to a good deal of very interesting information. If certain political ambitions do in fact exist, some of it may be of use, if you get my drift. I know that the Ambassador’s access to inside information has been considerably restricted of late, since his views have become, let’s say, less popular with some elements of the government.”
Norton drained his brandy glass. “So, Freddie, in plain English you’re saying that you support the Ambassador’s views and are keen to see him continue to promote them. In this context, you may be in a position to give him some pieces of information which could be of political use to him. Have I got the drift?”
“Bingo, Arthur. And with you as the essential link. Indeed, it may also be that circumstances arise to offer the Ambassador the opportunity to be very directly involved in bringing about a peaceful resolution to the political situation. Of course he has his influence with the current incumbent of the White House to exert and then imagine the possibilities ahead of an election – Joe Kennedy, master diplomat and peacemaker. What about that, eh? In fact, there’s something – well we shouldn’t discuss it here. I’d like to introduce you to someone. Perhaps, if you’re free tomorrow night…”
“I will make myself free.”
“Good. An interesting person. I’ll call you later to make arrangements.”
The two men were now alone save for an elderly couple playing cards in a far corner. Nancy and her retired goat had long since departed.
“One more for the road, Arthur?”
“Sure. We can drink to Anglo-American cooperation.”
“To that and… well, why not, to the Thirty-Second President of the United States, Mr Joseph P. Kennedy.”
“Morning, guvnor.”
A bearded man in a stained white coat greeted them and led Merlin and his two companions through the swing doors into a small, white-tiled room. In its centre, harshly illuminated by a flickering bright central light, was a trolley bearing an object covered in a sheet. They all stood for a moment at its foot, the only sound apart from their breathing the steady drip of a tap in a basin in the corner. A strong smell of chemicals pervaded the room and for a moment Merlin thought he would need to sneeze. The silence was broken by a whimper from Joseph Harris. “Is that ’er then?”
Merlin nodded to the attendant who pulled back the sheet.
The head and upper part of the pale, lifeless body was revealed and raised a collective sigh from the visitors before Harris cried out, “Oh God! That’s our girl. My beautiful sis’. What have they done to you, Joanie?” Tears began to stream down Harris’ unshaven cheeks.
“You’re sure?”
Harris wiped his nose with his coat sleeve and nodded. “Look. There’s her little mole there on her shoulder.” He reached out to touch the small brown mark and stroked it tenderly. When he withdrew his hand he balled it into a fist. “I’ll get the bastard who did this. I’ll swing for ’im I will.”
“There’ll be no need to do that. We’ll find the culprit, I promise you. Sergeant, send Morgan in will you?”
Bridges gently pulled Harris away from his sister and through the door.
Morgan’s jauntiness disappeared when he saw the trolley.
“Her brother’s certain it’s Joan but I thought you’d better have a look anyway. Do you recognise her?”
Morgan shook his head. “I, I don’t know for sure.” His breath caught as he reached his hand out to the dead girl and then withdrew it sharply without touching.
“Mr Harris recognised this mole. Do you…?”
Morgan continued shaking his head. “Never seen her back, naked like, so I don’t…”
Morgan’s face now had a sallow tinge and Merlin saw that his hands were trembling.
“Very well, no doubt we can get someone else in the family to confirm the identification if we have to.”
Out in the corridor, Joseph Harris was being sick. Bridges had a comforting hand on his shoulder, while with his
Norton drained his brandy glass. “So, Freddie, in plain English you’re saying that you support the Ambassador’s views and are keen to see him continue to promote them. In this context, you may be in a position to give him some pieces of information which could be of political use to him. Have I got the drift?”
“Bingo, Arthur. And with you as the essential link. Indeed, it may also be that circumstances arise to offer the Ambassador the opportunity to be very directly involved in bringing about a peaceful resolution to the political situation. Of course he has his influence with the current incumbent of the White House to exert and then imagine the possibilities ahead of an election – Joe Kennedy, master diplomat and peacemaker. What about that, eh? In fact, there’s something – well we shouldn’t discuss it here. I’d like to introduce you to someone. Perhaps, if you’re free tomorrow night…”
“I will make myself free.”
“Good. An interesting person. I’ll call you later to make arrangements.”
The two men were now alone save for an elderly couple playing cards in a far corner. Nancy and her retired goat had long since departed.
“One more for the road, Arthur?”
“Sure. We can drink to Anglo-American cooperation.”
“To that and… well, why not, to the Thirty-Second President of the United States, Mr Joseph P. Kennedy.”
“Morning, guvnor.”
A bearded man in a stained white coat greeted them and led Merlin and his two companions through the swing doors into a small, white-tiled room. In its centre, harshly illuminated by a flickering bright central light, was a trolley bearing an object covered in a sheet. They all stood for a moment at its foot, the only sound apart from their breathing the steady drip of a tap in a basin in the corner. A strong smell of chemicals pervaded the room and for a moment Merlin thought he would need to sneeze. The silence was broken by a whimper from Joseph Harris. “Is that ’er then?”
Merlin nodded to the attendant who pulled back the sheet.
The head and upper part of the pale, lifeless body was revealed and raised a collective sigh from the visitors before Harris cried out, “Oh God! That’s our girl. My beautiful sis’. What have they done to you, Joanie?” Tears began to stream down Harris’ unshaven cheeks.
“You’re sure?”
Harris wiped his nose with his coat sleeve and nodded. “Look. There’s her little mole there on her shoulder.” He reached out to touch the small brown mark and stroked it tenderly. When he withdrew his hand he balled it into a fist. “I’ll get the bastard who did this. I’ll swing for ’im I will.”
“There’ll be no need to do that. We’ll find the culprit, I promise you. Sergeant, send Morgan in will you?”
Bridges gently pulled Harris away from his sister and through the door.
Morgan’s jauntiness disappeared when he saw the trolley.
“Her brother’s certain it’s Joan but I thought you’d better have a look anyway. Do you recognise her?”
Morgan shook his head. “I, I don’t know for sure.” His breath caught as he reached his hand out to the dead girl and then withdrew it sharply without touching.
“Mr Harris recognised this mole. Do you…?”
Morgan continued shaking his head. “Never seen her back, naked like, so I don’t…”
Morgan’s face now had a sallow tinge and Merlin saw that his hands were trembling.
“Very well, no doubt we can get someone else in the family to confirm the identification if we have to.”
Out in the corridor, Joseph Harris was being sick. Bridges had a comforting hand on his shoulder, while with his
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