Read The Players And The Game for Free Online

head it should be good for others. I shan’t let this rest, Brian, I shall take it further.’
    Hartford nodded.
    In the outer office Joy Lindley looked at him anxiously. He smiled, patted her on the shoulder, went out.
     
    Bob Lowson spent most of the morning in a huddle with the Timbals accountants and the director of a merchant bank. They talked about financial prospects. In the past five years Timbals had diversified their interests, buying up half a dozen small firms and using them as outlets for new plastics products. Everybody agreed that in the long term this was the right thing to do, but in the short term the return on capital was low, and left them possibly vulnerable to a takeover attempt by their American rivals Primal Products. The purpose of the huddle was to assess the group’s state of health if such a takeover attempt were made. It seemed to Lowson premature to call in Sir George Rose and Hartford to this meeting, which like many similar discussions turned out to be entirely inconclusive. There were rumours, but it was after all very likely that no takeover attempt would be made by Primal. Nevertheless it was a trying three hours, and after it Lowson turned down the merchant banker’s suggestion that they should lunch together. He ordered a rare roast beef sandwich, and made a telephone call on his private line. He felt in need of relaxation.
    The street led off Wimpole Street, and the names on the bells were those of doctors. He pressed one that said Dr L Winstanley. The buzzer sounded and the door opened. He took the lift to the second floor and went in the door that said Reception. A nurse in a white uniform confronted him.
    ‘I have an appointment with Dr Winstanley.’
    She consulted a book. ‘She has no appointment at this time.’
    ‘But I telephoned half an hour ago.’
    ‘I’m sorry. She cannot see anybody.’
    Lowson whimpered slightly. ‘Please, nurse.’
    ‘Is it really urgent?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Very well. Just a moment.’ She went into another room, returned. ‘Dr Winstanley will see you.’ When Lowson got up she barred the entrance to the inner room. ‘On your knees.’ He dropped clumsily to his knees. ‘Kiss my shoe. Now the other one.’
    There was a delicious smell of dirt and shoe polish blended. ‘Pathetic, you’re pathetic,’ the nurse said. She bent down, lifted him by one ear, pushed him into the room so that he stumbled.
    Louise Winstanley nodded from behind her desk. Her features were regular and handsome. The comers of her thin mouth were turned down in an expression of permanent disapproval. ‘Sit down. What is your trouble?’
    ‘Incontinence, Doctor.’
    ‘Yes, of course. And what has your behaviour been like since I saw you last?’
    ‘Bad, I’m afraid. I just can’t help myself.’
    ‘Then we must try to help you. Stand up.’ She came round to stand beside him. Her head came up to Lowson’s shoulder. ‘Take your clothes off. I must examine them to see if they are soiled.’
    He took off his jacket, then gave another whimper. ‘I don’t like to, Doctor. Not in front of a woman.’
    ‘Hold out your hands.’ He did so. She took a pair of handcuffs out of a cupboard and fitted them on his wrists. ‘You are disobedient, stupid and filthy,’ she said, and smacked each side of his face hard. ‘I think Agnes had better come in to help me deal with you, don’t you?’
    ‘Yes,’ he whispered. When the nurse appeared in the doorway he thought he would faint with pleasure.
     
    An hour and a half later and twenty pounds poorer he was back in his office, relaxed and mellow. He contemplated Paul Vane, and listened to what he was saying, with the amused languor of a well-fed cat. He liked Paul, and thought of grooming him for some position which would involve his joining the Board. It was to keep Paul under his eye, as much as for the convenience of having him living near to the works, that he had mentioned the possibility of moving to Rawley. Looking