minutes to hear what you have to say. But very frankly, I meant it when I said we’d reached an impasse.’
‘That’s not strictly true, in my opinion,’ he responded, smiling faintly, and his relief at her continuing presence in his board room was barely concealed as he took a cigarette and lit it. ‘Your proposition is a bit preposterous, you know. We want new financing. We don’t want to be taken over and thrown out of our own company. No, no, that’s not what we had in mind when we came to you,’ he finished, shaking his head several times for added emphasis.
Paula gazed at him in amazement. She gave him a curious smile. ‘You’ve just pin-pointed the crux of the matter. You came to us, remember. We didn’t seek you out. And you certainly knew enough about Harte Enterprises, and how we operate, to understand that we never invest in companies that are in trouble. We take those over, reorganize them, and put them under new management. Our management. In other words, we get them running smoothly, efficiently, and on a profitable basis. We’re not interested in financing other people’s continuing disasters. It doesn’t pay.’
John Cross winced at this unmistakable thrust, but resisted the parry. Instead he said, ‘Quite so, quite so. I’ve been thinking … Maybe we can arrive at a workable compromise–’
‘Dad! Don’t!’ Sebastian exploded irately, moving violently in his chair.
His father held up one hand, and frowned at him. ‘Hear me out, Sebastian. Now, Paula, here’s what I think we might do, how we might make a deal after all. Harte Enterprises could buy fifty-two per cent of Aire Communications’ shares. That gives you the control you insist you must have. You put in your management, reorganize as you wish, but you must let us stay with – ’
‘Dad! What are you saying? Are you crazy?’ Sebastian bellowed, his flushed face darkening considerably. ‘Where would that leave us? I’ll tell you where. Out in the bloody cold, for Christ’s sake.’
‘Sebastian! Please,’ John Cross shouted back, finally losing his composure, his exasperation running high. ‘Let me finish for once in my life.’
‘Just a minute, Mr Cross,’ Paula cut in rapidly, her irritation echoing in her voice. ‘Before you go any further, I must point out, yet again, that we wouldn’t be interested. It must be a full buy out. One hundred per cent or nothing. And I told you this right from the – ’
‘That’s the old monster talking again, Dad,’ Sebastian interrupted derisively, his mouth contorted into an ugly line. ‘Emma Harte! Jesus Christ, the only heart she’s got is in her name. Don’t deal with them, Dad. They’re vultures, both of them, and this one learned well at the knee of the master, that’s patently bloody obvious. She wants to swallow us up, in the same way her grandmother has swallowed up companies over the years. I told you, we don’t need them.’
Paula chose to ignore this unruly and vindictive outburst, deeming it unworthy of a response. She focused all of her attention on John Cross. She was appalled at his deviousness and enraged, but controlling herself, she said as evenly as possible, ‘I started to say, that I quite clearly recall mentioning the full buy out to you, Mr Cross, long before today’s meeting. I find it hard to believe you’ve forgotten the protracted conversations we’ve had about that very matter.’ She gave him a hard stare, wondering if he thought she was stupid.
John Cross coloured under her sharp scrutiny. He remembered her initial statements only too well. But he had hoped to get Harte Enterprises interested in the company, whet Emma Harte’s appetite, then structure the deal to suit himself. He had been elated when he had realized it was Paula who would do the negotiating. He had believed he could manipulate her, and the situation, to his advantage. His plan, had somehow misfired. Maybe Sebastian was right. Yes, Emma Harte was undoubtedly working behind the scenes; all of this had her unmistakable stamp to it. An unreasonable anger surged through him, and he exclaimed heatedly, ‘Look here, you’re not being fair.’
‘Fair,’ Paula repeated. She smiled thinly, added in a clipped tone, ‘The issues of fair or unfair just won’t play in this instance.’ She held him with her startlingly blue eyes. ‘I’m surprised to hear you use that word. I told you, at the outset of today’s meeting, that Harte Enterprises is prepared to pay you two million pounds for Aire Communications. That’s more than fair. It’s downright generous. Your company is in an unholy mess. It could go belly up at any moment.’ She shrugged. ‘Well, I suppose that’s your affair, Mr Cross, not mine,’ She leaned forward, grasped the handle of her briefcase. ‘We seem to have nothing further to say to each other.’
The senior Cross said, ‘If, and I am saying if, we do decide to accept your offer, can my son and I remain with the company?’
She shook her head.
John Cross thought rapidly, came to an unpalatable but necessary decision. ‘I would be willing to step aside. After all, I am near retirement age.’ He stubbed out his cigarette, fixed his pale eyes on her. ‘However,’ he went on firmly, ‘you must reconsider your decision regarding Sebastian. No one knows this company like my son. Why, he would be invaluable to you. I must insist that he be appointed to the new board of directors and that he be given a contract for five years as special consultant. I would have to have your guarantee on that, and in writing, before we can proceed any further.’
‘No,’ she said. ‘There is no place in Aire Communications for your son if we take the company over.’
The older man was silent.
Sebastian looked pointedly at his father, his expression at once both baleful and condemning. John Cross dropped his eyes, unable to meet that accusatory gaze, toyed with his gold pen, said nothing at all. Sebastian leaped up angrily, seething, and strode across the board room. He stood looking out of the window, his body rigid, and he cursed Paula Fairley under his breath.
Paula’s glance followed Sebastian. She felt the malignancy and alertness in him, but intuitively so, for she could not see his face. It was turned into the shadows cast by the window and the buildings outside. Involuntarily she shivered and brought her eyes back to his father. They regarded each other alertly, each wondering which one of them would make the next move. Neither did.
Paula saw a thin, grey-haired man in his early sixties, a self-made man who had pulled himself up by his bootstraps, and who, in the process, had acquired a distinguished air and a degree of superficial polish. He was also a frightened man. His company was sinking like a torpedoed battleship with a gaping hole in its bow, yet seemingly he was prepared to spurn the life belt she had thrown him because of his love for his son. The son who had so badly mismanaged Aire Communications that he had brought it to its present weakened and crippled state. She noticed a muscle twitching in the elder Cross’s face and glanced away.
John Cross, for his part, sat facing a young woman of great elegance in her grooming and her dress. She wore a magenta wool suit, magnificently cut and tailored, obviously a pricey piece of haute couture, with a man-tailored shirt of white silk. There was an absence of jewellery, except for a simple watch and a plain gold wedding band. He knew that Paula McGill Amory Fairley was only in her mid-twenties, yet she gave the impression of being so much older with her inbred caution, her cool authoritative manner. She reminded him of her famous grandmother, even though her colouring was so different. The glossy black hair, cut in a straight bob that grazed her jawline, the blue eyes flicked with violet, and the ivory complexion were unquestionably striking; but whereas Emma’s fabled russet-golden tints had always suggested softness and beguiling femininity, Paula’s beauty was somewhat austere, at least to suit his taste in women. Neither were her features quite as perfect as Emma’s had once been. Still, they did share the same aura of presence,
