Conflict of Interest

‘Who lives there most of the time?’

‘That’s very much at the Chairman’s discretion.’ She delivered a significant glance.

Walking past a consultant who was on the phone to a journalist, Chris overheard him say, ‘We don’t want that story about our client to appear—’ and then moments later ‘—but I do have an alternative. There are some very interesting developments going on over at Southside which you ought to know about. I can fax something over to you – nobody else has seen it yet.’

Turning to Kate, Chris wanted to know about that other, much-circulated story about Lombard. ‘I’ve heard stories about Lombard telling potential clients that you control the media?’

This time, he really did expect her to dismiss this much-vaunted piece of Lombard mythology. So he was all the more astonished when, leading him into what was evidently her office, she closed the door behind them and told him, looking him straight in the eye, ‘We do control the media. That’s what our clients pay us for.’

He didn’t try to mask his surprise, ‘But … I mean, how can you tell a reporter what to run?’

She gestured towards a chair as she unpinned a sheaf of papers from her notice board and handed it over to him. ‘That’s how.’

‘Client list?’

She nodded.

He read down the list of names – a roll-call of Britain’s biggest and most powerful industries, the sort of companies that were always in the news.

‘If a reporter pisses us off, he’ll never hear from us again. He’ll never g

et a single piece of information on any of those companies.’

‘But surely he can call them direct?’

She shook her head. ‘We’re the gatekeepers. It’s in our terms and conditions when we sign up a new client. If we represent a company, it has to be on the basis that all media calls are referred to us.’

‘What about the quotes you read in the paper, you know, the Managing Director of some company talking about an issue—’

‘We write all client quotes according to a predetermined strategy. Of course, we arrange interviews from time to time, but those are carefully scripted.’

‘I’m sure journalists love you.’

She grinned. ‘But, hey, they need us! Look at all the holes there’d be if we weren’t in business.’

She opened up the business section of The Herald. Highlighter had been liberally applied to articles throughout the section. ‘Those are Lombard stories,’ she told him.

‘That’s amazing … over thirty per cent of the business section.’

She nodded. ‘We could do the same for any other quality newspaper.’ She looked at him significantly, eyes narrowing. ‘We are the best PR agency in Britain.’

Later, they went up to the second floor, the home of Lombard’s consumer division, which was a similar maelstrom of activity. There was a very different buzz up here, more raucous and exuberant, with consultants in trendy clothes, music playing from the design studio at the far end, and TV monitors tuned to half a dozen different stations. Marilyn Rhodes was the larger-than-life Director in charge and Chris met her briefly. She was tall, shoulder-padded, with big, blonde hair, and her striking, Amazonian good looks were clearly matched by a streetwise cunning.

‘We’re in the business of fad creation. We invent trends – trends to sell our clients’ products, whether it’s toys or tampons, vodka or video games.’ It was evidently a well-rehearsed line.

‘How do you get the media to take an interest in Starwear?’ asked Chris. ‘You couldn’t really threaten never to send them another press release on tracksuits ever again.’

Marilyn had drawn herself up to her full six feet and two inches, and regarded him sternly. ‘Well, they just don’t get access to the celebrities who endorse our clients’ garments. They don’t get to interview the likes of Leonardo. Ever. Or meet Evander Holyfield or Tiger Woods. Or go to a party with Cindy. Or a dozen other razzle-dazzle names you could think of. Our clients pay celebrities very large amounts of money to endorse their products. It’s true the average hack doesn’t give a shit about the products, but he’d let you shove a red hot poker up his bum for the chance of an “exclusive” celebrity interview lasting five minutes.’

Kate was listening with an ironic smile. ‘Marilyn is the only PR person I know who dictates front-page headlines down the phone to journalists.’

‘Starwear is a consumer PR’s dream,’ Marilyn enthused now. ‘The logo is simple – and everywhere. The name of the brand lends itself to endorsement by celebrities of all kinds – sports, entertainment, you name it. And because it’s famous as an American brand, there’s the tie-in with the Stars and Stripes. Owning a pair of Starwear trainers is very aspirational if you’re a teenager in some south-east Asia slum.’

Just then, Marilyn’s secretary appeared with a large, black board on which press cuttings were mounted. ‘You wanted this urgently.’

Marilyn glanced briefly at the board. ‘Too much black space,’ she said. ‘Take them all off, blow them up by twenty per cent, then remount them.’

Chris couldn’t help chuckling at the audacity of it.