by L. A. Larkin
She quickly flicked through the rest of the range. There was nothing unexpected: Gene-Asis had always mixed a scary array of plant, animal and human genes in their products. She sighed; the document didn’t tell her anything useful. She noted the names of the four scientists credited with these innovations: R.L. Singh in the US, Xiao Xu in China and Edelgard Koch in Australia. The fourth was an epidemiologist, Dr P. Munroe, also based in Australia. Serena hadn’t seen Dr McPherson’s name anywhere.
She scanned the next file, ‘Press releases for science media’. There were eight prepared press releases, but their scientific jargon was baffling. Serena needed time to study the file properly, and the more time she spent in Gloria’s office, the more likely she would be caught. All Serena needed to do was copy the documents onto her phone, so she could then view them at her leisure. She pressed the ‘copy’ command. Her Tbyte beeped loudly and ‘Permission Denied’ popped onto the screen. She swore under her breath.
Serena leant her head back against the desk drawers and took a deep breath. Scrambling to stand, she checked the next drop file and discovered the press releases had been printed but placed in the wrong drop file. Her only option was to copy the printout but that meant stepping into the department, which she didn’t like the idea of at all. What if somebody walked in?
Returning the USB key to its plastic sheath, she took the printouts and sped to the photocopier, only to find someone had turned it off. Great!
‘Photocopier on,’ she said aloud.
The copier responded to her voice, lit up like a carousel at a fairground, whirred loudly for a few seconds, and then went silent. A bead of perspiration trickled down the back of Serena’s neck. She leaned on the machine, willing it to speed up. Little images appeared on the display panel and ‘ready to copy’ illuminated her anxious face. Finding the feeder tray, she took the bulldog clip off the report and placed the documents in there.
‘Copy. Double sided. A4. Go.’
It began copying, the only noise a scratching sound as the paper moved through the machine. Serena’s temples ached. She paced in front of the photocopier, willing it to go faster. Finally, the last page was done and, like a starving woman offered a meal, she grabbed the upturned photocopied report.
‘Working late, Serena?’ said Martin.
She froze, too terrified to turn and face the end of her career.
Chapter 11
Her survival instinct kicked in; she had to talk her way out of this. Serena could feel his presence behind her, almost feel his body heat. But had he seen what she was photocopying? Still unable to find the words to explain her actions satisfactorily, she slowly retrieved the originals from the tray and held them face down, close to her chest. She turned to look at him and forced the twitching muscles of her mouth into what she hoped appeared to be a relaxed smile.
‘Why work in the dark?’ he asked.
Martin’s arms were crossed. There was no smile of idle curiosity.
‘Been so busy I hadn’t even noticed the lights were off. Seems like we’re both working late, Martin.’
His eyes dropped to the papers. He stood so close, she could smell garlic on his breath.
‘Serena.’
She felt her cheeks burning and hoped he couldn’t see this tell-tale sign. Her mind was searching for an answer: what would she do if he asked to see the papers?
‘Yes, Martin?’
‘How are you going with the pitch ideas?’
‘It’s done. I’m presenting initial concepts to you tomorrow, aren’t I?’
He nodded.
‘Why don’t you give me a sneak preview now?’
‘Now?’
‘Yes, now.’
‘I would love to but I …’
Martin was already walking in the direction of her office. Serena followed and glanced at Gloria’s desk lamp, illuminating her filing cabinets. Would Martin think it strange?
Inside her office, she placed the pile of papers, face down, next to some Mitsubishi files. She daren’t dock her phone, as Gloria’s files would appear on her monitor. Instead, she picked up some A3 storyboards scattered over her desk. Martin stood in the corner.
‘It seems to me that Mitsubishi currently owns no brand platform. It’s a “me too” brand. It needs to own something tangible, something people want and find attractive, something they care about,’ she began.
Martin’s eyes were glazed: he wasn’t listening.
‘One sec, Serena,’ he said, leaving her. She watched in horror as he entered Gloria’s office and stood in the desk lamp’s glare, like a circus ring master in a solitary spotlight. She dared not move. Had she shut the filing cabinet or left it open? She’d closed it, hadn’t she?
Stupefied, Serena stared across the darkened floor, the empty chairs and abandoned desks looking like debris from a night shipwreck. He strode back to her office, leaving Gloria’s lamp still on. Serena swallowed. Had the light simply distracted him? If so, why hadn’t he turned it off? She knew from the look on his face that something was wrong.
Martin walked straight past her and picked up the pile of papers she had so carefully placed face down on her desk. He took one look at the upturned pages and frowned, his thick brows forming one dark line across his forehead.
‘What the fuck are you doing with these?’ he yelled as he slapped them back on the desk. Serena wanted to disappear but she knew the best course of defence was attack. If she were to save her career, she had to bluff. She straightened her back, raising an eyebrow.
‘Martin, how dare you yell at me like that!’ she said, indignant. ‘That stuff was printing when I got there. Gloria had just left: she must have forgotten about it. I was going to leave it in her office, and then you turned up and wanted to see the storyboards. I simply forgot I had it in my hand.’ She had both knuckles on her waist, her elbows wide apart. She looked genuinely insulted.
‘Give me a fucking break, Serena. I wasn’t born yesterday. This is all about Gene-Asis,’ he said, nodding at the pile of fanned-out paper. ‘You went into Gloria’s office and copied confidential information, despite your contractual agreement to have nothing to do with Gene-Asis.’
‘I did no such thing.’
He raised his arms in exasperation. ‘Give me your phone,’ he ordered.
‘I will not. What’s on that phone is my business.’
His hand swept down onto it and he was checking its small screen before she could stop him.
He grunted. ‘Ah ha!’He turned the phone round so she could see the screen. ‘Gloria caught you snooping around Caroline’s desk. She said you wouldn’t be able to resist. You’d have to know about New Dawn. And she was right,’ he said, triumphantly, holding up the phone as if he were a statue of Justice, holding up scales.
She’d been caught red-handed. Her face and neck were covered in blotches of agitation and her heart was racing but she was barely breathing, which made her light-headed. She had to remain calm and fight her corner if she had any chance of coming out of this with her reputation intact. She forced herself to take a few deep breaths.
‘I want to know what’s going on, Martin. Why did McPherson assault Bukowski and what’s wrong with the new range? It’s faulty, isn’t it?’
Martin stepped forward, shaking his head at her, the veins on his neck visibly bulging despite the semi-darkness.
‘You stupid, paranoid bitch. You’ve just chucked your whole career down the dunny for nothing. There is nothing wrong with Supercrop and there never has been.’ He stepped closer, his chin jutting out. ‘And even if there was something wrong, it’s none of our business, you hear?’
‘We have a moral responsibility …’
‘Oh, get over yourself. The advertising business is not about moral judgments. Our job is to sell; sell anything. Sell sand to the fucking Arabs, if needs be. We’re not paid to worry about clients’ products. We’re paid to advertise them. End of story. You’ve been in this game long enough to know that, so don’t give me thi
s moral crap.’
He flicked on the light switch in her office. She squinted at him. Time to switch tactics.
‘Martin, I’ve made a mistake. I’m sorry, truly I am,’ she said, her voice soft, her head bowed submissively. ‘But it is all going to be made public in a few weeks. So can we just forget this happened?’
‘Are you completely out of your mind? You abuse your position by stealing confidential information, and if Gene-Asis ever hears about it, we’ll lose our twenty-billion-dollar global account. Unbe-fucking-lievable,’ he said, shaking his head.
‘But if it’s so confidential, why didn’t Gloria lock her door?’
‘I asked her to leave it unlocked.’
It dawned on her then that she’d fallen into a trap.
‘You never wanted me here, did you, Martin?’
He grinned triumphantly.
‘You’re fired, Serena Swift. And if I have anything to do with it, you’ll never work in this business again.’
No more submissive tone. Serena had to fight.
‘How dare you, Martin? I’ve been at Rooneys four years and I’ve never put a foot wrong. I’ve won this company new accounts worth thirty billion. Thirty billion! Nobody else has my client contacts, my connections. If I go, so does your hope of winning Mitsubishi and that will make you look bad. Very bad.’
Martin slumped into her chair and joined his hands as if in prayer, his middle fingers tapping his chin thoughtfully.
‘Okay, here’s a deal. You win us Mitsubishi. You’ll work offsite; we’ll set you and your team up somewhere else. Then you resign, giving whatever reasons you like. Otherwise, I fire you tonight and I’ll tell everyone you were caught stealing confidential information.’
She moved closer and perched on the edge of her desk so that she was looking down on Martin. The Swift family temper had kicked in: she was not going to be shafted, especially not by this little rodent.
‘Martin, I know you’re not going to tell anyone that. You won’t want Gene-Asis knowing I’ve seen this stuff. I mean, me, of all people. Gene-Asis would fire Rooneys like that.’ She clicked her fingers. ‘No, you’re going to want to keep it quiet. So, here’s my deal. I resign tonight, so I can spend time with my family. You’ll pay me a year’s salary and my full bonus, and sign a glowing reference, which I’ll write. You will never blacken my name because, if you do, I’ll tell Gene-Asis that confidentiality at Rooneys is non-existent and documents leak like a bucket full of holes.’
Martin looked like he’d been rugby tackled from behind.
‘And Mitsubishi?’
‘I’ll phone Aki and put in a good word for you, and tell him you’ll be looking after him personally.’
Martin opened his mouth to object and then apparently thought better of it. He held out his hand. ‘Your phone.’
She hesitated but it was Rooneys’ property.
‘And you will sign a gagging order guaranteeing you will not discuss anything relating to Project New Dawn, Dr McPherson or Gene-Asis for five years, with the media, or with anybody. If you break this agreement, Rooneys will sue you. Your life won’t be worth living.’
‘You have a deal.’
This was the second time she’d made a deal with her employer over Gene-Asis. But this time, she had no intention of keeping to it.
Chapter 12
Serena placed her wine glass on the coffee table and collapsed back into the sofa cushions. She raised her right hand: it was still shaking. She’d felt physically sick when she’d arrived home. John and Baz were out, so she’d started drinking and the bottle was now two-thirds empty.
There was the sound of a key in the front door and John walked in.
‘Honey, I’m home,’ he called in an American accent and then appeared, grinning, in the lounge doorframe. Serena looked up, her face pallid and drawn. He carried his suit jacket nonchalantly over his shoulder and he’d removed his tie: the end of it dangled like a striped snake from his pocket. He dropped his jacket on a chair and sat next to her.
‘What’s happened, Seri?’
She shook her head. She couldn’t look at him.
‘I’ve stuffed up big time.’
‘How?’
She told him.
‘Ah,’ he said, ‘that’s not so good, but you turned it around. You got a great payout and a glowing reference. I gotta say, you’ve got balls, standing your ground like that.’
‘I was shaking like a leaf, John. But I had to do something. Martin would’ve loved nothing better than destroy my reputation. He never liked the way Lenny pushed him into employing me. At least he knows now that if he trashes me, I’ll make sure he loses his biggest client. And he can’t afford to risk that. He’ll do anything to hush it up. I’ll just lie low for a while and then get another job.’ Her tone was bullish. She paused. ‘But I feel so ashamed. Caught like a common thief. God, if Dad’d been alive …’ She shook her head and continued, ‘he’d have been gutted, knowing I was fired for stealing.’
Serena had sunk further into the deep cushions and looked like a little girl who’d just received a parental reprimand. Her chin rested on her chest and she didn’t look at John, just stared at the polished floorboards.
‘I feel bad,’ he said. ‘I encouraged you. I’m so sorry.’
‘I decided to snoop around. It’s not your fault.’
‘Yeah, yeah. I’ve always got you into trouble.’ He leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees and ran his hands through his wavy hair. He paused, with his hands on the back of his neck. Serena noticed that his cufflinks sported the ace of spades, and remembered him explaining years ago that it was a hacker thing and symbolised taking a gamble. He’d always been a risk taker. ‘Even now I’m Mr Corporate, toeing the line, I still manage to drag you into a mess.’
Serena’s face broke into a smile. ‘Not for a while, you haven’t. I think the last time was over Gary. Gary Shorten.’
John looked across at her and smiled back. She’d seen that wicked grin so many times before. ‘I enjoyed that one,’ he said.
She leaned sideways and shoved him in the shoulder. ‘Poor Gary. He’d gone all out to impress me and booked dinner at Tetsuya’s, and you had to go and hack his bank account so his credit card was rejected. He was mortified I had to pay the bill. I never heard from him again, thanks to you.’
‘Come on, Seri, I did you a favour. He was a complete dick. A rich dick, but a dick, nonetheless.’
Serena shrugged. ‘Maybe. But he really liked me and I haven’t exactly had much success with relationships since.’
Their momentary light-heartedness faded as they each withdrew into themselves, remembering an incident they would both rather forget. John broke the silence. ‘So what happens next?’
‘With all this spare time on my hands, I investigate New Dawn.’
John’s head shot up in surprise.
She continued, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll be careful. Do it quietly. I’m fully aware of the implication of the gagging order.’
The concern on his face morphed into open-mouthed admiration.
‘Now who’s turned into the rebel? Who’d have thought it? But be careful, Seri. If Gene-Asis gets wind of you asking around, they’ll come down on you like a tonne of bricks.’
‘I know.’
‘Hold on. It could make life difficult for Baz. He does recruit for them and you’re living with us.’
‘Yeah, I know. Maybe I should move out?’
‘That’s crazy. You’ve only just moved in. No, I’ll talk to him, see how he feels. He’ll probably say it’s cool, as long as he has no idea what you’re doing. You’ll need to keep him out of this.’
‘No problem.’
‘So, what’s next?’
‘Finding McPherson. I’m going to Shelleyman Bay.’
John frowned. ‘He may not want to be found.’
‘I know but I’m good at networking, remember? I’ll ask around.’
‘I’ll come with you. You know, just in cas
e.’
‘Just in case of what?’ she laughed. ‘Look, John, I’ll be fine. I can look after myself,’ she said, slowly and deliberately.
When Serena had made up her mind, nobody could change it.
In her bedroom, she switched on her monitor and dialled Tracey Pollack’s number at the UK’s newspaper The Post. Serena had first met Tracey through a colleague at Rooneys London and they’d become the best of friends.
‘What?’
‘Trace?’
Serena’s screen was blank.
‘Uh-huh.’
‘It’s me, Serena. Turn on your monitor. I can’t see you.’
‘Hello, darling! How are you, mate?’ Tracey squealed in her cockney accent, rapidly followed by a big sniff.
Her image filled Serena’s screen. She was hunched over her messy desk, with a thick red scarf coiled around her neck. Her short platinum hair was gelled into spikes.
‘Sorry I was a grumpy old fart when I answered. I’ve got the worst cold. Hold on, let me grab some tissues.’
Serena waited as Tracey noisily blew her nose.
‘All right, I can talk now. So, how’s it going, twinkle?’
‘Not so good, to be honest.’
‘Oh God. Is that Gloria bitch giving you a hard time?’
‘How did you know she was here?’
‘Word gets around. You know the Rooneys’ grapevine. I meant to tap you an email to warn you but I’ve been up to my neck in work … anyway, so what’ve you gone and done then? Hey?’
‘Got fired.’
‘Bleeding Nora. How on earth did you manage that?’
‘My boss caught me photocopying a confidential file on Gene-Asis.’
‘Oh, bloody hell. Are you out of your mind?’
‘Probably. I’ve blown it at Rooneys. At least I’ve negotiated a good severance deal, but I just hope I get another advertising job.’