“Um.” Sir David dabs at his lips with his napkin. “In that case, well. As you know, nine months ago I authorized the formation of a research group, operated by Oscar Menendez on an arms-reach basis—it’s established as a limited company, owned by the bank but notionally separate—to investigate possible applications of the new area of mathematics research you were kind enough to recommend to me for quantitative trading analysis. A couple of weeks ago Oscar reported that his team have made some sort of breakthrough in group theory. This higher mathematics might as well be magic to me, I’m afraid. If you want to know more, I can procure a copy of the research material for you. But in any case, they’ve established a new technique for running ahead of the market without using inside information or doing anything else that might violate current exchange regulations. In view of his report, we discussed and then authorized the establishment of a modest investment fund for his group to operate for six months on a pilot basis—”

Old George nods to himself affably enough as Sir David rattles along. Sir David, for his part, is increasingly confident that this is the object of George’s enquiry and that George is content to absorb the offering put before him. Old George is, after all, if not a board member then at the very least a major investor, perhaps best described as a sleeping partner: he, or his friends and proxies, control enough equity in the bank to light a fire under the feet of the board at the AGM if they are displeased with the management of their assets. Sir David is not directly accountable to Old George, but nobody to whom he is accountable will find fault with his disclosure to this very important shareholder. So as Sir David winds down he smiles hopefully as he looks to Old George for a sign of absolution. “It’s an absolute certainty that this is going to net us a bump in the first quarter bottom line next year. Which can’t be bad, eh?”

Old George nods once more. “Sir David, I am sure that our investment stance is safe in your hands. But, just to be sure, if I may make a suggestion? I would like you to invite Mr. Menendez and his managers to an off-site meeting, somewhere outdoors, between the hours of ten a.m. and three o’clock in the afternoon. And I would appreciate it if you or your staff would immediately inform me of their response.”

“Really? I—” Sir David’s gaze is arrested by the intensity of Old George’s stare. He dry-swallows. “Yes, sir. Of course. Is there anything else?”

“Not for now, I think.” Old George looks around, attracting the attention of a waiter. “Perhaps I could interest you in a dessert . . . ?”

• • •