by Paul Mathews
‘Howie, is this really your girlfriend?’ asked Martha.
‘Yes, it is.’
Martha turned to Britt. ‘And you’re a journalist for The Republican?’
Britt nodded. ‘I’m an investigative reporter who received a tip-off about the president going missing.’
‘Oh dear,’ sighed Martha. ‘That rather complicates matters.’ She glanced at Howie. ‘For everyone.’
Howie shook his head and began firing sentences around the room. ‘I don’t think it does. Britt was just a journalist doing her job. Completely independently of me. While she may have broken a few rules getting in here, I don’t think calling the police would be a wise move. We don’t want headlines on Independence Day about journalists getting arrested, do we?’ He took a quick breath. ‘Now, if we agree not to call the police and allow her to leave, I’m sure Britt will drop whatever story she was going to write.’
‘How can we trust her?’ whined Daisy Gray. ‘She’s a bloody journalist!’
Howie took a step forward. ‘We’ll get her to sign a guarantee of non-publication of confidential information obtained at this meeting. If she breaches that, we can take out an injunction. But no one ever breaches them. You can end up in prison.’
Oskar nodded. ‘That sounds like a very sensible idea, Mr Pond. Excellent advice from our media expert. I don’t think there’s any need for further discussion.’
Howie was taken aback at Oskar’s positivity. He looked at Britt, who was looking at Oskar, who was looking at Britt.
Martha frowned. ‘Let’s check with the man in charge first, shall we?’ She turned to the president. ‘Jan, are you happy with that?’
The president nodded. ‘Absolutely. If Howie recommends it, I agree with it.’
Oskar returned to his normal, disagreeable self. ‘Now get that bloody journalist out of here. And get her to sign what she’s got to sign. Then we can get on with the damn voting.’
Martha nodded. ‘Miss Pointer. Please come with Howie and me, and we’ll arrange for you to sign a guarantee of non-publication.’ She took a step towards the door.
Britt didn’t follow. Instead, she pointed a finger at Oskar. ‘What did you mean just then – let’s get on with the voting? The president is back. So there’s no need for it.’
‘Just leave,’ snarled Oskar, whose expression was growing more uncomfortable by the minute. ‘Before we change our minds.’
A look of joy appeared on Britt’s face. ‘You’re not standing for a third term, are you, Mr President?’
The president’s expression was non-committal. ‘You will find out tomorrow.’
‘So what’s happening, guys and girls?’ asked Zayn. ‘Are we doing this vote thing or not?’
Martha looked concerned. ‘I’ve no idea what we’re doing. But I do know we shouldn’t be discussing it in front of a journalist.’
The president took a step towards Britt. ‘I’m sorry, but we can’t discuss any more government business in your presence.’
Howie glanced at Britt. She had a look of steely determination in her eyes. He could see she was standing bolt upright – like a soldier about to launch herself at the enemy. And the smile on her face – it was so inscrutable it made The Mona Lisa seem positively hysterical. Howie took a gulp of air. He had seen this cocktail of physical characteristics before – usually when he’d just told Britt that he was too busy to help with the vacuuming or too exhausted to accompany her on a shopping trip. And in that moment, Howie knew beyond doubt – Britt was about to get what she wanted.
Chapter 42
When Britt crawled from under the table, her only thought had been escaping from the State Dining Room as quickly as her stiff legs could carry her. But as soon as she saw the faces of the vice presidents, her journalistic instincts told her something wasn’t right. There was no reaction whatsoever from Oskar to his brother’s return. All the others were visibly shocked and shaken. She examined Oskar’s face again. It was as stern and unfriendly as ever. In fact, he seemed more affected by Britt’s appearance than his own brother’s – his eyes had widened when she emerged from her hiding place and then quickly narrowed, as if warning her to keep her mouth shut about his private life. Oskar’s insistence that the vice presidents move to a vote, together with Jan’s suggestion that everyone just ‘carry on’, didn’t add up. What was going on?
Then she realised. Of course – it was the Pierogi Pact. Yes. The president had returned from wherever it was he’d been hiding but he was going to step aside for Oskar. The handover of Republican Party power, from one Polak brother to another, really had been planned all along. And it was happening today.
Britt felt the hope surge through her body like a drug. She might still have a chance of grabbing a front-page story for tomorrow’s paper. The headline wouldn’t be ‘We Have Lost The President’. It would be ‘We’re Going To Lose The President’. George would love it. But she still had work to do. George would want concrete proof.
‘Is there a problem, Miss Pointer?’ asked Martha.
Britt didn’t answer. She was thinking. What kind of proof would George want? The best kind – official confirmation from the man himself that he wouldn’t be standing. There was only one way Britt was going to get that – create a situation. Right here, right now. One that would give her something to bargain with. Then she could get the proof she needed and secure her new story.
‘Come on, Britt, let’s do the paperwork,’ urged Howie. ‘Then we can get you out of here.’
Britt took a deep breath. She wasn’t going anywhere. ‘First of all, I want you all to know something that I’ve uncovered during my investigation.’ She pointed at Oskar. ‘This man has been having an affair with a member of the president’s staff.’
The vice presidents gasped. Howie and Martha turned to each other and raised their eyebrows.
‘Is this true, Oskar?’ asked the president, sounding alarmed.
Oskar scowled. ‘Of course it isn’t. She’s lying.’
Britt shook her head. ‘No. You’re lying. I’ve met the young woman. I won’t reveal her identity because she’s now one of my sources. But I can tell you that she doesn’t just work for the president. She’s directly employed by one of Viktor Maxim’s companies. And not just employed – she and Mr Maxim work very closely together.’
‘The Russian businessman?’ asked the president, sounding worried.
Martha nodded. ‘Yes. A very influential businessman. One with suspected criminal connections.’
Criminal connections? That was even better news for Britt. Her confidence grew and she stood as tall as she could without falling over. ‘This woman’s appointment was arranged by Mr Maxim, seemingly so she could make high-level contacts at the centre of government. She was the bait, if you like. And it seems she caught a big fish.’
Zayn rubbed his hands with glee. ‘He looks more like a shark to me!’
Oskar jabbed a finger at Zayn. ‘Shut up, you moron!’
Zayn just laughed. ‘First rule of presidency – always keep your cool under pressure.’
‘Don’t you dare tell me what to do!’ shouted Oskar, his cheeks flushed.
‘And rule number two is – never lose your temper in meetings.’
Oskar looked ready to explode. ‘And rule three is don’t stick your nose into business that doesn’t concern you!’
Zayn shook his head. ‘Sorry to correct you, old buddy, but I was quoting those rules from the American president’s autobiography. I read it last night. Call it a bit of homework for today’s meeting, if you like. And rule three is always know your subject.’ He flashed a grin. ‘Which you clearly don’t.’
Oskar smashed his fist on the table. ‘That is enough!’
Britt carried on, showing no fear. ‘This young woman has a very close relationship with Mr Maxim. So close, she told him about the affair soon after it began, two years ago.’
Oskar looked incredulous. ‘What?!’
‘Yes. She told me.’ She
stared straight into Oskar’s eyes. ‘And I think you’ll agree, that’s a very compromising position for a potential president to be in.’
‘Don’t say another word,’ growled Oskar. ‘Or I promise you – you’ll regret it.’
‘Tell me, do you regret dumping your lover yesterday on a park bench, where you could be seen by anyone? And you were seen – by me. Despite your feeble attempt to disguise yourself.’ She looked around the room at the other vice presidents. ‘And this is the man you want as your new leader?’
The vice presidents exchanged worried glances while Martha whispered hurriedly to the president. Howie was watching Britt. He didn’t say anything. But his eyes told her to keep going.
‘He also met his lover – or rather, ex-lover – in Trafalgar Square this afternoon. I know. Because I was there.'
Zayn leaned forward. ‘Sounds like Oskar’s been sorting out his affairs before the big day tomorrow.’
Britt couldn’t have put it better herself.
Oskar began to march towards Britt. ‘Right, that’s enough.’
‘What are you doing, Oskar?’ asked the president.
‘I’m going to personally remove this woman from the room, before she spreads any more filthy lies.’
‘Please, keep calm,’ urged the president.
Britt smiled triumphantly. ‘And I’ll carry on, shall I?’ She started to walk around the table, so Oskar couldn’t catch her.
Oskar was moving quickly. ‘I’ll make sure you’re finished as a journalist!’
‘Have you really been playing away, Oskar?’ asked Daisy. ‘Because the voters won’t want a president who can’t keep his trousers on.’
‘And what’s this Martha tells me about you having lunch with Viktor Maxim yesterday?’ asked the president. ‘Some business was discussed, apparently. What was that?’
Oskar stopped and looked horrified. ‘Not my own brother, as well! You’re all turning against me!’
Britt came to a halt behind Zayn. ‘Mr President, your brother has been meeting Viktor Maxim on a regular basis. But he denied knowing him, moments before you walked into the room.’
‘I know lots of people,’ shouted Oskar, turning to his brother. ‘I can’t be expected to remember all their names!’
‘Really?’ asked Britt, with mock surprise. ‘Well, I’m surprised you forgot. Because your ex-lover told me that you and Maxim are “very friendly”. But you like to keep it “top secret”.’
‘I can confirm that Oskar and Maxim meet up regularly, Mr President,’ added Howie. ‘Maxim told me himself today.’
Oskar made a croaking noise in protest. But nothing intelligible came out of his mouth.
Britt continued. ‘My guess is the business they were discussing was the contracts that might come Viktor Maxim’s way if Oskar were elected as president. Defence contracts, for example.’
The other vice presidents began glancing nervously at each other.
‘She’s lying!’ screamed Oskar, so loudly it made everyone jump. Everyone except Britt.
Britt stared straight into Oskar’s eyes. ‘How much has Maxim paid you, Vice President Polak? And how much more do you stand to gain in bribes and kickbacks if you become president?’
Oskar started running towards her. ‘I’m fed up listening to this deluded bloody woman!’
Britt was surprised by Oskar’s sudden burst of speed. Within a few seconds, he had reached her and grabbed her by the arm. His grip was hard and rough. She cried out in pain.
‘Get off her!’ yelled Howie, from the other side of the room.
‘Oskar, put her down!’ shouted the president.
‘Oh my God, it’s all kicking off!’ screamed Daisy.
Oskar twisted Britt into a headlock. There were gasps from the vice presidents. Several of them stood up. But they seemed too scared to tackle Oskar themselves.
Britt wasn’t enjoying being manhandled by Oskar Polak. She had wanted to generate a response from him. But not one that involved this level of physical violence. He was a strong man and was really hurting her. If he lost control, he could do her some serious physical damage. And a trip to the hospital would mean she wouldn’t be able to write her story.
She tried to scream. But Oskar’s arm was too tight around her throat. Britt couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t break free. She needed someone to save her. Preferably before she lost consciousness.
Chapter 43
Howie couldn’t believe what he was witnessing – Oskar Polak was almost choking Britt, while the president, the other forty-nine vice presidents and the head of the National Security and Intelligence Service looked on in horror. Howie didn’t react immediately. This wasn’t the kind of situation he’d ever had to deal with in a work environment. Or any other environment. He’d seen a few drunken fights outside the Two Chairmen, but nothing like this. This was a vice president physically restraining an undercover journalist. There was no training course in the world that could prepare you for this kind of thing.
‘Don’t sit around like lemons!’ screamed Daisy Gray. ‘One of you men do something!’
For once, Daisy was talking sense. Oskar needed to be stopped. Before he strangled the woman Howie loved and was going to marry. Yes – marry. He had put off asking Britt for too long. He was always too preoccupied with work or … well, if he was honest, it was always work. But as they were crawling towards each other, underneath the table, he somehow just knew – this was the woman he wanted to be with for the rest of his life. Under tables, over tables – it didn’t matter where. All that mattered was that they were together. Preferably not in any situations like this again, but he didn’t want to dwell on that possibility.
Having made this matrimonial decision, Howie suddenly felt a base, animal instinct driving him to action. This room was a jungle. He was its king. Britt was his queen. Oskar was … what was Oskar? He realised he didn’t have time for this. Instead, he sprang forward, as quickly as his new designer suit would allow him. ‘I’m coming, Britt!’ he roared.
‘Don’t try and stop me, Pond!’ snarled Oskar, sounding like a Bond villain who was about to launch a nuclear warhead at a major metropolis.
‘Let her go, Oskar!’ ordered Howie, as he got within twenty metres of the struggling pair.
‘Or you’ll do what?’
Howie was fifteen metres away. ‘Whatever I have to do.’
‘Go on, Howie!’ shouted Zayn, as if it was a fight in a school playground. ‘Show him who’s boss!’
‘You talk too much, Pond,’ sneered Oskar, jerking Britt’s head forward. ‘Just like your interfering girlfriend.’
Britt yelped with pain. Howie was still ten metres away and unable to help her. So he just kept running.
‘For king’s sake, Oskar, you’re hurting her!’ screamed Daisy.
Ivan Bonn scrambled out of Howie’s way. ‘Sorry. Can’t help. Don’t do fights.’
‘Put her down, Oskar!” shouted the president, as Howie got within five metres of them.
‘Gentlemen, please!’ shouted Martha.
Zayn whooped with delight. Ivan kept scrambling. Daisy shrieked. Martha winced. The rest of the vice presidents were either diving for cover or frozen with shock. It was total chaos.
Howie launched himself at Oskar. But the crazed vice president swung Britt in front of himself as a defensive shield and batted Howie away with her body. Britt cried out as Howie bounced off her and fell backwards onto a vice president.
‘You dirty coward.’ shouted Daisy. ‘Don’t hide behind a defenceless woman! Fight like a real man!’
Oskar glared at Daisy. Then he flung Britt to the ground, stood tall and puffed out his chest. ‘Very well. Let’s see what you’ve got, Mr Pond.’
Was this really happening? Was the president’s brother really challenging Howie to a fight in Buckingham Palace’s State Dining Room? Howie stumbled to his feet, groaning as he felt his shoulder muscle spasm and something in his back click again. As he staggered to his feet, he realised
he wasn’t in the best physical shape for a fight right now. And HR had never sent him on a physical combat training course. He stood rooted to the spot, unsure what to do now that Britt was free from Oskar’s grasp and his own physical frailties had been exposed.
‘You’re not a James Bond,’ laughed Oskar, in the way evil villains always did when they thought they had 007 at their mercy. ‘Not even close. You’re a Howie Pond – a pathetic excuse for a secret agent.’ He snorted with contempt. ‘But you and Mr Bond do have one thing in common.’ An evil grin crossed Oskar’s face. ‘You can’t protect your women.’
In that second, Howie forgot about his aches and pains. He swung his right fist so fast that he could only see a flesh-coloured blur as it flew towards Oskar’s nose. The blow was so forceful Howie thought his hand was going to go through Oskar’s face and come out the other side. It felt like it almost did.
Oskar flew backwards and smashed into the wall. Then he slowly slid down it and hit the floor with a thud, a dazed expression on his face throughout – as if he were the fall guy in one of those old-world cartoons. Everyone in the room gasped.
‘Woohoo!’ cried Zayn. ‘Bang on his hooter!’
‘Why didn’t you help him, Zayn, you big lump?’ shouted Daisy. ‘You’ve been in action movies!’
‘Oh. I, erm … always had a stunt double do that for me.’
As Oskar lay groaning on the carpet, Howie wished that he had a double. But he was doing all his own stunts. And now his right fist was really throbbing. As he rubbed his hand, he knelt down beside Britt. ‘Are you okay, B?’
Britt coughed. ‘I’ll live.’
Howie examined her neck. It looked sore. ‘We’d better get you checked out.’
‘No.’ She struggled for air. ‘Must get to the office. Got a deadline.’
