“How long have you known we had problems in the Stratos case ?” asked Ashby as he flicked through the file of papers.
“From the beginning,” said Whittingham. “There were endless memos I sent to your father, explaining in graphic detail the problems we’re now having to confront and why we were going to lose.”
“You’re saying that my father knew throughout what was going on and intentionally chose to ignore it and handle things his own way ?”
“Yes – that’s exactly what went on until your involvement today.”
“And what’s been happening in the other five claims ? What progress have we made in dealing with them ?”
“The same as in the Captain Stratos case.”
“And in the meantime, you did – absolutely nothing – is that right ?”
“Correct. I was waiting for instructions from your father. So were the lawyers.”
“Well, now we’re going to do things differently, my way and you’re going to be answerable to me, personally.”
Whittingham saw this as an affront – at forty years of age, to be pushed around by a twenty seven year old junior – the boss’s son. At the same time, he’d been expecting this from Ashby and was ready for a confrontation. For the past year, he’d tried to wrest control of the company’s claims work from the executive committee headed by Jim Ashby. He’d wanted it moved to an external company run by him : this was his opportunity.
“My first responsibility is to the board – and to the Chairman. As of today, no-one has been appointed by the board to replace your father as managing director. So, I’m sorry but I can’t accept any orders from you.”
“You do know that I’m the largest shareholder and an executive director.”
“Yes, I know that but until I hear from the Chairman and until you’ve been formally appointed MD, my hands are tied.”
Once again, it seemed to Ashby that Whittingham must have worked in the civil service for years. While the Captain Stratos had sunk with all hands, it was going to sink Plantation too if they didn’t act quickly. For some reason, Whittingham was being obstructive.
Within the hour, Ashby had convened an emergency board meeting. A motion was put and seconded and he was appointed Managing Director with authority to take whatever action he considered necessary in the company’s best interests.
This delighted both Grenville and Black. Young Ashby was on the same path to hell, trodden by his father. Their original plan was still on schedule. With a bit of luck, the Captain Stratos claim would finish off Plantation completely ; they mightn’t need to bother about the other five claims. Happily, their victim knew nothing of this and was taking the same tack as his father before him.
When the vote was concluded, Ashby addressed the board.
“My first executive act will be….to dismiss Whittingham as claims director and to appoint myself in his place.”
And brushing aside the misgivings and objections of several other directors (who were silenced by Grenville), he went and broke the news to Whittingham himself.
The claims manager had fully expected this and said nothing. Instead, he was quietly pleased to be getting out of Plantation before the entire operation fell apart, as it showed every indication of doing with Ashby in control.
That evening, Ashby took the train down to Surrey to reach his family home which had lately been occupied by his father. He bought a ticket for Guildford where his father’s Mercedes was sitting forlornly in the British Rail car park.
In his first class compartment full of dozing commuters, he stared out of the window as the train hurtled past the Edwardian terraces, garden after garden similarly proportioned, almost for the entire journey. The day’s events had thrown up uncertainty and confusion. He had to find out what had really been going on behind the scenes. It would be impossible to overcome all of the six claims on his own. He needed help – and fast.