A Dangerous Fortune(143)

Micky let his breath out in a long, silent sigh of relief. He had won.

Edward said: “Four partners in favor, then, and two against.”

“Just a minute,” said Hugh.

God forbid that Hugh should have something up his sleeve, Micky thought. He clenched his jaw. He wanted to cry out a protest but he had to suppress his feelings.

Edward looked crossly at Hugh. “What is it? You’re outvoted.”

“A vote has always been a last resort in this room,” Hugh said. “When there is disagreement between the partners we try to reach a compromise that everyone can assent to.”

Micky could see that Edward was ready to squash this idea, but William said: “What have you got in mind, Hugh?”

“Let me ask Edward something,” Hugh said. “Are you confident that we can sell all or most of this issue?”

“Yes, if we price it right,” Edward said. It was clear from his expression that he did not know where this was heading. Micky had a dreadful premonition that he was about to be outmaneuvered.

Hugh went on: “Then why don’t we sell the bonds on a commission basis, rather than underwriting the issue.”

Micky muffled a curse. That was not what he wanted. Normally, when the bank launched, say, a million pounds’ worth of bonds, it agreed to buy any unsold bonds itself, thereby guaranteeing that the borrower would receive the full million. In return for that guarantee, the bank took a fat percentage. The alternative method was to offer the bonds for sale with no guarantee. The bank took no risk and received a much lower percentage, but if only ten thousand of the million bonds were sold, the borrrower would get only ten thousand pounds. The risk remained with the borrower—and at this stage Micky did not want any risks.

William grunted. “Hmm. That’s an idea.”

Hugh had been cunning, Micky thought despondently. If he had continued to oppose the scheme outright, he would have been overruled. But he had suggested a way of reducing the risk. Bankers, being a conservative breed, loved to reduce their risks.

Sir Harry said: “If we do sell them all, we still make about sixty thousand pounds, even at the reduced commission. And if we don’t sell them all we shall have avoided a considerable loss.”

Say something, Edward! thought Micky. Edward was losing control of the meeting. But he seemed not to know how to get it back.

Samuel said: “And we can record a unanimous decision of the partners—always a pleasant outcome.”

There was a general murmur of assent.

In desperation, Micky said: “I can’t promise that my principals will agree to that. In the past the bank has always underwritten Cordovan bonds. If you decide to change your policy …” He hesitated. “I may have to go to another bank.” It was an empty threat, but would they know that?

William was offended. “That’s your privilege. Another bank may take a different view of the risks.”

Micky saw that his threat had only served to consolidate the opposition. Hastily he added: “The leaders of my country value their relationship with Pilasters Bank and would not wish to jeopardize that.”

Edward said: “And we reciprocate their feelings.”

“Thank you.” Micky realized there was no more to be said.

He began to roll up the map of the harbor. He had been defeated, but he was not ready to give up yet. That two million pounds was the key to the presidency of his country. He had to have it.

He would think of something.

Edward and Micky had arranged to have lunch together in the dining room of the Cowes Club. It was planned as a celebration of their triumph, but now they had nothing to celebrate.

By the time Edward arrived, Micky had worked out what he had to do. His only chance now was to persuade Edward secretly to go against the decision of the partners, and underwrite the bonds without telling them. It was an outrageous, foolhardy and probably criminal act. But there was no alternative.

Micky was already sitting at the table when Edward came in. “I’m very disappointed about what happened at the bank this morning,” Micky said right away.

“It was the fault of my damned cousin Hugh,” Edward said as he sat down. He waved at a waiter and said: “Bring me a big glass of Madeira.”

“The trouble is, if the issue isn’t underwritten, there’s no guarantee the harbor will be built.”

“I did my best,” Edward said plaintively. “You saw that, you were there.”

Micky nodded. Unfortunately it was true. If Edward had been a brilliant manipulator of other people—like his mother—he might have defeated Hugh. But if Edward had been that sort of person he would not be Micky’s pawn.

Pawn though he was, he might resist the proposal Micky had in mind. Micky cudgeled his brains for ways of persuading or coercing him.

They ordered their lunch. When the waiter had left Edward said: “I’ve been thinking that I might get a place of my own. I’ve been living with my mother too long.”

Micky made an effort to be interested. “You’d buy a house?”

“A small one. I don’t want a palace, with dozens of parlormaids running around putting coal on fires. A modest house that can be run by a good butler and a handful of servants.”

“But you’ve got everything you need at Whitehaven House.”

“Everything but privacy.”