“How could I get any sleep with you two chattering away.” She sat up. “So let me see if I’ve fully understood the situation, because it’s clear to me, Mom, that you haven’t been paying attention.”
“Out of the mouths of babes...” said Seb.
“So what is it you think I’ve missed, Jessie?”
“For a start, why don’t you tell Pops about Professor Daniel Horowitz?”
“Who’s he?” asked Seb.
“A colleague of mine at the Smithsonian, who... of course, how dumb of me.”
“I sometimes wonder if either of you is really my parent,” said Jessica.
42
The four of them sat facing the committee in a dark, oak-paneled room that no one who worked in the City ever wanted to enter. For most of those who sat on the wrong side of the long oak table, it spelled the end of their career.
On the other side of the table sat the chairman of the committee, Sir Piers Thornton, a former sheriff of the City. On his right, Nigel Foreman of NatWest, and on his left, Sir Bertram Laing of Price Waterhouse. However, perhaps the most important figure present was Henry VIII, whose portrait hung on the red-velvet-covered wall behind the chairman to remind everyone who had originally granted this august body its royal seal of approval.
Sir Piers offered a benign smile before he opened proceedings. “Good morning, gentlemen. I’d like to begin by thanking you all for attending this enquiry.” What he didn’t add was what the consequences would have been had they failed to do so. “As you know, Mr. Gavin Buckland, who has worked as a commodity broker at Farthings for the past eleven years, has levied a serious accusation against Mr. Hakim Bishara, the bank’s chairman. He claims that Mr. Bishara ordered him to purchase a large number of shares in Amalgamated Wire at a time when he knew it was involved in a takeover bid for another company. To compound matters, that company was represented by Farthings Bank.
“Mr. Buckland told the committee that he refused to carry out the order as he knew it was against the law and so, to quote him, ‘with a heavy heart,’” said Sir Piers, looking down at the written statement in front of him, “he decided to report the matter to this committee, and supplied us with a tape of his conversation with Mr. Bishara. The purpose of this inquiry, Mr. Bishara, is to give you the opportunity to defend yourself against these charges.”
The chairman sat back and produced the same benign smile to show he had completed his opening statement.
Arnold Hardcastle rose from his place on the other side of the table.
“My name is Arnold Hardcastle, and I am the bank’s legal advisor, a position I have held for the past twenty-two years. I would like to begin by saying that this is the first occasion anyone from Farthings has been asked to appear before this committee since the bank’s foundation in 1866.”
The benign smile returned.
“I am joined today, Sir Piers, by the chairman of Farthings, Mr. Hakim Bishara, and his chief executive, Mr. Sebastian Clifton, both of whom you will be acquainted with. The other member of our team, with whom you will not be familiar, is Professor Daniel Horowitz of the Smithsonian Institute in Washington, DC. He will explain the presence of the fifth member of our team, Matilda, who also hails from the Smithsonian.
“I will begin by saying a few words about the role Mr. Bishara has played since he became chairman of Farthings four years ago. I will not dwell on the countless awards he has received from government institutions and respected organizations from all over the world, but the simple, undisputed fact is that under his leadership, Farthings has opened branches in seven countries, employs 6,412 people, and its share price has tripled. Mr. Bishara is well aware that the accusation against him is a serious one because it goes directly to the most important tenet of banking: reputation.
“It will not be me, nor Mr. Bishara himself, who defends him against these charges. No, he will leave that to a machine, which must surely be a first for this committee in its five-hundred-year history. The inventor of this machine, Professor Horowitz, may not be known to you, but as he will be our sole advocate on this occasion, perhaps I should tell you a little about his background. Young Daniel Horowitz escaped from Germany with his parents in 1937. They settled in the borough of Queens in New York, where his father became a pawnbroker. Daniel left New York at the age of seventeen to attend Yale University, where he studied physics.
“He graduated with a B.S. before he was old enough to vote. He went on to MIT, where he completed his PhD with a thesis on the impact of sound in an increasingly noisy world. Dr. Horowitz then joined the Smithsonian as a lecturer, where nine years later he was appointed as the first Professor of Sound. In 1974 he was awarded the prestigious Congressional Science Medal, only the fourteenth person to be so honored in the nation’s history.” Arnold paused. “With the committee’s permission, Sir Piers, I will ask Professor Horowitz to conduct our defense.”
The professor rose from his chair, although it was not immediately obvious, as he appeared still to be on the same level as the members of the committee who were seated. However, it was not his lack of physical stature that would have struck a casual observer, but the vast bald dome that rested on such tiny shoulders, and made it easy to overlook the fact that his trousers couldn’t have seen an iron since the day they were bought, or that his shirt was frayed at the collar. A tie hung loosely around his neck, as if it were an afterthought. It was only when the professor opened his mouth that the committee realized they were in the presence of a giant.
“What a strange, incongruous figure I must appear, Mr. Chairman, standing before this august and ancient body to address you on a subject I have spent my whole life studying: sound. I am fascinated by the sound of Big Ben chiming, or a London bus changing gears. Only yesterday I spent a considerable time recording the sound of Bow Bells. You may well ask, how can this have any relevance for the defense of a man accused of insider trading? To answer that, I will need the help of my offspring, Matilda, who like me has never visited London before.”
The professor walked across to a side table on which he had placed a white cube, about two feet square, with what looked like the handset of a telephone attached to one side. On the side facing the committee was a large circular dial with black numbers around its edge that went from 0 to 120. A thick red arrow rested on zero. From the looks on the faces of the committee, Matilda had succeeded in catching their attention.
“Now, with your permission, sir, I shall ask Mr. Bishara to deliver the exact words he was accused of saying to Mr. Buckland. But please don’t look at Mr. Bishara, concentrate on Matilda.”
The committee didn’t take their eyes off the machine as Hakim rose from his place, picked up the handset and said, “Buy Amalgamated Wire, but don’t let anyone know I authorized it, because that would be insider trading. Keep up the good work, Gavin, and I’m sure that it will be reflected in your annual bonus.” Hakim replaced the handset and returned to his seat.
“I should now like to ask you gentlemen,” said the professor politely, “what you observed while you were watching Matilda.”
“While Mr. Bishara was speaking,” said Sir Piers, “the arrow shot up to 76, then fluctuated between 74 and 78 until he put the handset down, when it returned to zero.”
“Thank you, chairman,” said the professor. “The voice of the average male of Mr. Bishara’s age will have a volume level somewhere between 74 and 78. A softly spoken woman will average 67 to 71, while a younger man might reach a high of 85, or even 90. But whatever the individual’s voice level, it remains constant.