The Fourth Estate (83 page)

Sir Paul looked
as if he was about to protest, but Armstrong waved a hand in the air and,
raising his voice, said, “Allow me to finish.” The chain-nan sat bolt upright,
his fingers gripping the arms of his chair, his gaze still fixed rigidly ahead
of him.

“Now, as far as
the pension fund is concerned,” continued Armstrong, “the company secretary
will be in a better position than I am to confirm that we are holding a
considerable surplus in that account, a little of which I usedquite
legitimately-for investments in the United States. It may also interest the
board to know that I have recently been in confidential negotiations with Keith
Townsend, with a view to taking over the New York Star.” Most of the directors
looked stunned by the announcement, and this time all of them turned to face
him.

“It’s no
secret,” continued Armstrong, “that Townsend is in deep financial trouble
following his foolhardy takeover of Multi Media, for which he paid three
billion dollars. The board will recall that only last year I recommended we
should offer no more than one and a half billion for that particular company,
and in hindsight it turns out that my judgment was correct. I have now been
able to take advantage of Townsend’s disastrous mistake and make him an offer
for his shares in the Star that would not have been thought possible only six
months ago.”

Now he had
everyone’s attention.

“That coup will
make Armstrong Communications the most powerful newspaper presence on the east
coast of America.” Armstrong paused for effect. “It will also ensure an even
larger contribution to our bottom line than we presently enjoy from Britain.”

One or two of
the faces round the table brightened up, but the chairman’s was not among them.
“Are we to understand that this deal with Townsend has been concluded?” he
asked quietly.

“it is in its
final stages, Chairman,” replied Armstrong. “But I wouldn’t dream of committing
the company to an undertaking of such importance without first seeking the
board’s approval.”

“And what
exactly does’final stages’mean?” inquired Sir Paul.

“Fownsend and I
have had an informal meeting on neutral ground, with both our professional
advisers present. We were able to come to an agreement on the sort of figure that
would be acceptable to both parties, so now it’s simply up to the lawyers to
draw up the contracts for signature.”

“So we don’t yet
have anything in writing?”

“Not yet,” said
Armstrong. “But I am confident that I will be able to deliver all the necessary
documentation in time for the board’s approval at next month’s meeting.”

“I see,” said
Sir Paul drily, as he opened a file in front of him.

“Nevertheless, I
wonder if we might now return to the first item on the agenda, and in
particular to the current state of the pension fund.” He checked his notes and
added, “Which has recently had withdrawals totaling over four hundred and , .
.”

“And I can
assure you that the money has been well invested,” said Armstrong, once again
not allowing the chairman to finish his sentence.

“in what, may I
ask?” inquired Sir Paul.

I don’t have the
precise details to hand at the moment,” said Armstrong.

“But I have
requested that our accountants in New York produce a detailed and comprehensive
report, so that members of the board are in a position to make a full appraisal
of the situation before the next board meeting.”

“How
interesting,” said Sir Paul. “When I spoke to our accounts department in New
York only last night, they had no idea what I was talking about.”

“That’s because
a small inner team has been chosen for this particular exercise, and they’ve
been instructed not to release any details, owing to the sensitivity of one or
two of the deals I am currently involved in.

I cannot
therefore...”

“Damn it,” said
Sir Paul, his voice rising with every word. I am the chairman of this company,
and I have the right to be informed of any major development that may affect
its future.”

“Not if that
might jeopardize my chances of closing a major deal.”

I am not a
rubber stamp,” said Sir Paul, turning to face Armstrong for the first time.

I didn’t suggest
you were, Chairman, but there are times when decisions have to be made when you
are tucked up in bed fast asleep.”

I would be quite
happy to be woken,” said Sir Paul, still looking directly at Armstrong, “as I
was last night by a Monsieur Jacques Lacroix from Geneva, who rang to tell me
that unless an outstanding loan to his bank of $50 million is repaid by close
of business tonight, they will find it necessary to place the matter in the
hands of their lawyers.”

Several of the
directors bowed their heads.

‘That money will
be in place by tonight,” said Armstrong, without flinching. “Of that I can
assure you.IF

“And where do
you propose to get it from this time?” asked Sir Paul.

“Because I have
issued clear instructions that nothing more can be withdrawn from the pension
fund as long as I remain chairman. Our lawyers have advised me that if that
check for $50 million had been cashed, every member of this board would have
been liable to criminal prosecution.”

“That was a
simple clerical error made by a junior clerk in the accounts department,” said
Armstrong, “who foolishly deposited the check with the wrong bank. He was
sacked the same day.”

“But Monsieur
Lacroix informed me that you had delivered the check personally, and he has a
signed receipt to prove it.”

“Do you really
believe that I spend my time in New York going around depositing checks?”
Armstrong said, staring back at Sir Paul.

“Frankly, I have
no idea what you get up to when you’re in New York-though I am bound to say
that the explanation Peter Wakeham gave to last month’s meeting of how money
withdrawn from the pension fund ended up in accounts at the Bank of New
Amsterdam and the Manhattan Bank was just not credible.”

“What are you
suggesting?” shouted Armstrong.

“Mr. Armstrong,
we are both aware that the Manhattan is the bank which represents the print
unions in New York, and that BNA were given instructions by you to purchase
over $70 million of our shares during the past month-this despite the fact that
Mark Tenby, our chief accountant, pointed out when he issued you with a pension
fund checkbook that to purchase shares in one of our own companies was a
criminal offense.”

“He said no such
thing,” shouted Armstrong.

“is that just
another example of ‘a simple clerical error,”‘ said Sir Paul, “which can no
doubt be solved by sacking the chief accountant?”

‘This is
absolutely preposterous,” said Armstrong. TNA could have been purchasing those
shares for any one of their customers.”

“Unfortunately
not,” said Sir Paul, referring to another file. ‘The chief dealer, who was
willing to return my call, confirmed that you had given clear instructions,” he
glanced at his notes, “to ‘prop up’-in your words-the share price, because you
couldn’t afford to let the stock fall any further. When the implications of
such an action were pointed out to you, you apparently told him”-once again Sir
Paul checked his notes-21 don’t give a damn what it costs! “

“It’s his word
against mine,” said Armstrong. “If he repeats it, I’ll take out a writ for
slander against him.” He paused. “In both countries.”

‘That might not
be a wise course of action,” said Sir Paul, “because every call which goes
through to that department at BNA is recorded and logged, and I have requested
that a transcript of the conversation should be sent to me.”

“Are you
accusing me of lying?” shouted Armstrong.

“If I were to do
so,” asked the chairman, “would you then issue a writ for slander against me?”

For a moment
Armstrong was stunned.

“I can see that
you have no intention of answering any of my questions candidly,” continued Sir
Paul. “I am therefore left with no choice but to resign as chairman of the
board.”

“No, no,” cried
a few muted voices round the table.

Armstrong realized
for the first time that he had overplayed his hand.

If Sir Paul were
to resign now, within days the whole world would become aware of the precarious
state of the company’s finances. “I do hope you will find it possible to remain
as chairman until the AGM in April,” he said quietly, “so that we can at least
expedite an orderly handover.”

“I fear it has
already gone too far for that,” said Sir Paul.

As he rose from
his place, Armstrong looked up and said, “Do you expect me to beg?”

“No, sir, I do
not. You are about as capable of that as you are of telling the truth.”

Armstrong
immediately rose from his place, and the two men stared at each other for some
time before Sir Paul turned and left the room, leaving his papers on the desk
behind him.

Armstrong slipped
across into the chairman’s place, but didn’t speak for some time as his eyes
slowly scanned the table. “if there is anyone else who would care to join him,”
he said finally, “now’s your chance.”

There was a
little shuffling of papers, some scraping of chairs and the odd staring down at
hands, but nobody attempted to leave.

“Good,” said
Armstrong. “Now, as long as we all behave like grown-ups, it will soon become
clear that Sir Paul was simply jumping to conclusions without any grasp of the
real situation.”

Not everyone
around the table looked convinced. Eric Chapman, the company secretary, was
among those whose heads remained bowed.

“Item number
two,” said Armstrong firmly. The circulation manager took some time explaining
why the figures for the Citizen had fallen so sharply during the past month,
which he said would have an immediate knock-on effect on the advertising
revenue. “As the Globe has slashed its cover price to ten pence, I can only
advise the board that we should follow suit.”

“But if we do
that,” said Chapman, “we’ll just suffer an even greater loss of revenue.”

“True...” began
the circulation manager.

“We just have to
keep our nerve,” said Armstrong, “and see who blinks first. My bet is that
Townsend won’t be around in a month’s time, and we’ll be left to pick up the
pieces.”

Although one or
two of the directors nodded, most of them had been on the board long enough to
remember what had happened the last time Armstrong had suggested that
particular scenario.

It took another
hour to go through the remaining items on the agenda, and it became clearer by
the minute that no one around the table was willing to confront the chief
executive directly. When Armstrong finally asked if there was any other
business, no one responded.

“Thank you,
gentlemen,” he said. He rose from his place, gathered up Sir Paul’s files and
quickly left the room. As he strode down the corridor toward the lift, he saw
Peter Wakeham rushing breathlessly toward him. Armstrong smiled at the deputy
chairman, who turned and chased after him. He caught up just as Armstrong
stepped into the lift. “If only you had arrived a few minutes earlier, Peter,”
he said, looking down at him. “I could have made you chairman.” He beamed at
Wakeham as the lift doors closed.

He pressed the top
button and was whisked up to the roof, where he found his pilot leaning on the
railing, enjoying a cigarette. “Heathrow,” he harked, without giving a thought
to clearance by air-traffic control or the availability of take-off slots. The
pilot quickly stubbed out his cigarette and ran toward the helicopter landing
pad. As they flew over the City of London, Armstrong began to consider the
sequence of events that would take place during the next few hours unless the
$50 million were somehow miraculously to materialize.

Fifteen minutes
later, the helicopter landed on the private apron. He lowered himself onto the
ground and walked slowly over to his private jet.

Another pilot,
this one waiting to receive his orders, greeted him at the top of the steps.

“Nice,” said
Armstrong, before making his way to the back of the cabin.

The pilot
disappeared into the cockpit, assuming that “Captain Dick” would be joining his
yacht in Monte Carlo for a few days’ rest.

The Gulfstrearn
took off to the south. During the twohour flight Armstrong made only one phone
call, to Jacques Lacroix in Geneva. But however much he pleaded, the answer
remained the same: “Mr. Armstrong, you have until close of business today to
repay the $50 million, otherwise I will be left with no choice but to place the
matter in the hands of our legal department.”

NEW YORK STAR

6 NOVEMBER 1991

S
plash!

“I HAVE THE
President of the United States on line one,” said Heather, “and a Mr. Austin
Pierson from Cleveland, Ohio on line two. Which will you take first?”