Conflict of Interest

‘What sort of production figures?’ he wanted to know.

Hunter closed his eyes and raised a hand to his forehead. This was exactly where he didn’t want to go. ‘The ones we announced in the last annual report. She’d somehow got hold of the Forbes forecasts and worked out the discrepancy. But I stuck to the line we agreed. I told her our returns for last year were inflated as a result of a disposal.’

Now North was seriously alarmed. If Judith Laing had gone nosing around Forbes, she was obviously researching Starwear in detail. Christ knew how far she’d got.

‘You said a disposal, huh?’ he confirmed.

‘That’s right.’

North could detect uncertainty in Hunter’s voice. Or was it guilt?

There was a pause before he responded, ‘You did the right thing, Mark. Exactly the right thing. The disposal line was what we agreed.’ North knew how to reel in the self-absorbed fat cat.

‘That’s what I thought.’

‘I’m sure you charmed the pants off her,’ he was congratulatory, ‘you’ve always been good with young lady reporters. We should send all the hackettes to you.’

Hunter chuckled with relief. The danger had passed.

‘What’s she like?’ asked North curiously as he stopped at a red light, ‘I’ve never actually met her.’

‘Oh, she’s bright. Perky. Quite a cute little thing.’

‘I bet.’

‘Big eyes.’

‘All the better to see you with, my dear.’

Hunter laughed slyly.

‘I’m glad it went well. Any idea when she’s going to write something up?’

Hunter shrugged. ‘She seemed a bit vague about that.’

‘Yeah, whatever,’ North had his end-of-conversation voice, ‘good contact for us.’

‘Exactly.’

‘Oh, the disposal thing,’ North sounded casual, ‘1 don’t suppose she wanted anything more specific?’

It was the dread question. But the way it came out, Hunter didn’t feel so bad about answering it. Hadn’t North just told him he’d taken the right line?

‘Yeah, she did. Just, you know, when she was walking out the door.’

When the real questions get asked, thought North. Like now.

‘I said it was some office block we’d acquired with the Hydrabull properties.’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘I mean, she’s got no way of checking out a story in the middle of India.’

Too late if she has,’ North’s tone was ambivalent. ‘So long, Mark.’

North snapped shut his mobile phone and threw it on the passenger seat. Fuck it! The bitch was on their trail. Christ knew how she’d got on to it. But he’d have to do something about her immediately. Find out how much she’d got – and stop her getting any more.

Picking up his mobile again, North pressed a memory-dial number. It rang just twice before being answered. ‘Sol,’ said North, ‘hack problems. Her name’s Judith Laing, Herald. She’s sniffing around our Jaipur operation. You know what that means.’