Page 19 of Traitors Gate

Miles pushed his chair back and once again rose to leave, when Harris said, ‘If you should change your mind, Mr Faulkner, you know where to find me.’

• • •

Once Beth had left the room at the end of her interview, the chairman called the meeting to order.

‘Now that we’ve seen all three shortlisted candidates,’ said Sir Nicholas, ‘I would like to have an informal discussion giving all of you an opportunity to express your view.’

An hour later, everyone around the boardroom table had offered their opinion, some more than once, although it had quickly become clear that the majority were in favour of one particular candidate. However, one board member, who held a contrary view, continued to voice her opinion.

‘Are we all convinced Dr Warwick is the right person to take on such a demanding responsibility?’ she asked.

‘Everyone else on the board seems to think so, Mrs Faulkner,’ said the chairman. ‘So I’m bound to ask what makes you feel otherwise?’

‘I know that Dr Warwick is currently involved in several important art deals involving large sums of money, one of which is taking up a considerable amount of her time.’

‘When that question was put to her,’ said the board secretary, ‘she could not have made her position clearer, and I quote from the minute I made at the time: “I can wrap up any outstanding commitments I have fairly quickly and would be available to take up the post at the board’s convenience.”’

‘Despite the fact it would mean a considerable drop in her income,’ the chairman added before Christina could respond.

‘But can we be sure that when Dr Warwick represents the museum, she can be relied on not to be doing deals on the side?’

‘That was unworthy of you, Mrs Faulkner,’ retorted another member of the board, ‘especially as you claimed earlier you were a close friend.’

‘Perhaps I’m a closer friend of the museum,’ said Christina, not backing down. ‘And I shouldn’t have to remind you we have two other outstanding candidates, worthy of our consideration. A recent director of the Edinburgh Festival, who haswon countless awards, and the chief executive of the Courtauld, who also has a first-class reputation.’ No one else offered an opinion, but as Christina looked around the table, she couldn’t fail to notice hers was a lone voice.

Several heads nodded when the board secretary suggested the time had come to take a vote.

‘Those in favour of Dr Warwick being appointed as director, please raise your hands.’ Christina’s was the only hand that didn’t move. The chairman smiled. ‘I am delighted to confirm that Dr Beth Warwick will be invited to join us as the new director of the Fitzmolean.’

‘I can only hope you don’t all live to regret your decision,’ said Christina, playing her final card.

‘I feel confident we won’t, Mrs Faulkner, although I’m not sure I can say the same for you and wonder if, given the circumstances, you ought to consider your position as a member of the board.’

Several ‘Hear, hears’ could be heard around the table, and Christina remained silent, painfully aware she’d burnt her bridges both with Beth and the board, and what made it worse was she’d already spent the five thousand advance BW had bribed her with and had to accept that there wouldn’t be any more coming from that particular source. She also feared that when the new director read the board minutes, she would quickly discover who’d been the only person to oppose her appointment. She would now not only have to forfeit the extra income Beth regularly supplied, but the respect of her closest friend – her only friend. By the time she’d left the meeting, she was already regretting her decision. It certainly hadn’t been worth five thousand pounds.

• • •

‘Congratulations,’ said William when Beth told him her news.

‘But I’m still not sure I want the job,’ she admitted.

‘How long have they given you to make up your mind?’

‘A week – ten days at most,’ she said as the phone in the hall began to ring.

William was annoyed to be interrupted as he had so many more questions he wanted to ask. He dashed out into the hall, grabbed the phone and said impatiently, ‘Who is it?’

‘Good evening, sir,’ came back a voice he thought he recognized. ‘It’s James Buchanan.’

‘Good to hear from the man who made it possible for me to put Miles Faulkner back behind bars,’ said William, his tone softening. ‘However, should I assume you made it to Harvard, and are now the Director of the FBI?’

‘Not yet, sir, but I was appointed editor of theLaw Reviewin my final year at Harvard and am now a junior field officer in Washington attached to the Director’s office.’

‘Why am I not surprised,’ said William. ‘So how can I help you, Agent Buchanan?’

‘You can’t sir, it’s your wife I need to speak to.’

CHAPTER 8

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