Kane and Abel

by Jeffrey Archer

  ‘A week from today. But don’t go and get yourself all worked up about Ted Leach; I’m still confident you’ll win easily. I’ll keep you informed of any further developments.’

  ‘Do you want me to come down to New York, Peter?’

  ‘No, not for the moment. I don’t think that would help matters.’

  William thanked him and put the phone down, then packed his old leather briefcase and left the office, feeling more than a little depressed. Tony Simmons, lugging a suitcase, caught up with him in the directors’ parking lot.

  ‘I didn’t know you were going out of town, Tony.’

  ‘It’s only one of those monthly bankers’ dinners in New York. I’ll be back by tomorrow afternoon. I think I can safely leave Kane and Cabot for twenty-four hours in the capable hands of the next chairman of Lester’s.’

  William laughed. ‘I may already be the ex-chairman,’ he said, and explained the latest development. Once again he was surprised by Simmons’s reaction.

  ‘It’s true that Ted Leach has always hoped to be the next chairman of Lester’s,’ he said. ‘That’s common knowledge in financial circles. But he’s a loyal servant of the bank, and I can’t believe he would oppose Charles Lester’s express wishes.’

  ‘I didn’t realize you knew him,’ said William.

  ‘I don’t know him all that well,’ said Tony. ‘He was a class ahead of me at Yale, and I occasionally come across him at these infernal dinners, which you’ll have to attend once you’re a chairman. He’s bound to be there tonight. I’ll have a word with him if you like.’

  ‘Yes, please do, but do be careful, won’t you?’ said William.

  ‘My dear William, you’ve spent the past ten years of your life telling me I’m far too careful.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Tony. Funny how one’s judgement is influenced when facing a personal problem, however sound it might be considered when dealing with other people’s. I’ll put myself in your hands, and do whatever you advise.’

  ‘Good. Leave it to me. I’ll see what Leach has to say for himself, and call you first thing in the morning.’

  Tony Simmons called from New York a few minutes after midnight, waking William from a fitful sleep.

  ‘Have I woken you, William?’

  ‘Yes, but it doesn’t matter, Tony.’

  William switched on the light by the bed and looked at his alarm clock. ‘Well, you did say you’d call first thing in the morning.’

  Simmons laughed. ‘I’m afraid what I have to tell you won’t seem quite as amusing. The man opposing you for the chairmanship of Lester’s is Peter Parfitt.’

  ‘What?’ said William, suddenly wide awake.

  ‘He’s been trying to steamroller the board into supporting him behind your back. Ted Leach, as I expected, is in favour of your appointment as chairman. However, the board is split down the middle.’

  ‘Damn. First, thank you, Tony, and second, what the hell do I do?’

  ‘If you want to be the next chairman of Lester’s, you’d better get yourself down here pretty fast. Some of the members of the board are asking why you’ve been hiding away in Boston.’

  ‘Hiding away?’

  ‘That’s what Parfitt’s been telling them for the past few days.’

  ‘The bastard.’

  ‘Now that you mention the subject, I’m unable to vouch for his parentage,’ said Simmons.

  William laughed.

  ‘Come and stay at the Yale Club. We can talk the whole thing over first thing in the morning.’

  ‘I’ll get there as quickly as I can.’

  He put the phone down and looked across at the sleeping Kate, blissfully unaware of his latest problem. How he wished he could manage that. A curtain only had to flutter in the breeze and he would wake up. She would probably sleep through the Second Coming. He scribbled a few lines of explanation and put the note on her bedside table; then he dressed, packed - this time including a dinner jacket - and set off for New York.

  The roads were clear at one in the morning, and the run in the Daimler seemed the quickest he had ever managed. He arrived in New York accompanied by cleaners, mailmen, newsboys and the morning sun, and checked in at the Yale Club as the hall clock chimed once. It was six-fifteen. He unpacked and decided to rest for an hour before waking Tony Simmons, but the next thing he heard was an insistent tapping on his door. Sleepily, he got up to open it, to find Simmons standing in the corridor.

  ‘Nice dressing gown, William,’ he said, grinning.

  ‘I must have fallen asleep. If you can wait a minute I’ll be right with you,’ said William.

  ‘No, no, I have to catch a train back to Boston. Someone has to run the office. You take a shower and get dressed while we talk.’

  William went into the bathroom and left the door open.

  ‘Now your main problem—’ started Simmons.

  William put his head around the bathroom door. ‘I can’t hear you while the water’s running.’

  Simmons waited for it to stop. ‘Peter Parfitt is your main problem. He assumed he was going to be the next chairman, and that his would be the name that was read out in Charles Lester’s will. Since then he’s been playing boardroom politics and trying to turn the directors against you. Ted Leach would like you to join him for lunch today at the Metropolitan Club when he’ll fill you in on the finer points. He may bring two or three other board members with him on whom you can rely. The board, by the way, still seems to be split right down the middle.’

  William nicked himself with his razor. ‘Damn. Which club did you say?’

  ‘The Metropolitan, just off Fifth Avenue on East Sixtieth Street.’

  ‘Why there, and not somewhere on Wall Street?’

  ‘William, when you’re dealing with the Peter Parfitts of this world, you don’t telegraph your intentions. Keep your wits about you, and play the whole thing very coolly. From what Leach tells me, he thinks you can still win.’

  William came back into the bedroom with a towel around his waist. ‘I’ll try,’ he said. ‘To be cool, that is.’

  Simmons smiled. ‘Now I must get back to Boston. My train leaves Grand Central in ten minutes.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Damn, six minutes.’ He paused at the bedroom door. ‘You know, your father never trusted Peter Parfitt. A little too smooth, he always used to say. Never anything more, just “a little too smooth”. Good luck, William.’

  ‘How can I begin to thank you, Tony?’

  ‘You can’t. Just put it down to my trying to atone for the lousy way I treated Matthew. But frankly, for Kane and Cabot’s sake, I hope you lose.’

  William smiled as he watched the door close. As he put in his collar stud, he reflected on how curious it was that he had spent years working closely with Tony Simmons without ever really getting to know him, but that after a few days of personal crisis he found himself liking and trusting the man. He went down to the dining room and had a typical club breakfast: a hard boiled egg, one piece of burnt toast, butter and English marmalade from someone else’s table. The porter handed him a copy of The Wall Street Journal, which hinted on an inside page that everything was not running smoothly at Lester’s following the nomination of William Kane as its next chairman. At least the Journal didn’t seem to know who his rival was.

  William returned to his room and asked the operator for a number in Boston. He was kept waiting for a few minutes before he was put through.

  ‘I do apologize, Mr Kane. I had no idea it was you on the line. May I congratulate you on your appointment as chairman of Lester’s. I hope this means our New York office will be seeing a lot more of you in the future.’

  ‘That may well depend on you, Mr Cohen.’

  ‘I’m not sure I understand,’ the lawyer replied.

  William explained what had happened over the past few days, and read out the relevant clause of Charles Lester’s will. ‘Do you think his wishes would stand up in court?’ he asked finally.

  ‘Who knows? I can’t think of a p
recedent for such a situation. A nineteenth-century Member of Parliament once bequeathed his constituency in a will and no one objected, and the beneficiary went on to become Prime Minister. But that was over a hundred years ago - and in England. Now, in this case, if the board decided to contest Mr Lester’s will and you took them to court, I wouldn’t care to predict which way the judge might jump. Lord Melbourne didn’t have to contend with a surrogate of New York County. Nevertheless, a nice legal conundrum, Mr Kane.’

  ‘What do you advise?’

  ‘I am a Jew, Mr Kane. I came to this country on a ship from Germany at the turn of the century, and I’ve always had to fight for anything I’ve wanted. How badly do you want to be chairman of Lester’s?’

  ‘Very badly, Mr Cohen.’

  ‘Then you should listen to an old man who has, over the years, come to view you with great respect and, if I may say so, with some affection. I’ll tell you exactly what I’d do if I were faced with your predicament.’

  An hour later William put the phone down and, having some time to kill, strolled up Park Avenue thinking about Cohen’s sage advice. On the way to the Metropolitan Club he passed a site on which a huge building was under construction. A large billboard announced: ‘The next Baron hotel will be in New York. When the Baron has been your host, you’ll never want to stay anywhere else.’ He smiled, and walked with a lighter step towards his lunch appointment.

  Ted Leach, a short, dapper man with dark brown hair and a lighter moustache, was standing in the foyer waiting for him, and shook him warmly by the hand. William admired the Renaissance style of the club, which Leach told him had been built by Otto Kuhn and Stanford White in 1891. J. P. Morgan had founded it when one of his closest friends was blackballed at the Union League, Leach told him as they strolled into the bar.

  ‘An extravagant gesture even for a very close friend,’ William suggested, trying to make conversation.

  ‘Indeed,’ said Leach. ‘Now, what will you have to drink, Mr Kane?’

  ‘A dry sherry, please,’ said William.

  A boy in a smart blue uniform returned a few moments later with a dry sherry and a scotch and water; he hadn’t needed to ask Mr Leach for his order.

  ‘To the next chairman of Lester’s,’ said Leach, raising his glass.

  William hesitated.

  ‘Don’t drink, Mr Kane. As you know, you should never drink to yourself.’

  William laughed, unsure of what to say.

  A few moments later two older men came into the bar and walked across to join them, both tall and assured in their bankers’ uniform of grey three-piece suits, stiff collars and dark, unpatterned ties. Had they been strolling down Wall Street, William would not have given them a second glance. In the Metropolitan Club he studied them carefully as Leach introduced them.

  ‘Mr Alfred Rodgers and Mr Winthrop Davies. Both board members.’

  William’s smile was reserved, now uncertain whose side anyone was on. The two newcomers studied him with interest. No one spoke for a moment.

  ‘Where do we start?’ asked Rodgers, a monocle falling from his eye as he spoke.

  ‘By going up to lunch,’ said Leach.

  The three of them turned, obviously knowing exactly where they were going. William followed. The dining room on the second floor was vast, with another magnificent high ceiling. The maitre d’ placed them in a window seat, overlooking Central Park, where no one could overhear their conversation.

  ‘Let’s order and then talk,’ said Leach.

  Through the window William could see the Plaza Hotel. Memories of his celebration with the grandmothers and Matthew came flooding back to him - and there was something else he was trying to recall about that tea at the Plaza …

  ‘Mr Kane, let’s put our cards on the table,’ said Leach. ‘Charles Lester’s decision to appoint you as chairman of the bank came as a surprise to all of us, not to put too fine a point on it. But if the board were to ignore his wishes, the bank could be plunged into chaos, and none of us want that. He was a shrewd old buzzard, and he will have had his reasons for wanting you to be chairman. That’s good enough for me.’

  William had heard those sentiments before - from Peter Parfitt.

  ‘All three of us,’ said Davies, taking over, ‘owe everything we have to Charles Lester, and we will carry out his wishes if it’s the last thing we do as members of the board.’

  ‘It may turn out to be just that,’ said Leach, ‘if Parfitt succeeds in becoming chairman.’

  ‘I’m sorry, gentlemen,’ said William, ‘to have caused you so much consternation. If my appointment as chairman came as a surprise to you, it was nothing less than a bolt from the blue for me. When I attended the reading of the will, I imagined I’d receive some minor personal memento in memory of Mr Lester’s son, not the opportunity to run his bank.’

  Leach smiled when he heard the word ‘opportunity’. ‘We understand the position you’ve been placed in, Mr Kane, and you must trust us when we say we’re on your side. We are aware you may find that difficult to accept, after the treatment you’ve received from Peter Parfitt.’

  ‘I have to believe you, Mr Leach, because I have no choice but to place myself in your hands. How would you summarize the current situation?’

  ‘The situation is clear,’ said Leach. ‘Parfitt’s campaign is well organized, and he now feels he’s acting from a position of strength. I am assuming, Mr Kane, that you have the stomach for a fight.’

  ‘I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t, Mr Leach. And now that you’ve summed up the position so succinctly, perhaps you’ll allow me to suggest how we should go about defeating Mr Parfitt.’

  ‘Certainly,’ said Leach.

  The eyes of all three bankers were fixed on William.

  ‘You are undoubtedly right in suggesting that Parfitt feels he’s in a strong position, because until now he’s always been the one on the attack, knowing what’s going to happen next. The time has come for us to go on the attack, where and when he least expects it - in his own boardroom.’

  ‘How do you propose we go about that, Mr Kane?’ asked Davies.

  ‘I’ll explain if you’ll first permit me to ask you two questions. How many directors have a vote?’

  ‘Sixteen,’ said Leach instantly.

  ‘And with whom does their allegiance lie at this moment?’

  ‘Not the easiest question to answer, Mr Kane,’ Davies chipped in. He took a crumpled envelope from his inside pocket and studied the back of it before he continued. ‘I estimate that we can count on six certain votes, and Parfitt can be sure of five. But it came as a shock to me to discover this morning that Rupert Cork-Smith - he was Charles Lester’s oldest friend - is unwilling to support you. It’s very odd, because I know he doesn’t care for Parfitt. That would make it six apiece.’

  ‘So we have until Thursday,’ said Leach, ‘to make sure of three more votes.’

  ‘Why Thursday?’ asked William.

  ‘That’s the day of the next board meeting,’ answered Leach, stroking his moustache. ‘And Item One on the agenda is the election of a new chairman.’

  ‘I was told the next board meeting wasn’t until Monday,’ said William in astonishment.

  ‘By whom?’ Davies asked.

  ‘Peter Parfitt,’ said William.

  ‘His tactics,’ Leach commented, ‘have hardly been 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’s very much in the driving seat at this moment,’ said Davies, ‘and I’m not sure how we go about removing him from it.’

  ‘Let’s switch the traffic lights to red,’ replied William. All three men looked puzzled, but didn’t comment. ‘Who has the authority to call a board meeting?’ he continued.

  ‘While the board is without a chairman, either vice chairman,’ said Ted Leach, ‘which
means Parfitt or me.’

  ‘How many board members form a quorum?’

  ‘Nine,’ said Davies.

  ‘And who is the company secretary?’

  ‘I am,’ said Alfred Rodgers, who until that moment had hardly opened his mouth - one of the many qualities 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 it has never actually happened since the crash of twenty-nine. Charles Lester always tried to give at least six days’ notice.’

  ‘But the bank’s rules do allow for an emergency meeting to be held at twenty-four hours’ notice?’ said William.

  ‘Yes, they do, Mr Kane,’ 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 him as if they had not quite heard him clearly.

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

  ‘When would you want this board meeting to take place?’ asked Leach.

  ‘Three o’clock tomorrow afternoon.’

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

  ‘It’s only cutting it a bit fine for Parfitt, wouldn’t you say?’ said William.

  ‘Fair point,’ said Leach. ‘And what do you have planned for this meeting?’

  ‘Leave that to me. Just be sure that it’s legally convened, and that every director is given at least twenty-four hours’ notice.’

  ‘I wonder how Parfitt will react?’ said Leach.

  ‘I don’t give a damn,’ said William. ‘That’s the mistake we’ve been making 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, don’t be surprised by anything I do or say tomorrow. Trust my judgement; just make sure you’re there to support me.’