Tom Bower

Branson


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      TOM BOWER

      BRANSON

      

       Dedication

       To Jennifer

      Contents

       Cover

       Title Page

       9 Finding enemies

       10 War and deception

       11 Sour music

       12 Double vision

       13 Unfortunate casualties

       14 The underdog

       15 Another day, another deal

       16 Another day, another target

       17 The cost of terrorism

       18 Sinking with dinosaurs

       19 Honesty and integrity

       20 Indelible tarnish

       21 A slipping halo

       22 Fissure

       23 Squeezing friends

       24 ‘House of cards’

       25 Seeking salvation

       26 An enduring suspicion

       Postscript – 2008

       Sources

       Index

       Acknowledgements

       About the Author

       Other Works

       Copyright

       About the Publisher

       Preface

      On 16 December 1998, Sir Richard Branson was preparing to set off from Marrakesh in an attempt to become the first person to circumnavigate the world in a hot-air balloon. Over the previous days I had sought to join his party in Morocco to witness a Branson extravaganza. I was still undecided whether to write a book about Branson but expected that the experience might influence my decision. That morning, my place on Virgin’s chartered jet on behalf of a national newspaper was suddenly cancelled.

      To my surprise, at lunchtime the same day, I received a brutal, defamatory and untrue letter from Branson, whom I had never met, faxed by his London office. Branson alleged that he had received ‘a number of calls over the last six weeks from various friends and relatives who have been upset by your researchers/detectives’. He claimed that on my behalf these hired hands had ‘doorstepped’ a woman and uttered ‘untrue accusations that her son is, in fact, my son’. Not surprisingly, he continued, that behaviour had ‘caused a lot of upset to all the people concerned including the real father’. Since those same people were flying to Marrakesh for the launch of the balloon, he felt it would be ‘inappropriate’ for me to be present. ‘To be perfectly honest,’ he added, ‘none of them would particularly welcome it.’ Branson concluded that after the trip was completed we could discuss ‘what exactly it is you are after’.

      I was flabbergasted by Branson’s letter. I had never heard of the people he mentioned. I had not employed any detectives nor had I asked or heard of anyone doorstepping these people. In a faxed reply, I immediately protested.

      Three days later, I received a response. In an unexpected call to my mobile phone, an unfamiliar voice announced, ‘Tom, I’m sorry about that.’

      ‘Who is that?’ I asked, puzzled.

      ‘It’s Richard,’ he replied.

      ‘Richard who?’

      ‘Richard Branson.’

      ‘But I thought you were in a balloon.’

      ‘I am.’

      ‘Where are you?’

      ‘Dunno,’ he replied and could be heard asking about his location. ‘Over Algeria,’ he continued