Page 11 of A Simple Mistake
“You don’t know who’s bidding against you?”
“I have the company names, but they’re either investment firms or brand-new outfits with no history or known affiliations.”
Jack felt a prickle of excitement.He met Gareth’s eye and tipped his head in thanks.He loved the chase and Gareth knew it.“Can we afford to lose those fourteen projects?”
“I’d rather not.”
“Of course not.Humour me,” Jack said.“Worst case scenario: we lose all the projects.What happens?”
Julian glared, but answered in the end.“We’d be seriously short of operating capital.So short I’d have to find finance or lay off staff.”
“So… cash flow sabotage.”Jack made notes on his tablet.
“That was my first thought,” Julian agreed.“Money is tight everywhere.Most mining companies have to ice projects for lack of funds, even as we fear losing the discoveries.Securing finance deals for a package is harder these days than digging for diamonds with a pickaxe.Banks are just too jittery to lend.So how can these upstart outfits muscle into every area we have an interest in?”
“And by muscle in you mean?”
“Survey teams on the ground, claim applications lodged with the local authorities, permit bidding wars, circulars going around for the impact assessments… that’s a significant heap of cash they’re fronting.Now multiply this by fourteen and it’s incomprehensible.”
Jack considered that.At his job interview, Gareth had told him the fight got dirty, and he hadn’t been joking.The never-ending phishing attacks, network hacks, and attempts to subvert employees didn’t differ from the strategic espionage practices and criminal gangs he’d studied during his last job.Military and commercial intelligence were no longer separate vectors, and mining, as it turned out, was a cut-throat business to begin with.Between the Nancarrow family trying to wrest control of the company from Julian, and unknown actors hunting for their data, Jack had never been so well entertained.
“Can you bundle all this stuff and send it to me?”
“Of course.Do you think there is something?”
Jack met Gareth’s gaze, not surprised to see his own convictions reflected there.“There’s always something.We just have to find it.”
“Let me know as soon as you do.”
“Sure.”Jack watched Gareth shrug back into his suit jacket and swallowed the comments crowding his tongue.They hit the stairs down to their floor.“How did your meeting with Fenton go?Anything good?”
“Not really,” Gareth said.“They’re back in the class.”
The pause following was long enough for Jack to turn his head and raise a quizzical eyebrow.
“Can you go watch the dance class?”Gareth asked finally.
Jack tried his damnedest not to grin, but Gareth knew him too well.
“You already knew I couldn’t do it.”
“Well, dance class is on Friday afternoon.And of course I’ll go.”
Playing Hunches
Mistobscuredtheviewfrom Skylar’s living room window, dulling the acres of glass that—on a normal day—reflected water and sky.
“This is not the view I paid for,” Skylar grumbled, clinging to his mug of coffee.He’d spent the previous days alternately napping and wearing himself out so he could nap more, roaming London’s streets in the dead of night and swimming far too many laps in the downstairs pool.His mind had failed to get the message, even when his body was sagging with exhaustion.By Tuesday morning, with the jetlag fading, Skylar had decided to never again accept jobs in Los Angeles, Melbourne, and New York in the same fortnight.The high-speed back and forth had clobbered him like a three-day bender.
“And now I’m awake when it’s nothing but miserable outside.”
Fate hadn’t even granted him a slow awakening.Instead, he’d jerked to consciousness and had sat in bed breathing as if he’d been running.Rude awakening, indeed.Now to figure out what his mind thought was burning…
Skylar sipped his coffee and tried to remember his dream.
Screams.There’d been screams.The screech of glass breaking.Someone swearing.Beyond that…nothing.
Annoyed, he scrubbed his free hand over his face before taking another sip of coffee.Dreams stay with you for reasons, and they blow away for reasons, too.He knew his mother’s saying, but when he couldn’t discern those reasons, the words didn’t help.
