Erin hadn’t heard from Julian for nearly a week. She had tried to call him and had left at least a dozen messages with both his assistant and on his answering machine. But so far, all she was hearing back was a yawning silence, which wasn’t good news however she looked at it. If he’d been in an accident, surely his secretary would have mentioned it, ditto if he’d been out of the country, which only left her staring down the barrel of rejection. The previous night she had cried until her eyes were sore, wondering what she could have possibly done or said that made him lose such rapid interest. But her broken heart was just the half of it. Not only had Julian disappeared, but with him had vanished his drawings for Belvedere Road. She badly needed those plans to secure planning permission and, the longer she left it, the more of Erin’s very limited supply of money was pouring down the drain. Money she had inherited from her father. Her nest egg. At this rate she was going to have to sell the property on again without having done an iota of work on it. She knew her father wouldn’t have wanted that.
‘Erin! Get Marcus.’ Adam usually used the telephone to speak to her, but right now she could hear his booming voice coming all the way from his desk. Marcus came up straight away and there was a heated exchange that Erin couldn’t help but overhear.
‘Fucking Dreamscape Construction have undercut us on the London Gallery,’ said Adam.
Erin’s ears immediately pricked up. The London Gallery was perhaps the biggest contract that Midas Construction had been pitching for this year. A major art gallery, to rival the National Portrait, it was part of a vote-winning initiative for the current government, who were playing the caring-sharing ‘spaces for the people’ card. The project had taken them months of planning, presenting and schmoozing of ministers and advisors.
‘How could this happen?’ snapped Marcus, pacing around the room. ‘Our proposal was fantastic. I’d be fucking amazed if anyone had a design as good or could cost it so low. What the hell’s going on?’
Adam pushed his hair back in a gesture of irritation. ‘Apparently, the Minister for Culture and Art’s office has heard that Midas are doing a very similar, even bigger, project in Paris. They’ve said – off the record of course – that they’d prefer the company that won the London Gallery tender to make it their number one priority. Basically the Paris development has scuppered our chances.’
‘But the Paris thing hasn’t even been announced yet,’ said Marcus. ‘How could they possibly know?’
‘Fuck knows,’ growled Adam. ‘Someone has talked somewhere. Maybe the architect?’
‘Sergio? No way. His whole reputation’s on the line here.’
Erin could see why they were angry. She knew the architects’ fees alone for the London Gallery pitch were in the hundreds of thousands – Sergio Vinchely, a Spanish architect from Seville, was the best in the world. He only took on a handful of major commissions every year and he had done an incredible job.
Erin was as mystified as Marcus and Adam – there had obviously been a leak, but who would do such a thing? Erin stared at her computer screen and scrolled through her documents, running through the possibilities, hoping she could help. And slowly, ever so slowly, she began to get a horrible sinking feeling.