The Money Makers. Harry Bingham

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СКАЧАТЬ the pages and looked at Gradley, his eyes openly challenging. ‘OK. File fifty-seven. Tab eight. Tell me what it says.’

      Zack brought the file to mind, then the tab, then turned the tab to find the first page. He let the page swim out of memory into focus.

      ‘Employee grievance procedures,’ he said. ‘Disciplinary committees. First and second warnings. That kind of thing.’

      Daggert nodded and flicked forward again through the notes. He smiled. This would be a good test. ‘File ninety-one. Tab four. There are some numbers on that page. Read them to me.’

      Zack found the page and let it swim into view. Then he smiled and began to go red.

      ‘What’s up?’ said Daggert. ‘Something amuse you?’

      ‘Er, well, no not exactly,’ said Zack, his red deepening. This file hadn’t been one of his. It had been one of Sarah’s and he hadn’t looked at it fully. But as he tried to bring the picture to mind, he realised he had seen it after all. He had been standing up, getting a cup of coffee from the table at the side of the room. Sarah had been sitting in front of him, leaning over the file. Her light brown hair fell down either side of her neck, leaving it exposed, vulnerable, kissable – Zack had stared at her with yearning and found himself staring also at the file open in front of her: file ninety-one, tab four. ‘Sorry,’ continued Zack. ‘I was smiling because I remember Sarah – er – walking into the room about that time. I guess that must have been a nice experience for me.’

      ‘Nice to see a good team spirit,’ growled Daggert, glancing at Sarah, who went red in turn herself. But she wasn’t angry, just embarrassed. ‘Did you get a chance to look at the numbers too?’

      ‘Yes. Of course. The numbers you wanted were eighteen point six, fourteen point eight …’ He continued flawlessly. Daggert followed from the notes in front of him. Zack was perfect.

      ‘OK. Stop. You’ve proved your point. Good catch, young man. Piers, we’ll drop our bid by ten million pounds. Is that clear? We offer a hundred and fifteen million only.’

      Hanbury swallowed. Damn Gradley. Damn him.

      ‘That’s perfectly clear. You do of course remember our advice that the winning bid is unlikely to be less than one twenty-five. I must warn you that your revised bid is most unlikely to win.’

      The oilman glared at the aristocratic Hanbury.

      ‘Damn right. And we won’t overpay either.’

      12

      ‘Kiki? It’s me. George.’

      ‘Georges, darling, how are you?’ Kiki’s English was excellent but she knew that a French accent sounded sexier and she exploited the fact for all it was worth.

      ‘I’m OK. Look, can you come over to my flat right away? I need to see you.’

      ‘Now darling? I’m going out right now. I have my hat on.’

      ‘You’re always just going out. I’ve ordered you a cab and it’s waiting outside your hotel now. Kiki, I need to see you.’

      She paused for a moment, wondering whether to provoke him with a longer refusal.

      ‘OK, Georges. But you will need to admire my new suit very much. It is new today.’

      George promised.

      ‘And I really am going out, so I will only be able to stay with you for two minutes.’

      ‘That’s OK.’

      ‘Maybe only one minute, if I have to spend time getting ready.’ Getting ready for Kiki meant fussing over her immaculate make-up and leaving expensive brand name cosmetics in other people’s bathrooms.

      ‘Kiki, I’ll give you a personal pedicure if I have to. Just get a move on.’

      She came. An hour and a half late, of course, and carrying a bag from Harvey Nichols. But she came. Her new suit was stunning. Coral pink and perfectly fitted, it was as eye-catching as its price tag. George gave it as much praise as it deserved and almost as much as Kiki demanded.

      Nobody annoyed George more than Kiki, but nor had any girl ever attracted him as much. Other than a kiss one New Year’s Eve in Monaco – which had meant a lot to George, but nothing at all, it appeared, to Kiki – nothing had passed between them. He was heavily built and, dressed differently, could easily have passed as a Yorkshire farmer: slow-talking, stolid, strong. She, in contrast, was petite, pretty, brightly coloured, fluttering constantly from one thing to another like a bird hopping from twig to twig. They were unlikely friends, but George kept her doggedly in his sight, as she skipped from Gstaad to Monaco to London to New York to Palm Beach to Milan and back home to her chateau in the Loire valley.

      As for her, she showed no outward sign of attraction to George – or at least no more to him than to anyone else in her wide circle of friends. Yet it was noticeable that, wherever she went, her path always circled back to George’s flat in London. She sat on his sofas, showed him her latest purchases, scattered her make-up, showed him photos of the party she’d just come from, agonised with him about what to wear for the next one, patted his cheeks, called him darling, rumpled his hair and left him in a frenzy for the next visit.

      At length Kiki stepped down from the coffee table where she had been pirouetting.

      ‘OK, Georges, my darling, you have been a very good boy. But I think you wanted to see me not just because of my nice new suit. No?’

      George seized the moment. In a few sentences, he told Kiki the story about his father’s will, the challenge it threw down, how George and his brothers accepted the challenge, how George now had just three days to find thirty-six grand.

      ‘Kiki,’ he finished, ‘I have a question. You’ve always told me that you love this flat and how fed up you are staying in hotels whenever you come to London. Well, there’s about nine months rent prepaid on this flat and I’m ready to move out tomorrow. If you can take the flat off my hands, I’ll be eternally grateful.’

      Kiki had listened very quietly and seriously to George’s narration. Now that he came to the end, she said, ‘But Georges, this flat is so masculin. I need something a little more feminin, you know. All this blue and gold, it is good for you and it was très fashionable last year, but this year the colours are lighter, you know.’

      She waved her hand around but her speech tapered off. Despite her words, her face was solemn.

      ‘Georges, you really need this money, no?’

      George nodded.

      ‘And if I give you the money, then you will give it to some bank manager who will take it away and not give it back to you, no? And you say that this business of yours is a very bad business, no? That it will probably go down the hole? Oh Georges, and then you will have no money and then I will not be able to see you because you will have holes in your shoes and I do not like men who have holes in their shoes.’

      There were tears in her eyes.

      ‘But I suppose you need to have this stupid СКАЧАТЬ