I've Got Your Number
Page 90
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“I won’t crash in with anything.” Sam glowers at him. “Have a little trust. Jesus.”
“So what are you planning to do?” Mark looks genuinely interested.
“Walk around. Listen. Find the needle in the haystack.” Sam turns to me. “You up for that, Poppy?”
“Totally.” I nod, trying to hide how panicked I feel. I’m half-wishing I never took those messages down now.
“And then … ” Robbie still looks dissatisfied.
“Let’s cross that bridge.”
There’s silence in the room.
“OK,” says Robbie at last. “Do it. Go on. I guess it can’t do any harm. And how will you explain away Poppy?”
“New PA?” suggests Mark.
Sam shakes his head. “I’ve appointed a new PA, and half the floor has met her already. Let’s keep it simple. Poppy’s thinking of joining the company. I’m showing her round. OK with that, Poppy?”
“Yes! Fine.”
“Got that personnel list?”
“Here.” Robbie hands it to him. “But be discreet, Sam.”
Mark has opened the door a crack and is looking into the lobby.
“They’re coming out,” he says. “All yours.”
We head out of the room, into the lobby. Both sets of double doors are open and people are streaming out of them, all wearing badges and chatting, some laughing. They all look pretty fresh, given it’s 6:30 p.m. and they’ve been listening to speeches all afternoon.
“There are so many. ” I stare at the groups of people, feeling totally daunted.
“It’s fine,” says Sam firmly. “You know it’s a male voice. That already cuts it down. We’ll just go round the room and rule them out, one by one. I have my suspicions, but … I won’t bias you.”
Slowly, I follow him into the mêlée. People are grabbing drinks from waiters and greeting each other and shouting jokes across other people’s heads. It’s cacophony. My ears feel as though they’re radar sensors, straining this way and that to catch the sound of voices.
“Heard our guy yet?” Sam says, as he hands me a glass of orange juice. I can tell he’s half joking, half hopeful.
I shake my head. I’m feeling overwhelmed. The sound in the room is like a melded roar in my head. I can barely distinguish any individual strands, let alone pick out the exact tones of a voice I heard for twenty seconds, days ago, down a mobile-phone line.
“OK, let’s be methodical.” Sam is talking almost to himself. “We’ll go round the room in concentric circles. Does that sound like a plan?”
I flash him a smile, but I’ve never felt so pressured in my life. No one else can do this. No one else heard that voice. It’s down to me. Now I know how sniffer dogs must feel at airports.
We head to a group of women, who are standing together with two middle-aged men.
“Hi there!” Sam greets them all pleasantly. “Having a good time? Let me introduce Poppy, who’s having a look round. Poppy, this is Jeremy … and Peter… . Jeremy, how many years have you been with us now? And Peter? Is it three years?”
OK. Now that I’m listening properly, close up, this is easier. One man has a low growly voice and the other is Scandinavian. After about ten seconds I shake my head at Sam, and he moves us swiftly off to another group, discreetly ticking his list as we go.
“Hi there! Having a good time? Let me introduce Poppy, who’s having a look round. Poppy, you’ve already met Nihal. Now, Colin, what are you up to these days?”
It’s amazing how different voices are, once you start to pay attention. Not only the pitch but the accents, the timbres, the little speech impediments and slurs and quirks.
“What about you?” I join in, smiling at a bearded guy who hasn’t uttered a syllable.
“Well, it’s been a tricky year … ” he begins ponderously.
No. Uh-uh. Nothing like. I glance at Sam, shaking my head, and he abruptly takes hold of my arm.
“Sorry, Dudley, we must dash.” He heads to the next group along and charges straight in, interrupting an anecdote. “Poppy, this is Simon… . Stephanie you’ve met, I think … Simon, Poppy was just admiring your jacket. Where’s it from?”
I can’t believe how blatant Sam’s being. He’s practically ignoring all the women and being totally unsubtle about getting the men to talk. But I guess it’s the only way.
The more voices I listen to, the more confident I feel. This is easier than I thought it would be, because they’re all so different from the one on the phone. Except that we’ve already been to four groups and eliminated them. I scan the room anxiously. What if I get all the way round the room and I still haven’t heard the guy from the phone?
“So what are you planning to do?” Mark looks genuinely interested.
“Walk around. Listen. Find the needle in the haystack.” Sam turns to me. “You up for that, Poppy?”
“Totally.” I nod, trying to hide how panicked I feel. I’m half-wishing I never took those messages down now.
“And then … ” Robbie still looks dissatisfied.
“Let’s cross that bridge.”
There’s silence in the room.
“OK,” says Robbie at last. “Do it. Go on. I guess it can’t do any harm. And how will you explain away Poppy?”
“New PA?” suggests Mark.
Sam shakes his head. “I’ve appointed a new PA, and half the floor has met her already. Let’s keep it simple. Poppy’s thinking of joining the company. I’m showing her round. OK with that, Poppy?”
“Yes! Fine.”
“Got that personnel list?”
“Here.” Robbie hands it to him. “But be discreet, Sam.”
Mark has opened the door a crack and is looking into the lobby.
“They’re coming out,” he says. “All yours.”
We head out of the room, into the lobby. Both sets of double doors are open and people are streaming out of them, all wearing badges and chatting, some laughing. They all look pretty fresh, given it’s 6:30 p.m. and they’ve been listening to speeches all afternoon.
“There are so many. ” I stare at the groups of people, feeling totally daunted.
“It’s fine,” says Sam firmly. “You know it’s a male voice. That already cuts it down. We’ll just go round the room and rule them out, one by one. I have my suspicions, but … I won’t bias you.”
Slowly, I follow him into the mêlée. People are grabbing drinks from waiters and greeting each other and shouting jokes across other people’s heads. It’s cacophony. My ears feel as though they’re radar sensors, straining this way and that to catch the sound of voices.
“Heard our guy yet?” Sam says, as he hands me a glass of orange juice. I can tell he’s half joking, half hopeful.
I shake my head. I’m feeling overwhelmed. The sound in the room is like a melded roar in my head. I can barely distinguish any individual strands, let alone pick out the exact tones of a voice I heard for twenty seconds, days ago, down a mobile-phone line.
“OK, let’s be methodical.” Sam is talking almost to himself. “We’ll go round the room in concentric circles. Does that sound like a plan?”
I flash him a smile, but I’ve never felt so pressured in my life. No one else can do this. No one else heard that voice. It’s down to me. Now I know how sniffer dogs must feel at airports.
We head to a group of women, who are standing together with two middle-aged men.
“Hi there!” Sam greets them all pleasantly. “Having a good time? Let me introduce Poppy, who’s having a look round. Poppy, this is Jeremy … and Peter… . Jeremy, how many years have you been with us now? And Peter? Is it three years?”
OK. Now that I’m listening properly, close up, this is easier. One man has a low growly voice and the other is Scandinavian. After about ten seconds I shake my head at Sam, and he moves us swiftly off to another group, discreetly ticking his list as we go.
“Hi there! Having a good time? Let me introduce Poppy, who’s having a look round. Poppy, you’ve already met Nihal. Now, Colin, what are you up to these days?”
It’s amazing how different voices are, once you start to pay attention. Not only the pitch but the accents, the timbres, the little speech impediments and slurs and quirks.
“What about you?” I join in, smiling at a bearded guy who hasn’t uttered a syllable.
“Well, it’s been a tricky year … ” he begins ponderously.
No. Uh-uh. Nothing like. I glance at Sam, shaking my head, and he abruptly takes hold of my arm.
“Sorry, Dudley, we must dash.” He heads to the next group along and charges straight in, interrupting an anecdote. “Poppy, this is Simon… . Stephanie you’ve met, I think … Simon, Poppy was just admiring your jacket. Where’s it from?”
I can’t believe how blatant Sam’s being. He’s practically ignoring all the women and being totally unsubtle about getting the men to talk. But I guess it’s the only way.
The more voices I listen to, the more confident I feel. This is easier than I thought it would be, because they’re all so different from the one on the phone. Except that we’ve already been to four groups and eliminated them. I scan the room anxiously. What if I get all the way round the room and I still haven’t heard the guy from the phone?
