Samantha whispered huskily. I want to be closer to you. And they were
silent again, until they slowed for the weekend traffic through
Hammersmith.
Peter is a knockout. if only I were ten years old, I'd cash in my
dolls. My guess is he would swop his Spitfire., How much longer?
'Another half hour. Nicholas, I feel threatened, her voice had a sudden
panicky edge to it. I have this terrible foreboding That's nonsense.
It's been too good - for too long. James Teacher was the head of Salmon
Peters and Teacher, the lawyers that Nick had retained for Ocean
Salvage. He was a man with a formidable reputation in the City, a
leading expert on maritime law - and a tough bargainer.
He was florid and bald, and so short that his feet did not touch the
floorboards of the Bentley when he sat on the back seat.
He and Nick had discussed in detail where this preliminary meeting with
Christy Marine should be held, and at last they had agreed to go to the
mountain, but James Teacher had insisted on arriving in his
chocolate-coloured Bentley, rather than a cab.
Smoked salmon, Mr. Berg, not fish and chips - that's what we are after.
Christy House was one of those conservative smoke stained stone
buildings fronted on to Leadenhall Street, the centre of Britain's
shipping industry. Almost directly opposite was Trafalgar House, and a
hundred yard's further was Lloyd's of London. The doorman crossed the
pavement to open Nicholas door.
Good to see you again, Mr. Berg sir!
Hello, Alfred. You taking good care of the shop?
Indeed, sir. The following cab, containing James Teacher's two juniors
and their bulky briefcases, pulled up behind the Bentley and they
assembled on the pavement like a party of raiding Vikings before the
gates of a medieval city. The three lawyers settled their bowler hats
firmly and then moved forward determinedly in spearhead formation.
In the lobby, the doorman passed them on to a senior clerk who was
waiting by the desk.
Good morning, Mr. Berg. You are looking very well, sir. They rode up
at a sedate pace in the elevator with its antique steel concertina
doors. Nicholas had never brought himself to exchange them for those
swift modern boxes.
And the clerk ushered them out on to the top-floor landings Will you
follow me, please, gentlemen? There was an antechamber that opened on
to the board room, a large room, panelled and hung with a single
portrait of old Arthur Christy on the entrance wall - fit jaw and sharp
black eyes under beetling white eyebrows.
A log fire burned in the open grate, and there was sherry and Madeira in
crystal decanters on the central table another one of the old min's
little traditions - that both James Teacher and Nick refused curtly.
They waited quietly, standing facing the door into the Chairman's suite.
They waited for exactly four minutes before the door was thrown open and
Duncan Alexander stepped through it.
His eyes flicked across the room and settled instantly on Nick, locking
with his, like the horns of two great bull buffalo, and the room was
very still.
