An Ocean Apart (50 page)

“I don't know. I can't fathom that out either. At first, I thought that it might be that he'd been back in touch with Deakin's, but then we'd have heard from Charles Deakin if that had been the case. The way I read it is that the guy feels the whole thing is
so
improbable that he doesn't want to risk my witnessing him make a complete fool of himself again, like he did in New York.”

John Davenport sighed. “Well, let's look on the bright side. Thank God he sent a fax, and thank God we intercepted it.”

Duncan picked up his pen and began doodling on his desk-pad.

“So what do you want to do? Continue with the plan or, well, rethink it?”

John Davenport's voice exploded through the speaker. “
Christ
no! Listen, as you said, his whole fax is pure supposition! Kirkpatrick's has great
need
of Glendurnich, Duncan, and I'm not going to throw a whole year's positioning work out the window at this juncture! And remember, you've got half a million pounds coming to you if we succeed in purchasing the company. You don't want to kiss that goodbye, do you? Come on, we go ahead with it, but we'll just have to bring the whole schedule forward. We can't risk leaving it for another two weeks.”

“Right. So you want to make it this week, then.”

“I'm afraid so, Duncan. What do you think? Can you manage it?”

Duncan threw the pen down on the desk and fell back in his chair.

“Okay!” he said decisively. “We'll bring the schedule forward a week. I'll call a meeting of all personnel in the car-park at five
P.M
. on Friday, just before they head home, and go through the proposal with them then. That'll give them the weekend to mull it over. Then I'll pay Inchelvie a visit on Saturday afternoon and tell him about the offer.”

“All right, but I really think you are going to have to start putting some fairly extreme pressure on him now, Duncan. You
have
to convince him that this really is the only way that Glendurnich will survive in the future, and make sure that he understands implicitly that we have the best interests of both the company and the family at heart. I would suggest you really push your trump card concerning the workers' thirty-one per-cent shareholding as soon as you've heard their decision on Monday, and maybe see if you can't get him to sign over some of his own shares as soon as possible after that. I'd feel happier if we had nearer the fifty percent mark before the whole world gets wind of this.”

“Yeah, don't worry. I think we've worked out pretty well how to handle this whole thing.”

“I hope so. I have to warn you that we
are
sailing pretty close to the wind with Glendurnich. While we're not doing anything strictly illegal, our actions could be classed as being ‘over-manipulative.'”

“Yes, I understand that, John.”

“Good! Now, what are you going to do about Corstorphine's fax?”

“Well, I thought at first that I might answer it by sending a fax straight from the computer—no identifiable signature or anything. But I think that's too dangerous, inasmuch as it
would
actually constitute an illegal action. No, I think we'll just leave it. I mean, at least he left open that option for us by saying that he didn't expect a reply.”

“Okay, well, I agree with that. And what about this chap McLachlan?”

“Don't worry. I'll deal with him.”

“Right. Just make sure you cover your back, Duncan, in every way. I've had to do it all my life, so I know what you're about to let yourself in for! And keep in touch on a daily basis from now on, or even more frequently if you want any advice.”

“Will do.”

“Well, best of luck, then. Just go for it, boy!”

The telephone clicked off before Duncan had time to reply. He switched off the speakerphone, then picked up the fax and slowly tore it into pieces and threw it away. He pressed the button on his intercom. “Doreen?”

“Yes, Mr. Caple?”

“What did you find out about McLachlan?”

“His apprenticeship terminates at the end of next month.”

“Okay. Well, I'm afraid that I have no option but to bring it forward, Doreen, so could you ask him to come to see me right now, please?”

“Very good, Mr. Caple.”

“And, Doreen?”

“Yes?”

“Thanks again for your assistance over this matter. I really think that that fax could have been very hurtful to the future of the company.”

“That's exactly what I thought. I shall contact young McLachlan straight away.”

Chapter
  
THIRTY

The atmosphere in the offices of Culpepper Rowan on Tuesday morning was one of tense expectancy, the whole place seeming to have taken on the air of a legal-appeals office that was awaiting word of a reprieve from execution. There was little laughter or chat, the executives choosing to stay in their own offices behind closed doors, and those employees who passed in the corridors did so in silence, exchanging only a fleeting nervous smile with each other instead of the customary light-hearted greeting or teasing remark.

The only contact that Sam Culpepper had made with the members of his staff that morning had been in the form of an internal E-mail, giving express instructions that if Tarvy's were to be in touch, then he should be the first informed. Consequently, every time the telephone rang, Jennifer stopped what she was doing and gazed mesmerically at the light on the panel, nervously biting at a finger-nail until it went out again. Then, with a sigh of resignation, she would set about trying to get her brain back to work on the proposal for Russ's new clients.

However, by mid-day, she had heard nothing from Sam, and realizing that it would now be five o'clock in the afternoon in London, she began to conclude that somewhere in an office, not very far away from theirs, a party was already under way to celebrate the winning of the Tarvy's account. She went back over in her mind every last detail of her proposal, knowing each heading and paragraph as if it might be the most personal record she had ever kept of herself. The more she thought about it, the more new ideas or angles which had been discarded seemed to spring to mind, ones which she now wished she had had the sense to include in the document. And the more consideration she gave it, the more despondent she became.

By one o'clock, the telephone seemed to have stopped ringing completely. That's it, she thought to herself, it's all over. We
definitely
didn't get it. She slumped forward on her desk and rubbed at her face with her hands. What a waste of effort!
Jesus,
why did Sam ever think that they might have a chance against all those big shots? It was like—David trying to take on Goliath! She suddenly snorted out an involuntary laugh, realizing the funny side to her pun, and a mental picture sprang instantly to mind of
her
David standing in front of an enormous Philistine giant armed with a garden hoe and a tennis racket. Knowing him, he'd probably win, too!

She pushed her seat back, and smoothing her hands over her hair and linking them at the back of her head, she swivelled round to focus on a couple of window-cleaners suspended in their cradle from the roof of the opposite office block, seemingly oblivious to their height above Fifth Avenue as they chatted.

The door of her office was suddenly flung open with such force that it crashed against the bookcase behind it, making her jolt round in her chair. No one entered, but she heard muffled voices outside in the corridor.

“Who's there?” Jennifer asked, leaning forward on her desk to see if she could make out what was going on.

“Come on, Russ, get it off!” a voice whispered.

“I can't! It's stuck!”

“Give it a shake!”

“What the hell's going on?” Jennifer got up from her chair and walked round the side of her desk. As she approached the door, there was a loud explosion and a champagne cork cannoned awkwardly off the ceiling, hitting her sharply on the toe and making her jump back with the fright.

“What the
hell
is…?”

Sam's balding head came round the side of the door.

“Who happens to be a genius?” he said, his face set in such an asinine grin that it looked as if he were trying to get used to an oversized set of false teeth. “Who's just won us the Tarvy's contract?”

Jennifer felt her jaw quite literally drop open and she put her hand up to her mouth.

“
What!
But how? When? The phone hasn't rung for well over an hour.”

Sam entered the room, shaking a fax above his head. “Maybe it hasn't. But who said anything about them using the phone?”

Jennifer clapped her hands to her head. “Oh my
God!
You mean we
got
it?” she said breathlessly, scarcely believing what Sam was saying.

“No!” Sam exclaimed, pumping the fist that held the fax in the air. “
You
got it, Jennifer!
You
got it for us!”

She staggered unsteadily backwards towards her desk and sat down when she felt its support behind her. “We got the contract?” she asked quietly.

Sam's face took on a look of impatience. “How many more times do I have to say it? Yeah, we got it, we—got—the—Tarvy's contract!”

Jennifer stared blankly over the top of Sam's head. “We got the Tarvy's contract,” she stated as if in an hypnotic trance.

Sam put on his madcap grin again and stood nodding his head furiously in front of her. Russ came round between them and, handing her a glass of champagne, he gave her a kiss on the cheek. “What a wonderful woman you are, Jennifer Newman!” he said with a wink.

Jennifer's face suddenly broke into a smile as the news finally began to register, and putting her glass down on the desk beside her, she leaped forward towards Sam, threw her arms around his neck and began jumping up and down.

“We got it, Sam! We
got
it!”

“I
know!
I
know!
” he said, trying to get into step with her bouncing.

Jennifer pushed herself away from him. “Well, let me have a look at it!” She grabbed the fax from his hand, and began to read every word of it out loud.

Jennifer turned and smiled excitedly at her two colleagues before reading on.

Dear Mr. Culpepper,

Having given due and careful consideration to the proposals that were tendered for the above campaign, we have the pleasure of informing you that our marketing committee has unanimously agreed to offer you the above contract.

It should be known that the decision was reached, not only on the basis of your excellent proposals, but also on a recommendation made to a member of our committee by an associate within the drinks industry, namely that yours is a company that would be in the position to take immediate action in implementing soonest an advertising campaign for Tarvy's Gin. We see this as being an integral part of our projected plan to secure for ourselves a share of the U.S. market within this coming year.

I have already taken the liberty of booking a flight to New York for both myself and our marketing director next Monday. We will be arriving at 2
P.M
.
U.S. time, so I would be grateful if you could confirm both acceptance of this contract, and also a meeting for 3:30
P.M
.
on Monday 13th July.

With best wishes, and again many congratulations on an extremely well-thought-out campaign!

Yours sincerely,

Adrian Thompson

Managing Director, Tarvy's Gin Ltd.

Jennifer's voice tailed off as she ended the fax, and she looked up with an incredulous look on her face.

“We got it, Sam! We goddamned well got it!”

Sam and Russ held their glasses up to her, and she in turn raised hers.

“To Tarvy's Gin!” Sam said with a laugh. “And long may it pour!”

They drank a long toast, and Russ came forward with the bottle to replenish Jennifer's glass. “So?” he asked, looking at her out of the side of his eye as he filled her glass.

Jennifer gave him a puzzled look.

“So,” Russ continued, “who's this secret contact you have?”

Jennifer looked down at the fax again and quickly read it through once more. “I don't know. I—I was going to ask you the same question!”

Sam pulled on Russ's arm and guided the champagne bottle back to his glass. “Oh, who gives a damn!” He cast his eyes to the ceiling. “But whoever it is, may God look down on him or her at this precise minute, and lay a kiss on his or her brow!”

With a laugh, they raised their glasses up once more.

The combination of fast intake of champagne and a complete mood swing from one of deep depression to flying elation suddenly took its effect on Jennifer. She walked round behind her desk and fell back heavily in her chair.

“God, I feel completely and utterly emotionally
drained
! I have been sitting here all day thinking about it! I never imagined for a moment…”