Juliana Barkley arrived in a chauffeur-driven limousine. She had been with her college friends, celebrating the honours passes she had gained in every subject, and would take this chance to discuss with her father her ambition to join the company. She was nervous and, purposely, fifteen minutes late. As she rode up in the lift Jinks checked her appearance. She had put Barbara’s advice about clothes to good use, and was wearing Calvin Klein. She was still exceptionally thin, but had learned to wear her hair in a more flattering style, and had inherited her mother’s flawless skin, so she required little make-up. Her mouth felt dry, and she licked her lips. She had virtually written herself a script for this meeting with Edward, rehearsing exactly what she would say to him. She was armed with the knowledge that Alex was intending to try to take over the Barkley Company, and that Evelyn was her father’s illegitimate son.
Everything she had prepared to say, all her neat, rehearsed speeches, flew from her mind. Just as she was about to knock, her father opened the door and clasped her in his arms. He pulled her into the room and, like a little boy, proudly gestured to her birthday gifts. Then he held her at arm’s length and swept her once more into his arms, hugging her close, telling her how wonderful she looked, insisting she open his gifts. As she slipped the ribbon from a large silver box, the telephone rang. Edward glared at it, apologized, and crossed the room.
She had a chance to look at him properly. She could see how much weight he had put on. He was like a giant. She continued to open her gifts, taking out a delicate nightdress. He covered the telephone mouthpiece and beamed.
‘You like it? I chose it myself... open the small box on your left next... Hello? Edward Barkley here. What...?’
Jinks saw his manner change. Turning his back to her he listened intently to the caller. She saw his fists clench, and the small muscle at the side of his cheek twitched. It was as if she were forgotten, no longer in the room.
‘You sure about this? I see... Well, I want a meeting straight away, can you come to my hotel? Good, ‘bout fifteen minutes.’
She heard him murmur under his breath, then he carried the phone to the small desk and sat down. His bulk made the writing chair creak ominously. He began to thumb through a small notebook and promptly redialled, tapping his fingers on the desk.
‘Is something wrong, father?’
Edward gave a brief nod, then spoke into the phone in a low voice. Jinks could not make out exactly what he was saying, but he was asking about shares in some company and what they were now standing at. Eventually he hung up, but made four more calls before turning to her. She still held the small box and he waved his hand for her to open it. At the same time he checked his watch.
‘Sorry, sweetheart, something’s come up. I had hoped we could spend some time together.’
‘So had I.’ Her mouth was a thin, tight line. She stood up, carefully folding the tissue paper from her gift box.
He stuck his hands in his pockets and sighed. ‘It never works out with you and me, does it?’
She shrugged, picking up her handbag and gloves. ‘No, I guess not, but then you’ve never really had time for me. I’m starting work with a bank on Wall Street to gain experience. I would like, when you have a spare moment, to see you about working for the Barkley Company.’
Edward retrieved his briefcase from the sofa and began to take out files. She waited for an answer: receiving none, she walked to the door.
‘Don’t go. Maybe you should sit in on this meeting. I own twenty-five per cent of a company called “Ming”. The little Japanese bitch who owns it has tried unsuccessfully to get back that twenty-five per cent. Over the years she has skimmed and cheated, even threatening to try to cut me out of a business that I virtually handed to her on a plate. Now she’s got Japanese partners, and they don’t like having anyone else in the pond with them — in particular myself. So what she’s done is form another company called “Lotus”, specifically to deal with Japan.’
Jinks joined her father at the desk and started going through the files with him.
‘Is this legal? I mean, can she do this?’
‘Sure, she’ll be competing against herself. She’s going public with Ming, and obviously she’ll push all the money back into the new company. I wouldn’t be surprised if she intends letting it go into liquidation eventually. Easily done — she starts to bring in new lines that don’t sell, and bingo, she gets liquidated, but still retains the secure new company — and my twenty-five per cent won’t be worth a penny.’
‘What are you going to do?’
‘Put her out of business. I’m going to start buying more shares in Ming as soon as it goes public.’
‘But you’d have to be named if you buy more than five per cent of shares in any company! They have to know the purchaser, that’s the law.’
Edward smiled at his daughter’s bid to show him she knew the business. He found it charming, and he pinched her cheek.
‘But if I buy 4.99 per cent, the law’s on my side. I’ll use what is called the “concert party” system. I buy my quota, you buy, you get your friends to buy, they get their friends to buy... and when the show closes, they sell their shares straight back to me. End result? I own the lion’s share, and the first thing I do is knock Miss Takeda right off her perch and, second, we flatten Lotus and get the Japs coming straight to us.’
Edward laughed his deep, rumbling, infectious laugh. He strode over to her unwrapped gifts and began ripping the paper from them. ‘See her new lines? All this stuff is from Lotus. It’s Japanese and she’s got French labels sewn in. She’s sticking ridiculous prices on them. We’ll expose it, get some great press. We’ll buy the same stuff and undercut her by half... then when the company is back on its feet I sell, and guess who to?’
‘The Japanese?’
‘That’s my daughter. Now, look over these contracts and...’
The phone rang again. Edward answered it, gave his name and just listened to the caller. Jinks looked at the ‘gifts’ — even those were connected with his business, and yet she couldn’t feel any anger because she was genuinely interested. The garments were very delicate, in pale shades of pink and lilac, with fine handmade lace — and all with French designer labels.
Edward called her. He held his hand over the mouthpiece and told her to go down to reception and bring him all the English newspapers.
She returned to the suite to hear Edward instructing reception to get his car brought round as he was leaving for the airport immediately.
‘You’re leaving?’
Edward held out his hand for the papers and flipped them over. ‘You had a look at them?’
‘No. I just brought them straight up.’
He banged them down on the desk. His breath hissed as he flipped through them. ‘Jesus Christ, the stupid kid, the stupid bastard!’ He strode into the bedroom and began throwing his clothes into a suitcase.
Jinks looked at the papers. She picked up The Times and followed her father into the bedroom. There was a photograph of Alex halfway down the front page under the banner headline, ‘TYCOON’S SON ARRESTED’.
‘I’m getting the first flight to Paris. Stupid bastard’s in real trouble; you read it?’
Jinks skimmed the article, which stated that Evelyn Barkley had been arrested among a group of French terrorists.
‘What about the meeting? You said they were coming here?’
‘Forget it, this is more important. You wait here, tell them I’ll be in touch as soon as I can. I’ll leave the documents, just hand them over.’