrace this family,” said the woman.

  “I didn’t disgrace this family,” insisted Rudd quietly.

  It was the old lady who intruded. “You made us think we could save the situation,” she said. “All you’ve spoken about is losing.”

  “I wanted you to understand the alternative,” said Rudd.

  “Alternative to what?” The question came from Margaret. Her voice was neutral, the words clipped and precise.

  “Our becoming friends again,” said Rudd simply.

  The Buckland family gazed up at him in varying degrees of astonishment: even Margaret’s mask slipped. She frowned and it made her face look haggard.

  “Friends! With you!” sneered Vanessa.

  “Yes,” said Rudd. “It’s the way you can survive. The only way.”

  “Make yourself clear, man, for God’s sake,” said Buckland.

  “Anticipate the court decision,” said Rudd urgently. “And move ahead of it. You heard the legal arguments. I’ve read transcripts of them. The likelihood of the judge finding in your favou
r has got to be less than fifty per cent. So dispose of your controlling Initial shareholding.”

  “To you?” anticipated Buckland.

  Rudd nodded. “To me and to Best Rest.”

  “Jesus!” said Vanessa. “After what you did!”

  Rudd fought hard for control against her attitude. “Why don’t you listen for a moment?” he said. “Why don’t you stop posturing and think constructively about what I’m saying and realize what it would mean to you all?”

  Vanessa flushed, her face trembling with anger, but she didn’t speak.

  “Where’s our advantage in doing that?” said Buckland.

  “We could announce it, at the shareholders’ meeting. You could declare your support for the Best Rest takeover and urge the shareholders to accept it.…”

  Buckland was shaking his head uncertainly.

  “.… and I would also announce my complete faith in you, to continue as chairman,” said Rudd. “There would need to be board changes, but you could remain exactly as you are. And the name would remain, Buckland House. I’ll introduce the efficiency that’s been lacking and you’ll run a successful business.”

  “You’d expect me to do all this, on your promise?”

  “No,” said Rudd. “On a firm contractual guarantee.”

  “Any conditions?”

  “Only that you stop gambling. Any gambling debts laid off against the company would nullify the contract and I’d fire you.”

  Buckland blinked at the bluntness.

  “It would not be our company any longer,” said Lady Buckland.

  “The family would remain major shareholders,” said Rudd. “It would make no practical difference.”

  “Except that you’d be in control,” said Vanessa, still bitter.

  “If I’m not, somebody else will be,” said Rudd. “And they won’t make the offer to you that I am.”

  “It would not work,” said Buckland. “Not unless you greatly increase your offer. Haffaford’s have swamped you with their revaluation.”

  “That might not be insuperable,” said Rudd.

  “You’d top Haffaford’s?”

  It wasn’t the time to let them know of any difficulties. “Yes,” he said.

  “You talked of us winning,” said Margaret. “It seems to me that you do, either way.”

  It was a remark he would have expected from Vanessa, not from her. “So do you,” he said. “You lose restrictive control, that’s all.”

  “In many ways, Mr Rudd, you remind me of my husband,” said Lady Buckland.

  Her son looked sharply at her and then back to the American. “You expect us to decide at once?”

  “There isn’t a lot to decide,” said Rudd. “And there are only two working days for the lawyers before the shareholders’ meeting.”

  “We’d like to talk alone.”

  “I know the way to the library,” said Rudd.

  He crossed the hall and entered the book-lined room in which he’d finalized the details of the ship purchases with Buckland. It seemed a long time ago. He walked slowly along the shelves, stopping occasionally to identify a title, wondering if they had all been read or were there as room decoration, like pictures or prints. Apart from Vanessa, it hadn’t been as hostile an encounter as he had expected. Margaret’s look of haggardness had surprised him; she must have suffered inwardly more than them all, because of the evidence that had come out in court. There was some sort of crazy irony in hurting the person he most wanted to protect.

  It was an hour before Holmes came for him, and as soon as Rudd re-entered the drawing room he was caught by the impression of a division between the family, a separation of Margaret from the others. He looked curiously between them, noticing that Margaret was flushed. So too, was Buckland. The man said, “You were right. In the end there isn’t a lot to decide. We are prepared to release fifteen per cent of our Initial holdings.”

  “And publicly support the Best Rest takeover at the meeting?” pressed Rudd.

  “Yes.”

  “Then we’ve a deal,” said Rudd. He thrust out his hand. Buckland looked at it for several moments, then responded. The reluctance was obvious.

  “We’re placing a great deal of trust in you, Mr Rudd,” said Lady Buckland. “From what’s happened in the past, there seems little reason to justify it.”

  Rudd avoided looking at Margaret. “You won’t regret it,” he said.

  “I’d have liked a choice,” said Vanessa.

  The first speech was private, before a planning division of the American Foreign Relations committee, but because it was a condition of the agreement with Rudd, Senator Jeplow ensured it was leaked for the widest possible newspaper coverage. Africa, he said, was one of the most important areas of the world, a continent in which the major proportion of the hemisphere’s strategic metals were located and as such the target of Soviet expansion and manipulation. That expansionism and attempted manipulation should be confronted. America should cease to regard Africa as unimportant: rather, it should do its utmost to inculcate western – by which he meant American – ideals of freedom. The most effective way that could be achieved was to increase their aid commitment considerably. Nigeria was a case in point; unless they acted positively, a pivotal country, rich in oil, but in need of development help, was going to look elsewhere. It was a successful plea, resulting in a $50,000,000 aid increase to Lagos.

  The second speech was public and because of its content received widespread publicity. In the opening address of the annual conference of the Organisation of African Unity in Lusaka, the Nigerian president launched a diatribe against capitalist organizations and companies of the West which were still able, despite their hard-won independence, to exercise influence and control within member countries. Warnings had been given and ignored. So they had been given again. Member countries should oppose the rape of their resources. Hotels were a case in point. Yearly thousands of tourists visited Africa, spent their money and departed. And their money departed, too, into the profits of the western owners. There were four major hotel chains throughout the continent, all American-owned. And one British. At a penstroke of government decree they could be nationalized and the income channelled where it rightfully belonged, into the exchequers of the country for whose beauty and appeal the tourists came in the first place. Hotel nationalization became a popular subject at the conference. By the end of the first day – the Monday before the court’s decision over Buckland House – delegations from four African countries had spoken in support.

  The newspaper coverage of the result of the case was more intense than at any time during the hearing, so Rudd decided against attempting to put himself close to the Buckland family; it could have resulted in speculation and he wanted the surprise at the shareholders’ meeting to be absolute. Mr Justice Godber’s judgment was a written one and long, exploring both arguments and including an erudite review of company law, because he was a nervous man unhappy at having his decisions contested before the Court of Appeal. The conclusion, he insisted, was irrefutable upon the evidence. There had been proven serious doubts about the running of the company. And unquestionably the scheme of arrangement governing the control of Buckland House was archaic, ill-formed and detrimental to the best interests of shareholders. He ordered the family into disposal sufficient to achieve a democratic distribution.

  During the crush to leave the court, Rudd managed to intrude himself next to Margaret. Confident the hubbub would cover the words, he whispered, “I want to see you.”

  She continued on out of the court as if she hadn’t heard him.

  37

  The Stock Exchange Council’s suspension of the Buckland House shares lifted with the end of the hearing. By the time of the shareholders’ meeting, after two days of nationalization threats from Africa, the Buckland holdings were marked down to 70p a share. The selling was in Ordinary, the least powerful, and Rudd decided against any intervention.

  The meeting was at the Berridge as before, and as
before the Buckland family used the staff corridors to reach the ballroom, entering after everyone else was seated. From his place at the end of the directors’ table, Rudd gazed down at Margaret. As she sat down she looked towards him: she appeared about to smile, her face relaxing, and then she changed her mind. He nodded but she looked away. There was a murmur of curiosity from the floor as Buckland walked steadily in front of the stage and then up the steps at the side. Snaith and Smallwood were at the far end. Then came Condway. Beyond the vice-chairman was a space for Buckland. On Buckland’s left sat Gore-Pelham, then Penhardy, with Prince Faysel next to Rudd.

  When Buckland reached his place he remained standing, hammering for quiet. It was several moments before it was achieved. Buckland tapped the microphone to ensure the sound was on and said, “The last few weeks of this company have not been happy ones.”

  There were isolated sounds from throughout the hall, laughs of sarcasm, and Rudd realized Buckland had lost the unanimity of support among the small holders that he’d enjoyed at the previous meeting. Buckland seemed aware of it, too, pausing.

  He coughed and went on. “Because of what has happened, there can be no one in this hall who is unaware of the most intimate details of myself, my family and this company. It would be easy to form the impression – perhaps inevitable – that I was unconcerned at the possible harm I did to this company. That would be a wrong conclusion. Difficult though it may now be to accept, at no time did I intend to jeopardize the wellbeing of Buckland House. That it has been jeopardized is obvious from today’s share quotations. For that I apologize.…” He stopped again. At the far end of the table Snaith and Smallwood both had settled, satisfied expressions. Not long now, thought Rudd.

  “I fully recognize the mistakes I have made,” said Buckland. “I recognize too, that the running of Buckland House has been in recent years as archaic as a judge has declared the share structure. I am still chairman of this company and face my responsibilities in attempting to rectify what has become in a surprisingly short time a dangerous situation. Buckland House needs modernizing. It needs greater efficiency and greater management expertise.…”