right, David must have known exactly why I was in Rome. I just hope he can forgive me.
I hear Mike go out onto the terrace and decide to have a quick nose around his flat. I don?t know what I?m looking for, but before I start trying to find the disk that David has supposedly got, I want to know a bit more about Mike?s business affairs. I poke my head round the door to Mike?s bedroom. Like the other rooms in his apartment, it?s full of expensive furniture. There?s a huge big leather chair, for instance. And a cool-looking stereo. I can see why he had to borrow money from his company?this lot must have set him back thousands of pounds. Hundreds of thousands. There doesn?t seem to be much of interest in here though. Just a wardrobe full of expensive-looking clothes and two full-length mirrors. I take a look at myself, and wonder where the Georgie from Gucci has gone. My hair looks flat and my face is pale. Maybe I should take my mother?s advice and go to her Club for a few treatments.
Next, I duck quickly into Mike?s study. It?s got a huge desk in it with loads of bits sticking out for computers and keyboards and stuff. I sit down on the fake fur chair next to it and spin round. There?s a neatly ordered pile of paper on one side of the desk. A pile of paper that I wouldn?t dream of going through. Unless . . . unless I accidentally knock them onto the floor and have to pick them up. I mean, that could happen, right? I quickly pick up the papers and crouch down on the floor.
It?s all pretty boring stuff really. Some bank statements, a plane ticket to Malaga . . . I didn?t know Mike was going there! That must be his fallback plan if things do go pear-shaped. And then I see a letter from David?s office. My heart starts beating loudly.
Dear Mr. Marshall,
Further to our recent communications, we have not received the information we requested on 2 Feb 2003. In order for us to complete our investigations and close our file on Big Base Records Ltd, we require the following information to be sent to our offices within 28 working days:
? Financial Accounts for the year ending 31 Dec 2002
? Profit and loss account for the year ending 31 Dec 2002
? Bank statements for BBR Ltd and any holding companies for the year ending 31 December 2002.
I look forward to hearing from you shortly. Please do not hesitate to contact me with any queries.
Yours sincerely,
David Bradley
Partner
Oh my God. What is David getting himself into? I?m breathing quickly. It feels really weird looking at a letter that David has sent to Mike. This makes it all so real. There is no doubt in my mind: I?ve simply got to sort this out.
I finally get to the bathroom, and splash some water on my face. There?s too much information to take in. Dodgy business deals; Mike leaving me because he wasn?t good enough; David being in trouble. As I wash my hands my eyes alight on some Creme de la Mer by the basin. Evidently Mike?s feelings for me haven?t stopped him from entertaining girls with ?100 plus to spend on face cream, I think, smiling to myself. Then, checking that the door is locked, I help myself to a scoop. Mike?s hardly going to miss it.
Mike is sifting through his records when I get back to the sitting room.
?When shall I do it??
?It?s got to be tomorrow,? Mike says without turning round. ?I?ve got a meeting with my investors on Wednesday and I know this thing will blow up if you don?t get it by then.?
==================================
ABC Amber LIT Converter v2.02
================================== 14
I oversleep on Tuesday and don?t get to work till nine-thirty. Nigel is at his desk and I sidle past hoping he won?t notice the time. Denise is at her desk, back from a short break in Tenerife and she looks amazing, all tanned skin and highlighted hair. Not that this necessarily has anything to do with Tenerife; Denise sometimes comes into the office in the middle of winter looking like she?s just come back from the Caribbean, when all she?s done is gone to the hairdressers and applied some fake tan. Still, she looks pretty good.
I can?t do fake tan. I mean, it?s not like I haven?t tried; it?s just that it always goes streaky and ends up looking worse than my painfully white skin. I don?t go brown. I get freckles instead, and they never join up like my mother used to say they would when I was little. Once a boy told me that I looked like I?d been sunbathing with a sieve over my face and I never forgot it.
?You look fab!? I exclaim, walking over to Denise, and she smiles. That?s another thing. If you compliment Denise she graciously accepts it, like she knows the compliment is true. Whereas if someone says something nice about something I?m wearing, I?ll immediately say something like ?This old thing? Oh, it?s not that great really. It might look like silk, but it?s a polyester mix really. And it?s a nightmare to wash. It was very cheap. . . .?
I sit down at my desk and discover that in my rush to leave last night, I didn?t actually turn off my computer and I already have some new e-mails.
The first one is from Guy, and it?s been sent to both me and Nigel.
GUY JACKSON: Nigel/Georgie, some new information has come to light on the merger and I?d like you and your team to do some work for me. Can you both come to my office at 10am to discuss? Keep this confidential. Guy.
Ohmygod. He knows. He knows everything. He?s getting us in on the pretext of helping us out when really he?s going to make us admit that we, sorry, Nigel, has been illegally hacking into our future parent company?s personnel files.
I quickly look up at Nigel and he meets my eye. By the look on his face I can tell that he?s been sitting terrified at his desk waiting for me to get in since he got the e-mail. I try to give him a reassuring smile, but I don?t feel very reassuring. Nigel grimaces and looks back at his computer. He looks really scared.
My next e-mail is from my mother. James has been trying to get her to use the Internet for ages, and it seems
