The Chosen One

49

Undisclosed location, Sunday March 26, 16.00 GMT

‘My thanks to all of you for making time for this conference call: I know that the weekends are precious.’

A murmur of agreement, conveyed through the desktop speaker. These were men like him, with no time or talent for small talk.

‘I wanted to brief you on the latest developments in the case we discussed last time. I am glad to tell you that we have sent in some very experienced…’ he hesitated, unsure of the appropriately delicate term for such work, ‘personnel and I am assured that there will be results very soon.’

‘How soon?’ Germany again. Of course.

‘Well, put it this way. If you read your newspapers thoroughly over the next twenty-four hours, I don’t think you’ll be disappointed.’

‘That’s good to hear.’ Manhattan. Perhaps he had broken up that particular US-German alliance: he hoped so.

‘Can we say we are back on track?’ A new voice: the accent, Middle Eastern, was initially difficult to make out. ‘I read something in the press this weekend that suggested we still had cause for concern.’

‘We are not out of the woods yet, that’s true. As we all know, politics is an unpredictable business.’ He smiled his silkiest smile, though he knew it was wasted on a phone call.

‘Except that’s what we’re all here for, isn’t it?’ said Germany, his tone edgy once more. ‘To make politics as predictable as possible. Am I right?’