“Well, well. Miss May has managed another game. Excellent lunch, Harvey.”
“A Claridge’s special,” said Harvey, “so much better than getting caught up with the crowds in the restaurant where you can’t even watch the tennis.”
“Billie Jean is making mincemeat of the poor girl.”
“No more than I expected,” said Harvey. “Now, Jörg, to my second numbered account.”
Once again the unidentifiable piece of paper that bore a few numbers appeared. It is this discretion of the Swiss that leads half the world, from heads of state to Arab sheiks, to trust them with their money. In return the Swiss maintain one of the healthiest economies in the world. The system works, so why go elsewhere? Birrer spent a few seconds studying the figures.
“On April 1st—only you could have chosen that day, Harvey—you transferred $7,486,000 to your No. 2 account, which was already in credit $2,791,428. On April 2nd, on your instructions, we placed $1 million in the Banco do Minas Gerais in the names of Mr. Silverman and Mr. Elliott. We covered the bill with Reading & Bates for the hire of the rig for $420,000 and several other bills amounting to $104,112, leaving your present No. 2 account standing at $8,753,316.”
“Game to Mrs. King. Mrs. King leads three games to one in the second set and by one set to love.”
“Very good,” said Harvey.
“The tennis or the money?” said Birrer.
“Both. Now, Jörg, I anticipate needing about $2 million over the next six weeks. I want to purchase one or two pictures in London. I have seen a Klee that I quite like and there are still a few galleries I want to visit. If I’d known the Prospecta Oil venture was going to be such a success, I’d have outbid Armand Hammer at the Sotheby-Parke Bernet for t
hat Van Gogh last year. I shall also need some ready cash for some new horses at the Ascot Blood Stock Auctions. My stud’s running down and it’s still one of my greatest ambitions to win the King George and Elizabeth Stakes.” (James would have winced if he could have heard Harvey describe the race so inaccurately.) “My best result so far, as you know, was third place, and that’s not good enough. This year I’ve entered Rosalie, my best filly for years. If I lose I’ll have to build up the stud again, but I’m damn well going to win this year.”
“Game to Mrs. King. Mrs. King leads four games to one and by one set to love.”
“So is Mrs. King, it seems,” said Birrer. “I’ll brief my senior cashier that you’re likely to be drawing large amounts over the next few weeks.”
“Now I don’t wish the remainder to lie idle, so I want you to purchase more gold carefully over the next few months, with a view to off-loading it in the New Year. If the market does take a downward turn, I’ll phone you in Zürich. At the close of business each day you are to loan the outstanding balance on an overnight basis to first-class banks and triple ‘A’ commercial names.”
“What are you going to do with it all, Harvey, if those cigars don’t get you first?”
“Oh, lay off, Jörg. You sound like my doctor. I’ve told you a hundred times, next year I retire, I quit, finito.”
“I can’t see you dropping out of the rat race voluntarily, Harvey. It pains me to think how much you’re worth now.”
Harvey laughed.
“I can’t tell you that, Jörg. It’s like Aristotle Onassis said—if you can count it, you haven’t got any.”
“Game to Mrs. King. Mrs. King leads by five games to one and by one set to love.”
“How’s Rosalie? We still have your instructions to pass the accounts on to her in Boston if anything should happen to you.”
“She’s well. Phoned me this morning to tell me she won’t be able to join me at Wimbledon because she’s tied up with her work. I expect she’ll end up marrying some rich American and won’t need it. Enough of them have asked her. Can’t be easy for her to decide if they like her or my money. I’m afraid we had a row about that a couple of years back and she still hasn’t forgiven me.”
“Game, set and match to Mrs. King: 6–1, 6–1.”
Harvey, Jörg, James and Anne joined in the applause while the two women left the court, curtsying in front of the Royal Box to the President of the All England Club, His Royal Highness The Duke of Kent. Harvey and Jörg Birrer stayed for the next match, a doubles, and then returned to Claridge’s together for dinner.
James and Anne had enjoyed their afternoon at Wimbledon and when they had seen Harvey safely back to Claridge’s, accompanied by his mid-European friend, they returned to James’s flat.
“Stephen, I’m back. Metcalfe is settled in for the night. On parade at 8:30 tomorrow morning.”
“Well done, James. Maybe he’ll bite then.”
“Let’s hope so.”
The sound of running water led James to the kitchen in search of Anne. She was elbow-deep in suds, attacking a soufflé dish with a scourer. She turned and brandished it at him.
“Darling, I don’t want to be offensive about your daily, but this is the only kitchen I’ve ever been in where you have to do the washing up before you make the dinner.”