Nobody True by James Herbert Page B

plenty of opportunities for cosy get-togethers for my partners)? Or was I just being paranoid?
    “Obviously Blake & Turnbrow like our client list, as well as the creative talent in this agency,” Oliver went on. “But then don’t we envy their client list and some of their creative teams?”
    “If we get taken over—” I began to say.
    “Merge,” Sydney insisted.
    I didn’t drop a beat. “—there’s no guarantee that some of our accounts won’t leave us. They signed up with Guinane, True, Presswell, not with Blake, Turnbrow, Guinane, True, Presswell…”
    “BTGTP has a nice ring to it.” Oliver smiled and I wasn’t sure if he was deliberately winding me up.
    Before I could respond, Sydney cut in once more. “Companies rarely switch agencies unless they’ve been let down by bad marketing strategies, mediocre creative work, or poor servicing: we’re guilty of none of those. However, we might fall down on the first and last points if we pitch for and win this new account.”
    “I’m still not sure why such a large corporate bank should approach us,” I muttered, a little sourly I think. “The agency they have now is one of the biggest and best.”
    “Yes, and it’s become complacent. The bank has been with them for twenty years or more and I think they’ve both become tired of each other. It happens to every account eventually, no matter how solid the relationship has been.”
    Sydney unlocked his fingers and rested back in his chair. “Fortunately, the bank’s marketing director is a very old acquaintance of mine and for the past year I’ve been rekindling our friendship. We belong to the same club and more than once I’ve let him thrash me at golf.”
    “This is the first time you’ve mentioned it to us,” I said grudgingly.
    “Because I’ve had nothing to report until now. Geoff tipped me the wink only a few months ago and I’ve been working on him since. He’s well aware of my interest, of course, and I think he’s enjoyed the little game between us. I want the carrot and he loves to dangle it before me. Naturally, I’ve allowed him to enjoy himself at our expense—and I mean that literally.” He looked meaningfully at me, and then at Oliver.
    “British Allied Bank is beginning to lose out in the market place,” Sydney went on. “It’s competitors, the other big banks, are regarded as more friendly towards small businesses and more trendy as far as the younger market is concerned. Certainly British Allied is banker to many vast corporations, but never underestimate how important the smaller businesses are. What they lack fiscally as individuals, they more than make up in quantity. Not quite as important, but certainly worth considering are the young non-account holders, the upwardly mobile C2s, who have to be encouraged—or enticed—to open a bank account. Like the small businesses their numbers are incredibly high and well worth bringing in. Catch ‘em while they’re young is the motto of all the banks, because they rarely change banks during their lifetimes.”
    “So we’re seen as more cutting edge than British Allied’s present agency? Is that why they want us to pitch?” Oliver was jigging a foot on the carpet, a habit of his when his energy was running high.
    “Precisely,” Sydney replied. “But naturally, there will be other agencies pitching, including their present one, which has to be given a chance. I’ve learned from Geoff, though, that we’re the only hot shop; all the others are good and well established, but don’t have our reputation for high-concept campaigns. I think, provided we come up with the right pitch, if we hinted that we could possibly be associated with another much larger agency in the near future, it might be to our advantage. Of course, if we did win it, it would be the biggest single account we’d held financially. The advertising budget would be phenomenal.”
    “Are you saying both deals go hand-in-hand?” I asked,