each other, awkward as strangers.
Come soon/ she said, and then she stood on tiptoe and placed her arms
around his shoulders. Come as soon as you can. Nicholas had protested
vigorously as soon as James Teacher advanced the proposition.
I don't want to speak to him, Mr. Teacher. The only thing I want from
Duncan Alexander is his cheque for six million dollars, preferably
guaranteed by a reputable bank - and I want it before the 10th of next
month. The lawyer had wheedled and lolled Nicholas along.
Think of the pleasure of watching his face - indulge yourself, Mr. Berg,
gloat on him a little. I will obtain no pleasure by watching his face,
off hand I can think of a thousand faces I'd rather watch. But in the
end Nicholas had agreed, stipulating only that this time the meeting
should be at a place of Nicholas choice, an unsubtle reminder of whose
hand now held the whip.
James Teacher's rooms were in one of those picturesque.
stone buildings in the Inns of Court covered with ivy, surrounded by
small velvety lawns, bisected with paved walkways that connected the
numerous blocks, the entire complex reeking with history and tradition
and totally devoid of modern comforts. Its austerity was calculated to
instil confidence in the clients.
Teacher's rooms were on the third floor. There was no elevator and the
stairs were narrow, steep and dangerous.
Duncan Alexander arrived slightly out of breath and flushed under his
tan. Teacher's clerk surveyed him discouragingly from his cubicle.
Mr. who! he asked, cupping his hand to one ear. The clerk was a man as
old, grey and picturesque as the building. He even affected a black
alpaca suit, shiny and greenish with age, together with a butterfly
collar and a black string tie like that last worn by Neville Chamberlain
as he promised peace in our time.
Mr. who? and Duncan Alexander flushed deeper. He was not accustomed to
having to repeat his name.
Do you have an appointment, Mr. Alexander? the clerk inquired frostily,
and laboriously consulted his diary before at last waving Duncan
Alexander through into the spartan waiting-room.
Nicholas kept him there exactly eight minutes, twice as long as he
himself had waited in the board room of Christy Marine, and he stood by
the small electric fire in the fireplace, not answering Duncan's
brilliant smile as he entered.
James Teacher sat at his desk under the windows, out of the direct line
of confrontation, like the umpire at Wimbledon, and Duncan Alexander
barely glanced at him.
Congratulations, Nicholas/ Duncan shook that magnificent head and the
smile faded to a rueful grin. You turned one up for the books, you
truly did. Thank you, Duncan. However, I must warn you that today I
have an impossible schedule to meet, I can give you only ten minutes.
Nicholas glanced at his watch.
Fortunately I can imagine only one thing that you and I have to discuss.
The tenth of next month, either a transfer to the Bermuda account of
Ocean Salvage, or a guaranteed draft by registered airmail to Bach
