Food Fight (16 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

“You’re back, great!”

She’d rung Mark as soon as she returned to Washington.

“You feeling strong?”

“DeKripps had better be ready for a fight.” She flexed her muscles and inspected her fist as though about to enter a boxing ring.

“How’s Mimi’s baby?” He liked Meadow’s name. Susan told him she was as cute as anything, that Mimi was fine, and that Josh was a considerate and helpful father.

“But let’s get down to business, shall we? This is a strategy meeting after all.”

“So tell me about DeKripps,” he said, moving his chair next to hers in front of his desk.

“Well, we – I mean they – are powerful. The food industry is nearly one fifth of the US economy. High Fructose Corn Syrup is cheap thanks to the government subsidies,” she said. “Actually, it probably shouldn’t be called HFCS as it’s not really fructose.”

What was it then? “Fructose occurs naturally, but HFCS is man-made. It’s corn stalks put through a process with enzymes which makes a new compound of fructose and glucose. Stop me if I’m boring you. What else?”

He wanted to know about the corporate structure, and the company values. “Would you say DeKripps’ culture is based on rules or principles?” Rules, definitely, she said eventually, thinking of the company’s lobbying efforts and its relationship with the regulators.

“I’m afraid to say that we’ve been trying to persuade the FDA to let us call HFCS corn sugar, which sounds more natural, but it doesn’t look like they’ll let us.”

She also described her role at DeKripps which had helped the company diversify by drilling down into the focus groups which had been her speciality. The face to face interviews had yielded a rich seam of information about family habits, what they’re thinking, from workplace to supermarket to dinner table, she said.

But now, the majority were conducted online in the US. “It’s a shame. You don’t get the same dynamic. Anyway, never mind, I can’t do anything about that now.”

“So what’s the DeKripps brand best known for now, Susie? Excuse my ignorance.” Mark said he’d never paid much attention to food brands until now, and admitted to ordering in on most nights.

The core product remained the breakfast cereals. But that had broadened to include yoghurt, and even biscuits, although she admitted that she wasn’t particularly proud of their added sugar. Then chocolate bars, desserts and ice-cream had been tacked on. And then Guilty Secrets. Frank had always said that we gave the consumer what they wanted, she went on. “But I used to remind him about Henry Ford. ‘If I’d asked people what they wanted, they would have said faster horses.’”

She told Mark how she would identify with the public service aspect of DeKripps, as exemplified by Frank, rather than the power aspect as embodied by Barney.

“But why do you want to know all this?”

“We need to know who we’re up against. Can you remember any time when DeKripps made a concession to the consumer, or whether they would brazen it out in the case of a bad product launch?”

She was twirling a strand of hair round her ear. “You mean like Coca-Cola when they pulled New Coke and then brought in Coca-Cola Classic?” He nodded.

“I’d have to think about that. Yes, actually we did the same. Of course we had the FDA on our heels, and I wasn’t in Washington at the time, but a few years ago we withdrew Kookies because they had undeclared peanuts in them. We were deluged by customers complaining about their faces swelling up because they were allergic. I don’t remember how it all ended, but DeKripps said there was a slip-up. I certainly didn’t think at the time that concealing the additive was deliberate. And we were able to turn it to our advantage by talking about our values.”

“That’s interesting,” he said. “A slip-up. There might be a pattern to explore here. And where do you stand on sugar?”

“Which kind of sugar?”

“I don’t know,” he said, “you tell me.”

“We’re talking about refined sugar, really.” Susan explained how the miracle sweetener HFCS had led their scientists to the Project Candy experiments and Guilty Secrets. She described the positive consumer reaction to Delight when they began adding HFCS. And the cultural differences when branding products. Less sugar added to UK foods than in the US, and even less in France.

“And is the consumer told about added sugars?”

“Yes and no. The FDA let us put the total amount of sugars on food labels, but doesn’t distinguish between natural and added sugars. But then on the food facts it lists the different types.”

“Which presumably most people wouldn’t know about, right?”

“Yes. Probably.” She remembered Kramer and his rant at the bookstore. “But I should say all that’s totally legal.”

“And is there a link to diabetes and obesity?”

“That’s the hundred million dollar question,” she said.

“Personally, I didn’t think so before. But if you consider that the average American consumes sixty pounds of HFCS, compared to zero before it was invented in 1980, and during that time obesity and diabetes have exploded, you have to ask yourself the question.”

She held up a hand as though to stop him. “I know, Mark, don’t tell me, I should have asked myself earlier. But surely there’s a difference between improving taste by adding sugar, and
addiction
.”

He was concentrating and didn’t respond immediately. He must have noticed she was on the defensive.

“So finally, tell me, let’s say this goes to court, and the DeKripps executives are put on trial. What do you want to achieve. Why are you doing this?”

“Revenge.”

“Wrong.” He shook his head in mock dismay.

“No, no, I’m joking.” She took a deep breath. “I want to expose how DeKripps has done wrong – how it is deliberately playing with public health to boost profits.”

“Exactly.”

*

They were sitting in the corner of a dimly lit coffee bar in Georgetown. Susan hadn’t wanted to take the risk of bumping into anyone from work. She ordered coffee for Mark – whose presence she had insisted on – and for the journalist from the Washington Gazette.

Barry Pringle was the Gazette’s health and science reporter. It was one of the few surviving beats on a paper in retreat. Mark had suggested contacting Barbara Miles from the Scrutineer, but Susan worried that she was too close to Barney. She handed the documents to Pringle and sat in silence as he worked through them, underlining sections with his pen as he read.

He didn’t look like he heeded the advice in his own reports, judging from the solid paunch.

Eventually, Pringle put the papers down.

He looked at her, then Mark.

“This is dynamite,” he said. “At least it could be. There’s certainly enough here to smoke them out. Is there anyone on the record about this being addictive?”

“Not yet,” she said. “Apart from anecdotal stuff. Obviously they’re being very careful.”

He started quizzing her about her role at DeKripps, but Mark interrupted. “Look, we have to be really careful about this. If you attribute any of this to a former DeKripps executive, the company is immediately going to know it’s Susan. This leak can’t have any fingerprints on it, I’m afraid.”

“Okay. You can trust me,” the journalist said. “This is on background. You didn’t give this to anyone else, did you?”

“No, it’s exclusive to you.”

Pringle wanted to know how the company had got round the FDA.

“We, I mean they, didn’t tell them. It was secret,” said Susan.“ Criminal, in fact.”

After nearly an hour, they separated, and Pringle agreed to let them know about the publication plans.

“Don’t forget, if you have any more questions, contact me,” said Mark.

“Sure. Thanks again.”

“Okay Susie. Listen up,” he said as they watched the reporter disappear down the Metro escalator. “When we get the heads up about this article, you’d better be nowhere to be seen.”

“Where should I go? London?”

She turned over the possibilities. Her London house was rented out. Wandsworth was out of the question. Lily’s place was too cramped for the two of them for more than a couple of days, and she couldn’t think of anyone else who could take her in. That left her mother. If only Serge were here, she might have found a bolt-hole in Brittany.

“I could stay with my mother in Dorset. Even if the paparazzi start looking for all the Perkins in the phone book, they’re unlikely to narrow it down to there. But I also need to protect Mimi.”

“Perfect.”

They chatted for a while longer before she asked him again, “Are you sure it’s necessary for me to go underground? Have you been watching too many cop dramas?”

“All I watch is Mad Men,” he said. “And even Don Draper couldn’t help us here.”

Mark said it would be wise to take precautions, as situations could develop that were unpredictable. She locked eyes with his seeking reassurance.

“So, thanks again.” She stood up to leave. She might not see him again for a while, she realised, but didn’t want to appear needy.

“I’ll be in touch. See you.”

He opened the door to show her out. “Oh, and there’s one more thing. Get a new phone when you get back to the UK and change your number. We don’t want anyone from DeKripps pressuring you.”

She looked surprised.

“Susie, get this straight. If you expose DeKripps after leaving the company, you’re in contravention of their whistle-blowing policy which precludes contacting the press. They’ll try to discredit you if you’re suspected of the leak. They’ll come after you and your family. It won’t be pretty. And they’ll set the press pack on you.”

She remembered Barney and his threat to bring down Kramer. “Well, there’s only me and Mimi,” she said. “And my mother, of course.”

She saw the lawyer’s gaze settle on her ring finger.

“Oh. My husband died three and a half years ago. I’ve never got round to taking it off. ”

“I see. I’m sorry.”

“Anyway, I’d like to see them come after Mimi – she can take care of herself.”

A few days later Susan headed for the airport, with hardly a farewell glance at the characterless apartment she’d called home. She grabbed one last box of Guilty Secrets from the fridge, steeling herself to ignore the others in the pile.

As she waited for a cab outside the apartment, she glanced nervously behind her and tried to damp down the stirrings of paranoia. Why was that guy leaning against a streetlamp with his hand in his pocket?

She turned again to stare defiantly at him and watched as he pulled out a phone from his raincoat. Who was he calling? He seemed oblivious to her presence but isn’t that part of the training?

Her thoughts were on fast-forward on the ride to Dulles. The taxi crossed the sparkling waters of the Potomac on the Arlington Memorial Bridge then climbed up through the trees lining the Spout Run Parkway. This is it, first Big Tobacco, now Big Food. A trial. People may go to jail thanks to her. The idea was simultaneously terrifying and exhilarating. Barney in jail! Then she thought, dismally: What if
I
end up in jail? I stole company property and violated a confidentiality agreement.

Her thoughts turned to Mark. He’d seemed genuinely pleased to see her. She closed her eyes to picture him better. She was just thinking about his bitten fingernails when the cab driver interrupted her reverie.

“That’s fifty five dollars, please, Ma’am.”

She dropped her suitcase at the airline counter and headed for the gate. As she glided down the escalator towards the immigration controls, a full screen ad caught her attention.

She saw the lady with the lamp, on her way to the fridge with the tousle-haired boy. It was a giant billboard for Guilty Secrets.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Susan let herself quietly into Lily’s flat and listened for the sounds of flute practice in the bedroom. Nothing. She placed the velvet-lined black leather flute case on the table and crept away. She’d only got as far as the sofa when the bedroom door opened and Lily came out, stretching her arms, dressed in a turquoise tank top and jeans.

“What’s this?” She noticed the case on the table straight away.

“Open it and see.”

“Oh no. You haven’t. You couldn’t have.”

Lily snatched the case and opened it to reveal the glittering silver instrument inside. “I can’t believe you’ve done this! This has cost you a fortune!”

“Do you like it? I was so worried about picking the wrong one. I should have asked you, but I wanted to surprise you. I hope that’s okay.”

“Are you kidding? Of course it’s okay!” Lily examined the instrument carefully before giving Susan a hug. “How can I thank you enough? You’ll be first on the list for free tickets to my next concert.”

“How can I thank
you
?” said Susan. “You’ve been such a support for me. Aren’t you going to try it?”

Later, she said, glowing with pleasure. She put it away carefully.

“And now, will you let me buy you a drink?”

“You’d better be careful or you’ll have spent all your redundancy money before you even get it.”

They walked to a pub near Borough Market, where traders were putting away their stalls. Lily appeared not to notice a wolf-whistle in her direction from a vegetable stallholder whose belly hung over his jeans. At least Susan assumed it was for Lily. It usually was.

She wanted to warn her that any day now, there would be an article in the Washington Gazette denouncing DeKripps for illegally developing an addictive food ingredient. She needed to get to Lymington in a hurry, and who knew how long she would have to stay with her mother and Nellie.

“You mean you’re the whistle-blower? You managed to get the incriminating evidence?”

She nodded.

“This is so exciting! It’s like Russell Crowe in
The
Insider
!”

She smiled grimly. They’d seen it together, the film in which a company executive goes public with internal documents to expose malpractice in Big Tobacco. “I suppose so. Actually it might be more alike than you think. It’s all about deliberately working on an addictive ingredient. I’d imagine that investigators are going to have to know who knew what and when. Who gave the order. That kind of thing.”

Lily whistled in admiration.

“Better not get ahead of ourselves though.” Susan raised her glass, beaming. “But guess who’s in the line of fire? It couldn’t happen to a nicer person.”

“Barney? Cheers,” said Lily, clinking her glass against Susan’s. “Okay, who’s going to play you in the movie? Julia Roberts?”

“Stop it, Lily. This is serious. She’s too old, anyway.”

“Have you told Mimi?” Lily had put her finger on it, as usual.

“Not yet. I have to find the right time. The baby, you know.”

“How is she coping with Meadow?”

“Incredibly well. But Josh is the real revelation. When I was at the flat, there he was changing nappies, bathing her, winding her, completely unfazed.”

“Earth to Susie. Guess what, men have changed since we were their age. Not everyone runs off scared in the middle of a pregnancy. But wait a sec,” she said. “Isn’t anyone at the company going to suspect you?”

“I don’t see how. I’m being so careful. I’ve covered my tracks and I trust the Gazette guy to protect me. I’ve gone over it again and again, and I can’t see that there’s a trail leading to me, so fingers crossed and touch wood,” Susan said, tapping the table.

They picked up an Indian takeaway on the way back to Lily’s flat. It was one of the things she’d missed in DC, where Ethiopian cuisine had definitely not been a substitute. Later that night, wishing she hadn’t had a second helping of chicken masala, she checked her emails before going to bed. There were a couple of phishing scams and a message from Mark.

“Lily,” she called out after a quick calculation. “Oh no. The Washington Gazette. It’s going to be online tonight!”

*

She’d put the sofa bed away and was making breakfast in the kitchen when Lily came through and switched on the TV. She heard her shout, “Susie, Susie!” and rushed in.

Despite Mark’s warning, Susan hadn’t anticipated the firestorm the Gazette article could ignite. Project Candy was already the top story on the main TV news channels, and running along the bottom of the screen was a ticker that announced ‘FOOD GIANT ACCUSED’. There was no sign of any reaction from DeKripps, as it was still the middle of the night in America.

She ran to the computer on Lily’s dining room table, read the Gazette story carefully, twice, then printed it off. The headline read: ‘Multinational accused of adulterating food: addictive ingredient allegedly developed by DeKripps.’ It was the main front page story and continued at length in the news section.

Pringle had done a good job, nothing in the article could be traced to her, although he did mention marketing and the targeting of children. A DeKripps spokesman, contacted by the Gazette, queried the authenticity of the documents, but there was no outright denial. She wondered idly whether the spokesman was Judy. She went back to the sofa where Lily sat, mesmerized, in front of the television.

“Thank God nobody’s mentioned you,” she said. “Well done.”

There were experts already comparing DeKripps to the tobacco scandal, and saying that the leaked document could only have come from an insider. Other specialists, who were talking about possible links between sugar additives and diabetes, were also wheeled in. One was Kramer. He must be lapping this up.

“Oh my God,” she said to nobody in particular. She had to warn Mimi about keeping a low profile. But just as she reached for her phone, her daughter rang.

“Ma, have you seen the news about DeKripps?”

“Of course I have. Lily and I are watching it now.”

“Fantastic. We’re just putting out a press release, and getting the ‘DeKripps is Krap’ campaign rolling again. It’s just as well you left that disgusting bunch of hypocrites.”

“Just a minute. You’re doing what?”

Susan’s heart sank. The news about DeKripps was a gift for USAway, of course. “Mimi, I want you to take a leave of absence, extend your maternity leave, whatever. But I don’t want you at work at the moment.”

“Are you out of your mind? Look, I’m far too busy to talk about this right now,” she said. “Anyway, what do you care? You’ve left DeKripps and I’m glad you did.”

She rang off, leaving Susan holding the phone saying “Hello? Mimi?”

“Doesn’t sound like that went too well,” said Lily. “Here, let’s have that coffee.”

“And I haven’t even told her it’s me! What am I going to do?”

They agreed that she should confess to Mimi at the earliest opportunity, but Susan worried that she wouldn’t answer the phone for the rest of the day.

“I’d better go to her office. I need to speak to her directly.”

“But didn’t the lawyer tell you to lie low?”

“He did, but you know what Mimi’s like.”

“Let’s just take it one day at a time. Stay here, and talk to Mimi tonight. She’ll be on your side, I’m sure.”

They returned to the living room where DeKripps was still ‘Breaking News’. By lunchtime, there were protesters outside her old office in Covent Garden, holding up ‘DeKripps is Krap’ placards, ‘GUILTY Secrets’ and ‘USAway’. Maybe she would see Frank leaving the building.

“God, look at that, it’s Mimi’s NGO,” she said. “Quick work.”

“Where
does
she get her talent for strategy?”

She remembered with horror the incident in Congress. “What if somebody remembers about Mimi being forced to leave Washington? It said in the articles she was the daughter of a DeKripps executive. Oh shit, I’d better warn her now before something else happens.”

She swallowed, picked up the phone and rang Mimi at the office.

“Listen mum, I’ve already told you. I’m really busy today with this DeKripps thing.”

“Mimi,” Susan said. The tense note of urgency in her voice ensured that she would pay attention. “That’s what I’m calling about. The whistle-blower – it’s me. That’s why I want you to keep a low profile. People might make the connection between USAway, me and the leak. This is too important to mess up.”

“I see.” She could almost hear Mimi thinking.

“All they would have to do is google USAway and DeKripps, and it’s right there. Please Mimi,” she pleaded. “I’m an Internet search away from exposure.”

“Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“I was going to. But you were busy with Meadow. And I didn’t know how you’d react.”

“Well that’s pretty cool. I never would have dreamed it could be you. But don’t worry about me, Mum. I have to do my job. There are only five of us in the office, and I can’t let them down.”

“Mimi, you don’t get it, do you? There is a big risk that my cover could be blown if you keep up your silly activities.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. And they’re not silly. Exposing the lies of a multinational is a civic duty, and we’re supporting you. I’ve really got to go now. But Ma - you rock. ”

As she sat down again next to Lily, she realised it was the first time she had ever heard any words of praise from her daughter.

*

The DeKripps story ebbed and flowed in successive news cycles over the next couple of days, feeding Susan’s anxiety. The Daily Scrum – generally known as the ‘Scum’ -told its millions of readers: “Kids hooked on ‘magic’ chocs” before punning on DeKripps with its “hand in the cookie jar”. Predictably the paper also picked up the ‘GUILTY Secrets’ line.

The French papers were also covering the story. Le Monde had one of its typically impenetrable headlines which seemed to go on forever, and promised a special
dossier
on Big Food in the coming days.

Susan felt trapped at Lily’s but was thankful for a bed while the media storm passed over. She spent her time on the sofa in front of the TV, the muted sounds of a flute in the bedroom next door. She paced around the living room, unable to get DeKripps out of her mind, worrying whether anyone in the office had made a connection to her, and wondering what else she could do.

DeKripps was hitting back, filling the airwaves as much as they could with spokespeople who stressed how they had consumers’ interests at heart and that was what had prompted the scientific research. Somehow they had deflected attention from the incriminating information in the Project Candy files. Once she saw Barney on the TV, looking smooth and reassuring, his thick grey hair combed back. She leapt up and shouted at the television: “Fucking asshole!” For a few seconds, she felt a lot better.

The days rolled on. Mark told her to sit tight, that DeKripps was big news in America and being followed by the main cable news networks. The FDA launched an investigation, just as he’d predicted, and slapped an injunction on Guilty Secrets pending the outcome.

“I bet the top dogs at DeKripps are having heart attacks,” he said during one of their calls. “They’ll be subpoenaed by the FDA from the CEO down.”

But, he added, the DeKripps fightback had begun in earnest. “DeKripps has lawyers too,” he said. “The last time I saw Barney on TV, he was holding up a sheet of paper and asking them to point to a single instance of the word ‘addictive.’”

“You mean it’s not the smoking gun?” Her stomach lurched and her mouth felt dry.

“I’m saying it’s one thing to accuse DeKripps of having intent, and quite another to say they deliberately developed an addictive product and hid the dangers. That’s what all the Big Tobacco cases came down to.”

“What about Tony Stella?” she said. The elusive scientist had been on her mind. “He’s the one with the inside story. They’ll have to get him to corroborate the document. Can’t they track him down?”

“I heard the feds are after him,” he said. “You doing okay?”

“I’m holding up, don’t worry,” she said. “But this thing is doing my head in.”

She was wrung out from the combination of long hours of boredom and moments of pumping adrenalin, the days spent concealed behind the green curtains and closed windows, lit by the screen. She’d also had time to examine her own role at DeKripps.

Sometimes the self-interrogation kept her up all night. Had she been right to take so little interest in the products she’d marketed? Was she culpable to have promised Barney she’d sell anything he came up with? People in marketing were dream-makers. But surely they had responsibilities too. What about all those sugary drinks and chocolate bars she’d sold in her career? It was a public health issue. She couldn’t hide any longer behind Frank and his happy customers.

She waited and watched. Once, she and Lily went to the local pub, but even there the TV was on, and she kept checking the live ticker every few seconds. On the evenings when Lily was performing, she watched every newscast, channel hopping as she jerked the remote for a new wrinkle in the saga. Apart from the occasional shouts of ‘DeKripps is Krap’ from a handful of protesters in Covent Garden, Mimi’s NGO had gone quiet.