The Year of Living Dangerously
Part I: January, 1965
Chapter Two
Emma Peel loved to drive, but there was no sense driving in London when it could take you hours to find a parking space most of the time, and with its comprehensive public transport service there was generally no need to. The Tube, or even a double-decker bus, could take her anywhere she wanted to go. Indeed, she enjoyed riding on the top of those bright red icons of London life, from which it was so easy to get such a good view of the passing scenery and passing people...a people-watcher's dream come true.
She had set out from her flat on this day, therefore, with plimsolls on, and after several hours of traversing the unyielding marble floors of various museums, returned to her flat as energetically as when she'd left. She'd had no idea for an article in mind, actually, she'd just felt like doing the rounds of a few art museums today, soaking in the beauty on display.
Emma slipped off her plimsolls and padded into the kitchen to make a cup of tea, then returned to the living room to go through her post, which she'd collected from the doorman upon her return.
She took her paper knife, a miniature katana, or Samurai long sword, and slit open all the envelopes, before returning to the first one and sliding out its enclosure.
Bill. Bill. Cheque from the magazine The Music Experience - one of those magazines that she wrote for but did not in fact publish. An invitation from Bridge Partners, International to take part in a tournament in March. A request for an interview.
Emma paused...sipped her tea... re-read the letter.
Someone named Staunton, Patrick Staunton, of the British Business Bulletin, wanted to interview her for a series on British businesswomen...but they were not interested in her current role as the publisher of, and writer for, her stable of magazines. They wanted to talk about her time at Knight Industries.
Six years ago...
At age 21, she'd succeeded her recently deceased father as chairman of the board of his company. She'd been a cause celebe for quite a few months on the strength of her youth and sex. A few...painful... months.
Emma contemplated the letter, then shook her head. Her story of woe might be of use to other women aspiring to rise into management...but no...the memories involved were too painful, even today. No, she would not give an interview.
Staunton had provided his phone number at the bottom of the letter, but Emma decided she would not call him. As an interviewer herself, she knew that once you got a possible interview-ee on the phone, you didn't take no for an answer. She would simply write the man a polite letter, declining the request.
Having decided that, she picked up the next letter...and saw that it was from Knight Industries.
There was serendipity for you, she thought wryly. Or perhaps it was indeed "the flux" as a friend of hers termed it. "The magnetic flux about the earth that causes like events to occur simultaneously or in sequence." In other words, there was no such thing as coincidence.
She'd sold her controlling interest in Knight Industries within a year after she'd become chairman...she'd taken the money and invested it in her own business which she'd built up to be quite successful and now she was wealthy in her own right, as Emma Peel...she wanted no reminders of the past.
Why would they write to her after all this time?
But...who was writing to her, come to that?
The envelope had a Knight Industries logo on it, but there was no name. Unprofessional, that.
She unfolded the sheet of paper.
There was no return address at the top, no name at the end, only two bits of typewriting.
Knight Industries is being sold to Saxon Systems, for far more than its worth.
Perhaps you should look into it.
Emma stared at the words for a few seconds, then shrugged.
She was surprised that the company was still in business, frankly, and it was no concern of hers if the men who now ran it - and the men who were its competitors - had arranged among themselves to transfer its assets in a way most profitable to themselves.
She'd no connection with it or its employees. She'd washed her hands of it long ago.
Emma replaced the letter in its envelope and tossed it in the rubbish bin.
She poured herself another cup of tea, and sipped thoughtfully. Of course, she realized. That was why Staunton had written her out of the blue requesting an interview. He'd learned the news of the company being sold, and he'd wanted to interview her about it because she was timely again.
Well, she was even less inclined to do an interview now. She'd better type up her letter of refusal and get it into the post straightaway.