“That it couldn’t have gone better for them if they’d planned it. Not only did they get rid of you, but three of your most trusted lieutenants at the same time.”

“Three honorable men,” said Emma.

“Just like Brutus, and look where that got him.”

“I wish I’d still been in the boardroom when Admiral Summers—”

“You’re back in your Girl Guide uniform, Mother. Now snap out of it, and listen carefully. The first thing you must do is ring Admiral Summers, Bob Bingham, and Mr. Dixon, and tell them that under no circumstances are they to resign from the board.”

“But they walked out, Seb. Knowles and Mellor won’t give a damn why they did.”

“But I do give a damn, because I only care about the three votes we would sacrifice for the sake of a pointless gesture. If they were to remain on the board, with my vote, yours and Dobbs’s, we’d have six votes to their five.”

“But I won’t be in the chair again until after the trial. Have you forgotten that I stood down?”

“No, you didn’t. You just walked out of the meeting. So you can walk back in again, because if you don’t, you won’t be chairman after the trial, win or lose.”

“You’re a devious individual, Sebastian Clifton.”

“And as long as Mellor and Knowles don’t work that out, we’re still in with a chance. But first, you’ve got three calls to make. Because, believe me, Mellor and Knowles will only ever accept defeat if we win every vote.”

“Perhaps you should be chairman,” said Emma.

“All in good time, Mother. But what I need you to do now is get straight on the phone to Admiral Summers, because he’s probably already written his resignation letter. Let’s just hope he hasn’t posted it.”

Emma picked up the phone book and began flicking through the S’s.

“And if you need me for anything, I’ll be in the library making a long-distance call,” said Seb.

*   *   *

Adrian Sloane was standing in the entrance hall of Farthings Bank at five minutes to eleven. No one could remember the chairman ever coming down to meet a guest before.

Mr. Bishara’s Bentley drew up outside the bank four minutes later and a doorman rushed across to open the car’s back door. As Bishara and his two colleagues entered the building, Sloane stepped forward to greet him.

“Good morning, Mr. Bishara,” he said as they shook hands. “Welcome to your bank.”

“Thank you, Mr. Sloane. I’m sure you’ll remember Mr. Moreland, my lawyer, and Mr. Pirie, my chief accountant.”

“Of course,” said Sloane, shaking hands with both men. He then guided his guests toward a waiting lift as the staff burst into well-rehearsed applause to welcome their new president.