A Dangerous Fortune - Ken Follett [127]
Hugh knew he should shut up but he could not restrain himself. “I’m afraid I haven’t said enough.” He heard himself shouting and tried to lower his voice. “You’re dissipating the bank’s reputation by doing this. Our good name is our greatest asset. To use it up in this way is like spending your capital.”
Uncle Joseph was now beyond civility. “Don’t you dare stand here in my bank and lecture me on the principles of investment, you insolent young whippersnapper. Get out of this room.”
Hugh stared at his uncle for a long moment. He was furious and depressed. Foolish, weak Edward was a partner, and leading the bank into bad business deals with the help of his injudicious father, and there was nothing anyone could do about it. Boiling with frustration, Hugh turned and left the room, slamming the door.
Ten minutes later he went to ask Solly Greenbourne for a job.
He was not certain Greenbournes would take him on. He was an asset that any bank would covet, because of his contacts in the United States and Canada, but bankers felt it was not quite gentlemanly to pirate top managers from their rivals. In addition, the Greenbournes might fear that Hugh would tell secrets to his family at the dinner table, and the fact that he was not Jewish could only increase that fear.
However, Pilasters had become a dead-end street for him. He had to get out.
It had rained earlier but by midmorning the sun was out, and steam rose from the horse manure that carpeted the streets of London. The architecture of the City was a mixture of grand classical buildings and tumbledown old houses: the Pilaster building was the grand type, Greenbournes the other. You would not have guessed that Greenbournes Bank was bigger and more important than Pilasters from the appearance of the head office. The business had started, three generations ago, lending to fur importers out of two rooms of an old house in Thames Street. Whenever more space was needed they simply took over another house in the row, and now the bank occupied four adjacent buildings and three others nearby. But more business was done in these ramshackle houses than in the ostentatious splendor of the Pilaster building.
Inside there was none of the devotional hush of Pilasters’ banking hall. Hugh had to fight his way through a crowd of people in the lobby, like petitioners waiting to see a medieval king, every one of them convinced that if only he could get a word with Ben Greenbourne, present his case or pitch his proposal, he could make a fortune. The zigzag corridors and narrow staircases of the interior were obstructed by tin boxes of old files, cartons of stationery and demijohns of ink, and every spare cubbyhole had been made into an office for a clerk. Hugh found Solly in a large room with an uneven floor and a wonky window looking out over the river. Solly’s bulk was half hidden behind a desk piled with papers. “I live in a palace and work in a hovel,” Solly said ruefully. “I keep trying to persuade Father to commission a purpose-built office like yours, but he says there’s no profit in property.”
Hugh sat on a lumpy sofa and accepted a large glass of expensive sherry. He was uncomfortable, because in the back of his mind he was thinking about Maisie. He had seduced her before she became Solly’s wife and he would have done it again afterwards if she had let him. But all that was over now, he told himself. Maisie had locked the door at Kingsbridge Manor, and he had married Nora. He did not intend to be an unfaithful husband.
Still he felt awkward.
“I came to see you here because I want to talk business,” he said.
Solly made an openhanded gesture. “You have the floor.”
“My area of expertise is North America, as you know.”
“Don’t I just! You’ve got it so well wrapped up that we can’t get a look in.”
“Exactly. And you’re missing out on a good deal of profitable business as a result.”
“No need to rub it in. Father asks me constantly why I’m not more like you.”
“What you need is someone with North American experience to come in, set up a New York office