A Different War

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All Fools' Day. The markets had been telling him that laughing at him, in effect ever since they had opened that morning. The share prices, the snippets of information, the rumours, the heavy selling, the nervousness of the banks… Like the chuckling of people at a joke at his expense.

Twenty million dollars had been wiped off the asset value of Winterborne Holdings in a matter of hours. Wall Street, open an hour earlier, had caught the infection and the stock of the US subsidiaries was sliding downwards in price. It could be fifty million dollars by the day's end. All Fools' Day.

In enraged frustration, David Winterborne stood up and walked to one of the full length windows of the first-floor drawing room which overlooked Eaton Square.

The London traffic filtered politely through the square, sunlight was dappled in the gardens. There were a few well-dressed pedestrians enjoying the spring sunshine.

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