An Ocean Apart (58 page)

“Excuse me, but who on
earth
do you think—?”

“Just be quiet and listen,” David said, holding up his hand. “I want you to get hold of Duncan Caple and both the marketing and financial directors, and tell them to meet me in the boardroom
right
now.”

The woman looked at him, her right eye twitching with both fear and indignation.

“Don't be absurd! I—”

“I also want you to get in contact with Margaret, and tell her to get herself back here right now. Then, as soon as you have done that, I want you to vacate this desk. Is that understood?” He flashed her a brittle smile and turned and walked towards the boardroom, followed by Dougie and Archie.

“Excuse me!” Doreen called out after David, her voice shaking with anger. “But I have no idea who you are!”

David turned and gave Archie a wink, and as he and Dougie continued on to the boardroom, Archie broke formation and walked back to the desk. He leaned across, his face two feet away from the receptionist, relishing this moment of glory in his young life as he emulated every movement of his boss.

“You have just addressed Mr. David Corstorphine, son of Lord Inchelvie and the principal shareholder of Glendurnich Distilleries Limited. Now, if I were you, I'd get hold of Mr. Caple, Mr. Barker and Mr. Archibald right now, and tell them that they're wanted in the boardroom immediately. And then call Margaret. You'll find her number in the Glendurnich telephone book—probably at the top of the list.”

Doreen looked at Archie, her former expression of self-importance now replaced with one of utter fear.

“What shall I say to her?” she asked in a thin, trembling voice.

Archie pushed himself away from the desk and turned to walk over to the boardroom. “Just tell her that Mr. David's back—for good!”

The young man took his time getting to the boardroom door, eager to hear Doreen talk with Mr. Caple on the telephone. In a faltering voice, she made her announcement, then, almost immediately, repeated it, and Archie imagined with almost sadistic glee the horror on Duncan Caple's face as he learned of David's presence in the building. Then, clenching his fist, he punched at the air, expelling through gritted teeth a silent Yesss before opening the door and walking into the boardroom.

When Duncan Caple entered two minutes later, accompanied by Giles Barker and Keith Archibald, David was standing looking out the window, his hands clasped behind him.

“David!” Duncan exclaimed, as he walked across the room towards David. “How nice to see you back. I was so sorry to hear about your fath——”

David turned and pointed to the table. “Sit down, all of you.”

Duncan stopped in his tracks and held up his hands, a sardonic smile on his face. “Of course. So how did things go in Ameri——?”

“Just sit
down,
Duncan!” David hissed through gritted teeth, as he turned to face the window once more.

The managing director shrugged, then pulled out a chair and sat, the other two directors having already taken heed of David's request the first time round. Duncan crossed his arms nonchalantly, then suddenly became aware of both Dougie and Archie, who were leaning against the back wall of the boardroom.

“So what have we got here?” Duncan asked, casting a glance at them over his shoulder. “The heavy brigade? Are you going to get them to beat me up, David?”

David turned. “No, Duncan. They're actually here to stop me from beating you up.”

Duncan reached forward and brought his hands hard down on the table. “Oh,
come on!
We can be a bit more mature about this, can't we? You know, it's quite easily explained—”

David held up his hand to stop him. “No … no, let me see if
I
can explain what's happened. You just sit there and listen for a change, and if I do happen to go wrong at all,
then
you can put me right.”

He walked slowly around the table, glaring at the three as he went. They followed him with their eyes, the two directors visibly blanching as they waited for him to begin. David breathed deeply, trying to steady his emotions, and looking at Duncan's thin aquiline nose, he found himself wondering what it would look like pushed flat against his face. He stopped and leaned forward on the table.

“So how much were you going to get paid, Duncan?”

For the first time, Duncan's smile slid from his face. “I don't think that really—”

“Because it must have been a hell of a lot to make it worthwhile for you to do what you've just done.”

He stared with such hatred at Duncan that the man began to rub his hands nervously together between his knees. David pushed himself off the table and walked over to the window.

“I don't know the time-scale on this, but I'm not really bothered. What I do know is that you have …
used
my father and myself to your own advantage, with the result that he is now lying near death in hospital.” He turned and looked at Duncan. “And I want you to get something clear from the outset—and I'm really addressing all of you now—and that is whatever has happened or
will
happen to my father will be on your consciences for the rest of your lives. Maybe, at this very minute, it will mean very little to you, because I think that you're too pig-ignorant to understand that … but Christ, I tell you, it'll eventually catch up with you!”

David surveyed them all in silence. They sat in a row, Keith Archibald now biting at a finger-nail, as they waited for him to continue. David caught Dougie's eye, and his ex-sergeant gave him a wink and a nod of his head in encouragement.

“Right!” David said, turning back to the window. “So let's see how close I can get to your little plan.” He paused. “In May, against both my will and my father's, you pulled me back to work, under the pretext that sales figures had slumped in the States. Number-one point. They had not, but you knew pretty well that the only person who might check up would be Robert McLeod, and you managed to slide him away from the company and replace him by—?”

He looked at the two directors, pointing his finger at each one. Keith Archibald slowly raised his hand.

“Right … you. Good. So Duncan, you decide to appoint a new distributor in the States. Deakin Distribution, a company run by a Mr. Charles Deakin, who just happens to have recently sold his company to a UK corporation called Kirkpatrick Holdings Public Limited Company.” For effect, he spelled out the full name in short, pronounced bursts. “So … I am sent over there, and because you have already given Deakin a full briefing on my own … personal loss and state of mind, he is able to play heavily on that, to such an extent that he suddenly, quite out of the blue, is able to stress the importance of my having a wife.”

He shook his head as he began to take in fully the ruthlessness of Duncan's actions.

“And bang! It works! I fly out of the office, in a worse state than ever before.” He took in a deep breath before continuing.

“So that's me out of the way. Deakin calls you and confirms all has gone according to plan. You then contact my father and tell him that you now need a marketing director, because I'm not in a fit state to fulfil my job.” He pointed to Giles Barker. “And you were brought in—from Kirkpatrick's, I presume?”

The three directors were by now looking extremely uneasy.

“I take it from your lack of interjections that I'm not doing badly so far.”

Duncan shook his head, and blowing out an impatient breath, linked his hands behind his head.

“That only left you with my father to deal with. However, you managed to get him out of the way pretty easily by saying that there was no need for him to come into the distillery any more, and that you would keep him in touch by visiting him at home.” He turned and stared directly at the managing director. “How very thoughtful of you, Duncan.” He began pacing up and down the boardroom.

“Now, you have the full run of the distillery to yourself.” He held up a finger and waggled it in the air. “Ah, but what about Margaret? She commands the switchboard. How can you begin to receive endless telephone calls from Kirkpatrick's without raising her suspicions? Easy! Get rid of her! So out she goes.”

He paused for a moment, as he tried to get the next point into his mind.

“Okay, so what about this take-over? What made you think that you could buy out a company that was in the hands of private shareholding? Ah, the workers' stock-purchase plan. You found out that they now owned thirty-one per cent of the shares. Not enough to swing an outright purchase, but nevertheless, a good-enough thumbscrew when the time was right…” David turned and thumped his hands down onto the table. “… to approach my father!”

David took a deep breath.

“So what were you going to say to him? ‘Listen, old boy, you're getting on a bit, and your son has lost all interest in the company and won't want anything to do with it, seeing that he's just had a nervous breakdown in the States. Much better that you realize your capital from the company now—anyway, thirty-one per cent of the shares are already owned by the workers, and they're all for making a bit of money out of the deal, which I'm sure you will agree is owed to them after
so
many years of faithful service. So why not
do
the right thing,
old boy'
!”

David spat out the last words in sheer fury at the three men who sat in front of him. He turned away and stood rubbing at his forehead with the tips of his fingers, his eyes tightly shut.

“But then, I found out about Kirkpatrick's, didn't I? And I began putting two and two together, even though my evidence was somewhat sketchy. So I faxed Archie through Margaret, but of course, Margaret wasn't there, so your … tame woman out there”—he pointed with a thumb over his shoulder towards the door—“brought the fax directly to you. And that not only spelt the end of Archie's involvement with the company, but also made you realize that I had an inkling of what you were planning.”

He turned back and looked directly at Duncan. “But what gets me is that you continued. I can't believe that—unless you were being pushed like hell by John Davenport in London.”

Duncan made no move to comment, and David shook his head. “Christ, I
am
doing well, aren't I? So you went on. You told the work-force on Friday, and then, on Saturday afternoon, you began to put the pressure on my father … and the consequences of
that
we all know too well.”

Giles Barker broke the silence that followed by clearing his throat.

“So what do we do now?” David asked. “You tell me, Duncan: What do you think we're going to do now?”

Duncan pushed himself forward in his chair and linked his hands together, placing them in front of his chin. “Well, we could still go ahead with it. It would still be hugely profitable for your family. If you would just, for one moment, consider—”

David turned, a look of sheer horror on his face.

“
What?
I don't believe you said that! God, you are so
fucking
thick-skinned! Oh, no, Duncan, this is as far as it goes. Not only do I hold thirty-four point five percent of the Glendurnich shareholding, but under the circumstances that surround my father at present, I stand here in proxy of his thirty-four point five per cent shareholding as well! That is sixty-nine per cent, Duncan, just in case your mental arithmetic is not as sharp as your underhandedness. There is no way that you can swing this deal
now!
No, I think you have totally misunderstood my question. What I'm really saying is: What are
you
lot going to do now?”

Duncan was silent. He rubbed at his chin and glanced across to his fellow directors, who in turn looked back at him.

“I don't know,” he said eventually. “What do
you
want us to do?”

David pulled out a chair and sat down opposite them, fixing each with a penetrating stare.

“Well, as far as I'm concerned, you have only one option, and that is to leave today, and never, ever set foot in Glendurnich again. But if you feel that you want to go against that option, then I'll tell you exactly what I'll do. Tomorrow morning, first thing, I shall call the Scottish correspondent of the
Financial Times
and the industrial editors of both
The Scotsman
and
The Herald,
and I shall issue them with a news release explaining exactly what has happened at Glendurnich. You'll agree with me when I say that I know the story well enough. And when it is printed, I doubt that you three will ever get a job again in this country.” He leaned back in his chair. “I certainly don't think John Davenport will want to know you. He would no doubt put his damage-limitation exercise into overdrive and distance Kirkpatrick's as far as possible from your escapades up here. You'd take the brunt, I'm afraid.”

He glanced over to Dougie, who was looking down at his feet, slowly nodding his head. There was a soft scraping on the carpet as Giles Barker and Keith Archibald pushed back their chairs and made their way over to the door. David turned and watched as they silently left the room, then stared over at Duncan, who eyed him with disdain, as if determined to make his final stand of dominance in the company. At that point, there was a knock at the boardroom door.

“Come in!” David called out.

Margaret put her head around the door, and he saw immediately that there were tears in her eyes.

“Yes, Margaret?” he asked in a concerned voice.

“Mr. David. I'm so sorry. Your mother has just been on the telephone.” Her voice choked. “I'm afraid that your father died a quarter of an hour ago.”

David looked at her and then over at Duncan.

“You fucking bastard!”