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took a deep breath.
    ‘Well I guess everyone has read the latest on the Watson story?’ she began, looking around the table. Sebastian Watson was a senior City banking executive who had been caught out with an escort girl. It had been the splash of one of the Sunday tabloids a few days earlier, and, it being a slow news week, the other papers had waded in, generating enough bad publicity to force Watson’s resignation from his two-million-a-year job.
    ‘There was more on the wire this morning,’ nodded Chuck. ‘Apparently his wife has left him.’
    Jim steepled his fingers together and raised his eyebrows.
    ‘And?’
    ‘I think there is a bigger story here,’ said Ruth, noting Jim’s patronising smile. Even before Isaac had effectively put them in competition, Ruth and Jim had had an uneasy relationship, with the bureau chief never missing an opportunity to subtly undermine her in front of the staff. She told herself that it was because he was threatened by her, and while it no longer upset her – you couldn’t be in this business without a thick skin – she never felt entirely comfortable in his presence.
    ‘How big, exactly?’ said Jim. ‘Sebastian Watson’s story has no resonance Stateside at all; he’s British, barely a celebrity. It’s business gossip at best.’
    ‘Agreed, but Watson himself isn’t the story – it’s the escort girl. She’s twenty-five and from Chesterfield, a town about twenty miles south of Sheffield.’
    ‘I don’t see how—’
    ‘Hear me out,’ said Ruth quickly, opening a file and spreading out copies of various newspaper cuttings.
    ‘Look at this one. Three years ago, the German finance minister was caught entering a west London hotel with another escort girl. There was little coverage about it in the UK, but the German press got hold of the story and it forced his resignation from the Bundeskabinett.’
    She tapped another cutting.
    ‘Bill Danson. Gubernatorial hopeful. Five years ago he’s in London on a business trip and he gets caught with some racy blonde in Chelsea. He pulls out of the governorship race. Are you noticing a pattern?’
    She could feel the eyes of her colleagues on her; she knew they were intrigued, but it was Jim who counted. Everything had to go through Jim, and right now her superior didn’t look impressed.
    ‘So some high-profile men got caught with their pants down.’ He shrugged. ‘It happens. I could add dozens more mug shots to your collection if I had enough time.’
    ‘Yes, but it’s the background of the girls that I’m interested in. The Danson scandal was one of the first stories I covered when I came to London, so I pulled out my notes and looked.’
    She flipped her notebook open and pushed it into the middle of the table.
    ‘The girl involved in that story was also from Chesterfield. In fact, all three girls, Seb Watson’s hooker, the German guy’s and Danson’s, all came from Chesterfield, and they are all roughly the same age.’
    ‘So what does that mean?’ asked Rebecca.
    ‘It means I’m off to Chesterfield if that’s where all the racy birds are from,’ chuckled Karl.
    Ruth ignored him.
    ‘It means that these girls know each other. I bet you a hundred bucks they are old friends. Maybe went to school together. I haven’t had time to look into it just yet, but—’
    ‘And the story with interest and significance to a US audience is . . .?’ asked Jim.
    ‘We have a US candidate for governor who’s had his career destroyed, Jim. If I can just have a little time to join the dots . . .’
    Jim pulled a face and shook his head.
    ‘It’s too thin, Ruth,’ he said briskly. ‘We can’t waste time on maybes at this point.’ He stood up, putting his desk diary under his arm. ‘And that goes for the rest of you too. I want more than this; bigger stories, stronger leads. We need to do better, much better, yes?’
    The team mumbled assent without much enthusiasm and Ruth watched him walk out of the meeting