Читать книгу The Fall and Rise of Gordon Coppinger - David Nobbs - Страница 9

That anxiety, throbbing in his gut like the engines of a slow-moving ship, sharpened slightly. ‘10.30 GI.’

He pulled forward three easy chairs for the managers of GI.

Within minutes Keith Gostelow, Dan Perkins, and Adam Eaglestone were stretching their legs in their chairs. The heartland of Sir Gordon’s empire was not a bastion of equal rights for women.

If a member of the public was introduced to Keith Gostelow, Dan Perkins, and Adam Eaglestone as the triumvirate who ran a major investment company, that member of the public would not be impressed. But no members of the public did meet them. That was not the nature of Gordon Investments.

‘Any problems, gentlemen?’

Keith Gostelow and Adam Eaglestone exchanged a very swift, uneasy glance, a glance which excluded Dan Perkins. Sir Gordon’s sharp eyes missed none of this, and he didn’t like the glance. It suggested that there were problems – or, at least, that there was a problem.

‘Keith?’

It was an acknowledgement from Sir Gordon that he had seen and understood the glance.

‘Um …’ began Keith Gostelow – floppy, anarchic hair; bad complexion. ‘Maybe it’s just me, but … and I’m not saying it’s a serious matter, don’t get me wrong, but … um … I have noticed … I mean, not widely, and not equally over the whole country, and perhaps more in long-term investments, but also in … in the long term … in short-term investments … a bit … but as I say, not widely, but enough to make me take notice … investment is … in some areas … in some fields … um … not great.’

‘Poor?’

‘Exactly.’ Keith smiled, then the smile dissolved into slight panic. ‘Well, I mean, no, not exactly poor, no.’

‘But not great?’

‘Exactly.’

‘Adam? Your take on this?’

Adam Eaglestone – balding, short, shiny suit – was more fluent.

‘Uptake is sluggish. I would say that this is entirely unsurprising in view of economic sentiment at this moment in time. However, I would offer this cautious addendum. Should the economic situation weaken still further – and I see no reason to be optimistic about this – I do think that a problem might arise, and should be guarded against, if it can be done without weakening confidence, because to weaken confidence might be to precipitate the crisis whose possibility was the cause of confidence weakening in the first place.’

‘Thank you, Adam. Dan?’

‘We’re in the shit.’

Sir Gordon paused. The words of Dan Perkins – all muscle, face like granite – seemed to echo round the vast office. The clouds drifting slowly past the great picture window were just slightly coloured as if the sun was attempting to break through, giving them an unattractive muddy complexion which reminded Sir Gordon of the unpleasant waste matter in which, in Dan Perkins’s pithy opinion, they were.

‘So,’ said Sir Gordon. He let the word hang there. It hung well, so he repeated it. ‘So … if Dan’s view is right, and if what you two were saying reflects that view – and I am of course absolutely shocked to hear this, but I respect you or I wouldn’t have appointed you …’ The sentence wasn’t going well. Every man finds himself occasionally in the middle of a sentence which isn’t going well. The average man struggles to its muddled end. A great man abandons it. Sir Gordon abandoned it and returned to the word which, since it had served him well twice already, might be expected to be effective again. ‘So …’ he said, and once more he let the word hang there.

‘Do you think we should reduce the return by, say, for instance … um …’ began Keith Gostelow.

Suddenly two men appeared at the window, one of them massive, with a broken nose, the other short, wiry and grim-faced. Sir Gordon’s heart almost stopped. Ice coursed through his veins. He couldn’t breathe. The tall man raised his gun. So this was it. Pie Producer Patriot Gunned Down in Canary Wharf Horror. He’d known that he had enemies, of course, but …

Then he realized that the gun was a mop. He raised his arm in greeting. The large window cleaner waved back, and then the two were obscured by a torrent of water.

‘… or I mean maybe we should … um … I don’t know … well, I mean, I really don’t mean that I don’t know …’

‘Quiet,’ said Sir Gordon. ‘Careless talk costs lives.’

‘Sorry?’

‘That was a poster my dad kept. From the war.’ He lowered his voice. ‘Better not say too much in front of the window cleaners.’

Another look passed between Keith Gostelow and Adam Eaglestone. Again, it bypassed Dan Perkins. Sir Gordon hoped that none of his three investment executives had noticed his brief panic. If rumours that his nerve was going got about … and was it going? Oh God. Was it? Was that what the waking-up incident had been about? As a result of all this, he found himself speaking in a sharp manner that shone light on his momentary weakness.

‘You think I’m paranoid, Adam, Keith?’

‘Um …’ said Keith.

‘Of course not,’ said Adam. ‘And I’m as security conscious as anyone, but … do you really think a window cleaner could hear what we’re saying through double glazing?’

‘It wouldn’t matter if he heard what you and Keith were saying, anyway,’ said Dan. ‘I’ve never heard two people say so much about so little.’

‘Dan, please,’ said Sir Gordon. ‘Let’s not get personal. Let’s not lose our nerve.’

His eyes met Dan’s. He held the look. Dan broke away first.

‘I’m security conscious, yes,’ said Sir Gordon. ‘Very much so. Maybe exaggeratedly so. No, of course I don’t think they can hear what we say through what is actually triple glazing. And of course I’m not paranoid. However …’ He paused. ‘You three are the only other people in the world who know the truth about Gordon Investments. There are people who would pay highly for that truth. Keeping it secret is vital to our survival. Vital. They may be bona fide window cleaners. They may not. But, even if they are, can we be absolutely certain that they can’t lip-read?’