Chapter 61
Ore
Ore really was not in the mood to work, but there was another missed call from Henry on her phone. And she was behind schedule for the next draft. She’d planned to write it last night, but then …
No she didn’t have time to get lost in thoughts of Daniel. She was a grown woman; she could wait until tonight. Other people managed to work alongside falling in love.Wait, do I love him?No, she didn’t have time for this! She willed herself out of bed and into the bathroom. In the shower she lingered over the parts of her that he had touched, smiling to herself. No, she had to write this article.
Staring at herself in the mirror, she noticed that her braids looked pretty dishevelled and then something in the corner of her eye made her blood run cold. The perfume bottle. It was back on the side of the sink. Hadn’t she moved it into the cabinet last time? She tried to keep calm and get ready as usual but that niggling paranoia was back.
She rushed back into the bedroom and pulled her robe back on, suddenly uncomfortable with her nakedness. That’s when she spotted the manila envelope on her desk. It hadn’t been there when she left her room yesterday morning.
She approached it cautiously, looking around for any other signs of things out of place but could only scold herself for her messiness; it was impossible to tell. With shaking hands she picked up the envelope and pulled out the contents. A bundle of papers that looked like … bank account statements.
At the top of the page, INVOICE FOR SERVICES PROVIDED BY KLAUPARTEN INDUSTRIES. She held her breath as she read through the transactions: hundreds of thousands of dollars paid in by something called ‘Greenloop’ for ‘resource exploration and excavation’. Ore was clued up enough to know that that meant ‘mining’.
But that wasn’t all – there was also a page that listed the board of trustees: Richard Greenam, Gerry Porter, Ousman Alzahrani, Roger Alderton, Frederik Dolph. And then there right at the top: CEO, Claude Van Der Bodem. Chuck was listed as a ‘majority shareholder’, and that Derek guy as the COO.
So all the men on board, they were all part of this, and she now had evidence tying Chuck to the company and confirming Claude as the true power behind the throne of Klauparten, as well as proof of their fraudulent business records. The shell company was not such a shell, what with at least four million dollars of income listed in the last year alone. This was enough to go to Henry with. Before she’d had a story, but it was built on hearsay; now she had a scoop.
After a quick Google search, she discovered that Greenloop was a ‘non-profit conservation enterprise’ whatever that was, and that Chuck was one of their main donors. They claimed to ‘conduct research on sites of outstanding natural beauty and suggest policy proposals for protecting them’. If that wastrue, why were they paying Klauparten for mining services? The only explanation: the whole thing was a front, to allow Klauparten access to all the most protected places in the world.
One burning question now remained: who had left this envelope for her? Maybe one of the investors had had a turn of conscience? Or it could be one of the crew? If Daniel’s eavesdropping situation was anything to go by, it was likely enough that someone working on board might come across a piece of such incriminating evidence totally by accident.
Ore was lost in thought when her phone rang. It was Henry. She answered the phone breathlessly.
‘Ore, hi, are you OK? You sound like you’ve been running?’ came Henry’s New York drawl.
‘Hi, Henry, no I’m just …’ Ore tried to catch her breath, her mind buzzing with adrenaline. ‘I was actually about to call you.’
‘About time – what have you got for me?’
Ore braced herself. ‘You’re not going to believe this, Henry, but just hear me out. I’ve found something, something big, really big, about Chuck and this guy Claude and this company Greenloop and …’ Ore was struggling to get her words out in order.
Henry cut her off. ‘Let me stop you right there, Ore.’
‘I’m sorry I know I’m not explaining this very well.’ Ore was frustrated at herself.
‘It’s OK – you don’t need to explain,’ Henry said firmly, and then sighed. Ore was confused.
‘In fact, please don’t explain. I don’t want to hear any more. This isn’t what I commissioned you to write, Ore.’ He sounded agitated.
‘I know, but, Henry, this is huge, I just stumbled across it and … well not stumbled … but—’
He interrupted her again. ‘Ore, stop.’ She waited. ‘Chuck Regas is a very powerful and very rich man. And in some cases, like this one, it might be best to … let sleeping dogs lie.’
‘But, Henry, this is like proper dark stuff. We’re talking fraud, corruption – there’s even some dodgy NDA sexual assault stuff …’
‘STOP!’ Henry’s sudden anger made her jump and stunned her into silence. ‘Write me the profile I commissioned and leave it at that. For your own good, Ore.’ And with that Henry hung up. Ore took a shaky breath as the dial tone rang in her ear.
Ore placed the phone down on the desk in front of her slowly. She knew she wasn’t going to listen to Henry, but she was going to heed his warning. It was clear that anything she wrote about Chuck would come with consequences and she needed to think very carefully about how to play this.
What would Gail Fairweather say? Firstly,you know you have a good story if no one wants you to publish it.So, if anything, Henry’s reaction was sort of encouraging. Secondly –don’t underestimate the tools at the disposal of your opponents; consider them all.In the case of Chuck there were many: truckloads of cash, the best lawyers in the world, a trove of favours from people in high places, connections with the sorts of dubious and dangerous people you meet in the world of illegal mineral mining.Thirdly, think about who the story is for, and where it will have the most impact.On the former point she worried it would be too grandiose to say ‘everyone’ butshe also felt it was true. On the latter, theNew York Heraldwas clearlynotthe place, so she’d have to go back to the drawing board with pitching.
If she did decide to write the story for a competitor though, that was the staff job out the window. It would be hard to wave goodbye to the promise of that kind of security. She didn’t know what to do.
What would Kyle say?Slow down, take a step back, turn around, what have you missed, while you were too busy steaming ahead?
So she did. And looking back, she couldn’t help but marvel at how far she’d come in just over a week. She still had five days left, and maybe just when every bone in her body was telling her to run faster, she could take Kyle’s advice once again. Give herself time to think and process. The right path would make itself known eventually, and she had a better chance of choosing if she wasn’t blinded by impatience.
Wait and see, then. That was the plan, as radical as it felt. Ore sensed it was the right decision. She would finish off the article that Henry wanted and then write the story she wanted to write, and keep them both until she was off this boat. Maybe once she was back on solid ground, literally and metaphorically, and out from under Chuck’s thumb, she would have a better sense of her next move.
With an unusual sense of calm, she opened her laptop. ‘Chuck Regas, the man, the myth, the father.’ She began typing the words with proficient detachment and before she knew it, she was done. She formatted, and spellchecked, and saved the document. But she didn’t send it to Henry, not yet.
Ore’s stomach rumbled and when she realised it was midday, it struck her that she hadn’t heard from Carlos, who usually rang her for breakfast requests, if she didn’t turn up to the mess. It seemed she’d have to venture out of her room if she wanted to eat.
