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businesses to run their logistics. More flexible than owning a fleet. Cheaper than paying ad hoc haulage.’
    He stabbed a finger in the direction of the haulage world beyond the panoramic window. ‘For a number of reasons,’ he said, ‘we need to land that contract.’
    â€˜A number of reasons?’
    â€˜A number of reasons,’ he confirmed.
    â€˜How many trucks do you operate?’ I asked.
    â€˜We run fifty container trailers. A few bulk carriers and vans. Our main business is container.’
    â€˜So this contract would cover most of your fleet.’
    â€˜For two years,’ he said.
    â€˜That would be a good contract.’
    He gave me a kind of smile. I had it.
    â€˜So what’s the problem?’
    â€˜The problem,’ he said, ‘is that we have to win the contract.’
    He stayed silent, watched me take this in. I was wondering how much of HP Logistics had been built on legitimate operations. I recognised Palmer’s type.
    â€˜What,’ I asked again, ‘can we do to help?’
    He waited a moment, like he was deciding whether to bring me in or kick me out. Decided to go with the risk.
    â€˜There are three firms bidding,’ he said, ‘including us. The way the client works is they contract to the second-lowest bidder. They don’t want to pay high prices but it’s essential to avoid the vendor who’s under-bidding. He’s the one who will let you down when he can’t deliver.’
    Seemed logical.
    â€˜In this particular case,’ he said, ‘we believe that all three bids will meet the key operating requirements. So the selection will come down to price.’
    â€˜The second lowest,’ I said.
    He nodded. ‘The middle of the three gets the job,’ he said.
    â€˜So,’ I said, ‘ideally speaking HP Logistics would be the middle bidder.’
    Palmer’s expression switched to surprise, as if he’d only just thought of that one. Then he sat forward and dropped his fist gently on the desk. The smile came back. I’d got it again.
    â€˜We need to be the middle bidder,’ he said. ‘Funny how simple life is.’
    I thought about this.
    â€˜So what you need,’ I extrapolated, ‘are your competitors’ prices. Before you put in your own bid.’
    The smile held. We were moving together on this.
    â€˜And you want Eagle Eye to get that information,’ I concluded.
    Palmer’s smile broadened. He raised his palms. Simple as that. ‘I need you to get that information,’ he said, ‘fast. I want those bids on my desk by this weekend.’
    â€˜So,’ I said, ‘we burglarise these competitors and steal the information.’
    Palmer’s smile chilled. I sensed disillusionment stirring. A creeping suspicion that he’d gone with the wrong risk.
    â€˜We don’t steal anything,’ he said. ‘I just want you to copy the key figures and get them to me. So we can finalise our bid.’
    I had it. A little break-in at his competitors’ offices. Find out what their tender prices are. Quietly. So no one knows that HP Logistics’ bid is rigged. And for this discreet operation Palmer was offering three times Eagle Eye’s going rates. There was only one fly in the ointment.
    â€˜Rigging bids is illegal, Mr Palmer.’
    Palmer’s face transitioned to certainty. His instinct had been right. He’d gone against his gut feeling and gambled wrong. His expression was granite.
    â€˜Sometimes you have to bend the rules a little in this business,’ he said quietly.
    I gave this some consideration then explained Eagle Eye’s policy.
    â€˜I’m sorry, Mr Palmer,’ I said. ‘We don’t do illegal stuff.’
    Palmer watched me. His expression remained stony but a fuse was lit. Suddenly he leaned forward like he wanted to come over the desk.
    â€˜Illegal?’ he hissed. ‘Am I hearing you right? Are