Free Flight by Victoria Glendinning

gentleman.’
    â€˜I don’t think so,’ said Mirabel.
    The meeting was falling apart. Martagon, with a stony heart, made an effort to pull it together again. ‘As Arthur rightly reminds us, this meeting has to be brought to a conclusion – in both senses. I’m sure we would all prefer consensus, without taking a formal vote. But maybe, Chairman, an indicative vote at this stage might be helpful? Nothing binding – just to give us an idea of where we all stand.’
    Arthur made a noncommittal gesture with his hand and turned his head to stare out of the window. It was already getting dark outside. ‘As you like,’ he said.
    Martagon pressed on. There was a desultory, embarrassed, inconclusive show of hands both for and against, with some abstentions. Muttered conversations rose and fell around the table. Dawn came back into the room and whispered to Tom Scree that there was an urgent telephone call for him in the outside office.
    Scree pushed back his chair. ‘I’d better take it. If you’ll excuse me a moment, Sir Arthur.’
    While Scree was out of the room Martagon said that as there was obviously no consensus forthcoming, the matter would unfortunately have to be put to a formal vote, if the Chairman was in agreement.
    Arthur went on looking out of the window. ‘If that is the feeling of the meeting,’ he said.
    They all sat waiting for Tom Scree to come back. Everyone was tired, and looked it.
    *   *   *
    â€˜We’ll go round the table,’ said Arthur, with an abrupt show of energy. ‘Starting with you, Tom. This time it’s “yes” or “no”. Nothing else.’
    Tom Scree raised a hand. ‘Before we start, I have something else to say – if I may, Sir Arthur?… I came to this meeting, as perhaps many of us did, convinced that we should not pursue this merger. We have always been flexible at Cox & Co. Flexibility is a strength, and not a weakness. We still retain the qualities of the partnership established by Sir Arthur, and we have always respected each other’s opinions, while conceding to Sir Arthur, very properly, the priority among us – he has been, he is, the primus inter pares, first among equals. But we have become, perhaps, somewhat ossified in our marketing and in our business practice. We have lost some flexibility. We need new blood.
    â€˜It is in the name of our flexibility that I am speaking to you now and asking for your understanding. I spoke earlier out of the conviction with which I came into the meeting. I heard Martagon speaking, as we all did, but I myself lacked the flexibility to admit to myself the cogency of much of what he was saying. So I spoke as I had planned. As I said then, Martagon’s standards and integrity are beyond question. In the course of the past few hours, I have changed my views. I now believe that a merger with Harpers would indeed be in the best interests of the firm, the partners, the management and staff, and that we should proceed. As Martagon made very clear in his initial presentation, Sir Arthur’s position as chairman of the new entity is, of course, unassailable.’
    There was a snort of derision from somewhere down the table at the vacuous hypocrisy of ‘unassailable’, then a stunned silence.
    The lying bastard, thought Martagon. He guessed that the telephone call had been from Giles Harper, who well knew the day and hour of the fateful meeting.
    Martagon was right, and Giles’s timing had been perfect. Giles told him afterwards, with the air of one who had made a coup, that he had been lunching all the board members of Cox & Co., and ascertained that, after Martagon, Tom Scree was the key player. Then he zoomed in.
    Confidential talks with Scree had elicited the information Giles needed. He discovered what Scree wanted. Scree was tired of working on projects in India and Bangladesh. He wanted to be in the London