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He stayed overnight in the Sunshine Suite, hoping she might change her mind. But when the Caymans ferry arrived the following morning, and he’d still heard nothing, he decided he had to leave. He disembarked at Heathrow at midnight and took a taxi first to Thames House to file his report, then home to sleep. The following morning, he returned to work feeling shattered and hardly knowing what to expect.
“Ruby Parker’s upstairs with the Lord Mayor of London,” Colin Bale told him at reception. “B14. She wants you to report straight there.”
He’d been hoping for a few moments alone with his colleagues, but he’d listened to the radio as he got ready for work and read a newspaper on his way in, so he guessed he was about as prepared as he’d ever be. Bob Wellington was known to be a colourful figure, given to publicity stunts. Mordred hadn’t voted for him, but he didn’t dislike him in principle. Maybe he’d make for a fun meeting, but it seemed unlikely. However congenial a politician seemed in the media, when he or she came to Thames House it was always to administer a bollocking.
When he walked into B14, however, there was no Bob Wellington. Instead, Ruby Parker sat at the head of the table with a small, bald, choleric looking man of about sixty with an invisible neck, and his hands folded in front of him. Also present were Phyllis, Edna, Alec, Young Ian and, sitting slightly apart, a middle-aged woman with a pencil and notepad, possibly the minute-taker, although they didn’t usually have one. None of them looked happy. None of them acknowledged Mordred’s entry. He sat down.
Ruby Parker stood up languidly. “Now that we’re all here,” she said, “This is Sir Ashley Cavendish, the Lord Mayor of London. He’s here to observe our meeting. Karen” – she indicated the woman with the notepad – “is here to take the minutes.”
There was something she wasn’t telling them. Her body language was all wrong. What was going on?
“Why does Sir Ashley want to observe our meeting?” Mordred asked.
“What do you mean?” she replied. She didn’t sound overly surprised or annoyed by the interruption, which was equally odd.
“Can I talk directly to him?” he asked.
“No,” she said.
Triply odd. “What’s he hoping to learn?”
“I have to admit,” she said, “it wasn’t my idea, and – with respect, sir, but you already know this - I’m not in favour of it, but it turns out I have no choice. Although Thames House lies outside the boundaries of the City of London, within those boundaries this gentleman has almost absolute authority, and we need his full cooperation if we’re to make progress with our investigation.”
No one spoke. The Lord Mayor remained as unresponsive as a frog in the shade. Nothing so far seemed to have made the slightest impression on him. Apart from the fact that his eyes were open and he sat upright, he displayed every visible sign of being dead.
“Let’s begin,” she said. “John, I’ve read your report. Things have moved on since your return. I’m obliged to ask you a number of questions.”
“Sounds grim. Am I under suspicion of anything?”
She ignored him. “Last night, a landing party from the HMS Bridlington, including representatives from the Caymans Police Force, assumed provisional control of Saint Martha’s Rock. We’ve managed to confirm that Peter Decristoforo arrived at Heathrow three days ago, but we still don’t know his whereabouts. Do you know where his adopted daughter is?”
“Not unless she’s at home in the Caribbean.”
“She isn’t,” the Lord Mayor said, suddenly coming alive. “And she’s destroyed a lot of what we were looking for. So here’s my theory, boy. You told her who you were, what you were after, and what she’d have to do to escape. You went there to seduce her, and she ended up turning the tables. You’re a gullible idiot.”
“Well, what a lovely theory,” Mordred replied.
“Is it true, John?” Ruby Parker asked quietly. “For the minutes.”
“She’s a beautiful woman,” the Lord Mayor said. “You don’t get the opportunity to sleep with her sort every day.”
“Let him answer the question, Sir Ashley. And may I remind you you’re here solely to observe.”
“Before I left,” Mordred said, “Brian jokingly mooted the idea of sex for statements. I told him that wasn’t on the cards. Even if I was temperamentally disposed to one-night stands, which I’m not, it’s a very ineffective way of gaining information. So no, it isn’t true. And of course, check my file. I’m actually forbidden to employ sex as a means of acquiring intelligence.”
“Why?” the Lord Mayor said, apparently genuinely interested. “Isn’t that one of the main perks?”
“When I entered MI7, I was given a psychological evaluation. The results showed I wouldn’t be very good at it.”
“What? Sex?”
“Using sex as a means to an end.”
“Because you’d get emotionally involved, I assume,” the Lord Mayor said.
Mordred paused long enough to make his annoyance clear. “Yes. Besides, she’s in mourning. According to what she told me, she has no intention of sleeping with anyone again. So even if I’d - ”
“So what did she invite you up to her house for?” the Lord Mayor persisted.
“Dinner.”
“Sex. You had sex. Admit it! Long, glorious fornication, and - ”
Phyllis ejected a laugh.
Everyone turned to look at her. She opened her mouth to apologise, but obviously couldn’t. She waved her hand before her face.
The Lord Mayor had stood up. “What the hell’s so funny about that, woman? This is serious!”
“Enough,” Ruby Parker said. “Karen, let the minutes record that at thirteen minutes exactly, I instructed Sir Ashley Cavendish to leave the meeting.”
The Lord Mayor didn’t argue. He pulled his shirt cuffs down. “I don’t think I need stay any longer. I suspected you were pathetic, but I needed to confirm it in person. You’re doing nothing. The bloody Remembrancer’s disappeared, and what are these ‘Occupy’ goons asking for? That the ‘post of Remembrancer be abolished’.”
“Amongst other things,” Phyllis said.
He laughed incredulously. “And you can’t see the connection? This needs to end now. The City of London is the last thing this crummy country’s got going for it, and if you think I’m going to be the Lord Mayor who presides over its dissolution into ‘Greater’ London, you’ve another think coming! Let me tell you something, ‘Ruby Parker’ – assuming that’s even your real name: yesterday the City of London Corporation acquired two private security firms: your old enemy Horvath, and your old friend Chewton Black. From now on, we’ll do things our own way, in our own time. Which means, double-quick!”
He tried to slam the door as he left, but it had a slide-track arm which took a full four seconds to run down. Everyone listened to his footsteps recede along the corridor. They watched the door until it closed with a loud clunk. Then they let out loud sighs of relief.
“Where the hell’s Bob bloody Wellington?” Alec asked.
Ruby Parker sighed. “Bob Wellington’s the Mayor of London, Alec. Sir Ashley Cavendish is the lord Mayor of the City of London. They have virtually nothing to do with each other.”
“By ‘City of London’,” Alec said, “you mean, the Square Mile? I thought that was just an abstraction, like old town-new town.”
“I’m afraid it’s anything but.”
“So how many people live there? In this one measly square mile?”
“About nine thousand.”
Alec hooted. “As against – what? – nearly two million in Greater London? What’s its point?”
“It’s slightly more complex than that.”
“Really? I don’t see how it can be.”
“The votes in a City mayoral election – just shy of thirty thousand – mostly come from big corporations, many not even British. Goldman Sachs, Moscow Narodny Bank, the Bank of China, and so on. It’s not even as democratic as my use of the words ‘nine’ and ‘thousand’ may have led you to suppose.”
“I see,” Alec replied, apparently chastened. “Sorry, I thought you were going to defend the indefensible.”
“No wonder he’s running scared,” Mordred said. “That’s not something you’d want to publicise. ‘The capital city of your country’s being run by powerful overseas interests’. No wonder the economy’s up the spout.”
“Factor in the City’s notoriously lax regulation,” Ruby Parker said, “and you’ll understand why some people think it’s the greatest recipe for global corruption ever invented. And why the protesters want it abolished. I can’t say I don’t sympathise. Especially after what we’ve just witnessed.”
“He seemed like a man who likes to get things done,” Phyllis commented.
Ruby Parker took a deep breath. “Had the Home Secretary not insisted, I’d never have allowed him in, but you’d be surprised who the Lord Mayor of London City has in his pocket. Be careful. He’s a dangerous man to have as an enemy.”
Phyllis smiled. “With respect, I think that ship’s already sailed. Sorry I laughed, by the way. It was as much John’s fault as his.”
“Mine?” Mordred said.
“Your face,” she replied. “You long, glorious fornicator, you.” She laughed and again, couldn’t control it. “Sorry, sorry. Just give me a few seconds.”
“Are you getting this down?” Alec asked Karen. She ignored him.
“Shall we get back to business?” Ruby Parker asked.
“I’ve no idea where Fenella Decristoforo-Salvaterra is,” Mordred said. “The last time I saw her, she was at home. When I arrived on the island, there was no mobile signal, and the taxi driver threatened me with a gun, which I later discovered to be a replica. All of which was her doing. She knew who I was because her father had told her. I don’t know how he found out, except for the obvious fact that that it was something to do with computers.”
“What about the supposed surveillance blind spot that allowed the protesters to organise?” Alec asked. “Did she say anything about that?”
“That she wouldn’t be surprised if Peter was behind it, but she wasn’t sure. She made no secret of their shared sympathy for the demonstrators.”
“If you’d thought to keep an eye on her, John,” Phyllis said, “she might have led us to her father.”
“I followed my brief,” Mordred said.
“Sometimes, you’re expected to go off-brief,” Alec chimed in. “That’s the nature of the job.”
“Given that she knew I was a spy, don’t you think she’d have tried to lose me? She wouldn’t have found it difficult. She’s probably familiar with the entire Caribbean coastline. I’m not. Had I tried to follow her, I’d have forfeited her trust.”
“Whereas this way,” Phyllis said, “you’ve simply forfeited her, period.”
“Better just one than both,” he replied. “Anyway, she’s got the entire US and UK law enforcement and security agencies looking for her. I’m sure she won’t get far. When they do eventually pick her up, they’ll need someone to talk to her.”
“And that’ll be you, will it?” Alec said. “With respect, John, you’re dreaming. What we’re all after is her father’s technology. If she is caught, she’s bait, that’s all. We won’t need anyone to join her for a cream tea and a tête-à-tête.”
“Well, I’m pleased not to be a part of that,” Mordred said.
Alec chuckled. “Oh, for the luxury of an unsullied conscience.”
“Item two on the agenda,” Ruby Parker said, “Alec, perhaps you’d like to tell us how much progress you’ve made tracking down Norman Pruett, the Remembrancer.”
“We’ve got virtually nowhere,” he replied. “We’ve spoken to his former wife, Jean, in Northampton. She doesn’t know where he is, hasn’t seen him in years. Two children, both living in Australia, not seen him since secondary school. We spent a day searching his flat, nothing. We need higher level clearance. We need to start speaking to some of the people who knew him at work: either members of the City of London Corporation, or some MPs.”
“Would we need the Mayor’s permission for the former?” Edna asked.
“It would be polite to ask him,” Ruby Parker replied, “but luckily, it’s not strictly necessary. Given his announcement a moment ago, he’s probably instructed his colleagues not to talk to anyone, especially us.”
“We may be able to steal a march on that particular instruction,” Ian said.
“What do you mean?” Phyllis asked.
“Up till a moment ago,” Ian went on, “we had instructions from the Lord Mayor to find out what happened to Norman Pruett, and not involve the police. Since hardly anyone in this country knows who the Remembrancer is, or that he exists, that would mean he must have expected us to speak to Pruett’s colleagues in the City of London Corporation. If that’s true, he probably told them to cooperate with us. He may have changed his mind a moment ago, but it takes time to countermand an order. My guess is that if we act quickly, we may be able to sneak a deal of information out from under his nose.”
“The only problem with that,” Edna said, “is there’s a reason we haven’t spoken to his colleagues that goes beyond clearance.”
“Oh?” Ruby Parker said.
“He has no family and no friends that we can discover,” Edna said. “Therefore his disappearance could well be something to do with work. If that’s true, in an organisation as secretive as this, it may well be that his work colleagues have collaborated to peddle us a story. They may be waiting for us to come and speak to them. Of course, that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t, it just explains why we put it on the back burner.”
“It’s a pretty bold working assumption,” Ruby Parker said, “and, as far as I know, completely unfounded. If you’re not careful, it could warp the entire investigation.”
“Sorry, Edna’s right,” Alec said. “The Lord Mayor instigated this inquiry. He reported the Remembrancer missing and he stipulated: no police. He must have known that Pruett’s family would be a dead-end, but he didn’t see fit to inform us. He must have known we’d be forced to fall back on his and Pruett’s City colleagues, but he didn’t explicitly offer them up. I don’t think it’s wholly unreasonable to imagine there’s something he hopes we won’t discover, and that he’s primed his Corporation buddies as far as is consistent with their need to know, but that, from his point of view, that may not be enough, and he’s therefore not wholly confident we won’t discover the truth.”
“Which puts a whole new spin on his behaviour today,” Phyllis said. “Arguably – I’m just saying arguably - he doesn’t even want us to talk to his colleagues, and he was looking for a pretext to exclude us. Exclude everybody. He can’t completely hide Pruett’s disappearance, so he wants the fact that he reported it to the appropriate authorities recorded somewhere, as a kind of insurance. Then he wants it forgotten.”
“Why don’t we get Pruett’s wife or children to report his disappearance to the police?” Mordred asked.
“It wouldn’t do any good,” Ruby Parker said. “The police would fill in a missing persons report and the Home Secretary would tell them hands off, it’s a security service matter. That’s as far as it would get. Because, apart from anything else, there’s no reason to suspect foul play ... yet, at least.”
“More interesting then,” Ian said, “would be to discover whether the Lord Mayor does actually prevent us gaining access to his colleagues. Depending on how hard he’s worked to lead the investigation astray, he may be reluctant to close the door in our faces, regardless of what he said a few moments ago.”
“You’re saying he might actually encourage us to investigate,” Phyllis said. “Despite his outburst?”
“If our suspicions are correct, yes,” Ian said. “If he’s somehow implicated, he may not know his own mind. Typically, guilty suspects tend to alternate between different and conflicting strategies for diverting attention.”
“Maybe we should try and get in early anyway,” Alec said. “Cover all bases.”
“You’d better get moving,” Ruby Parker said. “Karen, you can stop now. Close the minutes at the point where I expelled the Lord Mayor and provide me with an extra copy of the published version FAO Her Majesty’s Principal Secretary of State for the Home Department. John, you stay here.”
Everyone except Mordred and Ruby Parker got up and left.
