by Tim Heath
She remained calm, smiling down at him as he looked at her eyes then lowered his head deliberately and took in her chest and long legs that were gracefully shown off in her company dress that she wore.
“Well, really. Aren’t you a man of mystery!” she said, turning quickly and lifting her chin. Flicking her hair over her left shoulder she walked deliberately back to her desk, swaying her hips all the more knowing he’d be watching her, which he was. Robert returned to his screen, smiling a little but realising messing around wouldn’t get him anywhere, though he was a fan of hers, always had been since he first saw her. He shook that thought from his head and started tapping away again at the computer keyboard. It wasn’t long before he found what he was looking for. It was a hotel room booking for The Thistle Hotel, made out in the name of a Mr & Mrs Charles. Brendan had booked it himself with the company credit card, which was unusual, but not surprising in the circumstances. Robert knew, however, that Mrs Charles was in Devon that weekend visiting her parents. The hotel’s home page gave some general information, such as fire escapes, Fire Officers, Staff, and Security, etc. It also gave the name of their CCTV operator as SecureCCTV, a company Robert had come across before who were based in north London. Calling up the SecureCCTV company data he was able to access, after a little bit of trickery, the data from the camera on the landing of the tenth floor at The Thistle, which showed Brendan’s door and Brendan himself walking towards the door at that moment with his arm around an attractive young woman’s shoulders. As they stopped at the door, he paused the camera, and confirming what he thought, it showed Brendan standing next to the DoI’s very own Miss Jessica Ponter.
**********
The television cameras from the various news and sports networks were crammed outside the main entrance to the City Ground as reporter after reporter did their piece to camera, all talking feverishly about the sensational news of a takeover of one of England’s sleeping giants. More and more vans and trucks were pulling up, as the morning and the story gained momentum. “Directors are currently unavailable for comment, but they are reportedly behind me now, in the offices up there on the third floor, where they have been in a meeting all morning,” one reporter stated, talking eagerly and excitedly into the camera in front of him.
News had hit the Stock Market at 9:55am and all trading in Nottingham Forest shares had been suspended. A press conference was planned for midday where further information was promised.
“The news of this takeover will no doubt bring mixed emotions to all Forest fans. Having been a club on a downward spiral for the last couple of decades, and always in the shadow of their bigger local rivals, for the true Forest fan this news should be met with excitement,” the news reporter continued to say. “With debts mounting and gate receipts suffering following the latest television deal, a suited investor with ambition and wealth has an excellent opportunity to get this club back on track. We await lunchtime’s press conference, which should hopefully shed some light on the new owner, and what exactly their plans are for the club itself. For now, it is back to the studio,” he said, signing off and quickly making a call on his mobile phone.
**********
Robert closed down the files he was looking at, having printed a couple of things off, and collected his papers together. Standing up, he slipped on his jacket and picked up his bag. Walking back out towards the main desk, he smiled at Jessica as she looked up and saw him coming. She was typing away on her computer, but paused as Robert approached.
“See you for now, Jessica,” he said as he passed the front of her desk. Carrying straight on he added, “and say hello to Brendan Charles next time you see him, won’t you,” and he was gone. Jessica froze. She looked up quickly but he was gone. Panic caught up with her and she started to feel nauseous, but she took a deep breath and started to focus again. Jumping up, her head slightly clearer now, she returned to his terminal, the building still very quiet, and sat on the chair in front of the screen. Though not a computer expert, she knew she had ‘Screen Recall’ facilities as a DoI employee and she quickly opened up the program and typed in her password. The recall facility displayed, in a screen print style layout, the sequence of screens and programs any user had accessed, and though rarely used, it was available in the most urgent situations where it was believed a crime had been, or might be committed. Jessica knew none of this was the case really for herself, but her own self preservation drove her through the process, and besides, nobody else was around to stop her. She tabbed through the pages, past her details as Robert had relayed them to her and onto the Hotel page, and then the SecureCCTV homepage, which required a password at the time, but which Jessica could clearly see had been entered, though the seven characters on her view were replaced by a star. Then up came the details, the exact weekend, corridor, time, and then the image of her and Brendan entering the room together.
“Damn you!” she said angrily to herself under her breath, sitting there in silence trying to make sense of it all.
**********
That same day, the Department of Trade and Industry and the Monopolies Commission were having their joint monthly meeting in a central London governmental office. The meeting had been pulled forward from lunchtime due to the breaking news about the Forest takeover.
Both departments had three representatives and they were all seated promptly around the table in their usual ‘formation’ drinking coffee and making small talk. Mary Ingham was the Chair of the meeting.
“Shall we get started?” Mary said, standing up holding her prepared file. Glancing down the page, she continued. “We’ve pulled the meeting forward due to the news of the Nottingham Forest takeover, though the existing agenda will still need a good look at as well. I want to cut to the chase as it might be a long day if things with the Forest takeover go that way.” She looked up and had everyone’s complete attention. “Now obviously we need to gather all the information we have available on the proposed new owner or owners of Nottingham Forest, though early reports seem to suggest that it is a UK based consortium, which makes our job that little bit easier.” She took a sip of water, and then picked up the original agenda that lay on the desk. “Six other corporate takeovers to look at, four overseas investors and countless tax cases as always,” she summarised. “OK. The six takeovers we’ll pass straight to your team at the MC. Three are inter-industry, one’s a straight forward director’s buy-out and our friends across the pond are looking to buy two long established firms.” She took another longer sip of water while the relevant green folders were passed across.
“The four overseas investors are being checked out by MI6, as usual. I’m passing around a summary of each, and you’ll be informed of any developments by email if anything significant happens before next month’s meeting.
“I’ve got a call out for us to be notified when the press conference is under way for this Nottingham Forest thing. Our guys are also digging around, working with what we’ve got at the moment. In the mean time, we’ll crack on with what we have,” and with that she sat down. They spent the next two hours reviewing the tax cases, which always took time and was the slowest part of the meeting, as both departments had their own input.
**********
Tommy Lawrence was thirty-seven years old. He had a personality not easily forgotten and a special way with people; he stood out from the crowd as early as his teenage years. A sports mad sixteen year old, he was a keen footballer and played every weekend for his local boy’s team. At eighteen he moved into the men’s team and filled many Saturdays with his first love. Before long, he was involved in helping to run the team, and not just his team, but the youngsters too. And the club had never played so well in its forty year history. His love for the game continued off the pitch too, as he shared a common passion for management simulation games on his PC. He used the tactics employed on his beloved and successful PC team and copied them onto the real life Saturday matches. And it worked.
Even at thirty-four he was stil
l going very strong, playing every week as well as being involved in training and helping out the younger lads that were showing promise within the youth teams. He took it very seriously still, but had come to accept that as the years went by he wouldn’t make the big time as a player himself. Things changed dramatically for him at the end of the season when he fell madly in love with a beautiful nineteen year old, sister of one of the players at the club. She came just once to watch her brother and for Tommy it was love at first sight. His world was quickly turned upside down and his priorities changed over night. With the season over, he was able to spend time with her like he hadn’t spent with anyone else before.
Jessica was a career girl and her job was suddenly relocated that July. Tommy was faced with either the loss of his new true love, or ending his footballing days at the club he’d always been at. However, knowing his playing days were nearly over, he decided to leave with her and said his good-byes. It all happened so fast.
Tommy suddenly needed a job. At first he kept his options limited. Without the specialist training, sports physio work was out of the question, and with his busy life before, he hadn’t done his coaching badges either. No doors seemed to open. Soon the need to get any job became the highest goal.
Then came a chance encounter with Brendan Charles, which unknown to Tommy at the time, Jessica had helped to arrange, and things took a turn for the better. Brendan offered him an excellent job compared to those Tommy had been looking at with a great starting salary. Suddenly Tommy had a career before him and his options opened up. After three months he found himself on the company’s management training program, on the fast track, as Brendan said on more than one occasion. Brendan valued his small group of talented individuals and usually referred to the program as his ‘Academy’. It was at an Academy weekend that Tommy got a little too drunk and slept with a female colleague. Dirt was gathered, somehow, and this made its way home.
The break up was very sudden, and she was gone. His true love off and away as quickly as she had arrived. Tommy was heart-broken, but about the same time work seemed to open up and this replaced the empty hole left by her sudden exit.
Before long, Tommy was back on track. He carried on at the Academy but kept his cards closer to his chest from then on as he was no longer sure who he could trust. The break-up was only a momentary blip, he told himself, on his otherwise upward journey. If she couldn’t stand his excellence then it was best that she left, or so he tried to convince himself.
**********
Jessica Ponter had been trying to contact Brendan all day. With the media world creating a circus of the Nottingham Forest takeover, she wasn’t having any luck.
“I really must speak to Mr Charles today,” she demanded with urgency, the voice on the other end having none of it.
“Well, as I’ve already said, the whole world wants to talk to him today and he’s not available. Goodbye,” came the sharp reply. “But I’m not a reporter...,” she tried in her defence but the line went dead.
Jessica swore under her breath, her blood pressure rising all the time.
Having finished work now, she quickly picked up her bag, which had a couple of printouts and a CCTV picture of Robert from that morning, put her jacket on and rushed out of the door.
The streets were busy as the rush hour traffic was in full flow with the evening now drawing in. Hailing a passing black cab, she opened the door as it was still pulling over.
“Cramborne Street please,” she belted out and took her seat in the back.
The cab shot off and was swallowed by the traffic but it made good progress. Sitting in the back, she chewed over the days events. What was that man after, she kept asking herself? How did he know all those things? She knew she had to talk to Brendan, though she certainly knew he would not be happy about it.
After ten minutes the cab pulled over and she jumped out, passing the driver a £10 note and disappearing before he could give her the change, not that this bothered him in the slightest. He’d seen that she was in a hurry and looked to have a lot on her mind. A good looking girl but he knew not to ask anything on this occasion.
Walking down Cramborne Street Jessica carried on two blocks and ended up on the corner of Osborne Street. The entrance of the HICL offices came onto Osborne but these were now crammed with TV camera crews, their vans filling the normally wide pavements. Having been here once before, she knew a back entrance that would get her to the main reception, something that was now not possible through the security guarded front doors. Once inside, she made her way through the narrow corridors to the large reception area, which was surprisingly quiet.
“Please can I speak to Mr Charles, Miss,” she asked politely to the middle aged receptionist.
“I’m afraid that this will not be possible,” came the sharp but polite reply, the voice instantly recognisable from her countless phone calls. She’d obviously had a difficult day of it.
“I assure you that Mr Charles will want to speak to me immediately. Please get him on the telephone,” Jessica continued calmly.
Obviously taken aback by this unknown visitor, the receptionist quickly made a call, as if going through the motions, her headset sitting neatly on her perfectly kept hair.
“There is a young woman down here insisting upon seeing you at once, Mr Charles,” she said with little effort at trying to get Jessica’s request answered. She sat there for a moment, clearly listening to a reply through her headset, her eyes giving nothing away but a little smile started appearing on her mouth.
“Like I said,” she stated triumphantly, covering up the mouth piece on the headset with her left hand, “he doesn’t want to see anyone!”
“OK. Tell him that Miss Ponter is here to see him,” Jessica added, not wanting to stress the importance as she was sure of what the outcome would be. Speaking through her headset again, the receptionist’s eyes quickly darted up to look Jessica square in the face, her expression suddenly changing.
“He’ll see you right away, Miss Ponter,” she said, almost sincerely. “Please take the lift to the eighth floor,” and she pointed to the far side of the lobby, in the general direction of the lifts.
Chapter 3
It was well after lunch now at the Department of Trade and Industry joint meeting, as Mary Ingham addressed the group again to bring things up to date. The atmosphere had grown calmer throughout the day and jackets were off, sleeves rolled up. A tray of used coffee cups sat on the desk, a few crumbs left over on the plate of biscuits.
“The Nottingham Forest takeover may need a little looking into,” Mary opened. “The purchasing company is part of a much bigger firm, the Gambles Holdings Group, which is a giant, though we haven’t really come across them much before. We looked at a takeover some time back but they are much bigger now with interests around the world, though they are mainly based in the UK, certainly most of their head offices are.” She looked around the room briefly but it was clear nobody else knew any more than she had printed on her memo in front of her, a piece of work quickly put together by those in the background. “HICL we’ve certainly come across as a FTSE100 company. They are the purchasers and this does not create too much of a problem being UK based. We’re yet to track the financial growth of HICL but this is being worked on at the moment. I expect to have the information in the next twenty minutes. It’s mainly through takeovers, we expect, but because of the Gambles Holdings Group involvement we need to make sure that they aren’t using HICL as just a channel.” She picked up another sheet of paper.
“It does seem that the Gambles Holdings Group touch many aspects of industry and we might have to tread carefully. They own a telecoms giant and are strong in the computer market. As well as their new football interest, there have been links into the Gaming Industry, Law and Order, as well as political and even military connections. I’m expecting these by tomorrow.”
They’d all come across such corporations before, dealing with takeovers and the like for many years. Figures di
dn’t always make much impact as all the firms coming across their desks were in the billion pound bracket. It was often the personalities behind such firms that remained in the memory.
**********
Brendan Charles sat in his large chair behind the lush Brazilian hardwood desk. His office was quiet now, since the arrival of Jessica. He sat there thinking over the conversation he’d just had. She’d gone as quickly as she’d come, which Brendan was grateful for, but what she said was still bouncing around his head. His mind ran through all the possible reasons for this guy snooping around in the background. Brendan was a big thinker and an intelligent man. He also had lots of contacts in just the right sort of places and he was sure that he’d get to know who his new secret admirer was.
The phone on his desk rang as he saw that his secretary was putting a call through.
“I have him on the phone for you, Mr Charles,” she said, connecting the call.
“Hello, sir,” Brendan said somewhat cheerfully.
“Hello, Brendan. So how are things going?” came the smooth reply.
“The takeover is going as can be expected. I’ve been the most non-contactable person on the planet,” he said, his attempt at humour not drawing a response. “We’ve rearranged the press conference for tomorrow so that we can introduce Tommy as the new boss, but have to of course see off the existing one today.”
