Capital Crimes

30

THR CABINET MEETING WAS breaking up at Number 10 Downing Street, and people were filing out, putting on their coats against the driving rain outside. Ridgeway’s private secretary came and stood close to him. “General Sir Ewan Southby-Tailyour and the lady from military intelligence are waiting,” he said.

“Show them in as soon as everyone is out the front door,” Ridgeway instructed. “No, better put them in my private study now, and I’ll join them in a moment.”

“Yes, Prime Minister,” the man replied.

Ridgeway packed some papers into a dispatch box and gave them to an assistant, then he dictated replies to some letters. He dismissed his staff for the day and went through the bookcase door and into his study. The two people waiting came quickly to their feet.

“Sir Ewan,” he said, extending his hand.

“Prime Minister.” General Sir Ewan Southby-Tailyour was a handsome man with thick, white hair, wearing a beautifully cut uniform. He was the senior commander of the Royal Marines, and a former commando himself.

“Good afternoon, Carpenter,” he said to the woman.

Although he knew her name was Felicity Devonshire, the intelligence people preferred sobriquets. She was an elegant, handsome woman in her late thirties, dressed in a tweed suit designed to deemphasize her sexuality, which Ridgeway thought was a failure.

“Good afternoon, Prime Minister,” she said warmly.

“Please sit down,” he said. “I believe the sun is well over the yardarm. Please let me get you something to drink.”

“A dry sherry, please,” Carpenter said.

“A small whisky,” Southby-Tailyour replied.

Ridgeway went to the concealed liquor cabinet and made the drinks, asking with his eyebrows how much water the general wanted in his Scotch. Then he mixed himself a large bourbon with ice. The president of the United States had given him a case of Knob Creek, and he kept it in an unlabeled decanter, so that no one would know he was drinking American whiskey.

He handed the drinks around, then sat down and took a long pull on his drink. “Thank you for coming,” he said. “I hope I haven’t pulled you away from something terribly important.”

The two people made demurring noises.

“There’s something I’d like you to look into and make a recommendation on- Good God, do you two know each other? I didn’t introduce you.”

“We met on a previous occasion,” Carpenter said.

“Oh, good. Well, what this is about is Sealand.”

Carpenter seemed to stifle a smile, while Sir Ewan just looked interested.

“You both know about it?”

They nodded.

“Now I know it isn’t terribly important to us in any sort of strategic or even tactical sense-”

“Might make a nice bombing practice range,” Sir Ewan said.

“… but I’ve had a query about it from the American president.”

“Why on earth would he be interested in Sealand?” Carpenter asked.

“You know, I expect, that these Sealand people are offering Internet and cell phone services from the island.”

Both nodded.

“I expect you’ve heard, too, that there have been a series of murders of important conservative political figures in the U.S.?”

They nodded again.

“Well, there seems to be a connection. The fellow who’s committing these murders is running a personal website on one of Sealand’s servers, and President Lee and his security people would very much like to know who registered this site-his name and address, if possible, and anything else that might help them run him to ground.”

“Well,” Sir Ewan said, smiling, “I think my people would enjoy putting on a little show to gather this information.”

“And I think I’d enjoy going along,” Carpenter said.

“We don’t want this all over the papers, if we can help it,” Ridgeway said. “Can we help it?”

“Perhaps not,” Carpenter replied, “unless we can get in and out without causing a ruckus.”

“Could your chaps do that, Ewan?”

“I should think it’s highly likely, if I choose my people well. But still, if the people on the island twig, and they want it known, well…”

“So there’s a risk of it becoming public?”

“A not-unreasonable risk,” Southby-Tailyour replied.

“If it should break, I would not like to see your names mentioned,” Ridgeway said.

“Thank you, sir,” Carpenter replied. “I should think we could guarantee you that that will not happen.”

“Quite,” the general said.

“Well then, get back to me with something soon?” The PM stood up, and so did his guests. “Carpenter, could you stay for a moment?” he asked.

“Of course, Prime Minister,” she replied.

He waved her back to her chair and waited until the door had closed behind Sir Ewan. “Well, Felicity, how are things going at your firm?” he asked.

“We’re making the adjustment,” she said. “I suppose we would adjust more quickly with the question of the appointment resolved.”

“Ah, yes,” Ridgeway said. “Sir Edward’s replacement.” Sir Edward Fieldstone, the head of British Intelligence, had been murdered in the men’s room of the Four Seasons restaurant in New York some weeks before, while Carpenter had sat at dinner in the dining room with the director of the FBI. “I’m working on that.”

“I’m sure you are, sir.”

“You know, Felicity, were you a few years older, your name would be on the short list to succeed Sir Edward.”

She appeared surprised. “Well, that’s very flattering, Prime Minister.”

“I believe I could successfully appoint a woman,” he said, “perhaps even a beautiful woman.” He waited for the compliment to sink in. “But not a beautiful young woman.”

“How nice to be referred to as young!” Carpenter replied, smiling, “and just when I was beginning to feel old.”

“Your conduct in the operation in New York was much appreciated, and I think no one assigns any responsibility to you for the death of Sir Edward. Fortunately, we have been able to blame the FBI for that one.”

“Quite.”

“And of course, we are all very relieved to have that woman, La Biche, out of the picture. I must say, it took courage to do what you did.”

“It was necessary,” she replied, gazing into her drink.

“You are quite a remarkable woman, Felicity,” he said. “If I thought there were the slightest chance of success, I’d be inviting you for a quiet dinner for two this evening. My wife is at Chequers for a few days.”

“You are kind, Prime Minister, but our positions make that impossible.”

“Of course they do,” he replied, chuckling to cover his embarrassment at being rejected. “Well, back to our original subject. What do you think are the chances of pulling off this Sealand thing without making the papers?”

“Well, there is always the Official Secrets Act,” she said, referring to the act of Parliament that made it possible to hide almost anything from the public. “But, of course, that doesn’t apply to the European media, and these days…”

“Quite, quite.”

“I think there are three possibilities for an outcome,” she said.

“And they are?”

“One, we go in, find what we want, and get out without being discovered. I think this is the least likely, but it could happen.”

“Yes, that would be desirable.”

“Two, we go in, and they discover that someone has been there, but they don’t know who. I think we have a better chance of that.”

“And three?”

“We go in, are discovered, and the Sealand people blab to the press. I think that, for planning purposes, we should think of that as the likely outcome.”

“Mmmm,” the prime minister said, noncommittally.

“I think in that case, we should take some pains for them not to know who we are, to make them think that our party is there for commercial purposes. I can do some work on that.”

“I like that,” Ridgeway said. He stood up. “Well, get back to me when you and Sir Ewan have a plan.”

She stood up and set down her drink. “Thank you, Prime Minister. We’ll try to be quick.”

“More important to be thorough,” he said. He watched her exit the room, regretting that he had not been more persuasive.