This Was a Man (The Clifton Chronicles #7)(30)

‘Then perhaps we should walk away from the deal,’ said Arnold.

‘And allow Sloane to go on taking advantage of his position, while growing richer by the minute?’ Seb reminded them.

‘Fair point,’ said Hakim. ‘And although I’ve never considered myself a vindictive man, I wouldn’t be sorry to see Sloane finally destroyed. But perhaps Seb and I are taking this too personally and should simply look at the deal on its merits. What’s your opinion, Arnold?’

‘There’s no doubt that under normal circumstances it would be a worthwhile deal for the bank, but after your past experiences with Mellor, perhaps it would be wise if I were to inform the Bank of England’s Ethics Committee that we’re considering entering into a business transaction with someone who’s in jail. If they have no objection, who are we to disagree?’

‘That’s certainly the belt-and-braces solution,’ said Hakim. ‘Why don’t you do that, Arnold, and report back to me once you’ve canvassed their opinion?’

‘And I don’t have to remind you,’ said Seb, ‘that Mellor will be phoning me at ten on Friday morning.’

‘Just make sure he doesn’t reverse the charges,’ said Hakim.





The two of them sat alone at the end of the bar to be sure they couldn’t be overheard.

‘When you think about it,’ said Knowles, ‘it’s surprising that you ended up as the chairman of a travel company. After all, I’ve never known you to take a holiday.’

‘I don’t care for foreigners,’ said Sloane. ‘You can’t trust them.’ The barman refilled his glass with gin. ‘And in any case, I can’t swim, and lying on a beach getting burnt isn’t my idea of fun. I prefer to stay in England and enjoy a few days’ shooting, or walking in the hills on my own. Mind you, I don’t think I’ll be in the travel business for much longer.’

‘Something I ought to know about?’

‘I’ve had one or two offers for Mellor Travel that would make it possible for both of us to retire.’

‘But Mellor still owns fifty-one per cent of the company, so he’d end up the main beneficiary.’

‘I wasn’t planning on selling the company,’ said Sloane, ‘just its assets. Asset-stripping is the new game in the City, and by the time Mellor’s worked out what we’re up to, there won’t be a company left for him to chair, just a shell.’

‘But when he comes out of jail—’

‘I’ll be long gone, and living somewhere that doesn’t have an extradition treaty with Britain.’

‘What about me? I’ll be left carrying the can.’

‘No, no – by then, you will have resigned from the board in protest. But not before a large sum has been deposited in your Swiss bank account.’

‘How much time will you need to close the deal?’

‘I’m in no hurry. Our absentee chairman won’t be going anywhere for the foreseeable future, by which time our pension plan should be in place.’

‘There’s a rumour Thomas Cook and Co. are interested in taking over the company.’

‘Not while I’m chairman,’ said Sloane.





‘There’s a Mr Mellor on line one,’ said Rachel, conscious that she was interrupting Sebastian’s morning meeting with the bank’s currency exchange director.

Seb glanced at his watch. Ten o’clock. ‘Do you mind if I take this call?’ he said, placing a hand over the mouthpiece.

‘Go ahead,’ said Victor Kaufman, well aware who was on the other end of the line.

‘Put him through, Rachel. Good morning, Mr Mellor, it’s Sebastian Clifton.’

‘Have you come to a decision, Mr Clifton?’

‘Yes, I have, and I can assure you that Farthings took your offer very seriously. However, after considerable deliberation, the board decided this was not the kind of business the bank wished to be involved in, and for that reason—’

The line went dead.





12


DESMOND MELLOR lay on the thin, horsehair mattress for hour upon hour, his head resting on a rock-hard pillow as he looked up at the ceiling and tried to work out what he should do now that Clifton had turned down his offer. The thought of Adrian Sloane ripping him off while at the same time destroying his company was making him ever more paranoid.

The cell door swung open and an officer yelled, ‘Yard!’ even though he was only a few feet away. It was that time every afternoon when prisoners were released from their cells for an hour and allowed to walk around the yard, get some exercise and be reunited with their mates so they could work on their next crime before they were released.

Mellor usually sought the company of first offenders who had no intention of returning to a life of crime. It amused him that he’d literally bumped into his first Etonian (marijuana) and his first Cambridge graduate (fraud) while circling the yard. But not today. He’d already decided who he needed to have a private word with.

Mellor had completed two circuits of the yard before he spotted Nash walking alone a few paces ahead of him. But then, not many prisoners wanted to spend their hour’s exercise break with a contract killer who looked likely to be spending the rest of his life in jail, and didn’t seem to care that much if he spent a few days in solitary for roughing up any inmate who’d annoyed him. The last poor sod had been a hotplate server who’d failed to give Nash a large enough portion of fried potatoes and had ended up with a fried hand.