Read Be Careful What You Wish For: The Clifton Chronicles 4 Online
Authors: Jeffrey Archer
As Morita made no attempt to introduce his two colleagues, Sebastian immediately led them out of the terminal. He was relieved to find Tom standing to attention by the open back door of the
car.
‘Good morning, sir,’ said Tom, bowing low, but Mr Morita and his colleagues climbed into the car without acknowledging him.
Sebastian jumped into the front seat, and the car joined the slow-moving traffic into London. He remained silent during the journey to the Savoy, while Mr Morita chatted quietly to his
colleagues in their native tongue. Forty minutes later, the Daimler came to a halt outside the hotel. Three porters rushed to the back of the car and began unloading the luggage.
When Mr Morita stepped out on to the pavement, Sebastian bowed low. ‘I will return at eleven thirty, sir,’ he said in English, ‘so that you will be in time for your meeting
with Mr Hardcastle at twelve o’clock.’
Mr Morita managed a nod as the manager of the hotel stepped forward and said, ‘Welcome back to the Savoy, Morita San.’ He bowed low.
Sebastian didn’t get back into the car until Mr Morita had disappeared through the hotel’s revolving doors. ‘We need to get back to the office, and as quickly as
possible.’
‘But my instructions are to stay put,’ said Tom, not budging, ‘in case Mr Morita needs to use the car.’
‘I don’t give a damn what your instructions were,’ said Sebastian. ‘We’re going back to the office, and right now, so step on it.’
‘On your head be it,’ said Tom, before shooting down the wrong side of the road and out on to the Strand.
Twenty-two minutes later, they drew up outside Farthings. ‘Turn the car round and keep the engine running,’ said Sebastian. ‘I’ll be back as quickly as I can.’ He
leapt out of the car, ran into the building, headed for the nearest lift and, on arriving on the fifth floor, charged down the corridor and marched into the chairman’s office without
knocking. Adrian Sloane turned round, and made no attempt to hide his disapproval at having his meeting with the chairman interrupted so abruptly.
‘I thought I gave you instructions to remain at the Savoy,’ said Cedric.
‘Something’s come up, chairman, and I’ve only got a few minutes to brief you.’
Sloane looked even less pleased when Hardcastle asked him to leave them and to come back in a few minutes. ‘So what’s the problem?’ he asked Sebastian once the door was
closed.
‘Mr Morita has an appointment with the Westminster Bank at three this afternoon, and another with Barclays at ten tomorrow morning. He and his advisers are concerned that Farthings
hasn’t done many company loans before, and you’ll have to convince them that you’re capable of handling such a large deal. And by the way, they know everything about you,
including the fact that you left school at fifteen.’
‘So he can read English,’ said Cedric. ‘But how did you come across the rest of the information, because I can’t believe they volunteered it.’
‘They didn’t. But then, they have no idea that I speak Japanese.’
‘Let’s keep it that way,’ said Cedric. ‘It might come in useful later. But for now, you’d better get back to the Savoy, and sharpish.’
‘One more thing,’ said Sebastian as he headed towards the door. ‘It’s not the first time Mr Morita has stayed at the Savoy. In fact, the hotel manager greeted him as if
he was a regular guest. And I’ve just remembered, they’re hoping to get three tickets for
My Fair Lady
, but they’ve been told it’s sold out.’
The chairman picked up the phone and said, ‘Find out which theatre
My Fair Lady
is playing at, and get the box office on the line.’
Sebastian ran out of the room and down the corridor, willing the lift to be on the top floor. It wasn’t, and it seemed to take forever to return. When it finally appeared, it stopped at
every floor on the way down. He ran out of the building, jumped into the car, checked his watch and said, ‘We’ve got twenty-six minutes to be back at the Savoy.’
Sebastian could never remember the traffic moving so slowly. Every light seemed to turn red just as they approached it. And why were the zebra crossings so packed with pedestrians at this time
in the morning?
Tom turned into Savoy Place at twenty-seven minutes past eleven, to face a fleet of stationary limousines disgorging their passengers outside the hotel. Sebastian couldn’t afford to wait,
so, with Professor Marsh’s words ringing in his ears,
The Japanese are never late for a meeting and consider it an insult if you fail to be on time,
he jumped out and began running
down the street towards the hotel.
Why didn’t I use the hotel phone, he was asking himself long before he’d reached the front entrance. But it was too late to worry about that. He ran past the doorman, and pushed
through the revolving doors propelling a lady out on to the street far more quickly than she had intended.
He looked up at the foyer clock: 11.29. He walked quickly across to the lifts, checked his tie in the mirror and took a deep breath. The clock struck twice, the lift doors opened and out stepped
Mr Morita and his two colleagues. He graced Sebastian with a smile, but then, he assumed the young man had been standing there for the past hour.
S
EBASTIAN OPENED
the door to allow Mr Morita and his two colleagues to enter the chairman’s office.
As he walked across to greet them, Cedric felt tall for the first time in his life. He was just about to bow when Mr Morita thrust out his hand.
‘I’m delighted to meet you,’ said Cedric, shaking hands while preparing to bow a second time, but Morita turned and said, ‘May I introduce my managing director, Mr
Ueyama.’ He stepped forward and also shook hands with Cedric. The chairman would have shaken hands with Mr Ono too, if he hadn’t been clutching a large box in both hands.
‘Do have a seat,’ said Cedric, trying to get back on script.
‘Thank you,’ said Morita. ‘But first, it is an honourable Japanese tradition to exchange gifts with a new friend.’ The private secretary stepped forward and handed the
box to Mr Morita, who passed it to Cedric.
‘How very kind of you,’ said Cedric, looking faintly embarrassed as all three of his visitors remained standing, clearly waiting for him to open the gift.
He took his time, first removing the blue ribbon, so carefully tied in a bow, and then the gold paper, as he tried to think of something he could give Morita in return. Would he have to
sacrifice his Henry Moore? He glanced at Sebastian, more in hope than expectation, but he was looking equally embarrassed. The traditional exchange of gifts must have been covered in one of the few
lessons he’d missed.
Cedric removed the lid from the box, and gasped as he gently lifted out a beautiful, delicate vase of turquoise and black. Sebastian, standing at the back of the room, took a pace forward, but
said nothing.
‘Magnificent,’ said Cedric. He removed a bowl of flowers from his desk and put the exquisite oval vase in its place. ‘Whenever you come to my office in future, Mr Morita, you
will always find your vase on my desk.’
‘I am greatly honoured,’ said Morita, bowing for the first time.
Sebastian took another step forward, until he was only a foot away from Mr Morita. He turned to face the chairman.
‘Do I have your permission to ask our honoured guest a question, sir?’
‘Of course,’ said Cedric, hoping he was about to be rescued.
‘May I be allowed to know the name of the potter, Morita San?’
Mr Morita smiled. ‘Shoji Hamada,’ he replied.
‘It is a great honour to receive a gift crafted by one of your nation’s living national treasures. Had the chairman known, he would have offered a similar gift by one of our finest
English potters, who has written a book on Mr Hamada’s work.’ All the endless hours of chatter with Jessica were finally proving useful.
‘Mr Bernard Leach,’ said Morita. ‘I am fortunate enough to have three of his pieces in my collection.’
‘However, our gift, selected by my chairman, although not as worthy, is nevertheless given in the same spirit of friendship.’
Cedric smiled. He couldn’t wait to find out what his gift was.
‘The chairman has obtained three tickets for tonight’s performance of
My Fair Lady
at the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane. With your permission, I will collect you from your hotel
at seven o’clock, and escort you to the theatre, where the curtain rises at seven thirty.’
‘One cannot think of a more agreeable gift,’ said Mr Morita. Turning to Cedric, he added, ‘I am humbled by your thoughtful generosity.’
Cedric bowed, but realized this wasn’t the time to let Sebastian know that he’d already called the theatre, only to be told it was sold out for the next fortnight. A languid voice
had informed him, ‘You can always join the queue for returns,’ which was exactly what Sebastian would be doing for the rest of the day.
‘Do have a seat, Mr Morita,’ said Cedric, trying to recover. ‘Perhaps you would like some tea?’
‘No, thank you, but, if possible, a cup of coffee.’
Cedric thought ruefully about the six different blends of tea from India, Ceylon and Malaya he’d selected at Carwardine’s earlier in the week, which had all been rejected in a
sentence. He pressed a button on his phone, and prayed that his secretary drank coffee.
‘Some coffee, please, Miss Clough. I do hope you had a pleasant flight,’ he said after he’d put the phone back down.
‘Too many stopovers, I fear. I look forward to the day when you can fly from Tokyo to London non-stop.’
‘What a thought,’ said Cedric. ‘And I hope your hotel is comfortable?’
‘I only ever stay at the Savoy. So convenient for the City.’
‘Yes, of course,’ said Cedric. Wrong-footed again.
Mr Morita leant forward, looked at the photograph on Cedric’s desk and said, ‘Your wife and son?’
‘Yes,’ said Cedric, unsure if he should elaborate.
‘Wife a milk monitor, son a QC.’
‘Yes,’ said Cedric helplessly.
‘My sons,’ said Morita, removing a wallet from an inside pocket and taking out two photographs, which he placed on the desk in front of Cedric. ‘Hideo and Masao are at school
in Tokyo.’
Cedric studied the photographs, and realized the time had come to tear up the script. ‘And your wife?’
‘Mrs Morita was unable to visit England this time, because our young daughter, Naoko, has chicken pox.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Cedric, as there was a gentle tap on the door and Miss Clough entered carrying a tray of coffee and shortbread biscuits. Cedric was about to take his first
sip, and was wondering what he could possibly talk about next, when Morita suggested, ‘Perhaps the time has come to discuss business?’
‘Yes, of course,’ said Cedric, putting his cup down. He opened a file on his desk and reminded himself of the salient points he’d highlighted the night before. ‘I’d
like to say from the outset, Mr Morita, that coupon loans is not the field in which Farthings has made its reputation. However, as we wish to build a long-term relationship with your distinguished
company, I hope you will allow us the opportunity to prove ourselves.’ Morita nodded. ‘Remembering that the amount you require is ten million pounds, with a short-term payback coupon of
five years, and having studied your most recent cash-flow figures, while assessing the current exchange rate of the yen, we consider a realistic percentage . . .’
Now that he was back on familiar ground, Cedric relaxed for the first time. Forty minutes later, he had presented his ideas and answered every one of Mr Morita’s questions. Sebastian felt
his boss couldn’t have done much better.
‘May I suggest you draw up a contract, Mr Hardcastle? I was in no doubt that you were the right man for this job long before I left Tokyo. After your presentation, I am even more
convinced. I do have appointments with two other banks, but that is simply to assure my shareholders that I am considering alternatives. Take care of the rin, and the yen will take care of
themselves.’
Both men laughed.
‘If you are free,’ said Cedric, ‘perhaps you would care to join me for lunch? A Japanese restaurant has recently opened in the City, and has received excellent reviews, so I
thought—’
‘And you can think again, Mr Hardcastle, because I didn’t travel six thousand miles in search of a Japanese restaurant. No, I will take you to Rules, and we will enjoy roast beef and
Yorkshire pudding, appropriate for a man from Huddersfield, I think.’ Both men burst out laughing again.
When they left the office a few minutes later, Cedric held back and whispered in Sebastian’s ear, ‘Good thinking, but as there are no tickets available for tonight’s
performance of
My Fair Lady
, you’re going to have to spend the rest of the day in the returns queue. Just let’s hope it doesn’t rain, or you’ll be soaked
again,’ he added before joining Mr Morita in the corridor.
Sebastian bowed low as Cedric and his guests stepped into the lift and disappeared down to the ground floor. He hung around on the fifth floor for a few more minutes but didn’t call for
the lift until he felt certain they would be well on their way to the restaurant.
Once Sebastian had left the bank, he hailed a taxi. ‘Theatre Royal, Drury Lane,’ he said, and when they pulled up outside the theatre twenty minutes later, the first thing he noticed
was just how long the queue for returns was. He paid the cabbie, strolled into the theatre and went straight up to the box office.
‘I don’t suppose you have three tickets for tonight?’ he pleaded.
‘You suppose correctly, my dear,’ said the woman sitting in the booth. ‘You could of course join the returns queue, but frankly not many of them will get in before Christmas.
Someone has to die before this show gets returns.’
‘I don’t care what it costs.’
‘That’s what they all say, dear. We’ve got people in the queue who claim it’s their twenty-first birthday, their fiftieth wedding anniversary . . . one of them was so
desperate he proposed to me.’
Sebastian walked out of the theatre and stood on the pavement. He took one more look at the queue, which seemed to have grown even longer in the past few minutes, and tried to work out what he
could possibly do next. He then recalled something he’d once read in one of his father’s novels. He decided he would try to find out if it would work for him as well as it had for
William Warwick.