“I shouldn’t imagine so for one minute,” she said. “I never chose his company when he was alive, so I don’t see any point in hypocrisy now he’s dead. Now, Charlie. Time for me to ask a question.”

“Fire away.”

“Who’s the clever money on now? I mean, leaving me out of the equation, of course.”

He ran a hand through brown hair that was already beginning to thin, though his unlined face looked no more than early twenties. “You’ve got me there, Lindsay. I mean, there’s a million crazy rumors in the naked city tonight, but nobody seriously thinks he was bumped off because someone wasn’t happy with the merger, or because Andy Spence wants the job, or because Dick McAndrew wanted to get even for Union Jack closing down Socialism Today, or because he hadn’t delivered one of his thousands of broken pre-election promises,” Charlie rattled off, enumerating the suggestions on his fingers. “I don’t know, maybe he had a mistress he’d given the elbow to. You know his reputation with women.”

Lindsay nodded. “If it moves, it’s there to be screwed. Unless it’s a member of the Equality Committee, in which case, it’s there to be put down.”

“Charming,” Sophie muttered. “I know hospitals where he’d have walked into a consultant’s job.”

“Word is,” Charlie added confidentially, “it might be cherchez la femme. Only nobody knows who the femme in question might be. Before the merger, the clever money said he was conducting very close negotiations with Maureen Sloane, the former deputy general secretary of the broadcasting union, but that was over months ago. And she moved in with one of the floor managers from Newsnight just after Christmas, so she can’t have been carrying that much of a torch. And there’s been no recent goss about Tom. So your guess is as good as mine.”

“Oh well, thanks anyway, Charlie. And hey—don’t make me look a complete bitch, there’s a pal,” Lindsay said.

He grinned and waved his copies of Conference Chronicle. “No way. Compared to this, I’m an amateur! See you.” He grinned and shot off back down the corridor to distribute the latest scandal among the other members of his delegation.

“Nice to know I’m not the only victim of the bad-mouth brigade, isn’t it?” Lindsay said.

“Don’t get too sanctimonious, Ms. Gordon,” Sophie responded. “Let’s not forget how many years you spent earning a living doing exactly what young Charlie and his fellow vultures do.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll leave the moral high ground to you people who’ve never lived in glasshouses.”

“What next?” Sophie asked. “Do you still want to get hold of that guy who set the place by the ears just now?”