Paper Money by Ken Follett

it."
     
    Hamilton smiled. Valerie brought in his milk and went out again. He
    sipped and studied his friend. Fett and his office matched: both were
    small but not dwarfish, dark but not gloomy, relaxed without being
    frivolous. The man had heavy-rimmed glasses and brilliantined hair. He
    wore a club tie, a mark of social acceptability: it was the only Jewish
    thing about him, Hamilton thought wryly.
     
    He put his glass down and said: "Were you reading about me?"
     
    "Just skimming. A predictable reaction. Ten years ago, results like that
    from a company like Hamilton would have made waves from audio shares to
    zinc prices. Today, it's just another conglomerate in trouble. There's a
    word for it: recession." Hamilton sighed. "Why do we do it, Nathaniel?"
     
    "I beg your pardon?" Fett was startled.
     
    He shrugged. "Why do we overwork, lose sleep, risk fortunes?"
     
    "And get ulcers." Fett smiled, but a subtle change had come over his
    demeanor. His eyes narrowed behind the pebble-len sed spectacles, and he
    smoothed the bristly hair at the back of his head in a gesture Hamilton
    recognized to be defensive. Fett was retiring into his role as a careful
    adviser, a friendly counsel with an objective viewpoint.
     
    But his reply was measuredly casual. "To make money.
     
    What else?"
     
    Hamilton shook his head. His friend always had to be beckoned twice
    before stepping into deeper water. "Sixth-form economics," he said
    derisively. "I would have made more profit if I'd sold my inheritance
    and put it into the Post Office. Most people who own large businesses
    could live very comfortably for the rest of their lives by doing that.
     
    Why do we conserve our fortunes, and try to enlarge them? Is it greed,
    or power, or adventure? Are we all compulsive gamblers?" Fett said: "I
    suppose Ellen has been saying this kind of thing to you."
     
    Hamilton laughed. "You're right, but it pains me that you think I'm
    incapable of such ponderings on my own."
     
    "Oh, I don't doubt you mean it. It's just that Ellen has a way of saying
    what you are thinking.
     
    All the same, you wouldn't be repeating these things to me if they
    hadn't struck a chord." He paused. "Derek, be careful not to lose
    Ellen."
     
    They stared at one another for a moment, then they both looked away.
     
    There was silence. They had reached the limit of intimacy permitted by
    their friendship.
     
    Eventually Fett said: "We might get a cheeky bid in the next few days."
     
    Hamilton was surprised. "Why?"
     
    "Someone might think he can pick you up at a bargain price, while you're
    depressed and panicked by the interim results."
     
    "What would your advice be, then?" Hamilton asked thoughtfully.
     
    "It depends on the offer. But I'd probably say "Wait." We should know
    today whether you've won the oil field license."
     
    "Shield."
     
    "Yes. Win that, and your shares will strengthen."
     
    "We're still a poor prospect for profits."
     
    "But ideal material for an asset stripper." "Interesting," Hamilton
    mused. "A gambler would make the bid today, before the Minister'S
    announcement. An opportunist would do it to morrow, if we win the
    license. A genuine investor would wait until next week."
     
    "And a wise man would say no to all of them." Hamilton smiled. "Money
    isn't everything, Nathaniel."
     
    "Good lord!"
     
    "Is that so heretical?"
     
    "Not at all." Fett was amused, and his eyes sparkled behind the
    spectacles. "I've known it for years. What surprises me is that you
    should say it."
     
    "It surprises me, too." Hamilton paused. "A matter of curiosity: do you
    think we'll get the license?"
     
    "Can't say." Suddenly the broker's face was unreadable again. "Depends
    whether the Minister believes it should go to an already-profitable
    company as a bonus, or to an ailing one as a life belt "Hm. Neither, I
    suspect. Remember, we only head the syndicate: it's the total package
    that counts. The Hamilton section, in control, provides City contacts
    and