Clown Town полностью

“Now, if the UK were to indicate that it won’t be supporting such a proposition . . . that would be really, really useful.”

To his Beijing backers, he meant.

It wouldn’t be impossible to kill him here and now. Hold his head down in the bowl. The satisfaction of the moment would see her through much of what followed: arrest, trial, imprisonment. But he was still talking:

“And given my current lack of access to the places that matter, my, ah, silent partners—you remember, I told you about them—my silent partners were wondering whether you might lend your own influence to their cause. Ah, here we go.” His stream hit the bowl, and he gave a little sigh before continuing. “It would make them very happy, and you know what they say. A happy silent partner is a . . . silent silent partner.”

Diana said, “This is dangerous territory. It could easily be interpreted as treasonous.”

“Lucky for me, then, I’m simply having a private conversation with an old friend.” This was accompanied by a hefty shake. “A friend, I might say, who is herself compromised beyond her ability to report our conversation without revealing her indebtedness to those partners we’re discussing.” He flushed, then tucked himself away and zipped up. When he turned around Diana stepped aside, allowing him access to the sink.

“So if we follow this train to its station, what we’re left with is quite straightforward. Should you find it within yourself to drop the appropriate word in the appropriate pairs of ears, then any possibility of an embarrassing indiscretion or two ups and disappears. Whoof!”

She said, “Tell me you’re joking.” From the lobby came the sound of footsteps and a cackle of laughter. The door handle rattled. “Fuck. Off.” Someone fucked off. Judd, meanwhile, was smiling the beatific smile of one for whom joking was a foreign language. In this case, probably Mandarin. “I’m a civil servant. I don’t steer the government, I abide by its rule of law. The idea that I might dictate policy is ludicrous.”

“We both know you’re more than that. Your word carries weight. And you’ve more experience than the cabinet put together. These people are all at sea and desperately need a navigator. The few sensible minds among them are aware of this. You’ll be listened to. And it won’t be difficult to construct a sound, real-world reason why Britain should want to ally itself with the next great global power, instead of the United Fading States.”

Diana shook her head. “They may turn out to be another coalition of gonks, but they’ve been itching for power for a decade and a half. Whereas I’ve been First Desk for the last sixteen prime ministers, or whatever it is, all of them from the other side. They don’t look on me as an ally. It’s a wonder I still have a job.”

“Well, why don’t you just do your best?” Judd was working the mirror again, straightening his tie. “All I ask.”

“All you ask, in its bare bones, is treason.”

“That’s a very narrow-minded way of looking at a business proposition. I’m a patriot, Diana. I would die for this country, should the need arise. But until it does, I have a family to feed and a career to pursue. And this is currently the course of action that satisfies those needs. I trust you won’t make things difficult for me.”

Again, the image seized her of his head down that toilet bowl. An Eton education: It wouldn’t be his first time . . . The last feeble thrashings of his limbs. A curtain pulled down.

“What’s your timetable on this . . . fantasy?”

“It’s oh-so-tempting to say twenty-four hours. But you’ve a little longer than that. Shall we say the end of the week? Less dramatic, but we can’t have everything.”

There was a knock at the door. “Are you all right in there?”

“Oh, we most surely are,” Judd called. “Vacating now.” He looked at Diana. “Unless you need to . . . ?”

She shook her head, not trusting herself to speak.

“Righty-ho then. Back to the fray.”

As if he’d choreographed it in advance, Tina Turner’s “The Best” was powering the dance floor as they walked back up the stairs.

Pitchfork was what they were talking about, because Pitchfork was what they were, or had been. No: were. A hard lesson Avril had learned, that you didn’t stop being part of something just because it was over. However much you’d changed in the years between.