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on the line for
you, Mr Herren.” as he closed the door with care.
    Stephan slowly returned to his
office, collecting coffee on the way. He’d been working non-stop
for the past five months on the Morgan Grenfell acquisition and had
been looking forward to some breathing space and time for a social
life. Camille would be furious at this new load on him. And the
first meeting was tomorrow. God, let it not interfere with this
coming weekend in Berlin with Thomas, he thought. Even at the speed
that Stephan drove it was still a five hour trip and he’d arranged
to collect Camille from their apartment at midday. Well, she
wouldn't like it, but at least she was used to his being late.
Surely the meeting would be over by half past twelve at the
latest.
    Not that he was wild about
listening to opera – he took some pride in describing himself as
having Van Gogh’s ear for music—but he desperately wanted time away
from work and he knew how much Camille was looking forward to the
trip as she’d never been to Berlin. He and Thomas had spoken
yesterday to finalise details and he’d learned of some feisty new
woman that Thomas had just met and was hoping to get to know
better. As for the opera - “Best seats in the house!” Thomas had
said – it might turn out better than he feared and in any case he
knew how much music meant to his friend. They deserved this
weekend, he thought, and he was looking forward to it.
     
    *
     
    Anxious about being punctual the
following day Stephan had set two alarm clocks, placing the more
insistent one on top of his wardrobe, out of easy reach. Of course
he’d then slept badly, his mind racing with thoughts about what he
might have overlooked in his preparations or what might go wrong
during the meeting itself or how long it would go on for. After
tossing and turning and peering blearily at the time every hour or
so, desperately afraid he was now going to sleep through when he
needed to be up, he finally abandoned his futile attempts and rose
at 6.15, a good half hour before he needed to. It was always the
same when he started a new deal or had an important meeting, he
thought crossly, as he yawned and made himself some strong
coffee.
    Herren dealt only with the top
echelon of business and political figures and that meant that
Stephan, as his assistant, had to work hard to be respected. He was
conscious that that he didn’t always make a strong enough first
impression, that these powerful men disdained him to some extent.
Perhaps I need to be more arrogant, more opinionated, he thought; I
may come to be less liked but they’ll listen to me and what’s more
important they’ll remember me. He struck a pose and growled at his
reflection in the bathroom mirror. At least his teeth and his skin
were good, he thought.
    The meeting was to be held at the
offices of Gottlieb Chance, the law firm founded in Frankfurt fifty
years earlier and which had risen to become immensely powerful in
its work within the financial sector. It was hardly known outside
this specialist area and its partners worked hard to ensure that
that situation continued. Its discretion was legendary and it was
that, coupled with its reputation for reliability and a wide
ranging understanding of law and finance, which had brought it to
its current dominant position. If you were unsure about legal
precedents and perhaps consequent implications relating to some
arcane financial instrument or transaction or policy you could be
certain that a Gottlieb Chance partner would know the
answer.
    The receptionist summoned an
assistant who accompanied Stephan in the lift and showed him to the
large meeting room at the very top of the building. The entire
outer wall of this room was lightly smoked glass and gave Stephan,
from his position on the forty fifth floor, a breathtaking view of
Frankfurt. To his left he could see the Main curving away in both
directions and an old building he decided must be St Bartholomew’s
Cathedral, a large 18th