The Yacht Party (Lara Stone)

As Sachs was hoisted upright, his face turned dark pink with fury.

‘It’s those bitches’ fault. That Scottish one, that French bitch and her,’ he said, stabbing his finger towards Lara.

Lara couldn’t hold it in any longer. She drew her fist back and punched him full in the face.

Blood running from his nose, Michael twisted to look at Ian Fox.

‘You saw that! That was assault. Actual Bodily Harm.’

‘Fake news, mate,’ said Fox, and bundled him towards the lift.

Epilogue

The atmosphere in the Chronicle boardroom was electric. It was standing room only: departments heads, the legal team, even Charlie Avery was there for once. Although they had listened in silence as Alex and Eduardo, assisted by Stella, outlined the investigation into the deaths of Helen Groves, Sandrine Legard, Jonathon Meyer and the scandal of child labour in the Kanjomo mine, there was

a palpable hum of energy throughout. Everyone could see this was a sensational story – and for now at least, the Chronicle had the exclusive. Part of the appeal of working at a newspaper was knowing what was really going on behind the magic curtain, but this was even better: right now, the people in this crowded room were the only people in the world who knew this information. In the modern world of instant news, it was rare. No wonder they were sparking.

‘Okay, okay,’ said Darius as Alex finished. ‘So let me get this right: Michael Sachs ordered three murders to protect the sale of his company?’ He gave a low whistle. Alex didn’t doubt that Darius could smell glory, prizes, perhaps even a prestigious job offer from The New Yorker or The Washington Post. Or perhaps Darius had been reminded of the reason he got into journalism in the first place. Perhaps. He could only hope.

‘Obviously there’s two stories here,’ said Alex. ‘The investigation into Meyer’s death led us to the mines, but what is happening at the Kanjomo mine is a fairly distinct thread.’

Darius turned to Eduardo.

‘Look, I know Le Caché shares its stories between various international outlets but we’d like the exclusive on the mines expose.’

Alex raised his eyebrows to Eduardo. It was tricky, but it was really Eduardo’s call. Alex had played a part, but this wasn’t his story and neither did he expect Eduardo to give much credit to Stefan given he was currently being interviewed by Ian Fox in connection with the death of Sandrine Legard.

‘Twenty-four hours exclusivity on the mine story,’ said Eduardo, after a moment’s thought. ‘I have an arrangement with El Pais in Madrid and we have Le Caché journalists working on the ground in the DRC, but I can give you “first dibs” on the Kanjomo investigation as long as you credit Le Caché.’

Darius also thought for a beat, then said, ‘Done.’ Alex smiled to himself, knowing that Darius would have already cleared both conditions with Nicholas. Still, it looked decisive in front of the troops. He turned to Frank Benson on the news team.

‘The mines angle feels like an extended item for the Saturday edition. Do you agree?’

Frank nodded. ‘That would work. In fact we could do with another 48 hours for photographs and field interviews.’

Darius turned to his deputy.

‘Alex. We need to run the Michael Sachs story straight away. The police are involved, so we have to expect leaks. I think we should lead with Jonathon Meyer. It’s stronger, sexier, and the French journalist was good-looking, yes?’

‘Sandrine,’ said Alex. ‘Her name was Sandrine Legard.’

Darius bellowed at Gary McTavish who was already halfway out of the door.

‘Gary, get more photos of the French bird. And Monaco, we want to see those big fuck-off yachts, the readers love that.’

Darius could be pompous and self-interested, but it was amazing how efficient he could be when his superiors were in the room.

He looked back at Alex.

‘I assume you want to write this one?’

The offer actually surprised him. A few days ago, Lara had accused Alex of being jealous of ‘proper’ journalists like the Le Caché writers who were on the frontline gathering news first-hand. And yes, Alex could admit how much he wanted to run back to his desk, pull together all the facts and file it in time for the first edition going to press. His reporting days had been such a heady, exciting times. The taste of black coffee and lassi at the Press Club in Peshawar, the sweet smell of jasmine outside his apartment window and that buzz of finding and writing stories that mattered, his fingers on the keyboard, tap, tap, tap, racing to meet a deadline for a newspaper six time zones away.

‘No, Darius. I won’t be writing it,’ he said. ‘It’s not my by-line. It’s not my story either.’

Alex waved to Stella, who was waiting by the door. She went out for a few seconds, then returned. There was a pause, then a gasp as Stella led Lara in. There was surprise among the staff, but it was fleeting. No one was really shocked to know that Lara Stone was behind the story. No one except Darius, that was.

‘What’s going on?’ he asked. ‘Lara, you’re on sabbatical.’