Page 1 of Out of the Shadows
DANIEL
“… with the right top team now in place, Cleaver Jackson will not only make up the ground it’s lost, but will become a front runner in the sector.”
In the leather sofa opposite me, William Kingsbury sits back as a large, and very satisfied, smile breaks out on his face. Satisfied is exactly what he should be. The Kingsbury Group has picked up the limping investment firm of Cleaver Jackson for a song. It was a name to be reckoned with, a market leader in bespoke investment products specialising in niche markets.Was. Bad business decisions put paid to that but now it’s been absorbed by the Kingsbury Group, has becomepart of the familyas William likes to put it, it’ll become the front runner once more. Especially with me on board.
“Are you sure I can’t tempt you to work for us on a permanent contract? You’d have a direct line to me, answerable to nobody else.” William leans forward, searching my face for any indication I’ll crack.
“Nice try, Will. And not for the first time I might add.”
I’ve known the man sitting opposite me for years. Sometimes we were in direct competition, other times we joined forces to our mutual advantage. I am, as far as I’m aware, the only one who can get away with calling himWillto his face.
“You can’t blame me for trying. No point in bullshitting, you’re the best in the business at making lame ducks not just fly but soar.” William leans in further. “Properly come on board and I’ll make sure you get the key to the Executive Washroom.” He waggles his brows. It’s impossible to not laugh, and he joins in as he slumps back into the plump cushions.
“I’m more than happy with the contractor’s fee, even if it does mean I have to forego the very fine perk of the senior management loo.”
William huffs. “You should be happy with what I’m paying you. More than happy. You’re costing me an arm, leg, a kidney and half a spleen. You do realise I’ll have to send my son to the local state school rather than Eton?”
“Didn’t do me any harm. Nor you.”
“You taken that big road trip of yours yet?”
I take the sudden switch in subject in my stride. William looks at me with a beady eye as his lips twitch. He knows full well I haven’t.
“Northern Canada to southern Mexico takes time to plan.”
“It doesn’t take the best part of three years.”
There’s not much I can say in response.
When I sold my own very, very successful investment company three years before, I was full of excitement at the prospect of travel and indulging in hobbies I’d never had time for when I’d spent every waking moment building the company that had made my name shine in the financial services world. Long days, the constant rollercoaster, the heart pumping adrenaline rush, the stress. All gone at a stroke. All those empty days ahead of me which I didn’t fill with travel and hobbies. I had both the time and money, but not the inclination to do them alone.
I was back in the market within a couple of months. Not running my own company, but troubleshooting and making all those lame ducks soar. As a contractor, or consultant, or whatever title was bandied around, I went in and fixed what needed fixing before leaving to take my pick of the next assignment.
We carry on talking for a few minutes, discussing the senior appointments he’s made with the aim of injecting life back into Cleaver Jackson, as we wait for the small team I’ll be directing to gather in the boardroom.
“The team who’ll be reporting to you show promise, there are some bright sparks there, but I trust your judgement if you believe otherwise. Staffing issues are part of your remit so if you think there are those who won’t fulfil that promise…” William shrugs. “I’m all for growing talent, but we’ve no time for too much watering and feeding.”
“On paper it’s a good team. I’m surprised the younger ones have stuck around. Better opportunities elsewhere. Until now, of course. Cleaver Jackson’s going to be an exciting and challenging part of the Kingsbury Group to work for.”
My comments aren’t meant to flatter the man who’s been both an ally and an adversary over the years. They’re the plain, unadorned truth. I’ve read the CVs, and the raw material’s good but with me to guide them, the finished product will be stellar.
There’s a discreet knock at the door.
“Mr. Kingsbury, Mr. Russo,” the PA says, “the team are assembled in the boardroom.”
* * *
“Ladies, gentlemen. There are challenges within the financial services sector but as part of the Kingsbury Group, Cleaver Jackson will be ready to meet every single one. We can more than rise to the challenge but to do that we need the best people…”
I stop listening to William’s introduction. I can’t hear him over the static white noise filling my head. The half dozen faces around the table are nothing more than fuzz and shadow. All except for one. One face shines so bright it may as well be lit up by a spotlight. It’s a face I’ve not seen for five years, and it’s a face I never wanted to see again. Because that face belongs to the man who almost cost me one of the biggest business deals I ever made.
Almostcost me. But almost was close enough.
Oh, I pulled everything back from the brink. Just. Hundreds of thousands of pounds had almost been lost, putting investments in jeopardy. But it had been so much more, something ultimately way more valuable to me. It was the repetitional damage that would have been done to both my company and to my professional standing which I’d spent long, painstaking years building.
I’ve made more business decisions than I’ve had hot dinners, but the best one I made was when I kicked his arse out the door and told Security he was not to be allowed back in the building under any circumstances. He was gone. But five years later, he’s back, and he’s here, and he’s staring me in the face.
“… Daniel comes to us with an unrivalled expertise in the business. You all know his reputation, so I need say nothing further, but Daniel needs to know you. So, can you please introduce yourselves?”
William’s voice pierces the fug, bringing me back to the here and now. The introductions wash over me, step by step getting closer to the one introduction I don’t want or need. He’s next, and I wait.
“Cosmo Stern. Product Development Manager. I’ve been in post for six months. Mr. Russo.”
The pause before he says my name, with the merest hint of insubordination, is so slight it might as well not be there. But it is. Not that you’d know it, from the bland politeness that sits on his face. I’m far from being fooled; he hadn’t been able to disguise the shock which had, for an instant, sparked in his eyes when I followed William into the boardroom. Oh yes, Cosmo remembers me as clearly as I remember him, although he wasn’t calledSternwhen I had the misfortune to know him.
Six months in the job?
He won’t make it to seven.
