Conferences are Murder Read Online Free PDF Page A

to seven, the ending of time off in lieu for overnight stays away from base, and the freezing of expense allowances at 1982 levels.” She could see Tom’s eyes narrow and his thick eyebrows descend, but she carried on. “As far as I’m concerned, that is a lot more than the thin end of the wedge.”
    Tom was on his feet, all traces of his momentary anger gone. His voice was conciliatory, aimed at the expressions of uncertainty that had appeared on the faces of some of his audience. “Colleagues, Lindsay’s making a point here that none of you can afford to ignore. And that point is that even with a strong chapel and experienced negotiators, you have to give a little ground. But against that, we have to weigh the fact that I personally sat across the table from Carnegie Wilson and persuaded him to drop his plans for ten-percent redundancies across the board at Nation Newspapers. We also now have a deal that no element of new technology will be introduced without a fully negotiated agreement between management and workforce.” He was blustering now, desperately trying to make it look as if he hadn’t rolled over like the lap-dog Lindsay suspected he was. She could imagine only too well the “good old boys” atmosphere of the negotiations, and the amount of alcohol that had flowed to ensure good working relationships.
    As he carried on trying to win his audience back, Lindsay pushed herself away from the wall and walked out in disgust. Her departure made her point more forcefully than her words, but she was past caring about the effect. She wandered back towards the main concourse, desperately wishing Frances was only a phone call away.
    She had reached the door of the conference hall when she was stopped by a member of the JU Women’s Caucus, canvassing support for some motion or other. Absently, Lindsay listened to the familiar litany, nodding non-committally when some response seemed to be called for. She was shocked back to full attention by a heavy hand clamped on her shoulder and
Tom Jack’s voice in her ear. “Just whose side are you on, Lindsay Gordon?” he asked menacingly.
    Lindsay looked over her shoulder. Tom was flanked by a handful of his sidekicks. Ian was hovering on the edges of the bunch, trying to work his way round to her. She spoke softly, so her words wouldn’t carry farther than their small group. “Keeping the truth from people doesn’t solve anything, Tom,” she said wearily. “It tends to filter through in the end. Then what people will remember is that you bull-shitted them over your deal with Wilson.” She would have said more, but Ian put a warning hand on her arm.
    â€œYou’re too bloody smart by half. You should remember whose side you’re on. Leave playing devil’s advocate to that fancy lawyer you’re shacked up with. You’ve been spending too much time listening to Miss Frances Collier.”
    Lindsay felt suddenly light-headed. Tom Jack’s mouth carried on moving, but she could hear nothing. It was as if a glass bubble had enclosed her, cutting her off from the world around her. Without a word, she pulled away from his restraining grip and pushed through the group of men behind him.
    As she began to run down the hall, the wall of silence shattered and she heard Ian Ross shout at Tom Jack, “You stupid, insensitive bastard. You’re about as out of touch as you’re out of order. Don’t you know anything about your chapel members? Frances Collier died six weeks ago. How could you not know that?”

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    â€œAn inevitable consequence of the volume of work demanded of conference delegates is that they will suffer from a lack of sleep as conference week progresses. In order to avoid feeling like dead dogs, we recommend you bring a substantial supply of Vitamins C and B Complex as well as the painkiller of your choice.”
    from “Advice for New Delegates,” a