Читаем Mightier Than the Sword полностью

“Your mother told me.”

“But I didn’t tell her.”

“Not in so many words. But I’ve learned over the years never to underestimate that woman. Mind you, when it’s personal, even she can make mistakes.”

“Like Desmond Mellor?”

“I would never have thought it possible that whoever replaced Alex Fisher could prove even more of a problem.”

“And there’s a big difference between Mellor and Fisher,” said Seb. “Mellor’s bright, which makes him far more dangerous.”

“Do you think he has any chance of becoming deputy chairman?”

“I didn’t, until Ross Buchanan convinced me otherwise.”

“Maybe that’s why Emma’s considering the nuclear option, and forcing Mellor to put his cards on the table.”

“Which table?”

“The boardroom table. She’s going to let him stand as her deputy, but she’ll oppose him and put up her own candidate. If he loses, he’ll have no choice but to resign.”

“And if she loses?”

“She’ll have to learn to live with it.”

“Who’s her candidate?”

“I assumed it must be you.”

“Not a chance. The board would always back Mellor against me, not least because of my age, and that would mean Mother would end up having to resign. Which, come to think of it, might even be part of Mellor’s long-term plan. I’m going to have to talk her out of it. And it’s not as if that’s her only problem at the moment.”

“If you’re referring to Lady Virginia and her libel claim, I think that’s no longer an issue.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I can’t, but we haven’t heard anything on that front for some time. In another twelve months your mother can apply to the courts to have the action struck off the list, but I’ve advised her against that.”

“Why?”

“When you come across a sleeping snake, don’t prod it with a sharp stick in the hope that it will go away, because it’s likely to wake up and bite you.”

“And that woman’s bite is venomous,” said Seb. “Mind you, I don’t even know why she’s suing mother in the first place.”

“I’ll tell you all about it over dinner.”

*   *   *

The ship’s purser could not have been more helpful. He was able to supply Sebastian with an address for Miss Samantha Sullivan: 2043 Cable Street, Georgetown, Washington, DC, although he couldn’t be sure if she was still living there, as she hadn’t traveled on the ship since the maiden voyage. Seb hoped 2043 would turn out to be a small apartment where she lived alone or with one of her female colleagues.

He thanked the purser, walked up a couple of flights of stairs to the Grill Room, and joined his father for dinner. It wasn’t until the steward had cleared away the main course that Seb raised the subject of Virginia’s writ.

“Quite dramatic stuff, or at least we all thought so at the time,” said Harry, lighting a Havana cigar, which he couldn’t have purchased on an American ship. “Your mother was addressing the company’s AGM, and during questions from the floor Virginia asked if one of the directors of Barrington’s had sold all his shares with the intention of bringing down the company.”

“So how did Mother deal with the question?”

“She turned it to her advantage by asking if Virginia was referring to the three occasions on which Alex Fisher, her representative on the board, had sold and then bought back her own shares, while at the same time making a handsome profit.”

“But as that’s no more than the truth,” said Seb, “it’s hardly libel.”

“I agree, but your mother couldn’t resist prodding the snake with a very sharp stick by adding—” Harry put his cigar down, leaned back, and closed his eyes—“‘If it was your intention to bring the company down, Lady Virginia, you have failed, and failed lamentably, because you were defeated by decent ordinary people who want this company to succeed…’ no, no,” said Harry, correcting himself, “her exact words were, ‘to be a success.’ The audience cheered, and Virginia stormed out of the room shouting, ‘You’ll be hearing from my solicitor,’ and indeed we did. But that was some time ago, so let’s hope she’s been advised to drop the case and has slithered away into the undergrowth.”

“If she has, she’ll only be curled up waiting to strike again.”

*   *   *

On the last morning of the voyage, Seb joined his father for breakfast, but Harry hardly said a word. He was always the same just before handing in a manuscript to his publishers. The longest three days of his life, he once told Seb, were while he waited to hear Harold Guinzburg’s opinion of his latest work.

“But how can you be sure he’s being completely honest about how he feels when the last thing he would want is to lose you?”

“I don’t listen to a word he says about the book,” admitted Harry. “I’m only interested in the number of hardback copies he will print for the first impression. He can’t bluff that. Because if it’s over a hundred thousand this time, it means he thinks he’s got a number-one best seller.”

“And under a hundred thousand?” said Seb.

“Then he’s not so sure.”