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“Yes, I do,” said the chairman of Farthings Bank, trying to sound pompous.
“The deal has been closed, sir. Those shares are now held in the name of Farthings Bank. I’ll send the paperwork around for your signature later this morning.” The line went dead.
Cedric jumped up and punched the air as if Huddersfield Town had just won the FA Cup. Sebastian would have joined him, but the phone rang again.
He grabbed the receiver, listened for a moment, then quickly passed it to Cedric.
“It’s David Alexander. Says it’s urgent.”
DIEGO MARTINEZ
1964
36
8:53, Monday morning
DIEGO MARTINEZ CHECKED his watch. He couldn’t afford to wait any longer. He looked up and down the crowded corridor to make sure there was no sign of the steward, then pulled down the window, reached outside for the handle and opened the door. He jumped off the train and landed on the tracks.
Someone shouted, “You can’t do that!”
He didn’t waste his time pointing out that he already had.
He began running toward the well-lit station, and he must have covered a couple of hundred yards before the platform loomed up in front of him. He couldn’t see the astonished looks on the faces of the passengers staring out of the carriage windows as he shot past them.
“It must be a matter of life or death,” one of them suggested.
Diego kept on running until he reached the far end of the platform. He took out his wallet on the move, and had extracted his ticket long before he reached the barrier. The ticket collector looked up at him and said, “I was told The Night Scotsman wouldn’t be arriving for at least another fifteen minutes.”
“Where’s the nearest phone box?” Diego shouted.
“Just over there,” the ticket collector said, pointing to a row of red boxes. “You can’t miss them.”
Diego dashed across the crowded concourse, trying to grab a handful of coins from a trouser pocket on the run. He came to a halt outside the six phone boxes; three were occupied. He pulled open a door and checked his change, but he didn’t have four pennies; one short.
“Read all about it!”
He swung around, spotted the paperboy and began running toward him. He went straight to the front of a long queue, handed the lad half a crown and said, “I need a penny.”
“Sure thing, guv,” said the paperboy, who assumed he was desperate to go to the lavatory, and quickly gave him a penny.
Diego dashed back to the phone boxes and didn’t hear him say, “Don’t forget your change, sir,” and “What about your newspaper?” He opened a door to be greeted with the words, Out of Order. He barged into the next box just as a startled woman was opening the door. He picked up the phone, pressed four pennies into the black box and dialed CITY 416. Moments later he heard a ringing tone.
“Pick it up, pick it up, pick it up!” he shouted. A voice finally came on the line.
“Capel and Company. How may I help you?”
Diego pressed button A and heard the coins drop into the box. “Put me through to Mr. Alexander.”
“Which Mr. Alexander, A., D. or W.?”
“Hold on,” said Diego. He placed the receiver on top of the box, took out his wallet, extracted Mr. Alexander’s card and quickly picked up the phone again. “Are you still there?”
“Yes, sir.”
“David Alexander.”
“He’s not available at the moment. Can I put you through to another broker?”
