Conflict of Interest

‘Nothing?’ North was disbelieving. Then a sardonic expression crossed his face. ‘Well, how’s about that? Next you’re going to tell me that she’s “squeaky clean”. I believe that was the expression you used to describe our great recruitment error?’

‘That’s not a description I would use in this case,’ d’Andrea overlooked the vitriol, once again. ‘She could have written straight on to disk and be carrying around any disks with her.’

‘Shit.’ North raised a hand to his brow.

‘Of course, the only way of checking that would be to remove her handbag.’ D’Andrea’s voice betrayed no emotion. ‘But coming on top of the break-in at her flat, her suspicions would be aroused. Anyway, even if we found one set, she might still have back-ups.’

‘God Almighty.’ North paced the other side of the Boardroom table for a while before wheeling round suddenly to face d’Andrea, eyes blazing. ‘I want both of their flats bugged.’

D’Andrea raised his eyebrows. ‘Expensive operation.’

‘The client will pay,’ he spat out the words. ‘In the meantime, I’m going direct to Carter.’

‘I would strongly counsel against that.’ D’Andrea pursed his lips. ‘It’s something one would contemplate as a final resort—’

‘Which is exactly what this is,’ exploded North. ‘We pay his kid’s school fees, don’t we? We foot the bill on his holidays. Where’s the pay-off?’

D’Andrea shrugged. ‘I’m not the PR man. But I have the impression the pay-off is every day he’s City Editor. There’s a lot of … goodwill there. We don’t want to blow it.’

Leaning over the Boardroom table, North’s eyes flashed behind his lenses. ‘You’re right,’ he snapped, ‘you’re not the PR man. So why don’t you go back to playing hide-and-seek while I take care of the business?’

D’Andrea held his eyes, utterly unintimidated, before shaking his head, slowly. ‘You know, Elliott, most of the time it doesn’t feel like we’re playing on the same team.’

Five minutes later, North was back in his office, dialling a phone number. ‘Alex. It’s Elliott North,’ he announced when he was put through. ‘It’s about one of your staff- Judith Laing. I’m worried about her …’

12

The buildings of Regent’s College were ivy-clad red brick, built among the towering oaks and lush lawns of the park, and evocative of a dreamy yesteryear. Inside the college, its lecture theatres and tutorial rooms were spartan affairs, original wooden furniture rickety from generations of use. Cheap, plastic chairs and Formica-topped tables had been brought into service, their utilitarian charmlessness in stark contrast to the grandeur of their surroundings. It was a world of familiar contrasts to Ellen Kennedy, who arrived promptly at the college at two p.m., having come down from Oxford on the twelve-twenty train. Proceedings were due to commence at two-thirty but, in his letter to members of the GlobeWatch Executive Council, Claude Bonning had explained that tea would be served from two o’clock onwards, to give committee members of the new organisation the chance to meet informally.

Having helped herself not only to a cup of tea, but also to a foil-wrapped chocolate biscuit – surely a superfluous, if enjoyable, extravagance for a not-for-profit body like GlobeWatch? – Ellen spent most of the first quarter of an hour talking to Claude, whom she hadn’t met in person for quite some time. He explained to her how the Family First project she had visited several years before had been extended to inner-city areas elsewhere in Britain, and in America too.

Keeping her eye on the door as he spoke, Ellen was expecting a steady stream of executive-sponsor types, with sharp suits and electronic organisers. But as time moved on, to her surprise the only arrivals were people she had already met or knew about from other charity foundations. There were council members from Save the Children, and a medical adviser to the Red Cross. Various ecological experts arrived, including several she’d met at the Royal Geogra

phical Society and, as the noise volume in the room steadily increased, in strode two well-known trade union leaders, with a band of American industrial relations consultants in their wake. Introducing herself to the only young man she suspected might be a corporate donor – fresh-faced, clean cut, and armed with a mobile telephone – Ellen was surprised to discover he was the new press spokesman for Greenpeace! As she glanced around her, she couldn’t help observing that it was an impressive cross-section of groups Claude had brought together; she found herself in very good company indeed. Others in the room were, of course, making that self-same observation.

Shortly after two-thirty p.m., Claude took his place at one of the desks arranged in a circle, and thumped it with a whiteboard wiper. ‘My lords, ladies and gentlemen. Could I ask you to take your seats, please?’

Obediently, they found themselves places, glancing around expectantly – some in a surreptitious spot-the-aristocrat exercise. Ellen, who had already met Lords Hoyle and Wilthrop in the St John’s Senior Common Room, was far more excited by the fact that there didn’t appear to be a single business ‘minder’ in the whole group. That immediately set GlobeWatch apart. In the past, she’d been invited to join all kinds of societies and institutions, only to find that they had really been set up by large companies to provide a convenient fig leaf for their own activities. GlobeWatch was obviously different; you couldn’t fool all of these people, could you? As she glanced down the agenda, copies of which had been placed on each desk, she immediately noted point number three, ‘Programme Funding’. That, she supposed correctly, was why everyone was here.

Now, Claude was clearing his throat. ‘First of all, may I say how delighted I am that you could all attend,’ he began.

From somewhere round the table a stray voice chipped in, ‘When there’s the chance of funding …’ to general laughter.

Ellen settled in her chair, folding her arms and putting them on the desk in front of her. She could tell this was going to be a good meeting.

Claude began by talking about the objectives of the new group.

GlobeWatch was to be a high-profile, well-funded think-tank, advising multinational companies and governments around the world on good corporate citizenship in the areas of industrial and labour relations, and environmental stewardship. Documents describing GlobeWatch’s objectives in detail had been circulated a fortnight before the meeting. Claude now invited comments. A number of suggestions were made, which opened up discussion. The less significant word changes were accepted with little debate, while more important shifts in emphasis produced a few lively verbal tussles which, Ellen observed, Claude handled with the consummate skill of a committee veteran, making everyone feel they had won something, while steering through his original proposals intact.

Having dealt with objectives, they turned to point number two on the agenda, GlobeWatch strategy, and once again Claude solicited the support of all present to carry out the activities he proposed. Everyone was eager to get on to point number three, thought Ellen, which was why GlobeWatch’s objectives and strategy were agreed to with only the lightest debate – no doubt this was a deliberate ploy on Claude’s part, since he had drawn up the agenda.

‘We’ve all been involved in organisations of this kind over the years,’ Claude said as he moved on to the main event, ‘where the wealth of good ideas has been matched only by the poverty of the organisational coffers. It’s no use having the vision splendid if you don’t have the means to realise that vision. Many of us have also been involved in an even worse scenario – where the funding is there, but because different projects are undertaken on an ad hoc basis, with no reference to each other, there has been no overall momentum. This is why I, personally, am keen to see GlobeWatch get it right from the start.’

Pausing, he looked around the table, meeting the eyes of each of those present. ‘As everyone here knows, we have the funding.’

‘Hear, hear,’ someone applauded him.

‘You’ve all seen the list of corporate donors I’ve sent out.’