Read Online Nobody True by James Herbert - Free Book Online

frowning.
    “Not at all. But a merger would help in regard to back-up. It’s all very well having wonderfully innovative ideas, but if we can’t service the account fully, then what’s the point? The bank will be all too aware of our limitations as much as I know they’ll like our ideas.”
    I turned to Oliver. “What do you think?”
    He grinned, and his foot was still tapping. “I say let’s take it to the max. Let’s burn the blacktop, go for both.”
    He spoke in precise, clipped tones, an “elitist” accent he’d never even tried to modify for street-cred purposes; estuary-speak had become the norm in our game, but he was having none of it. I liked him for that, even though he had an irritating penchant for jargoneze. He never tried to hide his wealthy, upper-class background and, with his shortish brown-almost-auburn hair, loose strands of which hung over his forehead, and military-straight back, intelligent brown eyes, home-counties accent, he would never have succeeded in doing so anyway. Even though his clothes were casual, they had a sharp neatness to them, a kind of preciseness that matched his clipped voice.
    “I think we’ve a good chance of winning the account,” he went on, “particularly if they’re tired of the old staid bank advertising they’ve become used to and are looking for something fresher and more original.”
    “And the takeover?”
    “Merger,” Sydney persisted.
    Oliver shrugged. “Whatever. It might be an extremely beneficial move.”
    “You’d give up everything we’ve worked for?” I was beginning to simmer.
    “It wouldn’t necessarily mean that, chum. Try seeing it from the north.”
    I hated it when he called me chum, especially when it was coupled with the jargon.
    “Sydney and I already more or less agreed it would be a smart way for us to expand.”
    Ah, so Sydney and Oliver had already discussed the matter without me.
    “Beside which,” Oliver put in, resting his elbows on the cushioned arms of his leather swivel chair and making a steeple under his chin with his fingers, “we three would each receive quite a large sum for the company.”
    “That sounds like a buyout to me,” I said.
    “Not at all. Financial remuneration for the partners would be merely part of the deal…”
    There was a light tap on the door and it opened a little. Lynda, our receptionist/switchboard girl, poked her head through the gap. She looked directly at me.
    “Phone call for you, Jim. Your wife.”
    “Did you tell her I was in a meeting?”
    “She said you’re always in a meeting.”
    I couldn’t argue with that: over the last couple of years, my whole life seemed to revolve around meetings, which was frustrating for someone who wanted to work only on the drawing board. I knew Oliver felt the same as far as copywriting was concerned, but somehow he was better than me on such occasions, especially where clients were concerned. Ollie was also terrific at presentations and his social skills were excellent, whereas I tended to be too stiff and was hopeless at cosying up to the clients, particularly those I didn’t like.
    “Ah, tell her I’ll ring back in a couple of minutes, will you?”
    Lynda smiled and retreated, quietly drawing the door closed after her.
    Ollie was looking at his wristwatch. “Look, Jim, I’ve got something on tonight so I have to get away,” he said, his foot stopping its tattoo on the carpet.
    I breathed a loud sigh. “Okay with me,” I said. “But I still think we should take things one step at a time.”
    “You think we should pitch though?” Sydney leaned forward over his desk again.
    “You two would outvote me anyway, wouldn’t you?”
    “Oh no, Jim,” said Oliver, standing up and brushing an imaginary crease from the knee of his trousers. “Also, I want to think on bedding down with Blake & Turnbrow myself. Let’s touch base again tomorrow morning when we’re fresher. I have to admit, though, right now I’m inclined to push the