Thank you for the project proposal, which was received here on 2.9 June. Our client, who is at present in the UK, has now had an opportunity to consider the document and wishes to discuss the matter with you in person. I may say that he was extremely positive about the professional and constructive manner in which you have addressed the brief.
Please would you be kind enough to sign the attached confidentiality agreement, to allow us to disclose further information to you regarding our client and the project. Once
I have received the signed copy I will then be in touch with you regarding a further meeting.
Yours sincerely,
(Ms) Harriet Chetwode-Talbot
From:
Fred.jones@ncfe.gov.uk
Date:
7 July
To:
Mary.jones@interfinance.org
Subject:
Yemen⁄salmon
I thought you would like to know that relations between myself and David Sugden are once again amicable. I have submitted an outline feasibility proposal on the Yemen salmon project to Fitzharris & Price. I have received a very warm and, frankly, enthusiastic response. I met David Sugden by the coffee machine today (by accident? he sort of turned up while I was dialling in a cappuccino, so he had one too and we chatted for a bit). He said, as far as I can remember, ‘We were all pretty impressed by that paper you put up to Fitzharris & Price. Visionary stuff. This could be a very high-profile project in due course.’
I mumbled something, you know I can’t stand flattery, and asked if it was OK to sign the confidentiality agreement before we go any further. He said yes, and actually patted me on the shoulder. He’s not a very tactile person and that was really quite demonstrative for him.
The thing is, if I’d just rolled over for David when he first asked me to get involved in the project, he would just have taken my work for granted and not considered it anything special. Because I made a bit of a fuss-in order to test his own commitment to such an unusual project-he now thinks he has won a great battle and is one hell of a good manager. The reality is that if one knows how to handle these apparatchiks you can get them to eat out of your hand. Hope all is going well in Geneva, and that you will be home soon. Missing you.
Alfred XXXXX
From:
Mary.jones@interfinance.org
Date:
7 July
To:
Fred.jones@ncfe.gov.uk
Subject:
Dry-cleaning
Alfred,
Could you go to the dry-cleaners in the High Street and pick up a load of stuff I didn’t have time to collect before I got on the plane. Perhaps you could get it sent out here by Fedex or DHL as I am a bit short of things to wear and they haven’t yet found anyone to replace the guy whose job I am doing? Thanks in advance.
Things are fine here, rather hard work, but I think I am being appreciated. I’m not quite sure when I will be back in the
UK yet.
Love,
Mary
PS: Please make sure you collect the dry-cleaning tonight and send it latest tomorrow a.m.
PPS: Glad to hear you are sorting out your problems with DS.
From:
David.Sugden@ncfe.gov.uk
Date:
7 July
To:
Herbert.berkshire@fcome.gov.uk
Subject:
Yemen⁄Salmon
I thought you’d like to know that the (previously reluctant) scientist I wanted to work on this project is now eating out of my hand. I fed him some ideas on how to approach the work and he has come up with quite a reasonable first stab at the proposal, which has been welcomed by the client. I’ll keep you posted. Feel free to pass this on up the line if you think you should.
Yrs ever
David
Memo
From:
Peter
To:
PM
Subject:
Yemen⁄salmon
Date:
8 July
PM
I thought it best to update you on the Yemen project (if you don’t recall, it was to do with salmon). We’ve taken a step forward and it is ready to kick off. I don’t think we’ll talk to the media about it yet, though. I want to see whether it is really going to happen before we risk any exposure on what is, after all, a rather unusual story. On the other hand, we all know that most civil servants leak like sieves and no doubt fisheries scientists are no better or worse than the rest of them. We want to make sure that when this gets out, we tell it in our own words and make it clear whose initiative it is (yours).
I’ll update you as soon as I hear anything.
Peter
PS: I never asked. Do you know how to fish?
4
12 July
A very strange day.
I had arranged a meeting with Harriet (Chetwode-Talbot) at Fitzharris & Price in St James’s Street first thing this morning. I must admit I was quite looking forward to finding out more about the project, and the client. I can even say I was quite looking forward to meeting Harriet again, as she has impressed me by the intelligent and professional way she has conducted herself thus far. Her people skills are in a different league to those of David Sugden, who by the way is now my new best friend. He and I had a drink in the pub on Friday night after work.
Anyway, I went round to St James’s Street and announced myself at the reception desk. I was somewhat surprised to see Harriet come out of her office, carrying her briefcase and with a raincoat over her arm.
‘Are we going somewhere?’ I asked.
She greeted me good morning and suggested I follow her downstairs. I must note here she is really quite attractive-looking when she smiles, her face being a trifle severe in repose. We went out into the street, where a large black car was waiting. The driver jumped out and opened doors for us. Once in, Harriet turned to me and said, ‘We are going to meet the client.’ I asked her if she could tell me anything about him, but she simply replied, ‘I think I’ll let him speak for himself, if you don’t mind.’
The car purred into Piccadilly and turned right. Harriet dug into her briefcase for some papers. Then she put on spectacles and said, ‘You don’t mind, do you? I need to go over some papers on some other business we are acting on for our client.’
She sat and read. Meanwhile the car was driving across Vauxhall Bridge. I was a little surprised; I had expected we would drive round to somewhere like Belgrave Square or Eaton Place. I sat back in the comfortable, new-smelling white leather seat and enjoyed the unaccustomed luxury. I do not own a car, myself. It’s pointless with these congestion charges. We drove through south London. I began to wonder where on earth we were going. Surely the sheikh did not live in Brixton?
I said, ‘Excuse me, Harriet, but are we going much further?’
She took her spectacles off, raised her head from looking at her papers, and gave me another smile. ‘That’s the first time you have used my Christian name.’
Not knowing how to respond to this I said something like, ‘Oh, really?’
‘Yes, really. And no, we are not going much further. Just as far as Biggin Hill.’