148: Is that it?

I stood in the car park and waved Daphne on her way, hoping time would prove to be the great healer. Amazing how she couldn’t bring herself to blame her father even a little for dropping her in it for an entire lifetime. That she should be annoyed with me, was par for the course. I needed another drink and made straight for the bar, ignoring all and sundry, abandoning my usual caution and only looking around once I’d quenched my thirst.

‘Tony! Over here.’ Oh, lord. Vic was still here; I’d forgotten about her in all the excitement. ‘Char-lotte, let me tell you, will not, be handling anything for Tuffy. We have been having...’

‘A drink, or three?’

‘A girl’s, heart to heart, on the subject of men, and their needs. Ha!’ And there indeed was Charlie, sat meekly beside the Lady Victoria, though judging by the colour of the liquid in her glass she’d been following her normal modus operandi of not indulging! ‘We agree, she’s done all she can, Tuffy is a lost cause. I shall merely tell him to grow old gracefully, like myself. He must submit to my preferences or forego the marital bed.’

‘Right, excellent, very good.’

At which point Charlie stood up; ‘We must go Vic, we’re on a bit of a schedule, we’ll talk soon.’

‘So, it’s all off then, any thoughts of snaffling millions from Swiss bank accounts.’ Commented Charlie as she drove us homeward.

‘Archie said let it go, so I shall. Besides I have more than I could have hoped for, the meta data is vast, I can work out where my parents were, if not their motives, throughout my early years. Still, at the end of the day, can any of us truly say we know the mind of another?’

‘You mean us?’

‘I mean everyone.’

‘Don’t we all need to understand each other better? Shouldn’t we all be seeking even greater empathy?’

‘That’s very philosophical of you. But no, the answer to both your questions, is no. We just have to get on, as in like being in the presence of. Conversation, explanation is merely a way of passing the time.’

‘Very good, sir.’

Whit bank holiday Monday dawned bright and breezy, I was leisurely surveying the contents of my email when I was genuinely taken by surprise. ‘Charlie!’ I called from my seat in the media room.

‘Sir?’

‘An email from one of your co-conspirators.’

‘Oh, yes?’

‘Barney Benson, sounding me out would you believe, as to whether, should I receive a formal invitation, I’d be willing to accept a seat on the board of the Gruber Foundation.’

‘But? All that fuss that Daphne made, back along.’

‘Precisely.’

‘She must have changed her mind. How? What’s happened? You must have schemed this!’

‘No, no. Unless of course she feels grateful in some way, wants to show her appreciation.’

‘What have you done for her?’

‘Well, this whole secret world thing, I may have inadvertently done the right thing. She may have come to think of herself as a victim over the years, who knows?

‘More like she wants you on the inside pissing-out, rather than on the outside pissing-in!’

Later, in the afternoon, I was at my desk when my concentration was broken once more. ‘Are we in or out?’ Said the voice behind me, adding the usual surly, ‘sir’.

‘Good gracious, is that the time already?’

‘We’ve been in the garden for hours, whilst you’ve been skiving up here.’

‘Then you’ll know whether the weather says in or out.’

‘Out, in fact tea is already on the table, I’m just here to chivvy you out.’

‘Two minutes I promise.’

‘It had better be. Master Timothy wishes to discuss what he’s uncovered at your garden centre.’ And with that she was gone.

‘I mean I realise it’s none of my business, but it’s like people are holding out on me. It must be obvious to everyone that there’s a load more going on round the back. And then there’s that funny little counter that says, “farm shop” but which only appears to open for about half an hour at the end of the day. Some days it has a fair amount of stock, but most days barely anything.’

‘Well Tim, where to begin? Firstly, be in no doubt it is a genuine garden centre, right down to all the extras that such places have added down the years. The difference is that everything sold has come from farms and other business renting land or property from the Trust. And as a business it is directly owned by the Trust and of course is on Trust land. However, there is also the warehouse owned by the Trust, but officially nothing happens there. No money actually changes hands, it’s all bartering, gifting and exchange of goods. You see, the thing is... Why are you all giving me funny looks?’

‘I promise you this is the first I’m hearing about this.’ Charlie said to the others. ‘And we’re coming up to our tenth anniversary!’

‘Yes well, the thing is, I’m taking a risk here Tim, I don’t think your “uncle”, and certainly not my uncle, appreciate quite the trick we’re pulling here.’

‘I like to think I’m my own man, sir.’

‘Good lad, and don’t you smirk young Melisa, pay attention, your father let me tell you is on a buying spree right now, he’ll hoover up every scrap of land in the county and beyond, which either the Trust or the Duchy don’t already have.’

‘So, what is going on behind the handcrafted garden furniture, scented candles and home kitchen carrot cake?’

‘Thank you, Charlie! Well, farmers have always shared and shared alike with neighbours since the year dot, but these days there are extra difficulties. The days of the family owned, middle-sized, mixed farm, where you could be anything up to fifty per cent self-sufficient, are over. Margins are so tight, if you take an evening out to dig your own veg, well you’re burning money.’

‘But the trust’s portfolio has many specialised farms, including market gardens, orchards.’

‘Your ahead of me Tim. All within a few miles of each other, not to mention the craft brewery, and a bakery which is sort of semi-artisanal!’

‘But even so, sir. The transport, time, labour of moving stuff, ordering just when you want fresh produce?’

‘Do call me Anthony, or Tony, Tim! But yes, the trick was ordering online for a delivery within twenty-four hours by the next garden centre van coming your way, or a self-pick-up from the warehouse, but even that began to be uneconomic.’

‘So?’ Said Melisa.

‘Well I might as well say, you’re all in the loop anyway whether you realise it or not. So, I picked the lowest mileage garden centre van took it to Jack’s, he fitted it out with a computer comparable in size to those in our cars, sticks one of Eltham’s dishes in the roof and gives the driver the biggest screen possible, I bang in the best off-the-shelf estimating and logistics software and send the driver off to visit every likely location, every day for a week. Then we have our own map, real times, real distances at various times of day, real fuel consumption, real cost. Then I just had to programme in compulsory refuelling at Jack’s filling station. So, any farmer can feed to the driver’s screen in real time, anytime, or speak to him if it’s some kind of override like, cut flowers and beer for someone’s birthday or whatever! The driver just follows instructions on screen and the receiver gets estimated times of arrival and hopefully a pick-up too. Talking of hope, I’ve an idea that after a full year everyone will be back to traditional seasonal behaviour...’

147: Restoration

When lounging it’s always wise to keep half an eye on the door. It may only give one a second or so to prepare oneself, but nonetheless. I was in the veranda bar at the club, enjoying a glass of the club claret to calm my nerves before meeting Daphne and whatever officials she might have trailing in her wake. The set-up for our encounter was done, but it was me alone, against the might of the British state. Charlie was excluded; it wasn’t about Murchison’s estate anymore.

‘Tony! Thank goodness. Be a love and get me a drink. I’ve been looking for you high and low, is your phone switched off?’ So said the Lady Victoria, floating forth, seemingly from nowhere.

‘Excuse me?’

‘It’s Tuffy of course, who else! I swear, one day I’ll end up giving him a clip around the earhole.’

‘What?’

‘He’s become obsessed, no other word for it, with his, well one hardly knows how to say it, with his declining sexual powers shall we say.’

‘Ah, comes to us all in the end. Look, I’m sorry. Here’s your drink. Fact is, I can’t really talk right now, I’m somewhat distracted, I have a rather important meeting, scheduled to start in less than two minutes.’

‘Well, I wouldn’t mention it at all, in the normal way of things, it’s just he’s comparing himself with you, as always. Convinced that you couldn’t possibly be subject to the same aging processes as the rest of us...’

I’d drained my glass and was already moving away; ‘Tell him to consult Charlie, I’m sure she can handle it for him.’

We sat as I’d intended at the large table in the club committee room. I occupied one of the long sides with my back to the window, Daphne the short side nearest the door, whilst my two interlocutors sat opposite. However, the opportunity for conversation or argument seemed severely limited. They'd been introduced merely as Mr Legal and Mr Security.

I tried to make the silence of us all settling-in last as long as possible, ponderously laying out my documents in a line. To my far left the cavernous envelope in which my package had arrived, then the pile of photocopies of ancient documents. Next the covering letter demanding my signature and future silence. Finally, the two Swiss passports.

‘We are not here to negotiate Mr Arlington, if you just sign the top sheet and pass across the passports we can be on our way.’

‘Oh! Be reassured gentleman, I fully intend to sign and hand over the offending items. I merely need to be confident I understand what it is I’m signing for. Actually, I could have phrased that better. I understand perfectly well what I’m looking at, I just need to know I’ve made the correct interpretation.’

‘What you will sign has the legal status of what our American cousins like to call an NDA.’

‘Yes, but then there isn’t an NDA in the world that applies in the case of alleged criminal activity.’

‘I trust you’re not suggesting...’

‘No, no, how could there be, impossible for a state sponsored secret organisation working in collaboration with a foreign power, albeit a neutral one. Item one.’ I continued, picking up the envelope. ‘Postmarked Ottawa, somewhat distant for a government communication?’

‘Our Canada station, within the High Commission, British soil as it were, you notice the letterhead on the accompanying letter. In the age of the internet, we tend to farm-out rote administrative tasks to whoever is idle at the time.’

‘I see, gosh, all this transatlantic English, dear me. Still, brings us neatly to the photocopied documents themselves. Recently couriered across the border, were they? Your clerk just adding the letter and posting the whole thing to me?’

Mr Legal looked at Mr Security, then said; ‘No comment, Mr Arlington, can we get on.’

‘The coding on the bottom left of each page indicates an HP office printer about seven years old, whilst the code in the top left has been adding automatically as the previously scanned original documents, arrived electronically into the system. The code being famously, perhaps one should say notoriously, associated with a system used by the US, NSA.’

‘I am merely a lawyer, sir. We are advised of course of your commercial interests in modern tech and long association with our host’s husband.’

‘I was surprised at first how few names had been redacted, then it occurred to me, they were all codenames. The pages of the so called “visitors book” of the property purchased in my parents worknames, is most illuminating, thank you. Perhaps you’re not aware of just how much handwriting recognition software has come on in recent decades. Nor just how wide ranging my family archives have become.’ No reaction, apart from Daphne looking increasingly anxious. ‘For a couple of occasional freelancers, hired to be confidential couriers under the guise of European touring car enthusiasts, it was very generous of the secret intelligence service to provide a three-bed apartment located in the central business district of Zurich, don’t you think?’

Still no reaction. ‘Well, let me just boldly state my interpretation of a few more selected facts. Whilst my parents barely stopped overnight a couple of times a year, confirmed by the passports, and dear Kenneth stayed but once at the outset, no doubt to install all the electronics, his identity is confirmed by the way, by his actual workname appearing on the back of one of the photos in the album he left us. Forty years he seems to have struggled to get this information to whom it may concern.’ More blank faces. ‘Moving on, curious how the visitors always arrived as couples, don’t you think, the nineteen seventies, and eighties, you weren’t that much of an equal opportunity employer, were you? I say nineteen eighties because my parents died at the top of one page, but someone forgot to redact the rest of the page. Cross referencing with the personnel pages, dates and payments, it seems impossible but my virtual parents seem to have enjoyed a somewhat longer life than my actual parents! Knowing Ken as one did, his old-fashioned morals, I bet he thought he was looking at a free holiday home for a select few, with ample female company and money laundering facilities on tap. No wonder you don’t want a stab at recovering assets. Lease the place still do you, under another name?’

‘Enough! Just sign the damn thing and pass the passports over Tony, then we can all go home.’

Which of course I immediately did, there being no better barometer of my personal interest than Daphne.

‘You used me.’ She said after they’d gone, now seemingly reluctant to leave.

‘Well, they used you to get to me, I was merely returning the favour.’

‘The other people you’ve identified who used the Zurich safe house...’

‘Don’t say another word! The point is they gave me more than they needed to, more than just about the life of my parents, they snared me and I showed them I knew I’d been snared. So now we all know that if I start shouting my mouth off, I could be prosecuted under the Official Secrets Act and, or all subsequent legislation. Much the same situation as you’ve found yourself in since you achieved the age of reason. But the other side of the equation, is that they’ve given themselves, and me come to that, plausible deniability. By setting up a leak, from a no doubt disgruntled lowly clerk and wannabe whistle-blower employed by a foreign power. And I suggest that there, we let it lie.’