To calm down after his triumph, last night Greg had re-read one of his favourite writers, Eckhart Tolle. Tolle held up this example: A man won an expensive car in a lottery; in response to his friends telling him how lucky he was, he replied, ‘Maybe’. A few weeks later in his car he was involved in a terrible crash, and ended up in hospital; in response to his friends telling him how unlucky he was, he replied, ‘Maybe’. While he was in hospital the slope on which his house stood collapsed into the sea. Again the man’s response to the good or bad fortune in his circumstances was, ‘Maybe’.
In this way, Greg taught himself as he reached length 43 that the more advanced response to his successful removal of Frank was, ‘Maybe’. Maybe there remained somewhere in the college small details that his acute observation had missed. For example, if Ben was Frank’s plant and back-up, then the obvious place for Frank to hide the contents of the boathouse while still keeping them close to hand was in Ben’s room. How could Greg have missed that? But what other details might still be escaping him?
The college’s swimming pool had been enhanced as a millennium project, the only modernisation of significance during the pre-Gyro era. Now the changing rooms were entered through an atrium and the pool had been reconceived as an overflowing bath or infinity pool. The millennial significance of these developments weighed with Hampton’s then-dean sufficiently for his pleas to alumni to produce £186,000 – at the time a sum unheard-of in the college’s fund-raising.
As he towelled himself dry, Greg felt a chill down his spine. For months Gyro had mocked the possibility of the Prime Minister coming tomorrow, but all that time Dianne had been confident that it would happen. Any minute now she might be proved right. If she was right, and had known months ago that she would be right, then (indisputably) she had the foreknowledge to present a very serious threat to the life of the nation.
The person on the inside of the college, Greg reminded himself, need not be the hit-man or a suicide bomber. The insider needed only to leave unlocked a door which should be locked, pass on a police patrol schedule which should not have been passed on, or infiltrate a name onto the guest list.
As he walked out of the building towards the main car park, he crossed a grassy knoll. He made a promise. If the Prime Minister was coming, Greg’s country would not find him wanting. He added Dianne to the list of possible suspects. If the Prime Minister was coming, the opening arrangements would have to be changed. The first tell-tale clue to her intentions, a small detail for which he would watch, would be how closely she positioned herself to the Prime Minister in the revised plan.
---
Dianne’s hair appointment was at 10am in Kew. Giancarlo’s drug habit had gotten so bad that once she had emerged with arrestable dandruff, but she always returned for special occasions. Only one word could describe the expression Greg read on her face: triumph. As soon as the Lexus pulled out of the college car park, she dialled a direct line at the House of Commons. ‘We’re on. The Prime Minister. Tomorrow.’
Greg recognised the voice of Mark Topley on the speakerphone. ‘What a star – you’ve done it! What happened? You know how keen the Prime Minister is on do-gooding in Africa.’
‘That’s off, entirely off. The Chinese have launched some laser from space diverting half of the Zambezi and saving millions of lives. From the British point of view it’s a total disaster. The last thing anyone wants now is pictures suggesting that a few Land Rovers is all we could come up with.’
‘So now Thursday and Friday are blank in the Number Ten diary.’ Topley groaned. ‘It will be awful. He’ll have a round of catch-up meetings with every department. Best get my retaliation in first and call in sick.’
‘Well, you are the Minister of Health. Now listen, I’ve come up with a solution to the logistics which I think you’ll like. I was up half the night doing it. Gyro will be in the tower with Junior and his guests. The Prime Minister won’t go into the tower. We’re saying it’s because of his busy schedule, although in fact it’s because the tower will be full. Instead, a few minutes after seven he will arrive by helicopter at the lakeside where you, I and a BBC camera crew will greet him. Oh, and Alex – Alex Bakhtin.
‘The PM will make the announcement to camera with the tower in the background, and then fly straight out again. There will be excellent pictures of you, and because the visit publicises the opening Pinnacle Junior will be flattered. But he’s not upstaged and his guests are not pushed out.’
‘What can I say? You’re a genius.’
‘To be honest, it was an elementary solution which should not have needed my attention to achieve. However, I’m not carping because Number Ten are orgasmic about our young man’s proposal for sexing up the announcement.’
‘That’s brilliant as well. I’m sure he caught it from you. Kiss, kiss.’
‘Don’t forget you’ll need an afternoon shave. I’m not going to all this trouble to have you turn up with five o’clock shadow.’
Greg thumped the steering wheel in admiration as Dianne ended the call. ‘You said all along it would happen, Mrs D, and you were right.’
‘Thank you, Greg. It’s nice to feel appreciated by somebody.’ Dianne had dressed casually for the hairdresser: teal jacket, white silk T-shirt and jeans with miniature diamonds in the stitching. Her right hand landed on Greg’s thigh. ‘And someone appreciates you, too. Don’t think all your swimming goes unnoticed.’
‘Thanks, Mrs D.’ Greg kept his eyes on the road while he thought – this woman! Had he ever met anyone like her? Dianne never lost focus. Dianne always got what Dianne wanted – one hundred percent. His challenge was to work out what she wanted now. Was it him, or was she flattering to distract? To distract him in particular from the possibility that she might be a threat to the Prime Minister?
‘Now we’ve got confirmation, it’s all hands on deck as regards security.’ Dianne’s hand returned to her own deck. ‘Get Vanessa to book a car to collect me at 12.30, would you? Chief Inspector Haddrill wants you back at the college for a site security meeting at 11.00. He thinks you’re a key player.’
Greg stiffened with pleasure but still he needed to check his idea. After all, it was only a theory.
‘So will you be on telly, Mrs D? Standing next to the Prime Minister?’
‘I should think so, Greg. I’ll be his host, welcoming him to Hampton. Because the dean will be in the tower, I’ll be representing all of us.’
How’s that for a credible threat, thought Greg as he pulled up in front of Giancarlo’s – the British Prime Minister blown up on national television. The bomb would be in her handbag. Except that he, Greg, would be there to save the day.
---
Greg raced back to the college at well over any relevant speed limits. He needed to do this more often (which meant when he wasn’t carrying any passengers). Otherwise he would lose the high-speed skills he had gained at the police college. Graduating fifth meant he had been selected for two weeks of capture-evasion training in Utah. Live on the edge – or atrophy. Back at college he had one thing to do before joining Haddrill’s meeting: check Ben’s room for contraband.
On the day before the opening Ben was up to his eyeballs in work. The receptionist knew Greg well and lent him a duplicate keycard without thinking twice about it; Greg said he had a package to deliver that Ben wanted in his room. Greg dismissed the need to worry about disturbing tell-tales such as hairs placed across drawers or wardrobe doors since Ben could not know whether they had been moved by the cleaner.
The room was bare, with Ben’s few clothes, a hired dinner suit and some shirts, and socks tossed in the corner to be washed. There weren’t even any depressions in the carpet suggestive of the heavy equipment Greg had seen in the boathouse having been stored temporarily.
The 11am meeting took place in the staff room, which was being co-opted as security central. Once a spacious room, Gyro had taken a large bite out of i
t for servers and switches to run the college’s expanded computer network. In a process of humiliation, handsome armchairs had moved out and the space that was left had become a miscellaneous clutter. In the corner sat bottles of tap-water purified by abracadabra, pump-flasks of conference tea and coffee and offerings of milk from plastic cows.
Ben’s notepad was buckling under the scrawled weight of a week’s intensive activity. Next to Ben was Haddrill, who had brought with him two uniformed officers, introduced as Inspector Walker and Sergeant Lomas. All three were in shirt sleeves, in Haddrill’s case complete with three-star shoulder tabs. Haddrill’s peaked cap lying on the table in front of him was one of two signals that with the Prime Minister’s confirmed involvement, the game had gone up several notches. The other signal was Amelia Henderson. Haddrill introduced the two of them as strangers, which Greg had expected.
Haddrill chaired the meeting, but seemingly by Amelia’s permission.
‘Obviously we expect a happy, trouble-free occasion to celebrate the opening of a new building and a century of success for a highly respected business,’ Haddrill began. ‘I stress this point because there remains a considerable VIP aspect to tomorrow. While that underlines the need for rigorous security, I want all officers on checkpoints fully conscious that they are not herding cattle.’ Ben nodded vigorously.
‘Lomas will be in charge of armed protection. Obviously now we will have checkpoints on both roads into the college. There will be two armed officers at each, two at our mobile command post in the college, two at the lakeside landing point, and two on the tower terrace. I’m afraid the terrace will need to be out of bounds to all guests.’ Ben nodded again and made a note. While they had hoped to let guests roam on the terrace, capacity had been calculated on the basis that everyone would be inside the auditorium for speeches.
‘Ben. Greg. Tomorrow we would like the two of you plugged into our local communications network from noon onwards. We won’t be bothering you with all our messages – ’ Haddrill smiled politely, meaning that the police would retain separate secure communications ‘– but it will mean we can reach either of you immediately in the event of any unexpected situation with arriving guests.
‘When the opening gets formally underway in the evening, Ben will need to be with the dean in the tower so Greg, we would like you to be at the lakeside. In fact, Greg, a priority after this meeting will be for you and me to decide the helicopter landing site. We have to bear in mind security, accessibility and the need for a camera angle to the tower in the background.’
‘No worries.’ Greg turned slightly to look at Amelia who gave the barest of nods. Haddrill’s plan meant that he would be separated from Ben at the critical time. However, Greg would be close to the Prime Minister and Dianne. What harm could Ben achieve inside the auditorium with armed guards on the terrace and the Prime Minister several hundred metres away? Greg kept his eyes peeled for any sign of discomfiture from Ben at Haddrill’s plan, but there was none.
Inspector Walker rustled his maps of the grounds. ‘Our guess at the best landing is here –’ he pointed to the grassy area at the foot of Crassock which was usually used for overflow parking ‘– while we create some alternative overflow parking behind the student accommodation block. But obviously you know the area and we don’t.’
Haddrill resumed his flow. ‘This afternoon Inspector Walker will need your help, Greg, to prioritise search areas. We don’t have the men or the dogs to search all the woods in the valley, but with your knowledge of the grounds we can make smart choices.’ He paused. ‘Obviously this will mean some interruption of your normal duties.’
Ben leaned forward. ‘I’ve already discussed that with the dean, Chief Inspector. Dean Gyro is adamant that in these rather rushed circumstances the college must offer you unstinting co-operation. Greg knows these grounds better than anyone else. For obvious reasons Dean Gyro and his wife will not be doing much travelling over the next 48 hours and where necessary we can book local taxis.’
Greg sat up, visibly taller. His crucial role was being recognised. Had Amelia talked to Haddrill behind the scenes?
As if he sensed the question Haddrill added, ‘Implicit in all these arrangements, and indeed in the two of you sitting here in this conversation, is that a certain amount of work has been done on your backgrounds. Which, I am delighted to say, has proved entirely positive. We regard you as being on our team.’
Greg tried to look serious while grinning broadly. Lulling Ben into a false sense of security was an excellent strategy, the kind he would have suggested himself.
Sergeant Lomas unfolded a large-scale map of the college buildings and their surroundings, which had been divided into differently coloured sectors. ‘Because of the number of contractors, cooks, waiters and so forth, as well as temporary guests, from 3pm tomorrow we envisage operating a colour-coded sector perimeter system.
‘Anyone without the right coloured lapel pin for the sector they are in will be challenged. The two of you, Professor Gyro, Dr Peach-Gyro and a handful of other individuals will have pins giving you complete access. I need hardly stress that, no matter what happens tomorrow, on no account give or lend your pin to anyone else.’
If Greg could have brimmed any more with pride he would have wet himself. But every drop of pride brought with it a pill of responsibility. Under the table he wiped the palms of his hands on his trousers.
‘Finally, Ms Henderson, your department. I regard it as a great honour to have your personal involvement.’
Amelia opened a slim document case and took out three sheets of paper. She smiled briefly at Ben and Greg. ‘Perhaps I should explain that my department is rather back room – risk management. Chief Inspector Haddrill is, and will be throughout tomorrow, the commander in charge.’ She focussed on Ben. ‘From the information that your people provided yesterday we have noted certain points.
‘You have one lecturer who comes from Iraq and was politically active there. He has joined a trade union here though he is not yet politically active. You also have a student on your advanced project management course who has a connection with the rather large Saudi bin Laden family. And you have a woman student from Palestine, a pharmacist studying financial management. Of course, pharmacy presumes some understanding of chemistry. We will be making inquiries and keeping the situation under active review.’
‘The college needs to do nothing?’ asked Ben.
‘Nothing is precisely what we need the college to do. Or say. Other than advise Chief Inspector Haddrill of any guest changes, staff or contractor sickness – anything like that – without delay.’
Haddrill summed up. ‘To conclude, in talking to your colleagues, the cover story for tomorrow’s heightened security arrangements is a surprise visit by the French Minister for Industry. After all, this is an international business school.’ Haddrill smiled. ‘It is also our standard procedure to avoid attracting unwanted attention. The experts –’ he gestured towards Amelia ‘– are confident that no-one in their right mind, or out of it, could be bothered to attack a French Minister for Industry. It’s a pleasure to be working with you, gentlemen. I think we’ve covered all the details. Tomorrow will be a long day.’
---
Half an hour later Greg was standing next to Haddrill in the grass meadows on the north side of the lake, not far from where Connie had held her birthday picnic. A few cirrus clouds raced high above. They had already visited a couple of other sites but, in Haddrill’s view, this was by some margin the best location. There was enough flat space for the helicopter, with a clear line of sight for the television camera to the top of the tower.
Haddrill had put on sunglasses. He pointed inquiringly at the three pairs of semi-detached houses where the treeline met the road a few minutes’ walk above them.
‘Houses for some academic staff,’ Greg explained. ‘You know about Frank, but he will be gone by noon tomorrow.’
&nb
sp; Henderson gestured. ‘We’ll search the others this afternoon. Tomorrow afternoon we’ll search the woods over there.’ He pointed across the lake towards the southwest, near the boathouses. ‘Tomorrow’s forecast is like today’s – fine, nearly cloudless. The angle of the early evening sun and the problem of reflection in the lake means if I were going to plant a sniper, it would be there. You did a good job with Frank. I look forward to working with you tomorrow.’
Greg was exultant – this was the real thing. This was the happiest day of his life, the happier for its implication of greater things to come. When Haddrill had gone, Greg stayed behind to soak up the view. He lit incense and let the car radio browse. After some Vivaldi it moved onto one of Handel’s anthems. He turned up the volume on the six car speakers, left the door open and sat on the grass. The aroma of Emperor orchids, his favourite incense, was the aroma of heaven. Like kings down the centuries, Greg surveyed the place where his hand would tomorrow slay the enemy.
Unlike anything he had heard before, Zadok the Priest began with an interminable waiting, which for Greg was erotic. At first like a stream rushing this way and that over pebbles, and then broadening, becoming a river, and then a lake like the one in front of him; but always waiting, waiting for something which would complete it.
Tomorrow the Prime Minister would come by helicopter. He thought back to his own helicopter trip over the lake with Casey Pinnacle seven days ago. Now the lake’s end – the end of waiting – hurtled towards him, and as he went over, the end turned into cliffs. For a while he hung effortlessly, floating like a rainbow above a shocking abyss from which the choir’s voices thundered. The words rose up to him like a fine mist, and he wrapped himself in them as had every English king claiming his divine right at every coronation since 1727, ‘Zadok the priest and Nathan the prophet anointed Solomon king. And all the people rejoiced …’
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