Kane and Abel/Sons of Fortune

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Kane and Abel/Sons of Fortune Page 37

by Jeffrey Archer


  “Sixteen,” said Ted Leach instantly.

  “And with whom does their allegiance lie at this moment?” William asked.

  “Not the easiest question to answer, Mr. Kane,” Winthrop Davies chipped in. He took a crumbled envelope from his inside pocket and studied the back of it before he continued. “I think we can count on six sure votes, and Peter Parfitt can be certain of five. It came as a shock for me to discover this morning that Rupert Cork-Smith—he was Charles Lester’s closest friend—is unwilling to support you, Mr. Kane. Really strange, because I know he doesn’t care for Parfitt. I think that may make the voting six apiece.”

  “That gives us until Thursday,” added Ted Leach, “to find out how the other four board members are likely to vote.”

  “Why Thursday?” asked William.

  “Day of the next board meeting,” answered Leach, stroking his mustache, which William had noticed he did every time he started to speak. “And more important, Item One on the agenda is the election of a new chairman.”

  “I was told the next meeting would not take place until Monday,” said William in astonishment.

  “By whom?” Davies asked.

  “Peter Parfitt,” said William.

  “His tactics,” Ted Leach commented, “have not been altogether those of a gentleman.”

  “I’ve learned enough about that gentleman,” William said, placing an ironic stress on the word, “to make me realize I’ll have to take the battle to him.”

  “Easier said than done, Mr. Kane. He is very much in the driver’s seat at this moment,” said Winthrop Davies, “and I’m not sure how we go about removing him from it.”

  “Switch the traffic lights to red,” replied William. “Who has the authority to call a board meeting?”

  “While the board is without a chairman, either vice chairman,” said Ted Leach. “Which in reality means Peter Parfitt or myself.”

  “How many board members form a quorum?”

  “Nine,” said Davies.

  “And if you are one of the two vice chairmen, Mr. Leach, who is the Company Secretary?”

  “I am,” said Alfred Rodgers, who until then had hardly opened his mouth, the exact quality William always looked for in a company secretary.

  “How much notice do you have to give to call an emergency board meeting, Mr. Rodgers?”

  “Every director must be informed at least twenty-four hours beforehand, although that has never actually happened except during the crash of twenty-nine. Charles Lester always tried to give at least three days’ notice.”

  “But the bank’s rules do allow for an emergency meeting to be held on twenty-four hours’ notice?” asked William.

  “They do, Mr. Kane,” Alfred Rodgers affirmed, his monocle now firmly in place and focused on William.

  “Excellent, then let’s call our own board meeting.”

  The three bankers stared at William as if they had not quite heard him clearly.

  “Think about it, gentlemen,” William continued. “Mr. Leach, as vice chairman, calls the board meeting, and Mr. Rodgers, as company secretary, informs all the directors.”

  “When would you want this board meeting to take place?” asked Ted Leach.

  “Tomorrow afternoon.” William looked at his watch. “Three o’clock.”

  “Good God, that’s cutting it a bit fine,” said Alfred Rodgers. “I’m not sure——”

  “Cutting it very fine for Peter Parfitt, wouldn’t you say?” said William.

  “That’s true,” said Ted Leach, “if you know precisely what you have planned for the meeting?”

  “You leave the meeting to me. Just be sure that it’s correctly convened and that every director is properly informed.”

  “I wonder how Peter Parfitt is going to react,” said Ted Leach.

  “Don’t worry about Parfitt,” said William. “That’s the mistake we’ve made all along. Let him start worrying about us for a change. As long as he’s given the full twenty-four hours’ notice and he’s the last director informed, we have nothing to fear. We don’t want him to have any more time than necessary to stage a counterattack. And gentlemen, do not be surprised by anything I do or say tomorrow. Trust my judgment and be there to support me.”

  “You don’t feel we ought to know exactly what you have in mind?”

  “No, Mr. Leach. You must appear at the meeting as disinterested directors doing no more than carrying out your duty.”

  It was beginning to dawn on Ted Leach and his two colleagues why Charles Lester had chosen William Kane to be their next chairman. They left the Metropolitan Club a good deal more confident than when they had arrived, despite their being totally in the dark about what would actually happen at the board meeting they were about to instigate. William, on the other hand, having carried out the first part of Thomas Cohen’s instructions, was now looking forward to the harder second part.

  He spent most of the afternoon and evening in his room at the Yale Club, meticulously considering his tactics for the next day’s meeting and taking only a short break to call Kate.

  “Where are you, darling?” she said. “Stealing away in the middle of the night to I know not where.”

  “To my New York mistress,” said William.

  “Poor girl,” said Kate, “she probably doesn’t know the half of it. What’s her advice on the devious Mr. Parfitt?”

  “Haven’t had time to ask her, we’ve been so busy doing other things. While I have you on the phone, what’s your advice?”

  “Do nothing Charles Lester or your father wouldn’t have done in the same circumstances,” said Kate, suddenly serious.

  “They’re probably playing golf together on the eighteenth cloud and taking a side bet while watching us the whole time.”

  “Whatever you do, William, you won’t go far wrong if you do remember they are watching you.”

  When dawn broke, William was already awake, having managed to sleep only fitfully. He rose a little after six, had a cold shower, went for a long walk through Central Park to clear his head and returned to the Yale Club for a light breakfast. There was a message waiting for him in the front hail—from his wife. When he read it for a second time, William laughed at the line “If you’re not too busy could you remember to buy a baseball glove for Richard.” William picked up The Wall Street Journal, which was still running the story of trouble in Lester’s boardroom over the selection of a new chairman. It now had Peter Parfitt’s version of the story, hinting that his appointment as chairman would probably be confirmed at Thursday’s meeting. William wondered whose version would be reported in tomorrow’s paper. Oh, for a look at tomorrow’s Journal now. He spent the morning double-checking the articles of incorporation and bylaws of Lester’s Bank. He had no lunch but did find time to visit F.A.O. Schwarz and buy a baseball glove for his son.

  At two-thirty he took a cab to the bank in Wall Street and arrived a few minutes before three. The young doorman asked him if he had an appointment to see anyone.

  “I’m William Kane.”

  “Yes, sir, you’ll want the boardroom.”

  Good God, thought William, I can’t even remember where it is.

  The doorman observed his embarrassment. “You take the corridor on the left, sir, and then it’s the second door on the right.”

  “Thank you,” said William, and walked confidently as he could down the corridor. Until that moment, he had always thought the expression “a stomach full of butterflies” a stupid one. He felt that his heartbeat must be louder than the clock in the front hall; he would not have been surprised to hear himself chiming three o’clock.

  Ted Leach was standing alone at the entrance to the boardroom. “There’s going to be trouble” were his opening words.

  “Good,” said William. “That’s the way Charles Lester would have liked it and he would have faced the trouble head-on.”

  William strode into the impressive oak-paneled room and did not need to count heads to be sure that every direc
tor was present. This was not going to be one of those board meetings a director could occasionally afford to skip. The conversation stopped the moment William entered the room, and there was an awkward silence as they all stood around and stared at him. William quickly took the chairman’s seat at the head of the long mahogany table before Peter Parfitt could realize what was happening.

  “Gentlemen, please be seated,” said William, hoping his voice sounded firm.

  Ted Leach and some of the other directors took their seats immediately; others were more reluctant. Murmuring started.

  William could see that two directors whom he didn’t know were about to rise and interrupt him.

  “Before anyone else says anything I would, if you will allow me, like to make an opening statement, and then you can decide how you wish to proceed from there. I feel that is the least we can do to comply with the wishes of the late Charles Lester.”

  The two men sat down.

  “Thank you, gentlemen. To start with I would like to make it clear to all those present that I have absolutely no desire to be the chairman of this bank”—William paused for effect—“unless it is the wish of the majority of its directors.”

  Every eye in the room was now fixed on William.

  “I am, gentlemen, at present vice chairman of Kane and Cabot and I own fifty-one percent of their stock. Kane and Cabot was founded by my grandfather, and I think it compares favorably in reputation, though not in size, with Lester’s. Were I required to leave Boston and move to New York to become the next chairman of Lester’s, in compliance with Charles Lester’s wishes, I cannot pretend the move would be an easy one for myself or for my family. However, as it was Charles Lester’s wish that I should do just that—and he was not a man to make such a proposition lightly—I am, gentlemen, bound to take his wishes seriously myself. I would also like to add that his son, Matthew Lester, was my closest friend for over fifteen years, and I consider it a tragedy that it is I, and not he, who is addressing you today as your nominated chairman.”

  Some of the directors were nodding their approval.

  “Gentlemen, if I am fortunate enough to secure your support today, I will sacrifice everything I have in Boston in order to serve you. I hope it is unnecessary for me to give you a detailed account of my banking experience. I shall assume that any director present who has read Charles Lester’s will must have taken the trouble to find out why he thought I was the right man to succeed him. My own chairman, Anthony Simmons, whom many of you know, has asked me to stay on at Kane and Cabot.

  “I had intended to inform Mr. Parfitt yesterday of my final decision—had he taken the trouble to call me and seek out that information. I had the pleasure of dining with Mr. and Mrs. Parfitt last week at their home, and on that occasion Mr. Parfitt informed me that he had no interest in becoming the next chairman of this bank. My only rival, in his opinion, was Mr. Edward Leach, your other vice chairman. I have since consulted with Mr. Leach himself and he informs me that I have always had his support for the chair. I assumed, therefore, that both vice chairmen were backing me. After reading The Wall Street Journal this morning, not that I have ever trusted their forecasting since I was eight”—a little laughter—“I felt I should attend today’s meeting to assure myself that I had not lost the support of the two vice chairmen, and that the Journal’s account was inaccurate. Mr. Leach called this board meeting and I must ask him at this juncture if he still supports me to succeed Charles Lester as the bank’s next chairman.”

  William looked toward Ted Leach, whose head was bowed. The wait for his verdict was palpable. A thumbsdown from him would mean the Parfittlians could eat the Christian.

  Ted Leach raised his head slowly and said, “I support Mr. Kane unreservedly.”

  William looked directly at Peter Parfitt for the first time that day. The man was sweating profusely and when he spoke he did not take his eyes off the yellow pad in front of him.

  “Well, some members of the board,” he began, “felt I should throw my hat into the ring——”

  “So you have changed your mind about supporting me and complying with Charles Lester’s wishes?” interrupted William, allowing a small note of surprise to enter his voice.

  Peter Parfitt raised his head a little. “The problem is not quite that easy, Mr. Kane.”

  “Yes or no, Mr. Parfitt?”

  “Yes, I shall stand against you,” said Peter Parfitt suddenly, forcefully.

  “Despite telling me last week you had no interest in being chairman yourself?”

  “I would like to be able to state my own position,” said Parfitt, “before you assume too much. This is not your boardroom yet, Mr. Kane.”

  “Certainly, Mr. Parfitt.”

  So far the meeting had gone exactly as William had planned. His own speech had been carefully prepared and delivered, and Peter Parfitt now labored under the disadvantage of having lost the initiative, to say nothing of having been publicly called a liar.

  “Gentlemen,” he began, as if searching for words. “Well,” he said.

  The eyes had turned their gaze from William and were now fixed on Parfitt. This gave William the chance to relax a little and study the faces of the other directors.

  “Several members of the board approached me privately after I had dinner with Mr. Kane, and I felt that it was no more than my duty to consider their wishes and offer myself for election. I have never at any time wanted to oppose the wishes of Mr. Charles Lester, whom I always admired and respected. Naturally, I would have informed Mr. Kane of my intention before tomorrow’s scheduled board meeting, but I confess to have been taken somewhat by surprise by today’s events.”

  He drew a deep breath and started again. “I have served Lester’s for twenty-two years, six of them as your vice chairman. I feel, therefore, that I have the right to be considered for the chair. I would be delighted if Mr. Kane were to join the board, but I now find myself unable to back his appointment as chairman. I hope my fellow directors will find it possible to support someone who has worked for this bank for over twenty years rather than elect an unknown outsider on the whim of a man distraught over the death of his only son. Thank you, gentlemen.”

  He sat down.

  In the circumstances, William was rather impressed by the speech, but Parfitt did not have the benefit of Mr. Cohen’s advice on the power of the last word in a close contest. William rose again.

  “Gentlemen, Mr. Parfitt has pointed out that I am personally unknown to you. I, therefore, want none of you to be in any doubt as to the type of man I am. I am, as I said, the grandson and the son of bankers. I’ve been a banker all my life and it would be less than honest of me to pretend I would not be delighted to serve as the next chairman of Lester’s. If, on the other hand, after all you have heard today, you decide to back Mr. Parfitt as chairman, so be it. I shall return to Boston and serve my own bank quite happily. I will, moreover, announce publicly that I have no wish to be the chairman of Lester’s, and that will ensure you against any claims that you have been derelict in fulfilling the provisions of Charles Lester’s will.

  “There are, however, no conditions on which I would be willing to serve on your board under Mr. Parfitt. I have no intention of being less than frank with you on that point. I come before you, gentlemen, at the grave disadvantage of being, in Mr. Parfitt’s words, ‘an unknown outsider.’ I have, however, the advantage of being supported by a man who cannot be present today. A man whom all of you respected and admired, a man not known for yielding to whims or making hasty decisions. I therefore suggest this board waste no more of its valuable time in deciding whom they wish to serve as the next chairman of Lester’s. If any of you have any doubts in your mind about my ability to run this bank, then I can only suggest you vote for Mr. Parfitt. I shall not vote in this election myself, gentlemen, and I assume Mr. Parfitt will not do so either.”

  “You cannot vote,” said Peter Parfitt angrily. “You are not a member of this board yet. I am, and I shall vote.”r />
  “So be it, Mr. Parfitt. No one will ever be able to say you did not have the opportunity to gain every possible vote.”

  William waited for the effect of his words to sink in and, as a director who was a stranger to William was about to interrupt, he continued: “I will ask Mr. Rodgers as company secretary to carry out the electoral procedure, and when you have completed your vote, gentlemen, perhaps you could pass the ballot papers back to him.”

  Alfred Rodgers’ monocle had been popping out periodically during the entire meeting. Nervously, he passed voting slips around to each director. When each had written down the name of the candidate whom he supported, the slips were returned to him.

  “Perhaps it might be prudent, given the circumstances, Mr. Rodgers, if the votes were counted aloud, thus making sure no inadvertent error is made that might lead the directors to require a second ballot.”

  “Certainly, Mr. Kane.”

  “Does that meet with your approval, Mr. Parfitt?”

  Peter Parfitt nodded his agreement without looking up.

  “Thank you. Perhaps you would be kind enough to read the votes out to the board, Mr. Rodgers.”

  The company secretary opened the first voting slip.

  “‘Parfitt.’”

  And then the second.

  “‘Parfitt,’” he repeated.

  The game was now out of William’s hands. All the years of waiting for the prize he had told Charles Lester such a long time ago would be his would be over in the next few seconds.

  “‘Kane. Parfitt. Kane.’”

  Three votes to two against him; was he going to meet the same fate as he had in his contest with Tony Simmons?

  “‘Kane. Kane. Parfitt.’”

  Four votes all. He could see that Parfitt was still sweating profusely and he didn’t exactly feel relaxed himself.

  “‘Parfitt.’”

  No expression crossed William’s face. Parfitt allowed himself a smile.

  Five votes to four.

  “‘Kane. Kane. Kane.’”

  The smile disappeared.

  Just two more, two more, pleaded William, nearly out loud.

 

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