Conflict of Interest

Then, of course, there was the personality angle: the story of Jacob Strauss, handsome, privileged, idle and corrupt; a ne’er-do-well who, despite his wealthy background and Ivy League education, had proved himself utterly incapable of running a business on the level. A combination of greed and impatience had seen the demise of Ultra-Sports and Trimnasium. Somehow he’d climbed aboard Starwear, where his grotesque errors of judgement had continued – except that, instead of bringing down his own self-made enterprise, he was now tearing the guts out of a family firm that had been in operation since the 1950s. In so doing, he was also destroying the world’s biggest sportswear manufacturer, and rendering utterly valueless what had once been the second biggest brand in the world.

It was while Jacob Strauss had headed up Starwear’s International Division that Quantum Change had been implemented. During its initial failure, he’d virtually gone into hiding. Then he’d turned to child labour to solve the problem and, when the graphs had started pointing upwards again, he had been the first to take the credit for the huge increase in production. The mystery, as far as Judith was concerned, was: why had Nathan let him join Starwear in the first place?

Nathan’s probity had never been in any doubt. Not only had his Starwear I and II policy declarations quickly become regarded as cornerstones of global corporate ethics but also, as a man, he had been transparently sincere. Like most business journalists she had met him, though briefly, on several occasions, and soon concurred with her colleagues who decided that, for all his awkwardness with the media, Nathan Strauss had one of the finest minds, and most developed ethical sensibilities, in the corporate world. When he had appointed Jacob as Managing Director of International Division, didn’t he know about Jacob’s business track record? When he had stood in front of blazing television lights and told the world that Starwear would never contemplate using child labour, had he knowingly lied then? She couldn’t believe that was possible. She could believe, however, that Jacob had used Nathan to buy credibility, knowing that a few words from Nathan were all that was needed to halt any further questions on the issue.

Judith finished her wine, and wandered into the kitchen, where she pulled a ready-made lasagna out of the freezer, pierced its plastic-film wrapper, and popped it in the microwave. She set the timer for the required four minutes and thirty seconds, and as the microwave hummed into action, she poured herself another glass of wine from the box and took another swig. There was no doubting this was the most explosive story she had ever embarked on; the kind of story that came up only once or twice in a journalist’s entire career. But, for all her discoveries, there was still something missing from the big picture; a gap, an important part of the puzzle without which the whole story wouldn’t be told.

She thought of William van Aardt’s ‘suicide’. She wasn’t the only one who was suspicious – Merlin de Vere had been too. But no sooner had he got hold of the evidence that fuelled his suspicions than he also died, in the ‘sexual experiment gone wrong’. Then there’d been the look alike ‘burglary’ of her flat. And the late-night phone call from Chris to say he was being followed. There was a major cover-up going on, and she didn’t know who was responsible for it. Of course, somewhere behind the scenes, Jacob Strauss must be pulling the strings. But who was orchestrating everything? Which spider was at the centre of the web?

Chris knew. Even if he hadn’t believed her at first, he seemed to have changed his opinions. Being trailed as he drove through town must be freaking him out. But there was more to it than that, Judith couldn’t help thinking, much more. And she’d be seeing him in two days’ time.

It was strange, she thought, how the world turned. When they had been younger, Chris and she had been going to conquer the world together. They’d had such high hopes and dreams for themselves; dreams that had unravelled in the years after university, never to be realised. Now, a decade later, here they were in the same corner. But one fact, more than any other, dominated her thoughts: Chris was now a Lomboid. She was still far from certain she could trust him.

‘Big typing job, I’m afraid.’ Chris stepped into Charlotte’s office and handed her the Solly Kuczynski document he’d received earlier that week.

She flicked through it. ‘Which bits do you want?’

‘The whole lot.’

Reaching the last page she did a quick mental calculation. ‘That’s one and a half hours … should have it done by six. Is that OK?’

Chris couldn’t help smiling. He still marvelled at Lotte’s ‘can do’ attitude. At MIRA there would have been squeals of indignation, and complaints about workload from his secretary who would have taken three days or more.

‘Six is more than OK,’ he told her, ‘mid-morning tomorrow would still be fine. I need you to insert the document into Project Silo. How man

y appendices are we up to?’

‘Six.’

‘Make this seven.’

‘Do you want copies made?’

‘Three, please.’

She scanned through the document and glanced up briefly, meeting his eyes. ‘Is this …?’

‘Uh-huh.’

Ever since he’d got the report from Advance Security, he’d been conscious of every syllable he’d uttered – and not only at home. There were probably bugs in every phone he used. As for this place …

Now Lotte started reading phrases aloud. ‘“Mr Reid’s ownership of the brothel”,’ she raised her eyebrows, glancing down the page, ‘“sued for sexual harassment by his secretary. He promised her a BMW … sex in the stationery cupboard”. Well!’ Her eyes gleamed. ‘You can’t be accused of being too academic with this lot.’

He had given her the gist of North’s criticisms in the days before he realised every word he spoke was being monitored. These days, though, he was more diffident, so he just smiled.

‘Take it you’ve seen the announcement?’ she asked, putting Kuczynski’s document down.

‘Announcement?’

‘General agency meeting, Friday morning. Eight-thirty in Reception.’

He’d been there less than two months and hadn’t heard about a general meeting before. ‘Does this happen often?’

‘Only once while I’ve been here. So it must be big news.’

She was calling the announcement up on to her screen. He moved beside her to read it. It had come from Mike Cullen’s office. Attendance at the meeting was compulsory, it said; Mike had some important news he wanted to communicate directly and in person. There was no clue as to what that important news might be.

‘Strongly worded,’ remarked Chris.