‘All ready.’
‘Now you take this down in your own way; I never could dictate. A friend of mine has just got back from a visit to the Union — he went out there to collect material for a newspaper column. Well, he remembers meeting Arlen Gatt and some of the others at a cocktail party of mine, and that’s principally why he rang me up — you see, he didn’t know where to find your outfit, and when he heard about all the panic he remembered something. His name is Ganin — get it? — Mike Ganin.
‘Mike used to work at a steel foundry in the Midlands — one of those independent places where they produce special steels for specific requirements. It’s called the Newlands Steel Company. Are you with me so far?’
‘I’ve got it, Mr Springle.’
‘People who come to my parties have to call me Ed. Okay. Ganin had a special job there — incidentally, he has a physics degree, and has played around with neutrons, protons and all the other trons quite a bit.
‘To cut a long story short, there was some trouble at Newlands. A lot of trouble. And Mike had to leave. You’ll guess what it was all about when you meet him.’ He spoke as if it angered him in some way. But he continued: ‘Mike will give you all the details when he arrives — he’s on the boat, train from Liverpool at the moment, but he should check in at the Department this afternoon; he’s going straight there.’
Kate said: ‘Have you any more details about this?’ She couldn’t quite say ‘Ed’, so she left out the name altogether.
‘Yes, a lot more. But I’d rather they had it from Mike direct; and in any case it’s technical, and you’re not too technical, are you?’ He didn’t wait for her reply. ‘I can’t stand technical women, anyway — June wouldn’t know Zeta from a doughnut at a coffee-stand. If Gatt wants any more information from me, he can call me back at my office. Otherwise I suggest they wait until Mike gets there. Now, do you think you can put Arlen in the picture?’
Kate said she thought she could. She added politely, ‘Any news about Mrs Springle?’
Simmel rejoined the meeting after lunch, and informed the Director that the arrangements were completed for a short press conference at 4.30. ‘Upstairs in the main conference room, sir.’
‘I hope you made it clear to the Press Office that we must get rid of them in half an hour?’
‘Very clear, Sir Robert. Also that their copy is not to be released until we give the okay.’
‘Good.’ He smiled slightly. ‘Well, even in the period of thirty swift minutes we should be able to give them plenty to think about!’ He spoke to the room in general. ‘Now, here are some facts and figures that have come through since lunch about the actual proportion of the batch of 210,000 tins that are likely to have been affected. This morning, under the supervision of Alec here, one thousand tins selected over wide areas from various retailers and wholesalers that are thought to have been part of the batch, were put through the Railton Sorter — that is, a machine which passes objects along a moving band and separates those which are radioactive from those which are not. If there have been no errors in the batch-numbers, these figures are about the only encouraging feature of this ghastly mess — for only about twelve per cent of them appeared to be affected. This suggests that a different metal was used in the manufacture of these tins than was in the others. Mr Spigett, is it the practice of your firm to use cans with some kind of inner coating?’
Sydney Spigett stopped doodling on the pad with a start. ‘I’m sorry! What’s that you say?’
Sir Robert repeated the question with no sign of impatience.
‘Yes,’ said Spigett. ‘It prevents the food getting that tangy taste when the lid’s left open. Also it preserves some types of food longer.’
‘Right. So there is a definite line of investigation that we must follow up immediately. Mr Spigett, do you happen to know offhand where you purchased the metal for this particular batch of tins?’
Spigett yawned, then hastily smothered it. ‘I haven’t a clue. Don’t forget, when I mentioned the figure of 210,000 tins I was referring to a batch actually canned. The supply of empty cans wouldn’t necessarily correspond to this. We have two standard sizes of tins, and we keep a reasonable stock of them both at the factory. And since we make our own, we also have a floating stock of sheet-metal.’
For the first time the Director showed some irritation. ‘Well, I wish you’d said that before, Mr Spigett. Because it may mean that other batches are affected — either the one immediately before or the one after.’
‘I should have thought it was obvious,’ said Spigett. ‘You don’t order exactly the amount of metal you need for canning a batch of beans, and then sit around on your backside waiting for it to come in.’
‘Can you find out what products were canned immediately before and after the two hundred thousand odd in question? I take it that you use your plant to cope with one lot at a time?’
‘That’s it. We do them in rotation — beans, then, maybe, the soups, then spaghetti and so on. Yes, I can find that out tomorrow.’
The Director stubbed out a cigarette with deliberation. ‘Mr Spigett, I don’t think you quite realise the urgency of this matter. Human lives are at stake. Can’t you get those facts immediately?’
‘Are you kidding? If you don’t think I realise the urgency, I wish you knew what this business had done to my sales! Now you’re asking me to jeopardize some more of my products.’
The Director’s voice had become dangerously quiet. ‘Yes, that’s what I’m asking. I’m asking you, at the moment, Mr Spigett.’
Spigett stood up. He looked very different now from the jovial ex-barrow-boy who had been laughing and joking with them all the previous day. His face was puce with rage. ‘Are you threatening me?’
‘No. I’m not threatening you, I’m telling you. I can perfectly easily close down your entire factory today if I think it necessary. Naturally I don’t want to take such a step. But I will if I have to.’
‘I see,’ said Spigett. ‘I see. I give you all my co-operation, and you take that attitude. It’s all very well for you. I have over a thousand employees to think of. They depend on me to pay their rent, to keep their wives and families. Now you want to put me out of business!’ He stood there, wanting to walk out, but realising at the same time that it would not be in his interests to do so.
The Director spoke gently. ‘Look, Spigett. Be reasonable! Tempers have been a bit frayed all round today — indeed, it is not surprising; I expected it. We are all under very considerable strain. And naturally you have the interests of your workers at heart.’ He managed to keep any suggestion of satire out of his voice when he said this, but it was an effort. ‘I’m simply appealing to you for help. Unluckily, it was your product that became infected. It probably wasn’t through any fault of yours, and you must feel very bitter about it; I know I would. But the unpleasant fact remains: the reputation of Spigett’s Canned Foods is at stake. Our only chance to restore the damage, both to your company and to public safety in general, is to pull together. A new fact has emerged. It is that the amount of sheet-metal affected may not correspond to the number in the batch. Of course, I should have realised this sooner; it was my stupidity. But now that we know this, am I not justified in asking you to find out where, if anywhere, the rest of the metal went — if there was, in fact, any remaining?’
Spigett seemed mollified. He sat down as suddenly as he had stood up. ‘You’re right, Gatt,’ he said irrelevantly, ‘that bloody fan does squeak.’ He turned back to the Director. He was almost his jovial self again. ‘Sir Robert,’ he said, ‘I like you. You’re a man after my own heart. Outspoken. We understand each other.’ For one ridiculous moment it looked as if he were about to offer him a seat on the Board of Spigett’s Canned Foods. But he said: ‘I see your point of view. You’ve got your angle, and I’ve got mine. Very well, I will find out. We will get to the bottom of this. If Mr Simmel can phone my factory manager for me, he can give all the details you want.’