‘What the hell is she playing at, give me that phone!’ demanded Alan of one of the administrators.
‘To be frank, Alan, owning the company does not bar Ms. Warner from utilizing its resources,’ commented Fairclough, alarmed by Alan’s strong reaction to the news that GFS’s largest client was also its owner. ‘Let sleeping dogs lie and worry about the bottom line – our bottom line.’
Alan replaced the receiver. Fairclough was correct, this did not imply illegality, it was just odd. He still wanted to have it out with Warner but this was not the time or the place.
‘I suppose you are right, Jim, I should get back to work.’
‘Good man!’ Fairclough gave Alan a friendly pat on the shoulder and departed for his own office to move more furniture around. Alan retreated to his own office to make the call there.
‘Helen Warner, please … Alan Dosogne of GFS ltd…’
Alan found himself being bounced between unhelpful underlings; he was about to hang up when:
‘Alan! I’m glad you called, we need to hook up, my office, asap! Exit GFS via the back door, and leave your phone, they’re still using it to track you.’
‘Wait a minute–’
The line went dead. Alan felt like smashing the phone receiver into his desk, but at least Warner wanted to see him. And urgently. He deposited his mobile in a drawer and surreptitiously grabbed his jacket. Eyeing the open-plan office for signs of Fairclough he crept out of the building.
Helen Warner met Alan at the reception desk of her Canary Wharf offices. She hurriedly ushered him to the mainframe room and onto the psynet terminal without any discussion.
‘Do you mind telling me what this is about, Helen?’
Warner seemed fidgety, nervous: ‘Remember I said we should bring the Prime Minister into the loop?’
‘Yeah…’
‘Well events are moving forwards apace, and now we have to contact him.’
‘What, really!? Are you sure this is the soundest approach?’ asked Alan, who had remained extremely sceptical about alerting others to the existence of Warner’s psynet. Especially a politician.
‘We either work with him or have this baby taken from us!’
‘You’re kidding!?’
‘No, I’m afraid I have seriously underestimated the capabilities of the state, Alan.’ Warner looked frazzled.
‘Alright, calm down. What’s happened?’
‘Let’s just say that the PM is onto us, and when he finds out about that–’ Warner pointed at the terminal, ‘–he’ll take it from us, unless we act now to make ourselves indispensable.’
‘I see, and how do you plan to convince him?’ asked Alan.
‘Not me, Alan, you. You need to contact him now, using the psynet. I’ll advise you from off-camera.’
‘Why me, for god’s sake!?’
‘Because they’re greatly interested in you, and still largely ignorant of me, though that could change.’