by Paul Mathews
And then a strange little robot rolled out of an office, just ahead of her, and moved towards them.
‘Oh look, it’s my namesake, Brian the auto-tech,’ announced Bryan. ‘But he’s Brian with an “i”. A big red eye!’ He laughed at his own joke and peered down at the robot. ‘Aren’t you, Brian?’
The little robot stopped, turned its top half towards Bryan and fired a laser towards his eye. Then it spoke in a tinny voice. ‘Greetings, Bryan Burke.’ Then its top half swivelled towards Britt and fired a laser at her eye. ‘Greetings … unregistered human.’
‘She’s a visitor,’ reassured Bryan. ‘I’m escorting her to the State Dining Room for a meeting.’
‘Brian has access to all visitors’ iris scans. Brian has no record of this visitor’s iris scan.’
Her eyes needed to be scanned. That must have been what Bogdan was trying to tell her before she ran though security. She swallowed hard. She wasn’t sure if you could bullshit a robot. There was only one way to find out. ‘There was some kinda technical hitch with the scanner when I came in,’ gabbled Britt, in her fake American accent.
The robot’s red eye pulsed. ‘Brian is not aware of any Tech issues with security scanners. Brian is only aware of a recent alarm being triggered in the entrance zone.’
Bryan patted the robot on the head. ‘Chillax, little fella. That was a false alarm. Bogdan is dealing with it.’
The robot bleeped. ‘Brian is only seventeen per cent convinced of that fact. Brian cannot allow this human to proceed. She must return to the entrance zone for iris scanning.’
Britt clenched her buttocks. She had a feeling this stubborn heap of metal was going to ruin everything. Then she heard faint voices behind her. Looking back, she saw a red-haired woman and a man in a super-smart suit about a hundred metres away, walking slowly in her direction. She couldn’t make out their faces. But they must be vice presidents. She turned back to face the robot and cursed her luck. She probably had less than a minute to talk herself out of this situation and get to the room. But this robot would be hard to fool. What was she going to say to get rid of it? Her mind went blank. And the voices behind her grew louder.
Then a familiar figure flew out of an office to their left – Conor O’Brean. Britt covered her face with a hand, so he didn’t recognise her. But she needn’t have bothered. Conor only had eyes for the robot.
‘It’s one of them little auto-fellas!’ cried Conor. ‘Sent by the gods to save me!’
The robot swivelled its top half and fired a laser at the man. ‘Greetings, Conor O’Brean. Brian is currently dealing with a potential security —’
‘This is an emergency,’ interrupted Conor. ‘I need you to wipe some sensitive messages from my bleeper. They’re from a close personal friend in marketing. A close personal lady friend, if you understand my meaning.’
‘Brian does not understand your meaning.’
Conor’s voice became more urgent. ‘Listen, young fella. I left my bleeper on the kitchen table. My wife gets home from work in fifteen minutes. If she sees those messages, my life won’t be worth living.’
‘Brian has to prioritise all requests. Brian has assessed yours as low priority. Brian will first deal with this unregistered human.’
Conor wasn’t taking ‘no’ for an answer. He moved behind the robot and pushed him towards his office. ‘This way, little auto-buddy. It’ll only take five earth minutes to save my life.’ Conor was at least one hundred kilos, but even he was struggling to move the machine.
‘Brian does not like to be handled in a rough manner,’ protested the robot, its metallic voice going up an octave. ‘Brian has very delicate circuitry.’
Britt saw her chance. ‘Bryan, let’s give Conor a hand.’ Bryan nodded and he and Britt joined the big push. In a few seconds, they had succeeded in pushing the robot into Conor’s office. Britt and Bryan stepped back into the corridor. Conor slammed the door shut. The little metal menace was gone.
She glanced back. The man and woman were only forty metres away, but deep in conversation. They weren’t paying her any attention. The man’s face looked familiar. So did his gorgeous suit. Oh, no. Not again. It was Howie. She needed to get moving. ‘Thanks, Bryan,’ shouted Britt and she ran towards the door of the State Dining Room.
A few seconds later, she was standing outside it. She opened the wooden door and went in. She was the only person in the room. But that wouldn’t be the case for much longer. She looked across at the long curtains. Her heart jumped when she saw they matched her dark-red outfit perfectly. Then it sank, as she realised they were all expertly tied back and would offer no hiding place from the gaze of fifty vice presidents.
Britt frantically looked around. There wasn’t anything else to hide behind in this room. She felt herself becoming sweaty with panic. She checked again. No. There was nothing.
She heard voices outside the door. One of them was definitely Howie’s. He was about to come in and see her standing there, like a lost child in a very posh restaurant. She rested a hand on the oak table and wondered what he would say when he saw her. Then an idea came to her. There wasn’t anything to hide behind. But there was something to hide under.
Britt dived under the table and started crawling towards the centre. As she did so, she heard the door open and Howie’s voice.
‘It’s all clear, Martha. Bogdan’s people must have finished the security check. Let’s sit down.’
The woman must be Martha Blake. If she discovered Britt hiding under her table, she wouldn’t be too happy.
Britt tucked herself into a ball – being careful not to rub her leather boots together – and waited for the meeting to start.
Chapter 39
Howie slumped into his usual chair in the State Dining Room while Martha stood by the table in deep thought. It was clear from her expression that she was a troubled woman. And Howie was a troubled man. He gazed along the table. It would be surrounded by vice presidents in just a few minutes. There would be excited chattering, whispered speculation, passionate speeches, tense voting and, eventually, triumphant celebrations. Whoever it was, it wouldn’t be good news for Howie, Martha or the citizens or the country. Only good news for the winner – unless Jan Polak put in an appearance before eleven o’clock tomorrow morning and spoiled their party. But there was nothing to suggest that was going to happen.
Howie turned to Martha. ‘That’s an hour and a half we’ll never get back.’
She nodded and sat down, a glum expression on her face. ‘It’s disappointing that our constitution is so utterly lacking in loopholes when it comes to presidential nominations. I’d convinced myself we would find some way to postpone this damn meeting if we searched hard enough. But it’s one hundred per cent loophole-free.’ She put her elbows on the table and rested her head on her hands. ‘It’s the first time I’ve ever seen anything that watertight in my life. And of course, it has to be now. When we need more time.’
Howie nodded glumly. While ploughing through the constitution they had discussed the information they’d gathered so far and agreed that Oskar and Maxim were definitely up to something. But there was no hard evidence to link them, or any other human being, to the president’s disappearance. There was only that annoying little auto-tech, Brian. And its logs had conveniently been wiped. The chances of finding that evidence before eleven o’clock tomorrow were slim at best. At worst, they were zero.
Then Howie had an idea. ‘What about asking the lawyers for advice about the constitutional implications of all this? They’re always talking about grey areas in the law.’
Martha shook her head. ‘I don’t see the point. It all looks pretty black and white to me.’
‘Yeah. But we’re not lawyers. We could get a couple of the senior solicitors to take a look overnight. See if there’s a loophole that we’ve missed. Something that might buy us time.’
Martha thought about his suggestion. ‘I can’t see Oskar going for it. He won’t want any delays.’
&
nbsp; The door opened. Vice presidents began trickling into the room. All chatting to each other. All ignoring Martha and Howie.
‘Okay, we’ll try it,’ whispered Martha. ‘I might need you to back me up. If I do, put on a good performance. Use whatever artistic licence you need. Because this isn’t a meeting any more. It’s a theatre.’ She looked him in the eyes. ‘A theatre of war.’
They both sat silently as more vice presidents filed into the room and took their places around the table. Howie started to count them. Five minutes later, he had reached forty-six. Then he felt a slap on his back. It was vice president number forty-seven – Zayn Winner.
‘Alright, 006-and-a-half?’ sniggered Zayn, right in Howie’s ear. ‘You got your suicide pill ready – in case Jan’s evil twin wins the vote?’
‘This isn’t a laughing matter,’ grumbled Howie.
‘You see my Daily Democrat interview, buddy?’
‘Yeah. Mina Pritti did a good job for us.’
Zayn nudged Howie in the ribs. ‘It was me that did the good job, my old pal. I should be nominated for an award for that performance.’ Zayn winked at Howie. ‘Maybe nominated for something even bigger, eh, buddy? Anyway, I’d better sit down, in case this lot think we’re getting too friendly. They’re not your biggest fans – especially since you became a secret agent. Bit jealous. And, no offence, but I don’t want them thinking we’re too close. In case I lose votes.’ He gave Howie an even harder jab in the ribs. ‘Wish me luck, big guy!’ Zayn took his seat, grinning like a chimpanzee.
Howie rubbed his side. He hadn’t really been listening to Zayn. He was too preoccupied with thoughts of lawyers, the constitution and loopholes. He checked his bleeper. It was 3.59pm. There were three more vice presidents still to arrive. Howie knew what was coming – Oskar Polak’s grand entrance.
A minute later, with the distant sound of Big Ben striking four drifting across St James’ Park, the missing trio arrived. Oskar entered first – stopping at the top of the table to inflate his chest and straighten his tie. A moment later, the two vice presidents whose names no one could ever remember followed him into the room, shutting the door behind them. Then they hurriedly positioned themselves on either side of Oskar and put their hands behind their backs.
‘Honourable colleagues,’ boomed Oskar, as if speaking to a stadium full of people. ‘Good afternoon to you all. Is everyone here?’
‘They’re all here,’ confirmed Howie. ‘I’ve counted. Now if you and your colleagues would kindly sit down, Martha can begin the meeting.’
Oskar looked down his nose at Howie. ‘And what are you doing here? Taking minutes?’
He ignored the urge to jump up and punch Oskar in the face. ‘I’m here to make sure I know exactly what happens, Oskar. I don’t want to hear it second-hand. From you or anybody else.’
A murmur went around the table. Oskar glared at Howie and then gestured to his companions to walk ahead of him – an order they obeyed without hesitation. One of them pulled out Oskar’s chair, at the far end of the table, while the other brushed the seat with a handkerchief. The two vice presidents waited for Oskar to take his seat. Then they silently sat down either side of him.
‘Please proceed,’ announced Oskar, with a regal wave of the hand. Then he began nodding, in turn, to all the other vice presidents in the room. Each nod accompanied by a false smile.
Martha stood up. ‘Excellent. We have all fifty of you in attendance. So I can begin the meeting.’
Forty-nine pairs of vice-presidential eyes focused on Martha. The exception was Zayn Winner, who seemed to be practising a speech.
‘We all know why we’re here, so let’s not waste time,’ declared Martha. ‘Unfortunately, after extensive investigations, I have no further news for you on the president’s whereabouts. Or, indeed, when he might be returning to us.’
An excited rumble filled the room, sending vibrations pulsing through the wooden table. So powerful, they made Zayn stop talking to himself and pay attention.
Oskar addressed the room. ‘My brother is still missing. That leaves us no alternative.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Let us begin the nomination process.’
Zayn’s hands shot into the air. ‘Woah, big fella! Don’t jump the starting gun. You might get disqualified!’
Oskar stared at Zayn, who responded with a double thumbs up.
Martha ignored the interruptions and continued. ‘Now, I don’t need to tell you that tomorrow is Independence Day. And it appears that the constitution requires you, vice presidents, to nominate your election candidate for the eleven o’clock announcement on the palace balcony.’
Oskar wrinkled his forehead, glanced theatrically at his two aides, and then bellowed, ‘What do you mean “appears”? There’s no question about it.’
Martha stayed calm. ‘Please, let me finish. The constitution makes it clear that this meeting must be chaired, and overseen, by a senior, non-political, public servant. And as I’m the only person in full possession of all the facts, and who fulfils those criteria, it falls to me to fulfil that role in the best way —’
‘Yes, well, it’s not about the referee,’ interrupted Oskar, grinning with self-satisfaction. ‘It’s about the players. So can we just get on with it?’
‘This referee wants to talk about the current team captain. And I won’t allow him to be substituted just yet. No matter how loudly his vice-captains might protest.’
A smattering of nervous laughter was quickly silenced by Oskar’s two-man entourage shushing the room. Howie could see Oskar’s eyes bulging with indignation. But the president’s brother remained silent. Martha was smarter than Oskar. And Oskar knew that. It was in his interests to keep his mouth shut and avoid any more devastating put-downs.
Martha pushed her hands together, as if about to say a prayer. ‘So, as official chair of this meeting, I have a proposal for you all to consider. We refer this to a small team of senior lawyers to consider overnight. I want to be one hundred per cent sure that there’s no possible way to postpone all this until Jan is safely back with us. The plan would be to reconvene here at half past seven tomorrow morning, listen to their advice, and take it from there.’
Howie could see that most of the vice presidents were shaking their heads – including the Oskar Polak trio.
‘We’re all here now, let’s get it over with!’ shouted a grey suit.
‘I don’t want another bloody early start tomorrow,’ moaned a greyer suit.
There was more muttering from half a dozen other vice presidents. Oskar waited until they’d all finished. ‘There’s your answer.’
Martha tried again. ‘The constitution is a very detailed, very dense document. I would suggest that an independent, expert eye is required to give us a definitive view.’
‘Are you suggesting that we don’t know our own constitution?’ shouted a charcoal suit.
Martha looked slightly rattled. ‘No. I’m simply suggesting that legal experts take a look at it.’
‘Forget it!’ cried a graphite suit. ‘Those bloody lawyers never give a straight answer.’
Martha took a deep breath. ‘If you don’t wish to take the legal route, that is your decision, vice presidents. However, may I respectfully request you delay nominating until tomorrow morning for the purposes of my investigations into the president’s disappearance?’
There was more muttering around the table.
Martha raised her voice. ‘We suspect foul play. That is why we need more time. I didn’t want to alarm you until I was in possession of all the facts. But you have left me with no alternative but to inform you of my concerns.’
‘Foul play?’ scoffed Oskar. ‘What nonsense!’
Martha turned her body so she was directly facing Oskar, her eyes like laser beams cutting into metal. ‘We have uncovered some rather troubling … relationships.’
Oskar waved a dismissive hand. ‘Whatever are you talking about?’
‘I’m going to give you a name, vice presidents, and I wan
t you to raise your arm if you have ever met this individual.’ Martha paused for just a second, so no one could confer. ‘Russian businessman Viktor Maxim.’
A buzz went around the room. The vice presidents all seemed to know who he was – there were no shrugged shoulders or blank expressions. But there were no arms being raised. Howie stared at Oskar, who was now avoiding eye contact with anyone except his two attendants.
Martha raised her voice. ‘Perhaps some of you didn’t hear my question. So I’ll ask it again. Have any of you ever met Viktor Maxim? I know at least one person in this room has.’
The vice president to Oskar’s right raised his arm. ‘I may have done, very briefly. I can’t remember the exact details. Now, can we proceed to the business of the Republican Party nomination for president?’
Martha’s eyes were still focused on Oskar. ‘It wasn’t you I was thinking of.’
‘What was the name again?’ asked Oskar.
‘Viktor Maxim. He owns a multinational company – Maxim International. It has a diverse portfolio of interests. Including defence – your area of responsibility, Vice President Polak.’
Oskar wasn’t a great actor. His attempts to look thoughtful were clumsy. When he finally spoke, it sounded unconvincing. ‘Viktor Maxim? Possibly. I attend a lot of meetings. I come across many international businessmen. I can’t be expected to remember all their names.’ His two associates nodded vigorously. Their acting was even worse.
‘If you need any acting lessons, Oskar, just say the word!’ shouted Zayn. ‘I can give you a discount.’ He laughed loudly. A few other vice presidents joined in.
While the laughter echoed round the room, Howie heard a strange squeaking noise. It seemed to be coming from under the table. He looked down. There was no mouse or squeaky floorboard under the carpet. But he somehow knew it wasn’t a rodent or a piece of loose wood making the noise. It was something else. It was a sound he’d heard before. But he couldn’t remember when or where. Anyway, it wasn’t important.
‘You should remember his name, Vice President Polak,’ insisted Martha, once the laughter had subsided. ‘You met him for lunch yesterday at The Savoy. I know because one of my agents witnessed it.’
