Read Cometh the Hour: A Novel for Free Online Page A

tried to gather his thoughts. It was some time before he picked up the phone again.
    “Friedman, Friedman and Yablon,” announced a voice.
    “This is Aaron Guinzburg. I need to speak to Leonard Friedman.” He was immediately put through to the senior partner. Aaron took his time explaining what had happened when he’d turned up at his office that morning, and the result of his two subsequent phone calls.
    “So your father was right all along.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “A handshake was always good enough for Curtis Mulberry, but when you deal with his son Rex, just make sure you read the small print.”
    “Are you suggesting Mulberry’s got right on his side?”
    “Certainly not,” said Friedman, “just the law. As long as he controls sixty-six percent of the company’s stock, he can call the shots. We did warn you at the time of the consequences of being a minority shareholder, but you were convinced it wouldn’t be a problem. Although I have to admit, even I’m shocked by the speed with which Mulberry has taken advantage of his position.”
    Once Friedman had taken his client though the relevant details of the contract, Aaron wished he’d read Law at Harvard and not History at Yale. “Still,” said the lawyer, “we did manage to insert clause 19A, which Mulberry will surely now live to regret.”
    “Why is clause 19A so important?”
    After Friedman had explained the significance of the get-out clause in great detail, Aaron put the phone down and walked across to the drinks cabinet. He poured himself a whisky—before twelve o’clock for the first time in his life. Twelve o’clock, the time of his appointment with Harry. He glanced at his watch: 11:38. He put down his drink, and ran out of the apartment.
    He cursed the slow lift as it trundled down to the ground floor, where he hurled back the grille and ran out onto the street. He hailed a yellow cab, never a problem on Fifth Avenue, but once he hit Third, Aaron was faced with the inevitable gridlock. Light after light seemed to turn red just as the cab reached the front of the line. When they ground to a halt at the next set of lights, Aaron handed the driver a five-dollar bill and leapt out. He ran the last two blocks, dodging in and out of the traffic, horns blaring, as he tried to stay on the move.
    The two guards were still stationed outside the building, almost as if they were expecting him to return. Aaron checked his watch on the run: four minutes to twelve. He prayed that Harry would be late. Harry was never late. Then he saw him about a hundred yards away, striding in his direction, but he arrived at the front of the building just moments before Aaron. The guards stood aside and allowed him to pass. Someone else they were expecting.
    “Harry! Harry!” shouted Aaron, now only a few strides from the front door, but Harry had already entered the building. “Harry!” Aaron screamed again as he reached the entrance, but the two guards marched forward and blocked his path just as Harry stepped into a lift.
    *   *   *
    When the lift door opened, Harry was surprised not to find Kirsty waiting for him. Funny how you get used to something, he thought, even take it for granted. He made his way across to the reception desk and told an unfamiliar young woman his name. “I have an appointment with Aaron Guinzburg.”
    She checked her day sheet. “Yes, you’re down to see the chairman at twelve, Mr. Clifton. You’ll find him in Mr. Guinzburg’s old office.”
    “His old office?” said Harry, unable to mask his surprise.
    “Yes, the room at the far end of the corridor.”
    “I know where it is,” Harry replied, before heading off toward Aaron’s office. He knocked on the door and waited.
    “Come in,” said a voice he didn’t recognize.
    Harry opened the door and immediately assumed he’d walked into the wrong room. The walls had been stripped of their magnificent oak paneling and the distinguished authors’ photographs replaced