Free Lust Under Licence by Noel Amos

next century!'
    On the monitor
to Madeleine's left, Tom Glass stirred feverishly on his bed. A
gentle hand reached out to soothe his brow. Nurse Biscuit was at
her station, a notebook and pencil in her lap.
    'Be patient,
Claire,' said Dr Flint. 'We're getting some excellent material. I'm
going to hand him over to you stuffed and plucked, ready for the
oven.'
    'Thank God for
that.'
    'Just do me
one favour. Petra Rosewater, Glass's number two, is threatening to
move him.'
    'What!'
    'She's talking
about transferring him to a neurological unit elsewhere so she can
get other opinions on his condition. Can you have a word with
her?'
    There was
silence on the line, followed by a sly chuckle. 'I'd love to,' said
Inspector Quartermain.
     
     

Chapter
12
     
    It was all
very well for Tom to say he trusted her, thought Petra as she sat
glumly at her desk, but there were some decisions she couldn't take
on her own.
    For the most
part she knew what she was doing. Though the executive officers of
the reporting divisions of Glass Mountain would have preferred to
deal with Tom himself they accepted that, for the moment, she spoke
for him. Furthermore, a lot of time was spent in figure work,
reviewing performance against target, calculating growth and
compiling an overview of the group's position - areas in which she
specialised. Trouble-shooting the various divisions also took her
time but she'd had three years' worth of experience watching Tom do
it and, if she got stuck, she wasn't too proud to seek advice.
    What gave
Petra most concern was the new stuff. Tom's future plans.
Innovations. That's what made men like him special, of course. They
saw an opportunity and went for it with conviction. It needed the
kind of skill and vision she didn't have.
    Which is why
she was staring in confusion at the document in her hand. It was an
agreement from a firm of solicitors in Scotland declaring the
conditions under which Glass Mountain would purchase their clients'
glass-ornament business for five million pounds. At first Petra had
treated the matter as a joke and had rebuffed Messrs Mitre &
Gauze politely. It was when they sent her a copy of a covering
letter signed by Tom and guaranteeing the deal personally 'if it's
the last thing I do as Chief Executive of Glass Mountain' she began
to feel uneasy.
    The agreement
was dated Friday 9th July - the day of Tom's accident. Harriet, his
secretary, had denied preparing it for him and indeed there was no
record of it on her word processor. However, they had discovered a
copy of it on his desk.
    By now, Petra
had a sick feeling in her stomach. She couldn't credit that Tom
would have any interest in a glass-ornament business but the papers
in her hand told her otherwise. Maybe he knew something that she
didn't. He'd played crazy but profitable hunches before. But why
would he offer five million pounds for a concern that, as far as
she could tell, last year turned over something less than fifty
thousand?
    It was almost
a relief to turn her mind to other matters though her pulse
quickened and her jaw set as Inspector Quartermain and a TCD
sidekick walked unannounced into the room.
    'Sorry to drop
in on you like this,' said the policewoman.
    'I'm very
busy,' said Petra in a voice that even to her own ears sounded
nervous and prim. 'I thought you'd finished here.'
    Immediately
following Tom's accident, the Metropolitan Police had invaded the
penthouse, searching for clues to Tom's mysterious fall. They had
soon been replaced by Claire Quartermain and her shell suited goons
who had not confined themselves to the top floor.
    'This a
special trip to see you,' said Claire, making herself comfortable
on the sofa. She kicked off her shoes and put her feet up on the
low table in front of her, pushing aside a pile of computer
print-outs in the process.
    The sight
infuriated Petra, as did the memory of what Quartermain had
supposedly said about her to Tom. She decided to seize the
initiative.
    'I take it
you've come to