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“Good afternoon, Emma. I thought I’d give you a call because Desmond Mellor tells me he had a meeting with you, and he felt it went quite well.”
“I’m sure he did,” said Emma, “and I have to admit I was impressed with Mr. Mellor. Unquestionably a capable businessman, with a great deal of experience in his field.”
“I agree,” said Knowles. “So can I assume you’ll be recommending he joins us on the board?”
“No, Jim, you cannot. Mr. Mellor has many admirable qualities, but in my opinion he has one overriding flaw.”
“And what might that be?”
“He’s only interested in one person, himself. The word ‘loyalty’ is anathema to him. When I sat and listened to Mr. Mellor, he reminded me of my father, and I only want people on the board who remind me of my grandfather.”
“That puts me in a very awkward position.”
“Why would that be, Jim?”
“I recommended Mellor to the board in the first place, and your decision rather undermines my position.”
“I’m sorry to hear you feel that way, Jim.” Emma paused before adding, “Of course I would understand if you felt you had to resign.”
* * *
Harry spent the rest of the day shaking hands with people he’d never met before, several of whom promised to promote Babakov’s cause in their own countries. Glad-handing was something Giles, as a politician, did quite naturally, while Harry found it exhausting. However, he was pleased that he had walked the streets of Bristol with his brother-in-law during past election campaigns because it wasn’t until now that he realized just how much he’d picked up from him.
By the time he climbed on the bus for the conference delegates’ visit to the Bolshoi Theatre, he was so tired he feared he might fall asleep during the performance. But from the moment the curtain rose he was on the edge of his seat, exhilarated by the artistic movement of the dancers, their skill, their grace, and their energy, making it impossible for him to take his eyes off the stage. When the curtain finally fell he was in no doubt that this was one field in which the Soviet Union really did lead the world.
When he returned to his hotel, the receptionist handed him a note confirming that an embassy car would pick him up at ten to eight the following morning, so he could join the ambassador for breakfast. That would give him more than enough time to catch his twelve o’clock flight back to London.
Two men sat silently in a corner of the lobby, observing his every move. Harry knew they would have read the message from the ambassador long before he had. He picked up his key, gave them a broad smile, and wished them good night before taking the lift to the seventh floor.
Once he’d undressed, Harry collapsed on to the bed and quickly fell into a deep sleep.
9
“NOT A GOOD MOVE, Mama.”
“Why not?” said Emma. “Jim Knowles has never been supportive, and frankly I’ll be glad to be rid of him.”
“Remember what Lyndon Johnson said about J. Edgar Hoover? I’d rather have him inside the tent pissing out than outside pissing in.”
“One sometimes wonders why your father and I spent so much money having you educated. But what harm can Knowles possibly do?”
“He has a piece of information that could bring the company down.”
“He wouldn’t dare to make the Home Fleet incident public. If he did, he’d never get another job in the City.”
“He doesn’t have to make it public. All he has to do is have a quiet lunch at his club with Alex Fisher, and Lady Virginia will know every detail of what really happened that night half an hour later. And you can be sure she’ll save the most sensational bits for the witness box, because it will not only bring you down, but the company with it. No, I’m afraid you’re going to have to eat a slice of humble pie, Mother, if you don’t want to spend every day wondering when the bomb will finally drop.”
“But Knowles has already made it clear that if Mellor isn’t made a director, he’ll resign from the board
.”
“Then Mr. Mellor will have to be offered a place on the board.”
“Over my dead body.”
“Your words, Mother, not mine.”
* * *
