noted wryly. They had already heard that Tesmost Technical Operations were behind the bid, no doubt. You couldn’t keep such matters secret. Theirs was a small world. All the big international electronics firms knew each other. Several had tried to buy Hearne’s in the last two years, since it leaked out that they were working on a cheap voice-operated computer. In this business new technology was the name of the game. You had to keep launching new ideas or you died. Matt had kept his research a secret for as long as possible, not talking to anyone but his closest colleagues, but sooner or later he had had to start building the actual computer, which meant far more people getting involved in the project, and once that happened the word was out and the vultures gathered.
He had had the money to beat off all previous interest, but TTO were an enormous company with far more capital than Matt could put together. If Matt borrowed money to help him in this struggle, he would lose control of his company, anyway, to whoever lent the cash.
Bleakly, Matt wished he could work out how to defeat this bid without asking for help from anyone. But he knew he was between the devil and the deep blue sea. Maybe he should sell the house in the Essex countryside which he and Aileen had bought when they got married?
He lived in his London flat which was just the right size for a bachelor, very convenient for work, and surrounded by restaurants and shops. But his mother and his baby daughter lived in the Essex house, only an hour’s drive away so that he could visit them often. When Aileen died his mother had moved into their home to take care of Lisa and the arrangement had worked so well that it had become a routine.
Darkness veiled his eyes. Sometimes he could not believe she was gone, gone for ever. Aileen had been so full of life; he could see her now, laughing at him, the wind of the Essex coast in her hair, her eyes loving.
Salt coated his throat.
He mustn’t think of her. Stop it, he told himself. No looking back. Think about the future.
Well, if he had to sell the house he would sell his flat, too, and find somewhere big enough for his mother and the baby, too. Maybe it was time they all lived together? Having a split household like this wasn’t natural. He ought to see more of Lisa now that she was becoming a little girl, not just a baby.
‘You see, Matt, this is a well organised attack!’ he suddenly heard, and, starting, came back to the present, to look at Rod.
Matt nodded. ‘I’m afraid so.’
Rod sighed heavily. ‘I’ve got a list of share transfers that have already been shifted by the big investors, the pension funds and companies.’ In his flat London accent Rod began to read his list out like someone reading the names of mourners at a funeral.
He paused, looked up, said grimly, ‘And in charge of organising the bid, and co-ordinating the buying in of major company shares, Bianca Milne, Forward Planning Director of TTO.’ Rod placed a large colour photo on the desk and everyone stared down at it.
Jack Rowe gave a low wolf whistle. ‘Hey, I could go for her!’
Andrea felt a quiver of envy. If only she looked like that! She would swap her own brown hair for that sleek, smooth blonde chignon any time, and as for that face… Oh, it wasn’t fair. Some women had it all.
Matt had heard of Bianca Milne, but had never actually set eyes on her. He leaned forward and picked up the photograph, his mouth twisting.
‘Not my type at all, Jack, and I’d hazard a guess you wouldn’t get anywhere with her, either. She’s the don’t-touch-me type—look at those eyes. Cold as ice.’
Andrea’s smile spread. He was so good at reading character in a glance!
‘How old is she?’ somebody asked. ‘She looks too young to be heading a take-over bid.’
‘She’s not as young as she looks,’ said Rod. ‘She’ll be thirty in a month or so, it seems.’
‘I call that young,’ Jack said gloomily. ‘Wish I was thirty next month.’
‘Married?’ Andrea asked, hopefully.
Rod shook his head. ‘No. And currently without a man. Gossip has it that her last relationship was with Lord Mistell’s son, young Harry Mistell, who worked for one of the merchant banks her company supplied with the latest electronic hardware.’
Matt’s eyes lifted to consider Rod’s face. ‘Who broke off the affair, her or him?’
‘Her. They earned millions out of that deal, and Bianca Milne handled the sale. She stopped seeing young Mistell a few weeks later.’
Matt did not look surprised. He just nodded.
‘She was dating him just to make the sale?’ Noelle said, frowning. ‘That’s horrible.’
Rod shrugged. ‘Whether she was using him, or their break-up was a coincidence, who knows? But that’s how the gossip goes. She’s been with TTO for nine years, climbed rapidly up the company. The way she looks must have helped, but apparently she’s also clever, tough and very ambitious. She has a strong power base there. There is a rumour that she has a secret affair going with Don Heston, the chief executive of the company, but again I don’t know how true that is.’ Rod paused, added softly, ‘Heston is married.’
‘And has kids,’ said Matt and Rod nodded.
‘Two, a boy and a girl in their teens. Heston is nearly fifty, but looks younger. Nobody ever sees his wife. She stays in the country with the kids—they’ve got a big house in Buckinghamshire. Heston mostly jets around the world. Bianca Milne often goes with him.’
‘Hence the rumours, of course,’ Matt said briskly. ‘And who could blame him if he did mix business with pleasure with someone who looks like that? Okay, give us the background on TTO’s current market position, Rod. Concentrate, everyone. We need to find any chinks in their armour, any weaknesses. I’ll set up a meeting with Heston in the next few days to find out what sort of war this is going to be.’
His eyes fell on the photograph again. Bianca Milne had a cool, remote, Madonna-like face—but what sort of mind lay behind those big green eyes? A woman more ruled by her head than her heart, obviously.
Matt thought of his dead wife, who had been warm and funny and sweet, a woman ruled by her heart, never her head. God, he missed her. Day and night. Especially at night when his bed was cold and empty.
Pulling himself up, he pushed his memories away, staring at the photo of Bianca Milne. Rumours didn’t come from nowhere. Had she slept with Lord Mistell’s son just to get that contract? Was that the sort of woman she was? Rod had heard she was Heston’s mistress as well as his right-hand woman.
The girl with that purity of countenance and coldness of eye must have a few weaknesses, which could be useful to know. And maybe she was Heston’s weakness? It could be even more useful to know that.
Bianca was dictating to her secretary when Don rang. ‘Ready?’
He rarely wasted words or time. She wasn’t surprised by his curt tone.
Looking at her watch, Bianca was surprised, however, to realise it was already twelve o’clock. It had been a busy morning; she had lost track of time, deep in concentration, trying to get as much work as possible done before she left for this very important lunch appointment.
‘Yes, of course. I’ll see you downstairs in two minutes.’
Don rang off in his usual curt fashion and Bianca quickly finished dictating.
‘Get those into the computer, and printed, Patricia, and I’ll sign them before I go home tonight.’
Patricia stood up, her shorthand pad in one hand, checking the pages of notes, the number of letters to be done, her face gloomy at the thought of all that work. She was a small, dark girl who didn’t really enjoy her job. She had been engaged for six months and was counting the days to her wedding, after which, she’d frankly told Bianca, she meant to have a family as soon as possible and give up work