The Reckoning Page #4

between sales and economic planning.

My only interest is in the

accounting aspect.

Men who walk down the middle of the road

ten to get run over.

You're either for us or against us.

There's every chance that we

might win without your help.

In which case Hazlitt here, might

remember your lack of loyalty to him.

You might even end up where you started.

Running a Cost Office in a factory.

On the other hand, we might lose.

But Hazlitt here will still be the

Senior Director of the holding company.

And he could make life very difficult

if he chose.

Not that he'd need to, I'm sure.

Our interests are common.

Aren't they?

I'm sorry Michael was so

aggressive, Stanley.

No, no. Not at all.

I see his point. I suppose I agree.

Thank you Stanley... you won't regret it.

We're due at the meeting.

I suggest you hang on here

for a few minutes.

It would not look good if we went

in as a lobby.

Benham's in there. If he asks for a line,

don't give him one.

You go a bit far sometimes Michael.

Do you have to be quite so blunt?

Yes!... Leave that thing alone!

Go in there and tell him it's out of order,

and stay with him until he leaves.

Let's go into the meeting.

Your hour of triumph is at hand.

It would appear that Mr Davidson's

forecasts were, unfortunately, mistaken.

We are, even now, feeling effects of the

decisions taken at that time.

All the evidence shows that our sales

department is one of the best in the country.

And they are doing as well as can be

expected under the circumstances.

The cause for our present malaise

has to be sought further back.

And it can be directly traced to that

decision made by Mr Davidson back in 1959.

Naturally, he never underestimated the

importance of computers in their own field.

What he did was to underestimate the speed

at which the computers were miniaturized.

And the reduction in costs which now

makes them a direct threat to our market.

It does appear that..

Hilda... oh God, was I asleep?

You look worn out.

I didn't sleep last night.

Hazlitt sends greetings.

The meeting was a personal triumph.

For him.

He sent you down a present.

What is it?

Aspirin.

Sorry you're not feeling too good Michael.

I wish there was something I could do to help.

What's worrying you?

I'm expected to kick someone's head in.

To a lad who did my father.

Booted him in a pub.

But can't the police see to that?

There will be no witnesses.

It's like a bad joke about Sicilian

gangsters. For Christ's sake!

It's past the middle of the 20th century,

and I'm expect to kill a yob I don't know.

And don't worry.

If there's any trouble, I'll be round to

your flat in Earl's Court in no time.

I wouldn't t mind.

Wouldn't you?

It might be sooner than you think.

Why don't you go home, Michael?

Yes, that's right... home.

Where squaw?

In bedroom.

Ugg!

Michael! You're home early.

You having an affair with an intellectual?

Or did you think Spinoza was a private eye?

You look tired.

I Am tired.

I'm hungry too.

Hmm, I'd better move.

I gather that the return of the prodigal

wasn't exactly a success?

Nope.

I'm sorry about your father.

It must have been awful for you.

Well, you didn't seem over-anxious

to rush along to his funeral.

He was the only one in your family who

ever tried to understand me.

Now he's gone, I can't imagine anything more

horrifying than your family at a wake.

Don't I smoke anymore?

Sorry.

Aren't you going to tell me about it?

Well, not much to tell. Thanks to Hazlitt,

by the time I got there, he was dead.

I didn't even talk to him.

And your mother?

Not exactly overjoyed after 37 years.

Hmm.

Don't you ever think of anything else?

Not much.

I've got to get ready.

Why?

I haven't seen you for weeks.

Oh, don't do that! You know if you do,

I can't ask you to stop.

So, why fight it?

Not in here!

Nobody's coming, darling.

All those people. Don't you remember?

We're having a party, tonight.

You..

I don't believe it.

Well, you knew about it.

Why didn't you call it off?

How could I?

What kind of pig-iron are you made of?

Don't you ever feel anything?

That old fellah, is lying up there

in Liverpool

In some lousy morgue getting

stiffer and stiffer.

And you expect me to sit around drinking

Camparis with your useless lady golfers?

Your friends are coming too, don't forget!

Rot the lot them. I'm going out!

No you're not! I'm not going to be

lumbered with your dreaded tycoons!

Bollocks!

Here's to the wild colonial boy.

Ned Kelly. May his drive increase.

So your old man was a

bit of a singer then, was he?

My old man new more songs

than I've ever heard of.

Then there'd be times when he's swing

me a backhander and I'd hate his guts.

And then he'd sing something,

and the whole world shone again.

Because now he's gone,

I just want to fight... everybody.

And that Anglo-Saxon b*tch.

I could happily smash her face in.

Oh, come on Mick, you've just

had a bit too much.

This is the "moment of truth".

There never was much between us, you know.

About one weekend of pre-marital bliss

at a cottage in the country.

About all we've got to be nostalgic about.

And that bit of romance vanished six

days later at the Fulham registry office.

And now she's ready for a change.

And God knows what to..

Into other women, perhaps?

Maybe even dogs? The silly slut!

I just couldn't care less.

I just want out!

It's a bad thing.

What are you doing tonight, Brunzy?

It's nearly over.

Let's go to the party.

Have a bit of a laugh. Come on,

let's get a couple of bottles.

Our friends!

Get a grip on yourself Mick.

You'll be in trouble with the wife.

If you're Irish, come into the parlor.

There's a welcome there for you.

Brunzy, you old dog. Where's Michael been

hiding you all these months?

Oh. I've been around.

Good evening.

Going awfully well.

Sparkling, indeed.

A very nice evening.

Are you alright? Very well?

Hello Michael.

Good evening.

She drives all the way to Gerrard's Cross

just to take the boy to the catholic school.

Bruce and I haven't got many prejudices,

but really, catholics are... the end.

Oh faith or our fathers, holy faith.

We will be true to thee until death.

Don't bother to apologize, but my old

mother was very close to the late Pope.

And they do say... who knows?

Absolutely stoned.

Poor Rosemary.

Straight off down the side,

with this bobby still on the bonnet!

Got his head on the wall, have you?

Michael, old chap.

Cheers!

Would you excuse me?

Yes, of course.

Put that bottle down!

I'll drop my bottle if you will drop your..

And get your sallow-skinned friend

out of here!

Everything alright mummy?

Lovely party, darling.

You're looking very well Rosemary.

Thank you.

There it is. Bound-shouldered and

lemon titted. Mummy.

The wife's old lady. Seen chatting up

Sir Miles Bishton.

An ornament to the board of the

Grenfell Corporation, and 33 others.

God, give me strength.

I'll have a Bacardi, Michael.

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