'I wonder when Griff goes to bed,' said Emma after he had hurried off to deal with the latest crisis.
'He doesn't,' whispered Giles. 'He's a vampire.'
When Ross Buchanan walked into his hotel room, the phone was ringing. He strode across and grabbed the handset.
'Your call from Hong Kong is on the line, sir.'
'Good afternoon, Mr Buchanan,' said a Scottish voice down the crackling line. 'It's Sandy McBride. I thought I'd ring and let you know that it all happened just as you predicted, in fact almost to the minute.'
'And the name of the broker?'
'Benny Driscoll.'
'No surprises there,' said Buchanan. 'Fill me in on the details.'
'Within moments of the London Stock Exchange opening, a sale order came up on the ticker tape for two hundred thousand Barrington shares. As per instructions, we immediately purchased all two hundred thousand.'
'At what price?'
'Four pounds and three shillings.'
'Have any more come on the market since?'
'Not many, and frankly, there have been more buy orders than sell following the excellent results you announced at your AGM.'
'What's the share price now?' Buchanan could hear the ticker tape clattering away in the background.
'Four pounds and six shillings,' said McBride. 'They seem to have settled around there.'
'Good,' said Buchanan. 'Don't buy any more unless they fall below four pounds three shillings.'
'Understood, sir.'
'That should keep the major awake at night for the next three weeks.'
'The major?' queried the broker, but Buchanan had already put the phone down.
Arcadia Avenue was, as Griff had warned them, a Tory stronghold, but Harry and Emma didn't return to the constituency office empty-handed.
After Griff had checked their clipboards, he gave them a quizzical look.
'We stuck rigorously to your rules,' said Harry. 'If we were in any doubt, we marked them as green, undecided.'
'If you're right, this seat is going to be a lot closer than the polls are forecasting,' said Griff, as an out-of-breath Giles dashed in brandishing a copy of the Bristol Evening Post.
'Have you seen the front page, Griff?' he said, handing his agent the first edition of the paper.
Griff read the headline, passed it back to Giles and said, 'Ignore it. Say nothing, do nothing. That's my advice.'
Emma glanced over Giles's shoulder to see the headline. Fisher challenges Barrington to debate. 'That sounds interesting,' she said.
'It would be interesting, but only if Giles was foolish enough to accept.'
'Why wouldn't he?' asked Harry. 'After all, he's a far better debater than Fisher, and he has a great deal more political experience.'
'That may well be the case,' said Griff, 'but you must never give your opponent a platform. While Giles is the sitting member, he can dictate the terms.'
'Yes, but have you read what the bastard went on to say?' said Giles.
'Why should I waste my time on Fisher,' said Griff, 'when it's not going to happen?'
Giles ignored the comment, and began reading the front page out loud. '"Barrington's got a lot of questions to answer if he still hopes to be the Member of Parliament for Docklands on May the twenty-sixth. Knowing him as I do, I'm confident the hero of Tobruk will not shirk the challenge. I will be at Colston Hall next Thursday, May the nineteenth, and will be happy to answer any questions put to me by members of the public. There will be three chairs on stage, and if Sir Giles doesn't show up, I'm sure the electors will be able to draw their own conclusions."'
'Three chairs?' queried Emma.
'Fisher knows the Liberals will turn up because they've got nothing to lose,' said Griff. 'But my advice remains the same. Ignore the bastard. There'll be another headline tomorrow, and by then,' he said, pointing to the newspaper, 'that will only be good for fish and chips.'
Ross Buchanan was sitting at his desk at Barrington's checking the latest report from Harland and Wolff when his secretary buzzed through.
'I've got Sandy McBride on the line from Hong Kong. Do you want to take the call?'
'Put him through.'
'Good morning, sir. I thought you'd like to know that Benny Driscoll has been phoning every few hours wanting to find out if we've got any Barrington's stock for sale. I've still got two hundred thousand on my books and, as the price continues to rise, I was calling to ask if you want me to release any of them?'
'Not until the three-week period is up, and a new account has been opened. Until then, we're buyers, not sellers.'
When Giles saw the headline in the Evening Post the following day, he knew he could no longer avoid a direct confrontation with Fisher. Bishop of Bristol to chair election debate. This time, Griff read the front page more carefully.
The Bishop of Bristol, the Right Reverend Frederick Cockin, has agreed to act as moderator at an election debate to be held at Colston Hall next Thursday, May 19th at 7.30 p.m. Major Alex Fisher, the Conservative candidate, and Mr Reginald Ellsworthy, the Liberal candidate, have both agreed to take part. Sir Giles Barrington, the Labour candidate, has not yet responded to our invitation.
'I still think you should ignore it,' said Griff.
'But look at the picture on the front page,' said Giles, thrusting the paper back into his agent's hands.
Griff looked at the photograph, which showed an empty chair in the middle of the stage at Colston Hall with a spotlight beamed on to it, above a caption that read: Will Sir Giles turn up?
'Surely you see,' said Giles, 'if I don't turn up, they'll have a field day.'
'And if you do, they'll have a heyday.' Griff paused. 'But it's your choice, and if you're still determined to be there, we have to turn this situation to our advantage.'
'How do we do that?'
'You'll issue a press statement at seven o'clock tomorrow morning, so we get the headlines for a change.'
'Saying?'
'Saying that you're delighted to accept the challenge, because it will give you an opportunity to expose Tory policies for what they're worth, and at the same time let the people of Bristol decide who is the right man to represent them in Parliament.'
'What made you change your mind?' asked Giles.
'I've been looking at the latest canvass returns, and they suggest you're likely to lose by over a thousand votes, so you're no longer the favourite, you're now the challenger.'
'What else can go wrong?'
'Your wife could make an appearance, take a seat in the front row and ask the first question. Then your girlfriend turns up and slaps her in the face, in which case you needn't worry about the Bristol Evening Post because you'll be on the front page of every paper in the country.'
23
GILES TOOK HIS seat on the stage to loud applause. His speech to the packed hall could hardly have gone better, and speaking last had turned out to be an advantage.
The three candidates had all arrived half an hour early, and then waltzed around each other like schoolboys attending their first dance class. The bishop, acting as moderator, finally brought them together and explained how he intended to conduct the evening.