Tall Poppies (22 page)

Angrily she switched on her computer and started to cross-reference. To Nina the end of the year represented opportunity. It was a chance to get her act together and her findings in order. While the rest of the company sipped sherry and stuffed mince pies, and that blonde dilettante went jogging in the countryside.

I’m efficient, Nina told herself, pulling up a new spreadsheet. I work during the working day—

The phone buzzed on her desk, making her jump. She snatched it up.

‘Roth, New Products.’

‘Tony Savage, Chairman’s Office.’ The dry voice sent a shiver through Nina’s stomach, an electric crackle like’

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radio static. She wasn’t expecting his call until late this afternoon. ‘Do you have that report on the research teams?’

‘I was just tidying it up.’

‘I need it now. You’d better come upstairs and present.’

‘But I haven’t even typed it ups’

‘Now, Nina.’ The earl hung up.

For a moment she sat frozen. BaStard! It wasn’t readyt He’d said tomorrow, hadn’t he? But repeating that to Tony Savage wouldn’t help her any. He didn’t like excuses; he was merciless to underlings that proffered them. Quickly she dumped her early notes out to the

, printer and rushed over, ripping the still-warm sheet out of the machine after it inched through. Present? To whom? The virtuous smug feeling of a few moments before evaporated.

The elevator arrived. Piped carols rang out annoyingly

as Nina stood there fidgeting. ‘God rest ye, merry gentlemen, let nothing you dismay …’ Which was great for the merry gentlemen, but bugged the hell out of the harassed lady.

Tony met her as she stepped out. He looked crisp as ever. No novelty Rudolph ties for his lordship.

‘I have the basic gist, but it was due tomorrow,’ Nina said.

Her boss frowned. ‘Unlike the rest of the bloody country, we don’t deal in work’ to rule.’

‘No, sir, but I had to do the sales projections and—’ ‘I told you what your priority was to be.’ Lord Caerhaven’s angry voice had nothing of flirtation about it. ‘The slimming drug. It’s not for you suddenly to decide what you concentrate on. Now go in there and present it.’

Nina looked up into the dark eyes and found them unyielding. Reluctantly she walked into his office..A long

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table had been set up in the middle of the room and was surrounded by middle-aged men. She recognised Gerald Jax and Don Hadley, head of Finance US. Plus there was a banker from Credit Suisse whose name she couldn’t place, but his jowly face was familiar - a heavy hitter.

Tony sat at the head of the table and introduced her briefly while Nina’s heart flipped slowly in her chest. She didn’t need lapel badges to realise who this lot were. Investment bankers, Dragon Europe heads, American management. The big boys. The guys who ran things.

Men you seriously didn’t want to screw up in front of. ‘Thank you, Lord Caerhaven,’ Nina said faintly. ‘The first thing we have to face is that Steele Ripley, our current research team, is not up to the job. Their drugs are effective but consistently unsafe. We must look for other R and D sources …’

Her throat was dry. The room seemed dreadfully bright. Not so much as a sprig of plastic holly lightened the tone up here. The eyes of her superiors were fixed on her and Nina had to fight back panic. Not a natural public speaker, without orderly notes she was flustered. She forgot company names, track records. She kept looking at her paper. She fumbled questions from around the room. Sometimes she didn’t even know the answers.

Nina couldn’t look at Tony. She had the awful feeling that she might be going to cry. She didn’t want to cry, it was a reflex action against the embarrassment. She didn’t look super-smooth now; these men were seeing just what she was, a young girl, floundering miserably, out of her depth.

‘But you’re arguing the allocation of massive resources. Steele Ripley are a known quantity,’ Gerald Jax was objecting.

‘Yes, sir. But known to be greedy and lax on safety.’ ‘The B-28 damage isn’t as bad as you’re making out.”

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Heinrich Giinther, Dragon Deutschland. The West German was bony and florid, anger making him more ruddy than usual. He’d discovered Dr Steele and Professor Ripley. ‘Nobody has died.’

‘Not yet, Herr Giinther, but they would, long term.’ You fucking Nazi, Nina thought, what were your parents doing in the war? ‘Look, we might as well package up cocaine! You’d enjoy it, you’d get thin, at first you’d be fine. But in the end you’d be a useless junkie.’

There was a heavy silence. Jax lowered his eyes.

‘Get out!’ Giinther shouted. ‘You incompetent, you are

wasting our time!’

Nina froze.

‘Didn’t you hear me? Get out!’

Shellshocked, Nina grabbed her sheet of notes and bolted for the door. Once she was safely in the corridor, her eyes filled with tears. She ducked into a restroom to get herself together. Christ! What had she said? Was she really that bad? Was she going to get fired?

Tbny watched Nina scarper like a startled doe. Her pretty turned calves flashed out of the room, black tights with seams at the back rising up to a smart turquoise wool skirt. She’d been scrappy and scared, but she’d got the information across. He was pleased with the result. His lieutenants had something to think about. And Ms Roth had been scalded out of her complacency.

She’d been doing well, but he .never liked any junior to think they were doing too well. Especially not a woman.

She was bruised now, he thought; that would soften her. That dbcle with Heinrich was wonderful. Poor little Nina, how was she to know about his!ongstanding fondness for a snort of Charlie? His head of Dragon GmbH thought he was being deliberately insulted.

Tony reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a folded red spotted handkerchief. He threw it at Giinther.

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‘Here, Heinrich. Terrible sniff you’ve got, old man. I should see a doctor about that cold. And now, gentlemen, let’s consider the points Miss Roth made.’

Back at her desk Nina typed furiously. She worked through lunch without taking a break. She couldn’t afford to be caught napping twice. When the travel office sent someone upstairs with her air ticket for tonight, Nina almost told them to check if she was still meant to be travelling. But if Tony wanted her out, she’d be out soon enough. Christmas was no protection. Tony would fire someone at the office party if he felt like it.

By the end of the day her stomach was growling and her fingers were cramped. She filed everything into a briefcase and set off for Heathrow. She guessed she was still going, since nobody said otherwise.

Londoa and its suburbs slipped by her in a cold drizzle. The sky was already black, but there were too many clouds for stars. Nina drove as fast as she could without breaking the law. She didn’t want a ticket or a delay; no more black marks, please, Lord.

The Human League, Madness and Diana Ross blared out of her car radio. When Haircut xoo came on Nina switched off. Shitty music, shitty weather, stuck-up old money pricks! she thought. I hate this fucking country!

But did she want to go home? After today, maybe she’d have to. All the money, the allowances, the car and nice clothes, vanished. The thought made her sweat. Back to Brooklyn? No job, no references … when you were in with Dragon, great; when you were out you were usually dead. People who pissed them off didn’t work again. At least, not in the drugs business.

At the airport she checked in for Dublin with British Midland and was directed to the VIP lounge.

The earl was standing to one side in the middle of a knot of men. With a start Nina recognised Harry Cohen

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from Planning, Joe Bould from Strategic Accounts, even mousy, capable Maggie Stevens from Customer Relations. For the second time today she was taken aback. She’d thought she was the only one Tony was taking to Dublin, to attend a Europe-wide conference on distribution routes. But there were at least seven others!

Trying to hide her discomfiture, she walked over.

‘Miss Roth. Good. I thought you were going to delay us,’ Tony said coolly.

Nina smiled lamely. She didn’t dare say a word. Tony wasn’t smiling at her or glancing over; he seemed deep a discussion with the Cohen boy. Clearly she’d got it very wrong. She was just one more junior exec; nothing special.

From Dublin airport they were ferried in limos to the Shelbourne Hotel. The hotel was old fashioned, with art deco nymphs at the gate looking out on a small green park; it was bustling with delegates in evening dress, packing the Horseshoe Bar and talking shop. The Dragon c6ntingent filed into a packed conference room to listen to speeches; they would be changing for dinner later.

Exhausted and upset, Nina tried to force herself to listen. She saw Maggie taking notes but this was kids’ stuff for her. Stuffed shirts from ICI, SmithKline Beecham and Glaxo droned on about healthcare providers. The room was warm from the packed audience, and Nina was fighting to stay awake, to fake some enthusiasm, and to avoid the besuited assholes all round her trying so obviously to catch her eye.

And then it was his turn.

Tony Savage stood up at the podium and noted the immediate response. The packed room jerked to life. Heads lifted. Whispers ceased.

He was the Robber Baron.

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As he talked-with enough gravitas for a Lord Chancellor, rather than a takeover pirate - Tony felt the pleasure of it all flood through him like adrenalin. His quarterlies looked great. Recession? What recession? Look at these pricks, he thought: drab, plump, soft bellied losers, the lot of them. He knew they’d all heard the rumours: the debauchery, the vengeful streak. They loved it. They wished they were him. Like Machiavelli, Tony thought, I’d rather be feared than loved. And nobody said a word. He took his pleasures like a City barrow-boy, but last July, he’d been there with Monica in Westminster Abbey, a sombre and dignified peer, watching Diana Spencer waltz off with. the Prince of Wales.

Louise and Jay DeFries were the last people ever to make him look a fool; and look what happened to them.

As his speech raced to its conclusion, Tony let his gaze find his o,,vn people. The boys and Miss Stevens were watching with appropriate awe, but it wasn’t them he was looking for. And then he saw her: a flash of light blue in the drab browns and greys; pale face framed with that thick cloud of black hair; a dragonfly amongst the midges. Nina. She was watching him, and Tony was amused again. Because even though she quickly dropped her eyes, it wasn’t fast enough to hide the blazing anger, the rage in them, burning in her dark pupils like fire on coal.

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After Tony’s closing address, the room broke up to prepare for dinner. Nina rushed upstairs, feeling stressed out. She knew she’d glared at him, knew he’d seen it. The misery and rage would not be held back. He had lectured her and humiliated her. God knew how she was going to get through tonight.

‘ Her bedroom was decorated with genteel, faded charm: Victorian prints and a radiator whose age could not be disguised by its new coat of paint. But it was luxurious, after a fashion; the bed made with heavy Irish linens, fresh lavender and roses scenting the air, the wall mirror mounted in an antique brass frame. Nina unpacked her overnight bag quickly. She wished she’d been smart and brought some Pro-Plus. If the rumours were true, Joe Bould across the hall would be refreshing himself with a quick line or two of fine Peruvian marching powder right now. But Nina didn’t do drugs. Loss of control equalled weakness.

In the pretty mirror she repaired the damage to her exhausted face. Concealer under the eyes, white pencil along the bottom lid for that alert look. Light turquoise shadow with sea-and dark greens at the edges, a bronze slash of blusher painting the colour back into her cheeks, berry lipstick with a neat matching liner, her dark hair curled gently into her face. It took less than five minutes; Nina planned everything in advance now, it was a habit. Even her make-up. She pulled on a pair of dark-green velvet mules by Ferragamo and grabbed her dress from

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the hanger. Full-length, bias-cut jade crpe, layered thickly enough to be opaque, it was a creation by a hot new Manhattan designer, Donna Karan. Looked nothing on the peg, but when Nina slipped it on, adjusting the thick gilt clasp on the left shoulder, it clung to her curves then fell from the waist, making her look like a Greek goddess. And it moved like a sea wave.

Nina smiled softly. She looked beautiful. On nights like this one, you could put on your beauty like armour.

Downstairs the Dragon party had assembled already. Maggie Stevens’s jealous scowl - she’d picked a boring black velvet number, probably from Next - reassured

her.

Harry Cohen coughed. ‘Shall we go in? They’ve set our placings.’

Nina followed her colleagues. The conference had set out tables back to back, dispersing delegates from different firms around the room. That was the point: you swapped business cards, made contacts. Nina was cynical. She didn’t believe real work got done at these places. Conference jaunts were an institution, an excuse for a booze-up and salary-swapping, comparing your status. Whatever.

The menu plan had Nina on Table x. She checked it again just to be sure. Table i was surely for the MDs and directors, wasn’t it? But there she was, so she mounted the wooden steps at the end of the room.

‘Nina Roth,’ she told the hovering waiter.

He glanced at a list. ‘Yes, madam. Just over here.’ Nina followed the man right to the head of the table. She was two places down from the Chairman of ICI. To her left was the Finance Minister of the Republic. The chair to her right was empty. Trying to hide her surprise, she smiled and shook hands in complete confusion as she sat down. And then a shadow passed over the table and the waiter was seating her other neighbour.

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Tony Savage.