Mission London

35

“You’ve played me for a fool,” snorted Varadin. “You Bastard!”

His voice spewed from his oral cavity like a thick black, pestilential stream.

“Your Excellency,” replied Ziebling coldly. “I’ve no idea what you are talking about. You wanted the Queen, you have Her! What more do you need!”

“The real Queen, you bastard!” The Ambassador groaned and then almost choked. “100!”

“Pardon?” Ziebling raised his eyebrows.

“75!” said Varadin and repeated himself furiously, “The Real Queen!”

“The real Queen?” Ziebling seemed genuinely surprised. “Are you mad?”

“No, I’m not!” spat the Ambassador, “300!”

Pepolen’s system was coming apart at the seams. Obviously it was not designed for such heavy use. The emotional valve could not hold the pressure; there were too many numbers and with no other escape-valve, the whole system was blocking up. At any moment it might blow, and bury him in the debris. He had to save his brain.

Ziebling stared at him, as though trying to guess what was going through his client’s mind.

“Why don’t you bring Lady Diana along as well,” the Ambassador continued cuttingly. “Just for the look of the thing.”

The Famous Connector blinked rapidly, “But you didn’t ask for her!”

“Enough!” shouted Varadin, stopping both Ziebling and the numbers. “Do you think you can lead me around by the nose? I know all about your agency!”

“We have nothing to hide, Sir,” Ziebling answered calmly. “I assumed that you were aware of the nature of our services from the start. You called us, if you remember.”

“Dean Carver recommended you, and I put my faith in him,” the Ambassador complained bitterly, and added bitingly, “I suppose it was in his interest…”

“I’m not surprised he spoke highly of us,” said Ziebling. “We’re very good of what we do. I assure you, you will like our show!”

“There won’t be any show!” spat Varadin.

“You’re cancelling at the last minute?” the Famous Connector shifted uneasily. “Whatever for?”

“Because you expect me to accept a fake Queen, that’s why!!” Varadin exploded, “Do you really think we’re that stupid?”

Ziebling went red and jumped out of his chair, “My dear man, not for an instant did I expect that you might think that we would actually get hold of Her Majesty herself! That’s absurd! Where on earth did you get such a bizarre idea?”

The Ambassador blinked rapidly opposite him. “We’ll have to think of something,” he mumbled, mostly to himself. “…That she’s fallen ill or been called away on important State business. I don’t know. We have to think of something!”

“But what about the others?” asked Ziebling, business-like.

“What others?” gaped Varadin. The guest list appeared before his eyes, titles and all.

“I want to inform you that they are only extras, you can’t rely on them too much,” Ziebling said.

Varadin felt his migraine coming on and massaged his sinuses, without much success. “I should have known,” he muttered. “You thought of everything!”

“But of course!” nodded Ziebling. “It wasn’t easy, let me tell you! Usually people choose more private scenarios. But you’ve wanted this concert so much! You obviously have good reasons for it. I don’t know. It’s not my business to comment on my clients’ desires, merely to fulfil them. However, I cannot allow external elements to interfere with the troop. That’s unprofessional.”

“But they’ve bought their tickets already, for God’s sake!”

“We assumed that this will please you. We included them in the price. Don’t worry.”

The Ambassador looked up quickly, “You expected me to pay for this masquerade?”

“Amongst other things — that is why I’m here,” replied Ziebling cheerfully, “to discuss our fee. I’ve prepared you an invoice down to the last penny.”

“Maybe you didn’t understand that I’m turning down your services!”

“Don’t rush it, your Excellency,” continued Ziebling, paying not slightest attention to his words. “We’ve already invested in this project and you will be obliged to refund our expenses in any case. Besides which, we all bought our tickets, including myself, see here it is.” He pulled a piece of card from his breast pocket, which had the Embassy’s seal on it. “And we have no intention of missing the food or the show. I know you’ve been preparing for this occasion for almost six months. Troubadours and acrobats have been called in all the way from Bulgaria. So it should be worth seeing, shouldn’t it?”

“We’ll refund the price of the tickets,” said the Ambassador gloomily. “I won’t let you make fools of us.”

“Just don’t kill yourself!” Ziebling interrupted. “I am worried about you, you know? Where on earth are you going to find other guests?” He looked at his watch. “You’ve only got three hours till the concert. I suspect certain people will be unimpressed if the whole room is empty. Especially if they find out why. Where does the buck stop? You can’t pass the buck to the small fry. Think of your career!”

Varadin looked at him blankly. What did it matter now? His career was already up the creek. And not a paddle in sight.

“No, nothing is lost, Sir!” shouted Ziebling, as though reading his mind. “You mustn’t give up hope. After making one mistake, don’t make a second. Let us put on our little show and everything will be all right. They are absolute professionals, especially our Queen. Children have often stopped her in the park to ask her, ‘Excuse me, are you Queen Elisabeth II?’ You know? And the costumes are simply to die for.”

“Are telling me I should try to fool them?”

“I’m offering a way out,” Ziebling lowered his voice. “The only one for a man in your position! I’ll save you and you simply keep to your contract. There won’t be any scandals. Nothing will reach the press. Someone will believe that they’ve dined with Her Majesty and will be happy. You’ll be the hero. And if you want the princess later, you just give me a call. You are quite taken with her, aren’t you? We have large discounts for our regular clients.”

He had gradually moved closer to Varadin, blocking the faint afternoon light from the window. Suddenly, his figure loomed large and its huge shadow fell across the mass of his desk. His lips were almost kissing his ear, as though they were trying to suck the remains of brain out. Terrible warmth encircled his body.

“You’re the Devil himself!” hissed Varadin.