The Fourth Estate

Townsend was unable to hear the conversation that was taking place behind the car, but after a few moments he could see the cases being put back into the boot.

When Kate rejoined him, he said, “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me, thank him,” she whispered.

The driver eased the car away from the curb, turned left at the lights, and joined the morning traffic. He was relieved that the traffic leaving London at that time in the morning wasn’t like the bumper-to-bumper queues that were trying to fight their way into the capital.

“I’ll have to call Downer as soon as we get to the airport,” said Townsend quietly.

“Why do you want to speak to him again?” asked Kate.

“I thought I’d try and have a word with my mother’s doctor in Melbourne before we take off, but I don’t have the number.”

Kate nodded. Townsend began tapping his fingers on the window. He tried to remember the last meeting he had had with his mother. He had briefed her on the possible takeover of the West Riding Group, and she had responded with her usual set of shrewd questions. After dinner he had left, promising her that he would call her from Leeds if he closed the deal.

“And who’s the girl going with you?” she had asked. He’d been cagey, but he knew he hadn’t fooled her. He glanced across at Kate and wanted to take her hand, but she seemed preoccupied. Neither of them spoke until they arrived at the airport. When the car pulled up outside the terminal, Townsend jumped out and went in search of a trolley while the driver unloaded the cases. The moment they were stacked up, he gave him a large tip, said “Thank you” several times, then pushed the trolley as fast as he could through the hall to the checking-in counter, with Kate following a pace behind him.

“Are we still in time for the Melbourne flight?” Townsend asked as he placed his passport on the Qantas check-in desk.

“Yes, Mr. Townsend,” the booking clerk replied, flicking open his passport. “The High Commissioner called earlier.” She looked up and said, “We have reserved two tickets for you, one in your name, the other for Miss Tulloh.”

“That’s me,” said Kate, handing over her passport.

“You’re both in first class, seats 3D and E. Would you please go straight to gate number seventeen, where boarding is about to commence.”

By the time they arrived in the departure lounge, economy was already boarding, and Townsend left Kate to check them in while he went off in search of a telephone. He had to wait in a queue of three for the one available phone, and when he eventually reached the front of the line, he dialed Henry’s home number. It was engaged. He tried three more times, but it continued to give out the same long beeps. As he began dialing the number at the head of the High Commissioner’s writing paper, a booking clerk announced that all remaining passengers should take their seats, as the gates were about to close. The High Commissioner’s number began to ring, and Townsend glanced round to find that the departure lounge was empty, apart from him and Kate. He waved her in the direction of the aircraft.

Townsend let the phone ring for a few more moments, but no one answered. He gave up and replaced the receiver, then ran down the corridor to find Kate waiting by the door of the plane. Once they had entered it, the doors swung closed behind them.

“Any luck?” asked Kate, as she began strapping herself into the seat.

“No,” said Townsend. “Henry was constantly engaged, and the High Commission didn’t answer the phone.”

Kate remained silent as the plane taxied toward the runway. When it came to a halt, she said, “While you were on the phone, I began thinking. It just doesn’t add up.”

The plane began to accelerate down the runway as Townsend fastened his seatbelt.

“What do you mean, it doesn’t add up?”

“The last hour,” said Kate.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Well, to start with, my ticket.”

“Your ticket?” said Keith, puzzled.

“Yes. How did Qantas know what name to book it in?”

“I suppose the High Commissioner told them.”

“But how could he?” said Kate. “When he sent you the invitation to dinner it didn’t include me, because he had no idea that I was with you.”

“He could have asked the hotel manager.”

“Possibly. But something else has been nagging at the back of my mind.”

“And what’s that?”