Shearson punched out a number. ‘No,’ he said, ‘I’m not sure at all. But if I see one single word of this in the Kansas City Herald-Examiner, I’ll have the whole damned paper closed down.’

‘You and whose army?’

‘Me and Mr Wendeil Oliver, the chairman of Western States Communications, who happens to control a majority shareholding in your newspaper, and who comes around here for dinner twice a month.’

She glanced at him. He plainly wasn’t joking at all. She said, ‘Oh,’ and brought him his drink. Then she sat on the edge of the ottoman, her wrap slightly parted to reveal her breasts, while he puffed and popped away at his cigar and waited for his number to ring.

‘Alan?’ he said, at last.

A wary voice said, ‘Who is this?’

‘Alan, this is Shearson. That’s right. Well, I know it’s kind of a strange time to be calling you, Alan, but as it happens something pretty interesting has come up.’

‘What do you mean by “interesting”?’ asked the voice. It was a rich voice, fruity, with a strong Georgia accent.

Shearson pulled a face. ‘All kinds of interesting, Alan. Politically interesting – the kind of thing that would show a fellow up in a favourable light when it came to election time – and financially interesting, too. In fact, the very best kind of interesting.’

‘Go on.’

‘You’ve heard about this crop blight they’ve been experiencing in Kansas and North Dakota? The wheat disease?’

‘Sure. It was on the news tonight. I’ve already asked Wilkins to get together a dossier on it’

Shearson nodded. ‘That’s good. You’ve told the media what you’re doing, have you? Good. Because from what I hear, this blight’s pretty serious. Hundreds of acres gone to rot, and nothing the farmers can do about it.’

‘Spreading all the time, too,’ put in Alan. ‘So far they’re projecting the worst wheat harvest for ten years, even if they can bring it under control by mid-week.’

‘Well, that’s what I hear, too,’ said Shearson. ‘Not that it’s really going to hit our grain reserves too badly. We’ve got more damned grain stored up than we know what to do with – especially after we stopped selling it to the Soviets. And if you ask me, it won’t do the farmers much harm, either. It’s about time Mother Nature slapped them down a bit, and gave them a genuine reason to be grateful for all those subsidies we give them.’

Alan said cautiously, ‘I still don’t quite get your drift, Shearson.’