Chapter 13
Jo switched on her computer as usual, but today she half expected it to explode or shrivel into a pile of dust.
But no, it ground lazily through the start-up procedure, just as normal. She wasn’t going to send any emails, obviously, not if they were being snooped on, but she’d decided she would check through the inbox, in case something interesting had come in overnight.
She scanned through quickly: press releases, press releases, some notes from friends and colleagues.
An email from her mother reminding her about lunch on Monday and hinting there was ‘something’ she wanted to talk about.
Hmm, now what could that be? She’d Vacu-sacked Dad and packed him into the cupboard?
She’d shrink-wrapped all her belongings and couldn’t find them?
Or maybe a full-on lecture about why ex-husbands should never be slapped?
Yes, that was more likely, given the circumstances.
Oh, something from the anonymous emailer. Jo’s curiosity wouldn’t allow her to pass that one by without taking a peek inside.
She clicked it open to see another newspaper cutting.
It was just a small paragraph from the Evening Standard, which had been scanned onto the page, about a generous donation six months ago by Wolff-Meyer to the historical pathology archive of the London and Middlesex Hospital.
There was no further explanation and no accompanying message, so Jo failed to see what this could mean.
Historical pathology? Pathology of the past?
Tissue samples, slices of infected brain…
diseased corpses. It was a bit too early in the morning, especially after last night, to be thinking about this sort of thing.
She closed it up and went on down her list. What did Green Tony want? Jo opened the email from him and read:
Urgent, urgent! Give us a call as soon as yr in. Will try yr mobile 9 a.m.
The next name on the list hadn’t attracted her attention straight away but now that she was reading the sender’s name properly, she scrambled to open it. An email from:
sav.tyler@
could only be a good thing, couldn’t it?
Jo could hardly contain her rising excitement as she read:
Dear Jo Randall,
I try to read your paper every Sunday and I always pay close attention to what you are writing about. You are always thorough, well-informed and don’t hesitate to tackle the difficult stories other papers shy away from.
I know of your interest in an interview. I know I have taken a long time to make a decision, but I’ve decided I would like to speak to you. Tony will contact you to make the arrangements.
I look forward to meeting you,
Savannah Tyler
Jo resisted the temptation to throw both arms in the air and cheer.
Finally, a break, a great big break! She punched Tony’s mobile number into her phone.
‘Hello, you know why I’m calling, don’t you?
’ she said before he’d even got out his hello.
She lived for moments like this. When all the other crap seemed to evaporate and something truly brilliant was about to come off. Spikey would wet himself with joy.
‘Hello there, Jo,’ Tony replied. ‘Looks like it’s all systems go, then.’
‘I’ve only got one question for you, Tony,’ she said. ‘When? And hopefully your answer is: “today”.’
‘Today we can do.’ See? Sometimes it really was this simple, sometimes you didn’t have to beg and scrape and whinge and plead and twist twenty different arms all at the same time.
‘OK, is she at home? Am I going to do her at home in her lovely eco-house? Say yes and I will be there in the time it takes to U-turn my car and hightail it up to Oxford.’
‘Yes, you are to meet her at her home,’ Tony replied. ‘She’s there all day and is just waiting for me to call her back and tell her when you’ll be there.’
‘You are a wonderful, fabulous man who deserves to win hundreds of seats in the next election and I love you,’ Jo gushed. ‘OK, let’s go through the details.’
Jo told him the ground she planned to cover with Savannah and gave him the name of the photographer who would probably be used.
Then Tony informed Jo of what Savannah wanted to talk about and was prepared to talk about.
He also gave the warning: ‘Nothing too personal, Jo, I just want to make that clear again. She will really back off. She’s stormed out of telly interviews for that kind of thing, so she’ll slam the door on you. She is a very private person.’
‘Do we know anything about her personal life?’ Jo coaxed. ‘No partner? No kids? No immediate close family? Where was she born, brought up? What’s her past?’
‘The stuff on record is: no partner, no children. Savannah was born and brought up in Argentina,’ Tony told Jo. ‘Her mother was Argentinian, her father British, worked over there. I can’t even tell you if they’re still alive, because I don’t know.’
‘Brothers? Sisters?’ Jo asked.
‘No details on that.’
‘Did she study in Britain?’
‘No. Schooled in Argentina. Went on to study chemistry in Madrid. Her working life, mainly as a research chemist, has been divided between Britain and abroad. She now lectures at Oxford University part-time and is a party activist the rest of the time.’
‘Hmm. Any company names she’s worked for?’
Tony gave an emphatic ‘no’ to this. ‘Look, this is still an interview,’ Jo reminded him. ‘Not a party-political broadcast. She’s going to have to give us something.’
Tony uttered a deep sigh. ‘Jo, just go and meet her,’ he said.
‘I’m not going to interfere any more. You’re both big girls, perfectly capable of looking after yourselves and getting what you want from this.
So, maybe you should just sort things out between you.
She’ll soon tell you which questions she doesn’t want to answer and you’re far too charming to be flung out of the door, aren’t you? ’
‘Charming? Moi?’ was Jo’s smiled reply to this. ‘OK. Stop worrying about me. I’ll be fine. We’ll get on like a house on fire. I’m going to send the photographer round right now, so we’re not disturbed later… and, well, what can I say?’
‘“Tony, I owe you a debt of undying gratitude”?’ he answered.
‘Tony, I owe you a debt of undying gratitude,’ she repeated. ‘Or at the very least, a fine dinner on my expense account.’
‘I’ll look forward to it.’
‘Oh and you have to go by train to Oxford and by bus to her house. That’s the deal.’
‘W-what???’ A reporter on assignment without her car… no, no, no. Her car was her mobile office. Tony just said goodbye and hung up.
‘What’s all this?’ Jeff was hovering at her elbow. ‘Photographers?’ he asked. ‘Being undisturbed? Aren’t you aware your big story of the week is being scuppered as we speak?’
‘I am fully aware of that. Good morning to you too, Jeff. But right now, I’ve no idea where to take that one next.
I’m desperate for a flash of inspiration there.
But…’ She swivelled her chair round, taking an appreciative glance at the much higher than usual boots she was wearing under her boring old work suit.
It was probably a mistake, as soon as she wore heels, she could guarantee she would get a job at the top of a mountain – in fact that was probably where Savannah lived…
somewhere miles above sea level, inaccessible by car or suede high heels.
‘But,’ she repeated to Jeff, ‘I didn’t think I’d need to ask you whether or not to arrange a photo to go with our exclusive Savannah Tyler interview.’
‘Really?’ This was said quietly, eyebrows raised as Jeff pulled up a chair and drew it close.
Their knees bumped together for a moment, but they knew each other well enough not to have to apologise for that, he just moved slightly to the side.
His large notepad came down on her desk, he pulled his pen from his shirt pocket and began to take notes.
He was the only man she knew who could make writing look macho.
He used a fat silver biro, with his workman-like hands and pressed down hard.
‘She’s expecting me at her home just as soon as I can get there,’ Jo said, finding it hard to rein in her enthusiasm. ‘I’ll send the snapper we use in Oxford to take pictures while I’m on my way, so the whole thing should be wrapped up by early afternoon.’
‘This is really good, Jo. One nice thing to talk about at conference. Meanwhile everything else is going tits up. By the way, take a look at this.’
She clicked onto her email and scanned down to the anonymous message.
‘I thought you weren’t using your computer any more. In fact, I thought you had to go and make a report about all this to the tech department.’
‘Ah yes, well I’m bit busy today and tomorrow. It’ll have to wait till Tuesday. Anyway, I’m just looking at my email, I’m not sending anything.’
‘So what’s that all about?’ He looked at the note: ‘Pathology department benefactors?’
‘Why would a pharmaceutical company be interested in a pathology lab?’ she asked.
‘Maybe they were just being charitable,’ Jeff ventured.
‘Charitable!? This lot? Who, by the way, are my number one computer bugging suspects.’ Jeff raised his eyebrows at that, but Jo continued, ‘There’s something going on there.
Are they checking up on samples from ill people?
Are they monitoring samples? Are they trying to find out what people die of?
There must be some sort of research going on.
Is there anyone we know who can make some calls? ’
‘Who sent you the email?’ Jeff asked. ‘Don’t they know more?’
‘Ah well…’ Jo maximised it so that the anonymous, no-reply address was revealed.
‘An anonymous email? You want me to jump through hoops for someone who won’t even leave you their name. Maybe it’s a red herring sent by your computer spies. Maybe you should just delete it and concentrate on the stories we do have, rather than worry about the ones we don’t.’
‘All right, all right.’ He did have a point. ‘Keep your hair on.’ But Jo had every intention of following up this lead.
‘What about the rest of your department?’ Jeff asked. ‘Have they managed to put anything together yet this week?’
Over Jeff’s shoulder, Jo could see Dominique and Aidan coming in through the office double doors.
‘They’re getting on nicely, but you can ask them yourself,’ she said.
Dominique gave a cool, upbeat appraisal of how her stories were going. Made it sound like she’d done as much research as a NASA scientist. The wind farms report was filed and when Jeff told them a double-page spread was likely, both Dominique and Aidan looked suitably pleased.
‘I’ll file the asthma and pollution story shortly,’ Dominique added.
‘Remind me of that one again,’ Jeff said, which prompted an ever so slight sigh from Dominique: ‘We’ve put asthma league tables, region by region, alongside air pollution league tables and got a lovely match.’
‘Oh yes. Aidan? Anything else to add to the list?’
Aidan was hanging his jacket over the back of his chair in his usual way, but Jo thought there was something of a flush to his face this morning. He’d either run to get to the office on time or he had some good news.
‘Well, I wasn’t going to say anything until—’ Aidan began.
‘Oh, go on,’ Jeff prompted him. ‘Nothing a news editor hates more than being kept in suspense.’
‘Well—’ Aidan sat back in his chair and almost seemed to be enjoying his moment in the limelight, ‘I might have something interesting on Savannah Tyler – but I won’t know until this afternoon.’
‘Something interesting like?’ Jeff’s pen was hovering above his notebook.
‘I haven’t been told. Just “something very interesting”. My contact has promised to give me a call later.’
Jeff couldn’t help shrugging his shoulders. He’d heard it all before. Junior reporters desperate for a scoop, talking up every tiny nugget of information they could glean. Nothing went on his list until it was more than a ‘something’.
‘OK, good stuff,’ he encouraged Aidan. ‘You keep in close touch about this. But try and hurry it along if you can, because Jo is interviewing Savannah today, which is a big story for us. Any added extras would be most welcome.’
Jo watched the slight eye-widening going on. Dominique and Aidan were a little in awe, and more than a little jealous that she had finally pulled this one out of the bag.
‘She’s agreed to a full chat?’ Aidan asked.
‘Well, I’ll see when I get there,’ was Jo’s answer.
‘At her house?’ he added.
‘Yeah.’
‘Apparently, it’s amazing. Totally eco, of course. Should be really interesting.’ He sounded so enthusiastic that, for a moment, Jo considered inviting him along. It would be a kind, generous thing to do. Wouldn’t it?
But no. Sorry. She wanted this one all to herself.
‘I need to look up all the back stories on her, then I’ll be off,’ she told Jeff. ‘What’s the word on the girl in the coma?’
‘Not in a good place, but stable. So verdict is, we can’t do anything negative about vaccines unless we have a cast-iron story and even then it can’t make people frightened of the vaccine.
So, take your time. You’ll work out how to play it, how to write it.
Just try and do it by the end of the day. ’
She shot him a sarcastic smile: ‘Thanks. I’ll have plenty of time to read the papers, do the research and make the calls on the train.’
‘Train?!’ he asked.
‘Yup, that was part of the deal. I have to travel there and back by train. Savannah, as you might imagine, is just a teeny bit anti-car. And I have to take a bus to her house.’
‘And you’ve agreed to this?’ Jeff asked, smiling. ‘Just take a cab and get it to drop you off on the corner,’ he said. ‘She’ll never know.’
‘That’s hardly in the Green spirit, is it?’
‘She’s quite something, isn’t she?’ Aidan threw in.
‘Savannah?’ Jo asked.
When Aidan nodded a bit too dreamily, Jo couldn’t help adding: ‘Yes, certain men seem to fall quite helplessly under the spell of Savannah… and fortunately our editor is one of them.’