by Bill James
‘You’ll be a bygone by then. That’s enough bygones. The only gesture we give that high-energy, peripatetic slag is the finger,’ Joan Fenton replied. ‘She smashed the marriage. But the £38,320 is, in fact, a gesture, and more than a gesture. She’ll have absolutely no cause to dispute the will. She buggers off to North Wales with a vet but still gets a sweet little package of notes. I might get it to £38,275.’
This seemed to be all Joan Fenton thought of: disputes, and how to win them or dodge them. For her, it seemed to Manse, life – and death – was just an eternal war, all to do with enemies and people trying it on, and grab-alls, if they could grab-all, or grab a nice chunk, anyway. Maybe this was how lawyers had to be, especially at the top in London. If you hired one, you let them run things.
Manse didn’t mind her glasses at all. In any case, they were not structural like big ears or a snout nose, and could come off easy enough in a passion merge. She had a longish face, but nothing bony, nothing pointed, and lovely smooth skin of her special category. He could imagine this face under him, no glasses, still longish and unbony, not pointy, but also lit up by delight as unhurried intimacy took place in some excellent surroundings, such as a room with bare stone walls where tapestries hung showing knights, flags, minstrels and rivers, that sort of scene. There might be a low table in the room where decanters stood grouped containing very dark red Madeira and Marsala wines.
‘What are the prospects, as you see them, Mansel?’ she said.
‘In which area?’
‘Marital. Business.’ She said it like this was very obvious. ‘For my guidance. We need a strategy. Take business first. Do you see haulage and scrap proceeding in profitable style, notwithstanding occasional reverses? You have a good, steady continuing customer base, do you? Are you buoyant in that respect?’
‘Our market is stable. I like to think of the people we deal with as friends rather than customers.’
‘Though they are customers, and plentiful? Growing in number? There’ll always be twice as many nostrils as people, won’t there? This is a happy statistic. You weather the steep ups and downs in wholesale prices all right?’
‘I believe we can reasonably claim to offer a fine service,’ Shale replied.
‘Suppliers reliable? They’ve got the fix in OK back in their own countries?’
‘I’m very particular about good personal relationships. It’s commerce, yes, but this does not mean the human touch must be absent, I hope. Remember the Cadbury family and their thoughtfulness towards the masses, as well as the money-making choc factories. But then the company was sold and things changed.‘
‘And no trouble from the authorities here?’ she said.
‘The authorities?’
‘Yes, you know, Manse, the authorities. They sometimes tell us of great coups they’ve brought off at airports or on the coast, the street value millions, billions, people banged up.’
‘Coups?’
‘Interceptions.’
‘Interceptions of what?’
‘Yes, that’s it, interceptions,’ she said.
‘Why would the company have trouble from the authorities? Oh, Health and Safety, d’you mean? Some mock – call it “Elf and Safety”. But I consider they have a worthwhile task. Absolutely. People’s well-being. We’re always very careful. Many notices around the walls: “Hard hats must be worn at all times.” That kind of thing.’
‘Brilliant,’ she replied. ‘And as to marital?’
‘I’m still at the stage of getting used to the break from Sybil. I don’t know whether you’ve ever gone through divorce, Joan – I mean personally, not just handling cases.’
‘Carmel, Patricia and Lowri are, or have been, of wonderful assistance in this, I imagine,’ she replied.
‘Unparalleled.’
‘Except by one another. And the possibility of something more established soon? I don’t necessarily mean with any of those, rather a different type of acquaintanceship –potentially more lengthy. It’s not my wish to pry, but we need to have in mind the smart readjustments that might be required then. This is the essence of good legal practice – anticipation.’
‘You’re talking pipe dreams, I’m afraid.’
‘They can be quite comforting. Does anybody special figure in them?’
‘And the way the children are taken care of in the will seems to me intelligent and completely watertight,’ Manse replied.
‘This vet with Sybil.’
‘Yes, a vet. Or under-manager in a fruit machine arcade. Something like that.’
‘Might he be awkward?’
‘In what manner?’
‘They can be devious. I’ve had vets in some damned snotty cases. They’re used to helping cows give birth, so they fancy themselves as life-creators, and expect to be paid as such. They want to be called “veterinary surgeons” at all times, not merely “vets”. Will he persuade her to contest your will?’
‘Well, they won’t know about it.’
‘I mean when … I mean if the will is activated. A will becomes a public document then. But perhaps Syb wouldn’t need persuading. She sounds like a ton of rancorous bother in her own fucking egomaniac right.’
‘Activated? Activated how?’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘That’s in the nature of wills eventually, or sometimes sooner than eventually. What we need to provide for, also, Mansel, is a situation where you do, ultimately, meet someone suitable – suitable in the sense of remarriage or, at least, quasi permanent or genuinely permanent shacking up in the rectory, not just weeks or months, but established on a continuous basis, known to and respected by neighbours, a familiar sight bringing out recycling waste bags, mail delivered there with her name on it preceded most probably by “Ms”. And, thus, another person’s financial state becomes relevant and the disposition of her assets by last testament likewise relevant. I would hope that in those circs you’d recommend Crossman, Fenton and Stuckey handle both wills, hers and yours. We have to make their separate provisions complementary, as far as we can, for the sake of Matilda and Laurent. Separate yet integrated.’
Manse always grew edgy and suspicious if someone said ‘thus’. It seemed to mean you had to let their argument win because the logic of it was so obvious and perfect. He himself would never use ‘thus’. He did not accept things could ever be as clear as ‘thus’ seemed to make them.
‘Any woman you take into the family at this stage in your life, and, most probably hers, is almost sure to have a previous connection, or connections, and this or these might influence her money status and property status,’ Joan Fenton said. ‘I can’t see you choosing for the long haul some bimbo, all tit, bum, labia-piercing and lip-gloss, who’d have little or no mazuma or real estate behind her. That would hardly be the Mansel Shale I’ve come to know and understand. The Mansel Shale I’ve come to know and understand has discrimination, depth, seriousness, horizons.
‘Oh, obviously, we’ve discussed Carmel, Patricia and Lowri. And, as to labia-piercing, I noticed how you inventoried Angelica and the way she bottom-presented when bent over the desk, jerking off that fleshy-looking fountain pen – a regular performance from her if there’s a bloke under eighty-five in the room. Your trouser-stirring relief mechanisms are absolutely forgivable during this interim spell with no steady companion post Sybil, indeed routine and to be expected. But we have to cater for something much more substantial, durable, meaningful, haven’t we? Man cannot live by dong alone.’
‘I don’t know whether he’s a farmyard vet or just someone with an office in the town where people bring their treasured cats,’ Shale replied. ‘There might not be much money in that. This could be somewhere like Bangor even. People in these places won’t go in for big outlay on pets.’
‘I suppose she sees Laurent and Matilda sometimes. They visit her new household, do they? Have they ever said this is a dump, poor-looking, in need of subsidy? Have you been there yourself?’
‘We use a service station for the children
hand-over. I’m thinking that if the vet game is tottering sometime in the future a boost from the will might be so useful for Syb.’
‘If the vet game is tottering, too sodding bad. She shouldn’t have picked him instead of you and the haulage and scrap as it were, should she? Anyway, Mansel, she could well go before you if she’s living in Bangor. Or, suppose next year, the year after, she hears you’re thinking of getting remarried. She might come back and try to mess things up. They can be like that.’
‘Who?’
‘Flit-about women. Divorce aftermaths will sometimes feature very uncharming, destructive behaviour.’
‘Joan, have you yourself ever –?’
‘You need to be alert for it. They can ruin the church service or the reception, screaming and cursing, pulling faces, flinging solids, that kind of bitch-in-the-manger carry-on. And, talking of wills and when they come into their own, are you still moving around without protection? Casual can lead to casualty, Mansel. I hear there are constant turf troubles in the haulage and scrap industry, sometimes leading to violence. Minders are chargeable against tax, you know, and you do pay tax on the haulage and scrap income, don’t you? The employment title for bodyguards recognized by the Revenue is “Licensed Ambient Security Advisers”, LASAs. Prod your accountant.’
Chapter Nineteen
2009
In the siege command vehicle, Iles said: ‘Do you know what I see when I look at you, Harpur?’
‘This is quite a tricky one, sir.’
‘In which respect?’
‘Oh, yes, a tricky one, sir. It would mean I have to become you on a temporary basis in order to look at me, as I appear to you. But we have to ask, can this be valid because I wouldn’t be fully me on account of having to become you so that I can look at me as you might, which could be different from the way I’d look at myself, if I wasn’t trying to be you temporarily.’
‘What I have a lot of, Col, is instincts,’ Iles replied.
‘Many have spoken to me of this. They’ll say something along the lines of, “That Mr Iles – such instincts.” Quite often, they mean it well.’
‘It’s something I was born with, Harpur. Some babies get a club foot, I got instinct. My mother used to cry out now and then after an observation I’d made as a child of six or seven about forthcoming nutrition problems abroad, or the possibility of washing-day rain, “Desmond, your instincts approach the magical!” Apparently, I would just smile slightly and give a small nod. This would signify that, owing to exceptionally advanced self-knowledge, I was aware of my instincts but did not wish to grow vain about them. Typical.’
‘Guess what I wish, sir.’
‘Tell me, Col.’
‘I wish I could have been there when she cried out like that, and to watch your response – the smile and the nod. This is a real family tableau of considerable distinction. What about your father, sir? Did he endorse what his wife said? Fathers can be damned envious of their sons and offer only sour comments. What did he feel about your instincts? On the whole, I think mothers are a plus. They unquestionably have a true role in life. Think of Judy Garland and her daughter, Liza Minnelli.’
Iles said: ‘My instincts range remarkably, and can be opinion-forming.’
‘Many would agree that as an Assistant Chief and, at present, Gold, you’re entitled to have quite a few points of view.’
‘How many would agree this?’
‘Oh, yes, many.’
‘What about the others?’
‘There’s room for various shades of opinion in a democracy.’
‘Bollocks,’ Iles said. ‘All right, listen: I’ll tell you what I see when I look at you, Col. The instincts I’ve mentioned tell me you’re someone who believes he ought to saunter solo into this siege-episode charity shop and put everything right by his unaided, undaunted, unsupported, egomaniac, witless intervention, while the rest of us wait here like dismal, fait néant twats, i.e. do-nothing twats.’
‘Few would regard you, in an individual sense, as a fait néant twat, sir. I’m almost sure of that.’
‘Which few?’
‘Extremely few.’
‘Would they regard me as both parts of it or only one?’
‘Sir?’
‘A fait néant and a twat, or or a twat.’
‘It might be worth asking around on this. People can be very sympathetic.’
‘If you try one of your fucking famed single-handed acts of gung-ho gallantry here, Harpur, you could cause destruction to God knows how many lives, including your own,’ Iles said. ‘You wouldn’t want to leave your two daughters, Hazel, Jill, orphaned in that creepy dump of a place, 126 Arthur Street. How will they feel having to explain to their school chums that their dad was arsehole enough to get shot in a bloody charity shop? Not the Battle of Stalingrad, is it? Don’t humiliate them, Col. This is a place with racks of clothes at least as shagged-out and quaint as the stuff you wear, and old videos of films like Terminator 2 and The Secret Adventures of Tom Thumb. Then again, that undergraduate, Denise, who comforts you most nights in term time at least, would feel the loss for anything up to forty-eight hours if you got killed.’
Andrew Rockmain said, semi-snarled: ‘Obviously, there are to be no single-handed operations here. None.’ He was sitting at one of the three screen monitors in the caravan, looking flimsy but authoritative. Iles had helped design the command caravan. Anchored metal-framed office chairs stood in front of the screens. Communications equipment occupied part of one wall, with another fixed office chair near for the negotiator. Some siege experts specified that the negotiator should be housed entirely separately, so as not to be affected by, or to affect, the operational work. But Rockmain wanted the main participants together. He obviously thought he spanned both functions, the negotiations and the crisis management, and required them all to be within reach of his advice and influence.
A safe contained four Walther handguns. The combination changed weekly and was given only to Gold. The caravan had a sink unit, Calor gas stove, first aid cabinet, and a fold-away, leather-covered couch for either between-watch sleeping, or laying out someone injured. A control panel could switch one or both of the roof-mounted searchlights to automatic sweep or home-in focus.
Iles and Harpur were on their feet, watching the charity shop through the big side window of the caravan. Gary James Dodd had remained in the command vehicle with them and sat on a padded wall-bench not far from Rockmain. Dodd picked up one of Rockmain’s words: ‘So some operations are banned. OK. But are there going to be any operations at all? What’s this damned inane talk between yourselves and with him in the shop?’
‘Are you one of that few?’ Iles said
‘Which few?’ Dodd said.
‘The few who do regard me as a fait néant twat,’ Iles said.
‘This is an operation,’ Rockmain said. ‘The waiting, the patience, the daft babble – they are integral. The talk fills the time, you see.’
‘And are you calling little Andy Rockmain a fait néant twat as well, Mr Dodd?’ Iles said.
‘Let me speak to him,’ Dodd replied. ‘To John, as you call him, inside the shop.’
Rockmain turned away from his screen and towards Dodd. He said: ‘It’s possible. I’ve known something like that happen in other sieges.’
‘Mr Rockmain is quite a one for sieges,’ Iles said.
‘My partner is in there with someone armed and unstable,’ Dodd said. ‘Please, let’s do something.’
‘But we don’t know as fact that she is in there, do we?’ Rockmain said. ‘We’ve no definite identification. You’ve given me an analysis of her mental condition, but it’s only relevant if the woman pulled in from the street is, indeed, Veronica Susan Cleaver. Why would she be in the, as it were, “wrong” part of the city for her shopping today?’
‘If I talked to him I might be able to confirm it’s Veronica. Perhaps he’ll even let her speak to me,’ Dodd said.
‘Yes, I’ve known something like th
at happen, too, in sieges,’ Rockmain said. ‘But it’s usually much later on, when the hostage-taker is weakening and needs something he believes will boost his chances. He calculates that a loving, sorrowful conversation will dramatize the plight of the people being held and lead to concessions by the siege master. It’s like the way Middle Eastern kidnappers get pictures and statements from their prisoners on to television. The sentiment card. Pressure.’
‘We’ve no contact at present,’ the negotiator said.
‘And such a conversation gives the hostage taking part in it a context, as it were, fleshes out her or him,’ Rockmain said. ‘She or he becomes more than a hostage. He or she acquires a background – social, familial, sexual. It is there, enacted before the hostage-taker. It may help reach his human feelings.’
Iles said: ‘You mean that until this phone chat he imagined the people he’s holding had had no personal lives but hung about solitary, waiting for the chance to start a hostage career, like tadpoles destined to be frogs?’
‘Mr Iles can be relaxed whatever the situation, and no matter how many lives are at risk,’ Rockmain said with a fine chuckle. ‘It’s what the Italians call sprezzatura, I believe, and the French sang-froid. He’d do brilliantly in Interpol. Such a waste to have him cooped up here, yet at the same time a boon to all present, naturally.’
‘Can’t we renew contact?’ Dodd said.
‘He doesn’t reply. We have to wait for him to call us,’ the negotiator said.
‘Tell me how you’d run it, Mr Dodd,’ Rockmain said.
‘Run it?’
‘The conversation. With him first, if he wants it, then possibly with her.’
‘Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it?’ Dodd said.
‘I’m asking you to tell me how you’d run it, so it isn’t obvious, is it, or I wouldn’t ask you,’ Rockmain replied. He said it softly, gently, the voice of conciliation, although the message was, ‘Watch your fucking step with me, Doddy.’ Harpur thought Rockmain achieved a brand of miniature dignity. He might not be playing this situation right, but he behaved as if he was and as if he knew as a total certainty he was. This would be what had got him up to Commander in the Met, despite his quaintness.
