Shadowplay

by Norman Hartley

  But that would be my successor’s worry. I had my own future to think about.

  I looked at Cox and, just for a moment, I wished I could change places, then I put the thought aside and went down into the main lobby of World News.

  It was almost seven o’clock. The day staff were starting to arrive, together with a handful of eager executives who wanted a quiet hour or two in their offices to clear their paperwork before the phones started ringing.

  The commissionaire sent for my car and we chatted briefly about the weather and the next WN cricket match until the BMW arrived. Not for much longer, I thought. That was one thing I really was going to miss. A car and chauffeur in London was a priceless luxury, and I wondered what kind of car I should buy once I had to fend for myself. And what kind would I be able to afford? It was something I didn’t want to think about too closely. There would certainly be severance arrangements, and Doyle had indicated he would be generous, but without the company flat in Little Venice and the car and the chief executive’s expense account, it was going to be a very different world.

  I left Cox in the lobby and made a point of avoiding any special leave-taking, and I waited until he had gone back to the elevator before I went outside. I didn’t want him to see me rub the WN plaque for luck, and I couldn’t have left the building at that moment without making that gesture.

  I was about to have two breakfasts—one with Seagull and one with Nancy—but I wanted to drive a little first to clear my mind of World News. I was seeing Seagull first, then Nancy, and I’d thought about it on and off for much of the night. I didn’t really know what I wanted to say to either of them.

  God, it would be so much simpler, I thought, if I could be straightforward about it and admit that I wanted them both. It ought to be possible. They both had separate and independent lives and I was no longer committed to either but was in love, in different ways, with both. That was the great cake-and-eat-it fallacy, and it had been the downfall of more men in Western society than any other fantasy. It was possible to love more than one woman, but in practice it just didn’t seem to work, once the three points on the triangle were linked.

  But the daydream was still fun. I wondered suddenly if either Nancy or Seagull had ever put the three of us together in fantasy, once the two of them had met.

  In reality, though, a triangle was as delicate to negotiate as any confrontation with the Sellingers. Even when all you wanted was to go on sharing your life with two human beings you cared for deeply, without having to make a choice, it had to be done one cautious step at a time.

  The first step was to persuade Seagull to stay in England. At least now, I thought, I would have the time to let the relationship develop gently. Seagull hated hasty meetings and quick rushes into bed. Her idea of good sex was a luxurious and leisurely marathon, and I wouldn’t have to go through contortions anymore to create an illusion of unhurried leisure in the middle of a lunatic World News schedule.

  We were meeting in a little cafe on the Embankment. Pike was bringing her and he’d agreed to look after her for at least another week.

  I had Walker drive me around Blackfriars until it was closer to the time we had set, then, as we started down the Embankment, I saw Seagull standing on the pavement. Immediately I noticed something different about her. She seemed preoccupied and distant.

  As she got into the car, I said, ‘Seagull, what’s the matter? Are you all right?’

  ‘Yes, I’m fine really. I’m just a bit shattered, that’s all. John, look, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be laying my private problems on you. It’s Hughie. My son. I have a chance to take him back.

  This whole affair set me thinking about him again and what I’d left behind. Last night, I phoned my aunt. She’s having problems with him. I think I could persuade her to let me take him back. I’m not sure if I should. I don’t know if it would unsettle him.’

  ‘I don’t know what to say.’ I smiled. ‘As you know, that’s a part of your life I never knew much about.’

  ‘It’s been on my mind for months, but our talk the other day really got me going. Look, John, I’m sorry. Would you forgive me if I just left? I know we have things to say to each other, but I have to get this settled. He’s in Northamptonshire. Jim said he’ll drive me.’

  I kissed her and gave her a little hug.

  ‘I’ll think about you when I’m worrying about homework and stuff like that,’ she said.

  ‘That lovely tan will fade.’

  ‘Yes. But now the old life’s been reopened, I have to find the guts to plunge in. You held me in your arms once when I faltered, and I was grateful, but I have to do this myself now.’

  So much for fantasy, I thought, as I watched Pike’s Rover drive away, and I felt nervous suddenly, knowing that I had no reason now to hold back with Nancy. I was sure she had wanted us to get back together; I’d felt for months that it wasn’t just I who regretted the break. But would it be different now that I was no longer chief executive of World News? Jesus Christ, I thought suddenly, not only was I worrying about how to ask Nancy to remarry me, I had to worry too how to explain away my prospects..

  I’d arranged to meet her in Covent Garden. Usually we would have met in one of the cafes near Fleet Street, but I didn’t want those kinds of old memories getting in the way. I felt suddenly as though I were offering a very naked John Rail-ton—a middle-aged man, stripped of the trappings of power and achievement—and it wasn’t a comfortable thought.

  It helped, though, that she looked gorgeous. She was wearing a lavender-colored silk suit and her hair was set in the loose, easy style that had always suited her best.

  ‘Nan, you look fantastic,’ I said as she came into the cafe and joined me in the polished wooden booth.

  ‘I made an extra effort,’ she said. ‘I didn’t get much sleep last night, and I look a bit ragged under the makeup.’

  ‘Has something happened?’

  ‘No. I was up most of the night thinking.’

  I touched her hand gently. ‘I did quite a lot of that too,’ I said.

  ‘Yes, I thought you might. That’s why I feel so bad. John. I’m not as good as you are with words. I’ve been rehearsing like mad on the way here. But it all keeps coming out wrong, so I’d better just say it as best I can. I feel as though I’ve used you. Led you on, almost. And I didn’t want to do that. When things got bad with Paul, I let myself slip back to the good times we’d had, before it went wrong. I do love you, you know. I always have. I love being with you, and I love making love with you, but I don’t want you to ask me to come back to you. You remember Mike Harding? Several times, he’s offered me a job, and this time I think I’m going to take him up on it. He has an air charter business. I’m going to run it for him. I’ll do some flying too and try to build up enough experience to get my commercial license. It’s just bush flying. They probably won’t let me carry anything more valuable than old oil drums first, but it’s a chance to do what I want to do most…’

  She touched my arm. ‘John. I’m sorry. But I don’t ever want to marry again. I’ll be your lover, any time you want me. But I’ve made the break. Inside my head. I can’t go backwards, even for you.’

  One, two. It was almost funny. And it served me right for my grand fantasy. ‘I don’t think this is going to go down as one of my better days,’ I said, with a smile. ‘But I’m glad for you. I mean that, I really am.’

  ‘Do you have any plans yet?’ Nancy said.

  ‘No, not really. I suppose I could write my memoirs, but the best parts are going to be in the papers on Sunday anyway.’

  ‘John, stop feeling sorry for yourself,’ Nancy said. ‘You’re one of the most talented men I’ve ever known, and what you did was incredible. When the dust has settled, all kinds of people will come looking for you.’

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I know that. There’ll be some offers… but being head of World News is a bit of a tough act to follow.’

  ‘What you need is a mistress,’ Nancy said pl
ayfully. ‘I’m available, and I bet Seagull is too.’

  The joking helped and I could see Nancy realized it. She went on teasing me gently, and I was just about to find out how serious she was about being available as a mistress, when Walker came into the cafe. I didn’t want to break the mood and I made a sign to him not to interrupt. But he walked over to the table anyway. ‘Mr. Railton, could you come outside for a moment?’

  ‘Not right this minute,’ I said, ‘but I won’t be long.’

  Then I looked beyond Walker and saw Andy Doyle in the doorway. He gave me a wave and seated himself on a stool at the counter.

  ‘It’s okay,’ he said. ‘Take your time. I just wanted a quick word.’

  I turned back to Nancy, but she grinned and said, ‘Go on. Get it over with. I’m not going to get much of your attention until you find out what he wants.’

  I slid out of the booth and went over to the counter.

  ‘I’ve got the proofs of Deighton’s first article,’ he said. ‘You know I’ve bought the rights for some of my own papers.’

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I heard.’

  ‘Have you seen it?’

  ‘Cox showed me a draft early this morning.’

  ‘What did you think?’ Doyle said.

  ‘Brilliant. Exactly what’s wanted.’

  ‘Yeah. I think so, too,’ Doyle said. ‘But there’ve been a couple of changes. I wanted to clear them with you.’

  ‘What are they?’

  Doyle grinned. ‘The bit about your resignation, mainly. I’ve changed it to an explanation of why you offered, your resignation and I’ve inserted three grafs about why I refused it.’

  I could feel my hand trembling on the counter. I was ashamed of it, but there was nothing I could do to stop it, and Doyle appeared not to notice.

  ‘I’ve been over the story, line by line. You come out of it pretty well, Johnny, and frankly I don’t think that screwing around at a party and smoking a bit of dope should rule you out of court.’ He grinned. ‘Matter of fact, I’ve tried a couple of joints myself. My kids gave ‘em to me. I still prefer booze, but grass is no big deal in my book. So what do you say? Will you stay with me? I’ll get you a good package. More than you’ve been used to.’

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘And thanks.’

  ‘Great. The first thing is Datavol. I liked your approach to the union hassle. Haycroft told me about it. It was a smart move, but we can go faster. We’ve got ‘em on the run. I figure we can get the X-13S in in six months. I’ll be in L.A. myself on Wednesday. I’ll see if I can light some fires. You’d better come over and join me. I’ll take you back to Toronto with me. Best if you meet a few of the boys.’

  ‘I’ll take a look at my schedule,’ I said. ‘But I want to be in London when the story comes out. The press are going to be around World News like a pack of mad dogs and I want to be there to handle it.’

  ‘Good thinking,’ Doyle said. ‘Okay. See you in L.A. Wednesday.’

  When he’d gone, I walked back to the booth. ‘I don’t have to ask what that was about,’ Nancy said with a grin. ‘Your face says it all.’

  ‘Somebody up there apparently still likes me,’ I said. ‘They heard that one of my mistresses has gone broody and the other loves me but would rather be a bush pilot, so they offered me a consolation prize.’

  ‘John Railton, you’re a fraud. You know you love World News better than either of us. But if you do want a consolation prize, I’ve got just the thing. You can have this.’

  She pulled a small package out of her bag.

  ‘What is it?’

  Nancy laughed. ‘I got it from Ryder. It’s a tape of us making love in Vaudur. It’s very amusing. I never realized that you talked so much… and I make a funny kind of whistling sound.’

  ‘I’d rather have a live run.’

  ‘So would I,’ Nancy said, ‘but if I know you and World News, playing the tape on that little office machine of yours is about all you’re going to have time for.’

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Photo: Dominic Ennis

  Norman Hartley has spent most of his life writing and wandering the world, first as a freelance while selling beer in Africa, then as a Reuters correspondent, roving newspaper reporter and broadcaster and later as a BBC editor.

  He has written three other thrillers, The Saxon Network, The Viking Process and Quicksilver. His work has been translated into twelve languages.

  normanhartleybooks.com

  ABOUT SHADOWPLAY

  I have always had a soft spot for Shadowplay. The World News Agency of the thriller is a thinly disguised version of Reuters as it was in the early 1980s. My years as a Reuters correspondent were the most exciting and challenging of my journalistic life and I enjoyed every minute.

  One of the things I liked best about Reuters was the people. If you were stuck in some forsaken place, trying to make sense of a coup d’état or a massacre and you received a cable saying X – whom you didn’t know – was being sent to reinforce you, it would more than likely turn out to be someone you liked and got on with.

  I don’t think I ever met a Reuters correspondent I didn’t respect and I wanted to convey this in Shadowplay.

  I left Reuters only because I wanted to write novels and I knew that writing fiction would never be compatible with the relentless struggle to be a few minutes ahead of the rival agencies.

  One aspect of life in Reuters that I enjoyed having fun with was to have the chief executive of the agency accused of spying, as in my experience, Reuters management took a very dim view of any approaches by the intelligence services to co-opt its correspondents.

  The name World News Agency deceived no-one and after Shadowplay was published, one real-world Reuters chief executive wrote to me saying that he loved the book, but had only one objection: that my fictional hero had a great deal more fun and excitement than he did!

  I also wanted to examine the classic male fantasy of believing that, if you love two women, it might be somehow be possible to keep them both. My hero has managed to keep neither. He bitterly regrets it and still clings to the idea of getting one or both back, while at the same time holding onto one of the most demanding jobs in the world. Such are the pleasures of fiction.

  Other experiences also feed into Shadowplay. One of the characters is a retired Metropolitan police chief superintendent who was head of the Flying Squad. By this time, I had ghosted the memoirs of various celebrities, including Chief Superintendent Jack Slipper who became known as Slipper of the Yard. He became a great friend and a cheerfully willing source of detail for his fictional counterpart.

  Shadowplay was the first book in which I dealt directly with espionage, though the theme of corporate power – which runs through The Saxon Network, The Viking Process and Quicksilver – is still significant.