When the Siren Calls by Tom Barry Page B

his fortune, then Jay knew only one person was to blame.
    “I see you haven’t lost your touch,” said Andy, as Lucy strutted past again.
    “She just wanted some information.”
    “Like your phone number?” He raised his eyebrows, unwilling to believe a word.
    “I gave her yours. I hope that’s ok.”
    “If only. Anyway, what brings you out on this flight? Weren’t you coming tomorrow?”
    “Eamon’s got some concerns. I thought I’d better get across earlier, check things out before the board meeting.”
    “What sort of concerns?” asked Andy, his voice weary with disappointment and disquiet.
    “The usual,” said Jay, “too much to do and not enough money to do it with. I really can’t say much more till I have assessed things in Capadelli.”
    “He must have given you more than that? Else why would you be coming out early?”
    The weak blue of Andy’s eyes glowed with the torment of not knowing, of not having known for two years. Jay felt sorry for him, but to save his own skin he had to be vague.
    “Eamon doesn’t have the big picture. He’s mainly worried about the sales; that’s the way he put it. As soon as I know the facts, I will update you.”
    He could feel Andy’s eyes burning into him, looking past the words, but he took it no further, changing his line of attack to something more tangible.
    “I was looking at the in-flight magazine. Nice piece you have in there.”
    “Thanks,” said Jay, awaiting the blow.
    “Though I thought we’d agreed to cut back on the marketing? To put what money is left where it’s needed?”
    Jay refrained from mentioning that there was no money left and simply watched fate take its course as Andy pulled out the magazine from the seat pocket and flicked through to the offending article.
    “How much did this fairy story cost me?” he demanded, thrusting his finger into the face of the smiling policeman in the photograph.
    “Twenty grand.”
    “And you think that’s sensible, given the financial situation?” Andy’s eyes bulged with disbelief as his finger bore a hole into the photo, tearing a black gulf in the smile.
    “That article was commissioned six months ago,” said Jay with a dismissive shrug, “things were different back then.” Back then twenty grand seemed like loose change to a free spending marketer like Jay. But twenty grand would always be twenty grand to hard-nosed Andy, particularly when it was his twenty grand.
    Andy snorted in bitter laughter. “And the couple in the article, the honest copper and his wife who are living the dream in the little piece of paradise we have created, do they even exist?”
    “No, they do not,” said Jay, determined to sound unashamed, “but that is not the point. They are intended to be illustrative of the type of people who are investing with us.”
    “And you are ok with that? Some people might think this article is misleading.”
    Jay sighed; they had debated the difference between spin and deception too many times now for him to care anymore.
    “It was the writer who came up with that idea, not me, so I guess the technique is a standard one.”
    Jay did not meet Andy’s eyes as he finished speaking, choosing instead to fiddle with the magazine in the hope that Andy would return to his wife, who had been watching intently, an irritating flash of blonde in Jay’s peripheral vision.
    “By the way, how’s it going on the TMI deal?” asked Andy, seeing straight through his friend-turned-adversary. “You now part of the jet-set world of rock and rollers?”
    Jay’s mouth twitched into an involuntary smile but Andy beat him to his own answer. “I guess that as I haven’t heard anything, it’s still in play?”
    Definite threat lined his voice; the knowledge that Andy could make or break the deal he facilitated festered on the edge of their relationship ever since the decline of the dream in Italy.
    “No announcement as such,” said Jay, “but everything we’re hearing is that the