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She was ready to hand over her disk to Clara the receptionist with a quick smile and then beat a hasty retreat, absolutely deter other than the smart, efficient, business-woman she always portrayed

‘A, Clara blew her fringe skywards and gave a grateful soodness you’re here’

Never had Clara seemed so pleased to see her More to the point, never had Clara even grunted a greeting—her efficient smile was reserved for real journalists, the ones whose stories actually mattered, not some two-bit freelancer who appeared in the Saturday colour supplement

‘I’ the shiny silver disk across the desk and glancing at the clock above Clara’s head, praying it was going faster than her watch ‘I’m normally on time—I’m usually early…’

‘Don’t worry about that,’ Clara said, screwing up her nose as she picked up the disk and, to Amelia’s horror, tossed it into a drawer ‘Didn’t you hear the news?’

‘News?’ A herself that the one time in the week she turned off the radio, the one time she let the world disappear to concentrate on a piece, so had really happened

‘There ht be an election! Friday afternoon’s a lousy time to call for a press conference if you ask me, but that’s what’s happened’

Another bewildered blink froes of serious pieces with her name on them drifted into her mind, but before they had even formed Clara easily doused them

‘Whichnames are tied up’

‘Amelia!’ Paul, her editor, appeared at the lift doors He handed her a file as he juggled a call on his er bleeped loudly ‘Carter has had to fly to Canberra…’

‘I heard,’ Amelia replied as Paul decided the call on his mobile was more important She flicked open the folder he had pressed in her hand for soht her breath—not for the first time today, but for an entirely different reason

Vaughan Mason

That inscrutable face was actually s at her fro balhtly cruel twist to his full ly, a dark jet fringe flopping over one superbly carved eyebrow His unshaven, heavily shadowed jaould have been more in place in a sports calendar than on a business shoot, but apart from that his utter suprelimpse of his suit in the head-and-shoulders shot reeked of abhorrent wealth, and suddenly her horoscopewith Pluto—or was it Uranus?—and the heavenly changes Louis had faithfully pro

‘Carter had a fifteen-minute spot with him,’ Paul mouthed as he covered the mouthpiece on his mobile

‘When?’

‘In twenty minutes’ time You’re the fill-in’

‘Me?’

Paul nodded and, possibly realising the urgency of the situation, put his caller on hold ‘You’ll be great, Amelia, you always are I don’t kno you do it, but soet them to show their true colours, just like you did with Taylor Dean…’ Seeing her paling face, Paul changed tack ‘As good as Carter is, he’d never have even attele’

‘What sort of angle are you looking for?’ A hit a very raw nerve

‘The man behind the millions—what makes his cold heart tick…’

‘Nothing?’ Amelia ventured, but Paul shook his head

‘We’ve got a big story about to break on hiest that we hold next Saturday’s es for it’

‘Middle pages…’ A ‘Of the paper, not the…?’

‘The paper,’ Paul confirmed ‘If you’re sure you’re up to it’