The Night Manager полностью

The company was exempt from all capital gains, all withholding, gift or estate taxes, said the banker. Transfer of shares was unrestricted. There was no transfer tax and no ad valorem stamp duty.

"Well, that's a relief," said Jonathan, in the same enthusiastic tone as before.

Mr. Derek Thomas was under no legal requirement to appoint external auditors, the banker said gravely, as if this elevated him to a higher monastic order. Mr. Thomas was at liberty at any time to move his company's seat to another jurisdiction, provided receptive legislation applied in the jurisdiction of his choice.

"I'll bear that in mind," said Jonathan, and this time, to his surprise, the impassive Moranti broke into a sunny smile and said "New Zealand," as if he had decided that the place had a good ring to it after all.

A minimum of six thousand U. S. dollars was required as paid-up share capital, but the requirement in this case was met, the banker continued. All that remained was for "our good friend Derek here" to put his name to certain pro forma documents. The banker's smile stretched like an elastic band as he indicated a black desk pen that stood nose down on a teak stand.

"I'm sorry, Piet," said Jonathan, puzzled but still smiling. "I didn't quite catch what you said back there. What requirement is met, exactly?"

"Your company is fortunate to be in an excellent state of liquidity, Derek," said the Dutch banker, in his best informal manner.

"Oh, splendid. I didn't realise. Then perhaps you'll allow me to take a look at the accounts."

The Dutch banker's eyes stayed on Jonathan. Only the slightest inclination of his head referred the question to Roper, who finally removed his gaze from the ceiling.

"Course he can see the accounts, Piet. It's Derek's company, for heaven's sake, Derek's name on the paper, Derek's deal. Let him see his accounts, if he wants to. Why not?"

The banker extracted a slim, unsealed orange envelope from a drawer of his desk and passed it across the table. Jonathan lifted the flap and drew out a monthly statement declaring that the current account of Tradepaths Limited of Curaçao stood at one hundred million U.S. dollars.

"Anyone else want to see it?" Roper asked.

Moranti's hand came out. Jonathan passed him the statement. Moranti examined it and passed it to Langbourne, who pulled a bored face and returned it unread to the banker.

"Give him the bloody check and let's get this over," said Langbourne, tilting his blond head at Jonathan but keeping his back to him.

A girl who had been hovering in the background with a folder under her arm processed ceremoniously round the table till she reached Jonathan. The folder was of leather and smudgily embossed by local craftsmen. Inside it lay a check made out to the bank, drawn on the account of Tradepaths, in the sum of twenty-five million U.S. dollars.

"Go on, Derek, sign it," said Roper, amused by Jonathan's hesitation. "Won't bounce. Kind of money we leave under the plate ― right, Piet?"

Everyone laughed except Langbourne.

Jonathan signed the check. The girl put it back in the folder and closed the panels for decency. She was of mixed blood and very beautiful, with huge, puzzled eyes and a churchy demureness.

* * *

Roper and Jonathan were sitting apart on a sofa in the window bay while the Dutch banker and the three lawyers did business of their own.

"Hotel all right?" Roper asked.

"Fine, thanks. Rather well run. It's hell staying in hotels when you know the trade."

"Meg's a good sport."

"Meg's terrific."

"Clear as mud, I should think, all this legal bollocks?"

"I'm afraid it is."

"Jed sends love. Dans won a pot at the kids' regatta yesterday. Chuffed him no end. Taking the replica back to his mother. Wanted you to know."

"That's marvellous."

"Thought you'd be pleased."

"I am. It's a triumph."

"Well, save your powder. Big night tonight."

"Another party?"

"Could call it that."

There was a last formality, and it required a tape recorder and a script. The girl operated the recorder, the Dutch banker coached Jonathan in the part.

"In your normal voice, please, Derek. Just as you were speaking here today, I think. For our records. Would you be so awfully kind?"

Jonathan first read the two typed lines to himself, then read them aloud: "This is your friend George speaking to you. Thank you for staying awake tonight."

"And again, please, Derek. Maybe you are a little bit nervous. Just relax, please."

He read it again.

"Once more, please, Derek. You are somewhat tense, I think. Maybe those large sums have affected you."

Jonathan smiled his most affable smile. He was their star, and stars are expected to show a little temperament. "Actually, Piet, I think I've rather given it my best shot, thank you."

Roper agreed. "Piet, you're being an old woman. Switch the bloody thing off. Come on, Señor Moranti. Time you had a decent meal."