132: Vibe shift

Standing thigh deep in a northern stream, with March winds blowing from the east, is not my kind of a holiday. Fishing has its seasons apparently, fish which may be caught at one time and not at another, although they all get thrown back in the end. It makes little sense to me.

When Charlie is away, I don’t usually give her much thought, out of sight is out of mind. However, I was taking the opportunity of bringing my hand written journal up to date, writing down all those snatches of dialogue that in time form the core of my episodic reminiscences. I draw heavily on these field notes for my prose, ‘where the dialogue carries the weight’, as we writers like to say.

Charlie often claims I have the luck of the devil and she may be right. I’d barely returned the current volume of the journal to the safe, when a sudden draft told me there had been a breach of the back door. A week seems to pass so quickly these days. I sallied forth to greet her. ‘Or right, darling!’

‘Yes, thank you, sir.’

She can be quite quiet and distant for a while after returning from a trip. It wasn’t until tea, with just the two of us sat opposite each other across the kitchen table, that she opened up; ‘Something really weird happened when I was away.’

‘Oh, good!’

‘What? You’re pleased? You should be concerned!’

‘Bad stuff can be good; one can always gain from disorder.’

‘Anyway, you know how our Wi-Fi connection in the cars has always been good for the last couple of years?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why is that?’

‘Well, I’ve got all the subscriptions to all of the services and my security is so good it’s almost instant switching. So, hardly any dead locations or interruptions.’

‘Okay. Well where we were staying coverage is practically non-existent, everyone was complaining. Then I suggested they try connecting to the car. So, to cut a long story short, by the end of the week four or five people had realised they could stream videos from anywhere, all at the same time, as long as they were within twenty feet of the vehicle!’ Then she added after a pause; ‘They all wanted to know about it, all I could say was my partner was a real geek and I had no idea how it was done.’

‘Ever heard of a chap called Eltham Makepeace?’

‘Of course I have, he’s the richest man in the world!’

‘Well, that rather depends on the state of global stock markets from one week to the next. But, if he is, then he’s also the largest individual taxpayer in the world, think of that! However, in the marketplace of ideas, he certainly stands alone. But to come to the point, over the last few years his rockets have been launching multiple low-level communication satellites. At first, they covered very isolated or poor areas of the globe, but they’ve spread, Greenland, Iceland, Faroe Islands, arctic Norway, and they often overlap. Even though there is no official UK coverage yet, some of us have been volunteering to turn our vehicles into test dishes...’

‘You and Eltham are tech-bros?!’

‘In a manner of speaking, I don’t know him personally, though we were once in the same room together, I think Barmy has his private numbers.’

‘People worry about their privacy, whether he can be trusted, use our data to make money.’

‘Can’t think why, firstly he has all the money he can possibly want, two, he’s had the highest of security clearances for years because of his innovative rockets. Besides he’s only temporary, part-time, volunteer tech support for the White House. Personally, I find the idea that Eltham may have hacked the president’s brain quite reassuring.’

Charlie gave me what can only be described as a sideways look, opened her mouth to say something, then thought better of it. After another pause; ‘Anyway that’s as maybe. I’ve got other news.’

‘Oh, yes.’

‘I gave a lift part of the way home to Martine.’

‘Ah! Our nation’s leading female angler.’

‘Precisely, sir. We got to talking charities and royal patronage.’

‘Don’t tell me, you couldn’t help showing off your connections, only to have her trump you.’

‘You know? How do you know?’

‘I don’t, I was guessing on the basis that she’s more famous than you, so far.’

‘Yes. I suppose that follows. If I tell you this it must remain on deep, deep background.’

‘Understood.’

‘Well, the royals have always been great fishing people, the Duke used to tutor all his children and grandchildren. People assume they’re sitting on some of the best fishing in the country and access is restricted to the very few.’

‘...And your Martine, with her fame has been getting a taste of it.’

‘This is my story!’

‘Mea culpa, as Frimley would say, pray continue.’

‘She started this charity thing, small fishing groups for people in recovery from one thing or another. And a certain HRH, persuaded Mrs HRH to take tuition from M who then drew her into the group, subsequently she’s agreed to be their patron. But it’s very hush, hush, for now.’

‘Very good.’

‘So, as a thank you Martine has been introduced to a couple of very exclusive locations. Now then, how have you been mis-using your time, sir?’

‘I bought Archie a lunch at the club.’

‘Scheming?’

‘You might think so. I showed him the rogue passports. I wasn’t anticipating him having an answer, but I thought he might know someone in the know. A bank security type. I knew Archie did transactions with the Swiss from time to time, so anyway, he’ll nose around and let me know. Oh, and guess what?’

‘What?’

‘You know, he does make me laugh, Archie. The bank offered him promotion, some manager job higher up the food chain, he turned them down.’

‘How come?’

‘He told them they’d be mad to do so, that they’d make more money by leaving him right where he is! The HR person who made the offer clearly wasn’t aware of how much of the branch’s business comes via him, and what with the Trust benefiting from AI, and Barmy’s military industrial complex coming on board too.’

‘He’s getting quite settled at the club.’

‘He has enough of a salary to meet his needs, he’s in it for the game. He senses the vibe shift, goes with the flow.’

‘Anything else happen?’

‘Spoke to Bernard a couple of times. By the way, he’s made an appointment for the two of you to visit this guy who drew up Ken’s Will. You need to take along all his paperwork, especially stuff on the flat ownership, whilst he will turn up with the official paperwork for making a claim on the estate on behalf of the Trust. The idea is you let the local solicitor be the executor and collect his fee, but have a cosy informal chat about Ken’s relationship with the Aunt, yourself and myself and this place.’

‘Sounds okay.’

‘Tell you what, Bernard and Lawrence seem ever more convinced that advertising at sports grounds brings in business. You know most billboards at grounds are digital these days?’

‘Sure.’

‘Well apparently, they’re all on a global network now, managed by some financial institution. So, you can just go online and purchase time anywhere, anytime.’

‘So, what’s that got to do with us yokels?’

‘Well, that was my reaction, not only do none of our teams qualify for international tournaments, there are times when the number of fans travelling to away matches barely fills a minibus. Yes, I’m suspicious. Maybe Bernard was trying to flush me out, find out how much I knew.’

‘Sport’s not exactly your thing.’

‘Quite! Next time you meet with your co-conspirators, your cabal of the younger generation, you might care to sound them out.’

‘Very good, sir.’

131: Break-in

It happened on the morning of Kenneth Murchison’s funeral. Over the previous few months Charlie, ably assisted by Melisa, had been Ken’s principal carer. He’d asked her to be his executor, but had produced no Will. He simply handed her a smallish package to be opened only after his demise. She’d had me place it in the safe.

Now, on our way to the crematorium with myself at the wheel, she asked to stop by Ken’s flat to check on something or other. As I pulled up and parked, we found ourselves next to a police patrol car containing two male officers casually chatting. Charlie asserted; ‘Somethings up, I recognise one of them. An Inspector Dobson.’

As we locked the vehicle and made towards the apartment, Dobson lowered his window and said; ‘Ms Sparkwell, there’s a gentleman checking out old Murchison’s flat, one of the funnies, court order and all that, we’re just here to maintain the peace, shout if he’s any trouble.’

The front door was open, but didn’t appear to have been forced. ‘Halt! Who goes there?’ Said Charlie, as we tentatively entered.

‘Friend or foe?’ I added for good measure!

I recognised the figure, wearing hat and gloves, who emerged from the bedroom, it said; ‘You are Charlotte Sparkwell. And you, Mr Arlington, we’ve met before. Just routine, no cause for alarm.’

‘Who the hell are you and what do you want?’ She demanded.

‘Standard procedure, when a former employee dies. Can’t be sure they haven’t hung-on to something they shouldn’t have, as it were.’

‘His name is Wieck, Casper Wieck, retired former something or other, with the same, not so secret organisation, which once employed Daphne’s daddy.’ I added helpfully.

‘They asked me to step-in, fact is I’m the last to remember working with Kenneth, odd fellow. Not thought to be one hundred per cent, one of us. Still, all appears as it should be. I’ve tried to make it all look undisturbed, alas, not as decorous as I used to be. Well, I’ll be on my way. Good day to you both.’ At which point he doffed his hat to Charlie for a split second, before toddling off.

And after a pause I said; ‘Well, clearly, he hasn’t taken anything. One up to Ken then.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘I assume anything worth retrieving is in our safe!’

‘But I thought that would be a Will, letters and things.’

‘Bit heavy for just that!’

It was a modest sending off. Charlie and myself, Melisa and Daphne plus a few from the book club. But just as we were waiting for the service to begin, I felt a hand on my right shoulder. Turning my head, I saw the other hand on Charlie’s left shoulder. A bowed head said; ‘The funeral pyre is traditional for the nomad.’ Then Wieck sat down behind us.

Funerals are for the living I thought to myself. I’m not much one for church attendance, births, deaths and marriages of course, otherwise I’m a bit of a Christmas and Easter Anglican. Just following the habits of parents, aunts and school really. As the service proceeded, I was distracted by thoughts of the last time I had been sat there. On that occasion the only persons present had been Kenneth and myself, apart from the lady vicarage of course. All three of us masked, there to bare witness to Aunt Elisabeth’s final journey, everyone else had to parade outside in the cold.

Afterwards we held a modest wake at our place. Wieck not invited. And after they’d all gone, I asked; ‘When do you want to open Ken’s parcel?’

‘Soon-ish.’ She replied. ‘Right now, I’m thinking about the garden, we’ll need some expertise to keep us on track, otherwise it will just go into decline again. We’re already behind.’

‘Is Mel still seeing young Timothy?’

‘Yes, but he’s full-time on his course. Probably already fed up with people asking him to do their gardens.’

‘Then offer him a deal.’

‘What kind of deal?’

‘Well, you get Melisa to make the approach of course. She tells him something like; “You’re meant to be getting experience in all sorts of environments, well I know someone who could get you into lots of different gardens, and behind the scenes at a garden centre. In fact, I know they need a bit of help with their own Victorian garden etc...” You know, that sort of crack.’

‘You’d have to pay him!’

‘Of course, but it would also give Mel an excuse to keep drifting around.’

‘Always the art of the deal, do you ever do anything without the expectation of a favour in return?’

‘Reciprocity is everything.’

‘Okay, open the safe.’ Said Charlie that evening. When I handed her Ken’s modest parcel, she added; ‘We’ll open it at the kitchen table, more appropriate. Can I borrow your best scissors, this is seriously taped-up.’

I watched as Charlie struggled with the tightly packed package, after a few minutes she said; ‘You do it!’ I stuck at one end and eventually managed to slide out the contents. Looking up, her expression seemed to say carry on. There were three items, wrapped around by a fourth, a paper document. It turned out to be a Will, drawn up by a local solicitor about ten years previous. It appointed them as executors and stated that Kenneth Murchison wished to leave all his worldly goods to Mrs Elisabeth Hayward.

‘What do we do?’

‘Give it to Bernard, let him see how far he can get on our behalf. Meanwhile maintain his flat as it is, send any bills to Lawrence.’

Next there was an old plastic pocket photo album. Glancing through, it appeared to be a sort of portable aide-memoir to Ken’s life, starting in childhood and ending with a few snaps taken by Charlie in the garden. About half way through there was a black and white of Ken and another man standing on a flat roof in some tropical location, behind them was an old radio transmitter tower and various antennae. Fascinatingly, Ken appeared to be dressed in a GPO telephone engineer’s uniform from the nineteen sixties. Charlie asked; ‘Where’s that? When was that?’

‘Who knows, there may be writing on the back of some, or all of them. He did say he’d once got as far as Singapore.’

Finally, there were two battered passports, Charlie casually open one; ‘Oh my God, take a dekko at this, he looks a bit like you!’

‘I beg your pardon? Oh, my lord, oh my ears and whiskers.’ I looked at the second. ‘Why the hell didn’t he talk this through?’

‘What?’

But by now I was intrigued. I quickly scanned both documents back to front; ‘Eh, we have, two seemingly genuine, Swiss passports issued in the mid-seventies, but with false names, at least I hope they are!’

‘What makes you say that?’

‘Because one features a photo of my father, the other of my mother.’

After a pause she asked; ‘Is that good or bad?’

‘Wait here.’ I ran upstairs and fished around in the bottom of my desk.

Upon my return I switched off the kitchen light and turned on my little device. She asked; ‘What’s that?’

‘Mini UV light.’ I started to scan the passports page by page.

‘What are you looking for?’

‘Invisible writing. Or rather numbers to be more precise.’

‘You think your parents might have been spies?’

‘Oh, no! I’m looking for bank account numbers, hidden assets!’

130: I never signed up for this

‘There’s been a big row at the first meeting to start the Foundation.’ Said Melisa, as the four of us were settling in for a tea break. I was beginning to admire the way she would bring quite personal issues to the table, seeking a variety of opinion.

‘Really?’

‘I was dragged along; I can hardly think why. Your Bernard and Brinkley were advising on how it should be set-up.’

‘How was it resolved?’

‘It wasn’t.’

‘What precisely was the row about?’

‘Well, membership of the board. We were told we needed a solicitor, an accountant, Mum and Dad, myself, Bel when the time was right, and independent advisors. Someone financial, but not directly connected with us, and well, also someone with experience of running this sort of thing, but who has the interests of the family at heart.’

‘Oh, dear.’

‘Well, it was obvious to me, Bernard and er, Lawrence yeah?’

‘Yes.’

‘And Dad just said fine, no problem.’

‘But?’

‘Mum said; “It doesn’t seem at all obvious to me.” What else, oh yes; “Don’t we know him only too well.” And; “He’s already got my husband and daughter wrapped around his little finger!” I told you, she’s mad.’

‘I’m afraid she’s always seen me as, not quite a gentleman.’

‘But that’s precisely what we need. Someone on our side who can see others coming.’

‘With the Trust, Tony is always seen as a bit flash, a leader who needs to be reined in a bit by the rest of us, it works remarkably well.’

‘Thank you, Charlie!’

‘You know perfectly well what I mean.’

‘But then, I must just tell you, Dad pipes up and says to the whole meeting; “My wife once dated Tony, thirty years ago, I’ve never quite understood what caused the breach.” Mother of course just gave him one of her looks, I said something like, but mother you turn to Tony as a friend as much as anyone.’

‘And?’

‘She responded by saying; “I’ll veto any such suggestion of bringing Tony on board, until I’ve vetted him, and maybe even then. Fools rush in, where angels fear to tread.” And that was that.’

‘I’ll stand by for the third degree then.’

‘Interesting choice of word that, “vetted”. But none of my business really, so I’ll ask the awkward question, what does Daphne have against you?’ Said Kenneth.

‘Oh! Not your theory that Daphne was some sort of recruiting sergeant for her father surely? Besides, Daphne just thought I wasn’t good enough for her, too much ducking and diving, too much on the make. Come on, let’s get back to the garden.’

Being vetted by Daphne, inevitably meant buying her lunch at the club. ‘How’s Barmy, behaving himself for once?’

‘Oh, yes. Been very thoughtful about Daddy.’

‘Melisa seems to be holding up well.’

‘Yes, yes. Look Tony, I’ve had to put my foot down, with everyone who will be associated with the Foundation, said I’d veto any attempt to bring you onto the board. They all thought you an obvious choice.’

‘Such is your right. Though even I think I’d be an obvious choice.’

‘It just wouldn’t do, would it? You’d have us all dancing to your tune.’

‘Would I?’

‘Of course. Buffy was right, all those years ago.’

‘What on earth has he got to do with anything?’

‘He was the one who warned me off you at university.’

‘Good God! He and I have been arch enemies since school, he’ll rubbish me to anyone, to this very day.’

‘He called you a puppeteer, a manipulator, willing to bend any rules for you and yours.’

‘Tell me, did you pass on this intelligence to your handler?’

‘Who?’

‘Daddy!’

‘There were no secrets between us, I asked his advice about everything.’

‘And took it?’

‘Naturally.’

‘But he was a secretive manipulator by profession. Do you remember where we actually first met?’

‘At the meet and greet for the Burton Society, Daddy recommended it as a club to join.’

‘Daphne, whatever I am, you and Barmy and Melisa are definitely part of me and mine, okay? No one gets to choose when or where they are born, their sex, their parents, upbringing and precious little about their education and peers. It is the stuff of adolescent discontent. Your father was a part of the secret world, where a degree of deception was mandatory. Now tell me, all those dozens of occasions when you’ve asked me to explain Barmy’s activities to you, was that genuine bewilderment or had Daddy given you a list of questions?’

‘Of course not! Daddy liked you, though he did look genuinely shaken when he heard how you and Barmy had hacked Downing Street, NATO and the global summit.’

‘And ever after his former employer has been courting Barmy into becoming the secret world’s leading techno head?’

‘You know I can’t talk about that.’

‘Well, let’s leave it there, you know I’m always available to you, as and when.’

‘Thank you.’

A while later Charlie had me on my back in the treatment room, in a state of deep relaxation. In such altered states, just letting go, one is likely to ramble unselfconsciously and without inhibition; ‘How’s the coup going by the way?’

‘I’ve been applying your rule of ensuring it’s only chicken feed one gives away and not the crown jewels.’

‘Excellent.’

‘It looks like Barney Benson is on course to chair both the Trust and the Gruber Foundation in the future. I think he was hoping you’d be there to help out with both.’

‘What Daphne wants, Daphne will always appear to get.’

‘You mean I’ll be opening our door for her, and Barmy, and Melisa as much as ever?’

‘Oh, I should think so.’

‘Think or know?’

‘Know. Habits are hard to break. My influence will persist.’

‘Power without responsibility?’

‘One can always avoid trouble, if you can run fast enough.’

‘Well, I know I can, not sure about you!’

‘I was speaking metaphorically. Someone is always about to get in the neck, but not us. We live in strange times, surrounded by strange people, talking of which how’s Captain Bob?’

‘You don’t miss a trick, do you?’

‘I try not to.’

‘I talked to him about patrons and sponsors; Archie’s royal connection and Benson’s connection to money looking for a home.’

‘And the upshot?’

‘Royal Oak is drafting a letter to update our one-time royal visitors; well, they did say we should keep them informed.’

‘A word or two of strategic advice. You are writing out of courtesy and respect. Don’t give the least impression you might be looking for money, indeed you could suggest that’s all taken care of, and certainly not coming from public funds. They are already paying for several mental health projects themselves. In fact, try not to want anything. Literally inform, briefly remind them of what they said on their visit, give an update, then links to the new website. A brief letter, which you’ll call just a note, though typed on your official notepaper and signed by Captain Bob RN. When the flunkey decides, he must show it to HRH, he’ll respond; ‘What do they want?’ The flunkey will be forced to reply; ‘Nothing, sir.’ Then it will be; “Oh, what are they up to these days?” And you’re in.’

‘So, what do we want then?’

‘To demonstrate you’re a success, where it’s at, you want them, to want to be associated, with you!’

Then after a long pause I found myself saying; ‘I feel like I never signed up for any of this?’

‘This what?’

‘Everything.’

‘Well, if you didn’t, I most certainly did not. We’ve been carried along by events.’

‘Perhaps I should take a step back, going forward. I could become a guru, a holy man even.’

‘To whom, sir?’

‘Everyone.’

‘You’re too egotistical, it would rapidly turn into a cult. Your job is to keep me satisfied. Everyone else can just, join the queue.’

‘Very well, Sparkwell. I’ll keep calm, and you can carry-on.’

End of season ten