reassurance, Kevin added, ‘We’ve agreed the terms to sell Pergamon.’ The £446 million paid by Elsevier, the Dutch publisher and competitor, was a good price, and the rationale for the sale was convincing. Scientists in the future would not read magazines, but would obtain their data through computers. Pergamon and its books, explained Kevin, represented an adventure past its prime, overtaken by electronic publishing, and MCC was retaining those rights. Brookes agreed, but after reflecting that MCC would lose the prodigious cash flow generated by Pergamon he insisted, ‘We will have to issue a press release warning that MCC’s profits will be down.’ Kevin paused. Profit forecasts were among the icons which his father held sacrosanct. Anything other than ecstatic predictions were inconceivable. But according to stock exchange rules Brookes was right. Kevin telephoned New York. ‘No. Absolutely not,’ shouted Maxwell. The last contact with reality had clearly been lost in the midst of New York’s adulation. But there was no alternative, Kevin decided. Only one method of persuasion could succeed: a personal conversation.
