The Deal by Tony Drury Read Free Book Online Page B

touch drugs anymore after several unhappy experiences at university, but drank liqueurs with Alex – Schnapps, Kahlua, Crème de Menthe, the sweeter the better. She remembered the many happy evenings… Yet she never lost her perplexity at the unpredictability of their relationship. Sara understood her life in clear straight lines. In her professional work she was adept at thinking laterally. But it was in her personal dealings that she experienced the vagaries of the human spirit. Why, on some occasions, was their sex warm and loving and then, for no good reason that Sara could identify, did their physicality lack any passion? She hated the situation, especially as they seemed unable to talk about it. The rows were long gone. She had become used to accepting it. The lure was that when the spark was there it was really, really good.
    Charles Harriman looked around the breakfast area of The Landmark London. It was located beneath a soaring eight-storey glass roof atrium. He noted several familiar faces. A former Labour cabinet minister was reading the Financial Times and a retired England test captain was in animated conversation with a companion.
    He’d left his car in Dorset Square near to Marylebone Station and had met his guest in the reception area of the hotel, where the Presidential Two Bedroom Lifestyle Suites are available at £4,400 per night. They were shown to a vacant table and offered menus.
    “I’ll start with the fresh fruit from the buffet bar and then order an English breakfast,” Charles said to the waiter.
    Andrew Agnew nodded in agreement and told the waiter to bring him some Earl Grey tea. Charles ordered coffee and then the two businessmen walked over to the buffet area. Andrew selected mixed fruits, including prunes and figs, and Charles served himself some freshly prepared melon and citrus fruits.
    “It’s good of you to meet like this,” said Andrew.
    “Just tell it as it is, Andrew,” Charles replied.
    “Always to the point,” laughed his friend. “We had a visit on Wednesday from the FSA. As the judge said, ‘you will be given a fair trial, then hung’. They had already decided on their conclusions. They pretended to look at some files but they were in no mood to listen. They’d received several complaints about two of our deals. They said our due diligence work was inadequate.”
    “That’s not good.”
    “There was a director of one of our client companies who had concealed a previous disciplinary action and we failed to pick it up. Actually it was the lawyers who didn’t check properly because he was a Hong Kong resident, but the FSA don’t have time for excuses. I was given a lecture about our ‘know your client’ procedures.”
    “So what did they say?”
    “They said that they would be impressed by the introduction of new management.” He paused and drank some tea. “Initially I was offended and called our solicitors in to consider our position. They read the riot act and said we had a massive fight on our hands to retain our regulatory permissions.” He stopped again and wiped his forehead with his napkin.
    “It was Oliver who really took charge. He sent a four-page letter to the FSA that evening detailing the immediate action we were taking to address their concerns. Jody was calm too and helped the whole situation. The FSA inspectors had interviewed her for over an hour but she seemed to be able to handle the stress.” He drank some water. “Stress is the right word I can tell you. These regulators make you feel guilty whatever the situation.”
    Charles understood the issue of personal pressure all too well. He signalled to the waiter that he required a refill of his coffee cup. Their plates were cleared and quickly followed up with two cooked breakfasts: poached eggs, bacon, sausage, tomatoes, black pudding and a hash brown. A rack of toasted granary bread was delivered by a waitress.
    “You want me to help you,” said the corporate financier, “in what