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Authors: Steve P. Vincent
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his left. He looked and felt his confidence and bluster vanish in a second as Duncan McColl, the EMCorp Chief Financial Officer—and one of Ernest’s closest friends—stood. He had a somber expression on his face and wouldn’t look at Ernest.
“Of all people, Duncan, I thought you’d be solid.”
“I'm sorry, Ernest.” McColl started to pace. “I’ve been here nearly as long as you. And I’ve always been silent on the issues you’ve walked us into, but it’s time.”
Ernest said nothing as McColl walked behind each board member. It was a tactic Ernest liked to employ himself from time to time, because it put people off guard, and now McColl was copying it. He’d have laughed at the absurdity of it all if the situation wasn’t so dire.
“We can’t have it, Ernest. The newspaper arm of the company is dying, the United Kingdom is a mess, there are new scandals by the day and our share price is bleeding. We could handle all that, we really could, but now there’s to be a US Senate inquiry as well? You’ve put the United States operations at risk. It’s over. We ask again—”
“Judas!” Ernest shouted.
“I’m sorry?”
“I was ready for an attack by any of these other plebeians, Duncan, and just about ready to turn my back and let them sink the knife in. But you?”
“I don't do this lightly, Ernest. But given the troubles we’re sailing into, it’s with the greatest respect and sincerity that—”
“Oh, fuck your sincerity!” Ernest slammed the table with both fists, causing his coffee to spill over his papers. He turned to Peter. “What’s my total shareholding?”
Peter was matter of fact. “Between your personal holdings and the trust for your daughter, about thirty-seven percent. Add in your wife and it jumps to forty.”
“Well, there you have it. In short, gentlemen, I’ve got you all by the short and curly hairs.” He looked to the only female board member. “Sorry, Janice.”
McColl was unrepentant, but seemed slightly crestfallen. “Ernest, be reasonable. Think of what’s best for the company.”
“I've been doing that for the past thirty-five years, Duncan, and I've survived longer than many of the doomsayers who’ve sat in these very chairs, telling me how wrong I was. If you’re so fucking confident, then call a spill, and let’s see who the shareholders back. Here’s the rub, though: I’ve got a fair head start.”
McColl shook his head. “Are you so confident that you're right again? That you’re not going to annihilate this company with your little tantrum?”
Ernest laughed. “Not in the slightest, but I've earned the right to find out. We’re going to stay the course, stare down these inquiries, and emerge on the other side.”
McColl looked up and down the table, clearly seeking the support of his co-conspirators to carry the argument further. When none materialized, he sat down. Ernest could tell his CFO was crushed. Despite his anger, he felt regret at what was to come.
“I thank you all for the faith placed in me.” His voice was cold. “I’d like to adjourn for five minutes, given the drama. But before we do, Duncan, your services as CFO will no longer be required, and I’d ask that you step down from the board as well.”
McColl’s head shot up and he looked around the table. When nobody defended him, his nostrils flared. “This is an outrage! I only prosecuted the case you wanted me to. Now you're too gutless to speak in my favor.”
“That’ll be all, Duncan.”
McColl spat into the middle of the table. “I resign.”
As McColl stormed from the room, Ernest turned to Peter and spoke softly. “Thank you, Peter. I can’t believe I nearly let myself be done in by these puffed-up cowards.”
“It's fine. Besides, don't thank me until you've seen the cost of that suit you promised to replace. It's beautiful.”
Ernest laughed. “Better sell the Bentley.”
***
Chen sighed with exhaustion as he searched his pockets for his
“Of all people, Duncan, I thought you’d be solid.”
“I'm sorry, Ernest.” McColl started to pace. “I’ve been here nearly as long as you. And I’ve always been silent on the issues you’ve walked us into, but it’s time.”
Ernest said nothing as McColl walked behind each board member. It was a tactic Ernest liked to employ himself from time to time, because it put people off guard, and now McColl was copying it. He’d have laughed at the absurdity of it all if the situation wasn’t so dire.
“We can’t have it, Ernest. The newspaper arm of the company is dying, the United Kingdom is a mess, there are new scandals by the day and our share price is bleeding. We could handle all that, we really could, but now there’s to be a US Senate inquiry as well? You’ve put the United States operations at risk. It’s over. We ask again—”
“Judas!” Ernest shouted.
“I’m sorry?”
“I was ready for an attack by any of these other plebeians, Duncan, and just about ready to turn my back and let them sink the knife in. But you?”
“I don't do this lightly, Ernest. But given the troubles we’re sailing into, it’s with the greatest respect and sincerity that—”
“Oh, fuck your sincerity!” Ernest slammed the table with both fists, causing his coffee to spill over his papers. He turned to Peter. “What’s my total shareholding?”
Peter was matter of fact. “Between your personal holdings and the trust for your daughter, about thirty-seven percent. Add in your wife and it jumps to forty.”
“Well, there you have it. In short, gentlemen, I’ve got you all by the short and curly hairs.” He looked to the only female board member. “Sorry, Janice.”
McColl was unrepentant, but seemed slightly crestfallen. “Ernest, be reasonable. Think of what’s best for the company.”
“I've been doing that for the past thirty-five years, Duncan, and I've survived longer than many of the doomsayers who’ve sat in these very chairs, telling me how wrong I was. If you’re so fucking confident, then call a spill, and let’s see who the shareholders back. Here’s the rub, though: I’ve got a fair head start.”
McColl shook his head. “Are you so confident that you're right again? That you’re not going to annihilate this company with your little tantrum?”
Ernest laughed. “Not in the slightest, but I've earned the right to find out. We’re going to stay the course, stare down these inquiries, and emerge on the other side.”
McColl looked up and down the table, clearly seeking the support of his co-conspirators to carry the argument further. When none materialized, he sat down. Ernest could tell his CFO was crushed. Despite his anger, he felt regret at what was to come.
“I thank you all for the faith placed in me.” His voice was cold. “I’d like to adjourn for five minutes, given the drama. But before we do, Duncan, your services as CFO will no longer be required, and I’d ask that you step down from the board as well.”
McColl’s head shot up and he looked around the table. When nobody defended him, his nostrils flared. “This is an outrage! I only prosecuted the case you wanted me to. Now you're too gutless to speak in my favor.”
“That’ll be all, Duncan.”
McColl spat into the middle of the table. “I resign.”
As McColl stormed from the room, Ernest turned to Peter and spoke softly. “Thank you, Peter. I can’t believe I nearly let myself be done in by these puffed-up cowards.”
“It's fine. Besides, don't thank me until you've seen the cost of that suit you promised to replace. It's beautiful.”
Ernest laughed. “Better sell the Bentley.”
***
Chen sighed with exhaustion as he searched his pockets for his
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