Free Angel Touch by Mike Ripley Page A

they’re all called
Mrs Pilgrim when they’re on duty. They’re slick, reliable, and the food’s good and ...’ She hesitated, hating to say it.
    â€˜If they all look like her – the men love it,’ I finished for her.
    â€˜Got it in one,’ she said.
    Patterson coughed. I could take a hint.
    â€˜Very well, Roylance ... er ... Roy, if you’d like to kick off, Alec will fix us some more drinks.’
    Alec did, but nothing more exciting than Perrier, although I didn’t complain. The sniff of a pulled cork would probably have set me on a roll after the amount I’d drunk the previous night.
    I skipped over most of the gruesome bits of the previous evening, concentrating on what I’d heard the Suits saying about Capricorn Travel. I also missed out the racist cracks I’d heard, so as not to embarrass Salome. This seemed a nice liberal firm, though. They didn’t worry that Sal was black; they ignored her because she was a woman.
    When I’d finished, Patterson asked one question: ‘You are quite sure that this chappie you overheard said that the shit would hit the fan today?’
    â€˜Well, he actually said “tomorrow,” but that was last night, so the answer is yes.’
    Patterson hunched forward and said dramatically: ‘Then we have a leak.’
    â€˜Don’t shoot the messenger,’ I said, and Salome smiled and patted my hand.
    â€˜To fill you in, Roy,’ she said, watching Patterson all the time, ‘I’d better tell you our interest.’
    â€˜I wish you would.’
    â€˜We’ve been suspecting a leak in the building for some time now. Sensitive information has been getting to the market before it should, and it’s been information based on our research and analysis, quite definitely. In the past few weeks it’s been mostly my area – the leisure industry.’
    â€˜Actually, Salome, it’s been only your area,’ said Patterson coldly. ‘Yours and Alec’s.’
    â€˜Yeah, well.’ Salome shrugged. ‘Anyway, yesterday I finished a pre-result forecast on Capricorn Travel. They report in about a week’s time ...’
    â€˜Ten days,’ interrupted Alec.
    â€˜In ten days,’ Salome continued.
    â€˜Report what?’ I asked. They looked shocked.
    â€˜Their annual results,’ snapped Patterson. ‘Their profits.’
    â€˜Or lack of them, in this case.’ Salome got back in her stride. ‘We got to know – well, I found out – that they were riding for a fall. They’d overstretched themselves on discounting and special offers for package holidays in the early part of the season just after Christmas. There’s been more cut-throat competition this year than ever before, and Capricorn just went over the top hoping to build up volume trade later on.’
    â€˜So they cut their own throats,’ I said wisely.
    â€˜Yes, but they couldn’t have foreseen how strong the pound has been, which made the US a far better holiday bet than some tacky hotel in Spain.’
    â€˜You don’t have to race the Krauts for the sunbeds in Florida,’ said Patterson, smiling. I think it was a joke.
    â€˜And apart from the usual problems of double booking and air traffic controllers on strike,’ Salome continued, ‘three of the eight hotels used by Capricorn are about to be closed down by the Spanish health authorities.’
    â€˜Things must be grim in that case,’ I observed.
    â€˜Probably one dead dog too many in the swimming pool,’ said Patterson – rather tastelessly, I thought.
    â€˜Consequently,’ Salome soldiered on, ‘my note – we call them notes – to our clients, who have a stake in Capricorn, was to sell in advance of ... of ...’
    â€˜The excrement hitting the ventilator,’ I said, and they all looked at me. ‘Well, that’s what the guy said last