A Dangerous Fortune - Ken Follett [200]
“And a dreadful crisis would be averted.”
Greenbourne shook his head. “But in the end, the members of the syndicate would lose money, for Pilasters’ liabilities are greater than its assets.”
“Not necessarily.”
“How so?”
“We have more than two million pounds’ worth of Cordova bonds which are today valued at nothing. However, our other assets are substantial. A lot depends on how much we can raise by the sale of the partners’ houses, and so on; but I estimate that even today the shortfall is only a million pounds.”
“So the syndicate must expect to lose a million.”
“Perhaps. But Cordova bonds may not be worthless forever. The rebels may be defeated. Or the new government may resume interest payments. At some point the price of Cordova bonds will rise.”
“Possibly.”
“If the bonds came up to just half their previous level, the syndicate would break even. And if they did better than that, the syndicate would actually make a profit.”
Greenbourne shook his head. “It might work, but for those Santamaria harbor bonds. That Cordovan Minister, Miranda, strikes me as an out-and-out thief; and his father is apparently the leader of the rebels. My guess is that the whole two million pounds has gone to pay for guns and ammunition. In which case investors will never see a penny.”
The old boy was as sharp as always, Hugh thought: he had exactly the same fear. “I’m afraid you may be right. All the same there’s a chance. And if you allow a financial panic you’re sure to lose money in other ways.”
“It’s an ingenious plan. You always were the cleverest of your family, young Pilaster.”
“But the plan depends on you.”
“Ah.”
“If you agree to head the syndicate, the City will follow your lead. If you refuse to be part of it, the syndicate will not have the prestige to reassure creditors.”
“I see that.” Greenbourne was not the man for false modesty.
“Will you do it?” Hugh held his breath.
The old man was silent for several seconds, thinking, then he said firmly: “No, I won’t.”
Hugh slumped in his chair. It was his last shot and it had failed. He felt a great weariness descend on him, as if his life were over and he were a tired old man.
Greenbourne said: “All my life I have been cautious. Where other men see high profits, I see high risks, and I resist the temptation. Your uncle Joseph was not like me. He would take the risk—and he pocketed the profits. His son Edward was worse. I say nothing about you: you have only just taken over. But the Pilasters must pay the price for their years of high profits. I didn’t take those profits—why should I pay your debts? If I spend money to rescue you now, the foolish investor will be rewarded and the careful one will suffer. And if banking were run that way, why should anyone be cautious? We might as well all take risks, for there is no risk when failed banks can always be rescued. But there is always risk. Banking cannot be run your way. There will always be crashes. They are necessary to remind good and bad investors that risk is real.”
Hugh had wondered, before coming here, whether to tell the old man that Micky Miranda had murdered Solly. Now he considered it again, but he came to the same conclusion: it would shock and distress the old man but it would do nothing to persuade him to rescue Pilasters.
He was casting about for something to say, some last attempt to change Greenbourne’s mind, when the butler came in and said: “Pardon me, Mr. Greenbourne, but you asked to be called the moment the detective arrived.”
Greenbourne stood up immediately, looking agitated, but his courtesy would not let him rush out without an explanation. “I’m sorry, Pilaster, but I must leave you. My granddaughter Rebecca has … disappeared … and we are all distraught.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that,” Hugh said. He knew Solly’s sister Kate, and he had a vague memory of her daughter, a pretty dark-haired girl. “I hope you find her safe and well.”
“We don’t believe she has