by Lewis Orde
‘Look, Simon . . . I’m sorry about yesterday but I’ve got to talk to you.’
‘About Adler’s? I’m still not interested in your scheme. I won’t help you seek revenge against a man who you’ve felt for years has slighted you.’
‘That’s not why I’m doing it, can’t you understand that? I want us to have Adler’s because I feel it can give us something important.’ He didn’t want to use the word legitimacy again – Simon had bluntly told him how legitimate he already was. That bothered Roland, as if Simon were looking down his nose at him. Head of a bank and a newspaper . . . what did he think his partnership with Roland was? A hobby? ‘Were you serious about what you said yesterday?’
‘About dissolving our partnership? Yes, I am. Roland, I can’t give the time or commitment to the business that you seem able to. I have other responsibilities. I have a family, which at the moment is my main concern. They need me more than you do.’
His remarks hit Roland like a punch in the stomach. Everyone seemed to be reminding him that a family came first. But wasn’t he doing this for his family? To give them comfort – to ensure that they would never want? And wasn’t that one of the reasons Janet had given for wanting him to father her children in the first place?
‘Simon, I’ve worked out some figures. Would you be willing to take both factories and a cash settlement while I keep hold of the shops and Eldridge’s?’ Roland hoped he didn’t sound too callous. He felt sorry for Simon, all this trouble with Sharon, but surely the banker knew he had made a rod for his own back? If Simon had stood up to Graham Sharp – even before Sharon married him; especially before she married him – it would never have come to this. Now Simon had to live with the consequences. Suddenly Roland wondered if Simon really blamed him – first for refusing to intervene, then suggesting the course of action that led to Graham’s leaving.
‘I’ll sell the factories anyway,’ was Simon’s reply. ‘I have no more interest in them.’
‘That’s your privilege. Does the offer sound all right?’
‘Come into my office on Tuesday, Roland. We’ll arrange a settlement then.’ He hung up, leaving Roland holding a dead receiver. Roland replaced it gently, scarcely able to believe that his partnership with Simon – after twelve years – could end like this, so quietly, a man torn by personal trouble just turning over and dying.
He walked into the kitchen where he found Sally preparing dinner. ‘Simon and I just called it a day,’ he said quietly, still finding it difficult to accept it. ‘He’s taking the factories and cash. I’ll take everything else.’
Sally wiped her hands on the apron tied around her waist. ‘It’s because of Sharon. Maybe you could learn a lesson.’
Roland regarded her blankly. ‘Do you mean about putting my family first?’
‘Precisely.’
‘But this is such an opportunity.’ He was about to say that he could steal Adler’s from underneath Heinrich Kassler’s nose, but then he remembered that Sally didn’t know who Kassler was. Neither did Michael, for that matter.
‘You’ll get a lot more opportunities. Go outside and make it up with Janet and Katherine.’
‘You’re right.’ He kissed Sally on the forehead and went outside, where Christopher Mellish was trying to entertain Katherine with card tricks, while Michael played with the two younger children. Janet stood off to one side, watching.
‘Have you finished your business?’ she asked.
‘Simon and I are splitting up.’
‘Is that the way you wanted it?’
Roland was glad Janet had thawed. The break with Simon was so sharp that he needed to talk to someone – someone close, whom he could trust, and Janet filled that space in his life. ‘Not really. I’d rather Simon stayed with me but he feels he can’t give the same commitment I can. I can’t afford to buy him out so he’ll take the factories and we’ll figure out a cash settlement as well. From now on I’ll be solely retail.’
‘And now do we have all of you for the rest of today and tomorrow? Your mind as well as your body?’
‘I promise. I think I’ve worked everything out. It’s just a matter of seeing Simon on Tuesday and making it official.’
‘Are you still friends with him?’
‘I hope to God I am,’ was all Roland could say as they walked over to Katherine and Mellish. ‘Is that how you always manage to win at cards? By trickery?’ He saw Katherine’s face turn toward him as he took the cards from Mellish.
‘Here, Kathy. Pick a card . . . any card you like.’ He held them out in a fan and was gratified when she accepted the challenge.
*
On Tuesday morning, Roland met with Simon in his office at Aronson Freres. Simon dictated a simple agreement based on Roland’s offer to terminate their partnership. Simon would retain the name of R.E. Electrics – and the Mar-Cross name – for the factories, which he intended to put on the market immediately; and Roland would call his new company, including the shops and the restaurant, the Eagles Group.
‘I wish you every success in your venture, Roland, although I still think you’re making a mistake.’
‘Do you still see it as an act of vengeance?’
Simon nodded. ‘How else can I view it? This thing with Albert Adler – the way he tried to cheat you that time – has worked on you like a cancer, worming its way into your system. Now you have the opportunity to strike back by taking his company and pushing him out into the cold. And you’re using his son to do it.’
The accusation hurt. ‘You’re wrong, Simon. So wrong. I wish I could show you how mistaken you are.’ Roland took the agreement and signed his name, gave it to Simon’s secretary to witness. ‘Is Sharon still with you and Nadine?’
‘Yes.’ Simon looked at Roland’s signature on the agreement. ‘Perhaps your method was right after all. We had a long talk yesterday. Sharon apologized for the way she left on Friday night. We hope that by being away from him – away from his influence – she’ll begin to see it in a different light. It’ll take time, of course. Nadine and I think the best thing to do is send her to Paris to be with Miriam and Claude. We think a change of environment would help.’
‘I agree. But what about all the money you gave Graham for the salons?’
‘He’s welcome to it. Eventually we’ll have Sharon file for divorce on the grounds of mental cruelty, and if we say nothing about the money I’ve given him he may not fight any action.’
Another capitulation, Roland thought. An improvement, but a capitulation all the same. If any man treated Katherine the way Graham had treated Sharon, Roland would sue until he had bled him dry.
‘Roland, during these past few days . . . any harsh words . . . I am truly sorry.’
‘It’s all right, Simon. You were under stress, I can appreciate that. Do you’ – Roland paused, glancing at the signed agreement – ‘want to reconsider your decision?’
‘No. We had twelve good, profitable years together. Everything has to end eventually.’ Simon held out his hand. ‘Good luck.’
‘Thank you.’
Six days later, Roland was ready. He had switched his partnership with Simon for an alliance with Michael Adler which, he hoped, would bring him control of Adler’s. Everything depended on the reaction of Albert Adler’s fellow directors when they recognized the raid that had been mounted against the company. Would they stand by Albert, even if they lost in the long run? Or would they sell to the new bidder?
Roland instructed a large stockbroking house to act for him. On Monday morning they stepped into the market, offering considerably above the previous Friday’s closing price for Adler’s shares, contacting the big institutional shareholders, mounting an all-out blitz. By the close of business that day, the share price had started to creep up at the sudden interest.
The following day, the buying and subsequent rise in the share price continued. The sudden upward movement in a normally sluggish stock attracted attention in the financial pages of newspapers. And Albert Adler
, whose initial reaction had been one of confusion, experienced his first taste of anxiety.
By Friday, Albert’s worry had turned to panic because it was obvious to him that some company – or some individual – was making a concerted assault on the publicly owned Alder’s stock . . .
Just when Albert had relaxed in the knowledge that the deal was set to sell the two branch stores, a raid was being made on Adler’s shares. Whoever was behind it, though, wouldn’t get control. The most the raiders could finish up with would be forty percent. He, Michael and the other five directors would still retain sixty percent – enough control to fight off any takeover. But one shareholder with the remaining forty percent could still cause difficulties, he thought – could even serve an injunction against selling the two stores. And while that legal problem was being sorted out, the two branch stores would continue to be a drain and the entire company could go under.
Albert called an urgent board meeting. Five of the directors came immediately to the office overlooking Regent Street which Monty Adler had once occupied. Although these men weren’t family they were all eminently reliable, Albert decided as he watched them file into the office and sit down; between them they had more than one hundred and fifty years of service to the company, and they would do whatever Albert said. The family name still counted for a lot.
Only Michael, who now occupied Albert’s old office, hadn’t yet arrived. Albert impatiently went to the door between the offices and looked in. Michael was on the telephone.
‘There’s a meeting. You’re supposed to be there.’
Michael clamped a hand over the mouthpiece. ‘In a moment.’
Albert had to be satisfied with that. He returned to his desk, leaving Michael to finish his conversation. A minute later Michael joined the other directors. The telephone call had been from Roland, and now Michael waited with a mixture of confidence and trepidation.
Albert stood up, nervously pacing in front of the window, glancing every so often at the Friday night traffic. ‘Someone is making a raid on us. But all they can do is increase the value of our company. Our shares have risen from last Friday’s close of fourteen shillings to just over nineteen shillings. Fortunately, we in this room still control sixty percent. However—’ He was about to bring up the legal problems that might arise if the raider tried to block the sale of the two branch stores when Michael interrupted.
‘The raid is just about over. Most of the shares on the market have been bought up.’
Albert’s face creased in puzzlement. ‘How do you know?’ He didn’t give Michael the opportunity to reply before he continued. ‘And if you know so much perhaps you’ll be kind enough to tell us who the hell has been buying up all the shares.’
‘Roland Eagles.’
Albert turned white with rage and shock. ‘Eagles? That jumped-up bastard! What does he think he’s doing?’
‘Stopping the sale of those two stores, for a start.’
‘Is he? Then someone had better tell him that before he can do that he needs more than the forty percent he can get his hands on out there. He needs another ten percent plus one share.’
‘He understands that. And you’re wrong about those of us here controlling sixty percent. You control fifty. My ten percent is with Eagles.’ Michael looked from one bewildered face to the next, starting with his father and ending with the gray-haired financial director who had started with Adler’s forty years earlier as a bookkeeper. Not even the sound of breathing, the squeak of a chair, broke the sudden quiet.
‘You . . .?’ Albert finally managed to blurt out. ‘Your ten percent . . .?’
‘My ten percent.’
‘Who the hell do you think you are, siding against this company, against your own father? Allying yourself with this bloody upstart?’
The cold ruthlessness in Michael’s voice as he answered was surprising even to himself. ‘I would rather side with an upstart, as you call him, to a man who’s prepared to sell two-thirds of the company my grandfather built up so that he can ruin the remainder of it.’
‘Is that so? Well let me remind you of something. Maybe you are siding with Eagles, but we still control fifty percent of this company and there isn’t a damned thing you or Eagles can do about it. We’re still selling those two branch stores. In fact, you and Eagles might have done us a favor with this raid.’ Albert smiled thinly. ‘We might get more from Kassler Industries for the two branch stores.’
‘You’ll have to fight a court case first. We’re taking out an injunction against you to stop any sale.’
‘Take out an injunction,’ Albert dared his son. ‘This company will still go the way I want it to go.’
‘We’ll see.’ Michael turned to the other directors. ‘Gentlemen, I would advise you to weigh your options very carefully. You can ally yourselves with my father and watch your interests in Adler’s become quite worthless as the company continues to deteriorate. Or you can sell your shares at the present advantageous prices to Mr Eagles and myself.’
Albert’s face twisted into an ugly mask. Now even his own son was turning against him, just like his father had. He watched his fellow directors carefully. Which one, if any, would break? That was all that was needed to tip the balance drastically. Just one to throw his five percent into this outrageous alliance which Michael had formed with Roland Eagles, then they would have control. It wouldn’t be enough to start changing the board around, but enough to thwart his plans to sell off the two branch stores. Then where would he get the money to continue running the Regent Street store? Not from Eagles, that was certain! Albert was positive that Roland’s first priority would be to get rid of him. That was the reason he wanted to buy the company. The little bastard had money now and he wanted to flaunt it, use it for revenge against Albert. Even after all these years he still wanted his pound of flesh.
None of the directors responded to Michael’s offer. Slowly, Albert began to relax; they were on his side. The ingrained loyalty to the family name had paid off when it really counted. While Michael and Roland started whatever delaying tactics they had in mind, Albert would contact the German to explain the situation. At the same time – the idea flashed into his mind like a beacon – he would hire someone to take a hard look at Roland’s background. Maybe there was something in his past – not the ridiculous affair with the Argentinian heiress, but something unholy, a lapse which Albert could really capitalize on – to make him loosen his grip.
Something that might make Roland Eagles susceptible to a little friendly persuasion . . .
Chapter Three
Albert could do little over the weekend but think about his son. A traitor, allying himself with someone who was determined to destroy his father. It was small consolation to Albert that even a businessman as successful as Roland would be able to save Adler’s and the money he had invested in the shares would be lost; only the sale of the Edinburgh and Manchester stores would enable the London flagship to survive. No, Albert didn’t care whether Roland lost money on the deal or how much he lost. All he understood was that Roland had suborned his son. Eleven years earlier he’d turned old Monty against him, now he’d done it again by turning Michael against him as well.
All through the weekend Albert moped around the house, barely speaking to his wife, Helen. She was of little comfort anyway, he decided. Didn’t understand a damned thing about the business. Never had. All she knew was that the share prices had risen dramatically, and surely that must be good.
‘They’ve risen because Eagles is trying to buy us out,’ he said, trying to explain to Helen.
‘Then why don’t you sell, Albert? Retire. You’re sixty-three. Are you going to keep working until you drop dead, just like Mr Monty did?’
‘Retire? And let Eagles win? Let my own son stab me in the back?’ No, Albert would never do that. He’d see Eagles burn in hell first. And Michael with him. Yes, damn it, even his own son. All his life Albert’s own family had turned against him. His father . . . his brother . . .
and now his son. But this one time, Albert would win. He would make sure of that.
The first thing Monday morning Albert hired a private investigator named Derek Hawkins, a retired police detective who had worked for the law firm Adler’s used.
Hawkins, middle-aged with a puffy red face and thin gray moustache, sat across the desk from Albert, pen in one hand, notebook in the other as he listened to the Adler’s chairman explain exactly what he wanted.
‘I don’t care how you do it, Mr Hawkins, but I want you to dig up filth about Roland Eagles. Some evidence of wrongdoing, either in business or his personal life – and there should be plenty of that the way he’s carried on – that I can use to fight this takeover.’
‘Where’s he from originally? London?’
‘No.’ Albert recalled that first meeting between himself, Roland and Monty, when Roland had demonstrated the electric kettles and irons. ‘Margate. But he’s been away from there for some time.’
‘Have you got anything particular in mind?’
Albert flashed the investigator a scathing look. ‘If I did, I wouldn’t need your services, would I?’
Hawkins snapped the notebook shut, slipped the pen into his pocket. ‘Leave it with me, Mr Adler. If it’s there, I’ll sniff it out.’
‘And if you don’t sniff it out, invent it. And make it good enough to stick.’ He waited for Hawkins to leave, then told his secretary to place a call to the headquarters of Kassler Industries in Stuttgart. Best to get this particular encounter out of the way immediately, before his prospective buyer learned of the raid from another source.
‘Mr Adler, what a pleasant surprise.’ Heinrich Kassler’s voice was as clear as if he were speaking from the next room. ‘Do you have some good news regarding my offer?’
