mind whirr into gear and a dawning realisation come into Angela Mortimer’s widening eyes. Angela’s tan / fake tan went several shades paler than when Marcie first entered her office.
“What was on that stick?”
“Just about everything vital to the development of the project was on it. The list of proposed sites worldwide, detailed plans for the extensions required on site, laboratory design and layout - DNA collection and screening processes – need I go on?”
“Dr Venters, I don’t believe this. What the hell did I come back from holiday for? This has put your job on the line – my fucking job on the line. If that info fell into the wrong hands – Web Leaks, Christian Pro-Life groups, heaven forbid, terrorists even –“
“Oh, wait a minute, Angela, you’re taking it a bit too far –“
“I’ll take it too far alright – where’s the last time you saw that memory stick?”
Marcie thought hard.
“I’m not sure? I think it may still have been in the auditorium computer when I rushed out of the presentation.”
“Oh, it just keeps getting better –“
Angela snatched up her phone and pretended to talk to her secretary next door.
“Hi, Julia - Angela here - can you please book me on the next flight back to Dubai? Better still, can you send up hospital security and send me off to the nearest bloody nut farm!”
Angela crashed the phone back down on the receiver and slapped her head into her hands. Marcie just stood and watched and perversely thought who was the one being emotional at work now? Angela raised her head and spoke slowly and deliberately.
“We may never get that data back but we are going to try. However, I do not want you crashing about like a bull in a china shop and inadvertently raising someone’s misguided interest in this matter. What you are going to do is give my secretary Julia the list of everyone who was present at your wonderful little show and she will write to all of them with an innocuous little request for the tiny unimportant little stick’s return. Is that clear?”
Marcie felt drained and was in no mood to argue.
“Yes - absolutely clear.”
Angela Mortimer lowered her head and waved Marcie out.
“Can you go now, Dr Venters, I badly need a strong coffee.”
*
Earthdate: 10:30 Friday February 7, 2081 GMT
In the Times central London office, Jill Geeson and Ruthie Venters were sitting at Jill’s workstation. Both girls were in upbeat moods, especially Jill. Two things had lifted her spirits. Firstly, Buckley said he was reasonably interested in the ‘Schenkler comet’ story, so long as her source’s information was rock solid. Secondly, she and Khan had spoken again on the phone and had agreed to have a cooling off period of separation. The only thing Khan had requested was that he could pick up a few clothes and things from the flat at Kew. Jill agreed, but asked him to get his stuff while she was out at work as she could not face another confrontation at this point in time. Khan had agreed, saying that it suited him that way and that he would be in touch in a couple of weeks. Jill and Ruthie were doing a final run-through on the interview with Alfie ‘Dinky’ Budge down at Tilbury Docks. After Jill had rushed away from Ewan and Gary she managed to get on the Tube and it was running fine, but when she changed on to the London Overground railway it was badly screwed up by a broken down train at Purfleet. By the time that Jill had arrived at the derelict warehouses just off the run-down area at Ferry Road she found Ruthie standing waiting there on her own. Dinky Budge had long gone. Jill felt sick to her stomach and disconsolate, because Alfie, knowing of Jill’s high-profile standing within the field of investigative journalism, had stated that he was only prepared to speak to Jill and Jill alone. She apologised to Ruthie for screwing it up. Ruthie just replied as calm as a cucumber.
“Don’t worry, Jill. I just told him that I was Jill Geeson.
“What was on that stick?”
“Just about everything vital to the development of the project was on it. The list of proposed sites worldwide, detailed plans for the extensions required on site, laboratory design and layout - DNA collection and screening processes – need I go on?”
“Dr Venters, I don’t believe this. What the hell did I come back from holiday for? This has put your job on the line – my fucking job on the line. If that info fell into the wrong hands – Web Leaks, Christian Pro-Life groups, heaven forbid, terrorists even –“
“Oh, wait a minute, Angela, you’re taking it a bit too far –“
“I’ll take it too far alright – where’s the last time you saw that memory stick?”
Marcie thought hard.
“I’m not sure? I think it may still have been in the auditorium computer when I rushed out of the presentation.”
“Oh, it just keeps getting better –“
Angela snatched up her phone and pretended to talk to her secretary next door.
“Hi, Julia - Angela here - can you please book me on the next flight back to Dubai? Better still, can you send up hospital security and send me off to the nearest bloody nut farm!”
Angela crashed the phone back down on the receiver and slapped her head into her hands. Marcie just stood and watched and perversely thought who was the one being emotional at work now? Angela raised her head and spoke slowly and deliberately.
“We may never get that data back but we are going to try. However, I do not want you crashing about like a bull in a china shop and inadvertently raising someone’s misguided interest in this matter. What you are going to do is give my secretary Julia the list of everyone who was present at your wonderful little show and she will write to all of them with an innocuous little request for the tiny unimportant little stick’s return. Is that clear?”
Marcie felt drained and was in no mood to argue.
“Yes - absolutely clear.”
Angela Mortimer lowered her head and waved Marcie out.
“Can you go now, Dr Venters, I badly need a strong coffee.”
*
Earthdate: 10:30 Friday February 7, 2081 GMT
In the Times central London office, Jill Geeson and Ruthie Venters were sitting at Jill’s workstation. Both girls were in upbeat moods, especially Jill. Two things had lifted her spirits. Firstly, Buckley said he was reasonably interested in the ‘Schenkler comet’ story, so long as her source’s information was rock solid. Secondly, she and Khan had spoken again on the phone and had agreed to have a cooling off period of separation. The only thing Khan had requested was that he could pick up a few clothes and things from the flat at Kew. Jill agreed, but asked him to get his stuff while she was out at work as she could not face another confrontation at this point in time. Khan had agreed, saying that it suited him that way and that he would be in touch in a couple of weeks. Jill and Ruthie were doing a final run-through on the interview with Alfie ‘Dinky’ Budge down at Tilbury Docks. After Jill had rushed away from Ewan and Gary she managed to get on the Tube and it was running fine, but when she changed on to the London Overground railway it was badly screwed up by a broken down train at Purfleet. By the time that Jill had arrived at the derelict warehouses just off the run-down area at Ferry Road she found Ruthie standing waiting there on her own. Dinky Budge had long gone. Jill felt sick to her stomach and disconsolate, because Alfie, knowing of Jill’s high-profile standing within the field of investigative journalism, had stated that he was only prepared to speak to Jill and Jill alone. She apologised to Ruthie for screwing it up. Ruthie just replied as calm as a cucumber.
“Don’t worry, Jill. I just told him that I was Jill Geeson.
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