“The chairman will see you now, sir. His office is on—”

“The top floor,” said Seb. “Many thanks.”

When Seb stepped out of the lift on the executive floor, he walked slowly down the corridor toward Cedric’s old office. He recognized no one, and no one recognized him, but then he knew Sloane hadn’t wasted any time in purging Farthings of all Cedric’s lieutenants.

He didn’t have to knock on Sloane’s door because it swung open when he was a couple of paces away.

“Good to see you, Seb,” said Sloane. “It’s been too long,” he added before he ushered him into his office, but didn’t risk offering to shake his hand.

The first thing that struck Seb as he entered the chairman’s office was that there was no sign of Cedric. No acknowledgement of his thirty years’ stewardship of the bank. No portrait, no photograph, no plaque to remind the next generation of his achievements. Sloane had not only replaced him, but had airbrushed him out of existence, like a Soviet politician who’d fallen from favor.

“Have a seat,” said Sloane, as if he was addressing one of the bank’s junior clerks.

Seb took a closer look at his adversary. He’d put on a few pounds since they’d last met, but it was cleverly masked by a well-tailored double-breasted suit. One thing that hadn’t changed was the insincere smile of a man most people in the City were reluctant to do business with.

Sloane took his seat behind the chairman’s desk and didn’t waste any more time with banalities.

“Seb, someone as bright as you will already have worked out why I wanted to see you.”

“I assumed you were going to offer me a place on the board of Farthings.”

“That’s not exactly what I had in mind.” The false laugh followed, to accompany the insincere smile. “However, it’s been clear for some time that you’ve been buying the bank’s stock on the open market, and you now only need another twenty-two thousand shares to cross the threshold that would allow you to automatically take a place on the board, or to nominate someone else to represent you.”

“Be assured, I’ll be representing myself.”

“Which is why I wanted to talk to you. It’s no secret that we didn’t get on well when you worked under me—”

“Which is why I resigned.”

“It’s also why I feel it would be inappropriate for you to be involved in the day-to-day running of the bank.”

“I have absolutely no interest in the day-to-day running of the bank. I assume you have capable staff to carry out that job. That was never my intention.”

“Then what is your intention?” demanded Sloane, barely able to hide his irritation.