Diana realised her glass was empty. She hadn’t noticed draining it. “You just told me nothing went wrong. Please underline that for me.”
“Nothing went wrong,” he said. “As such.”
“Oh, god in heaven.”
“But there was a boy.”
“A boy? I know he likes them young, but I thought—”
“No. One of the staff catering the event. Apparently he was the curious type, and saw something he shouldn’t have. And while I wasn’t actually present the entire time the, ah, conference was taking place—”
“Conference.”
“—Yes, conference, I was nominally its convenor, since my firm made all the arrangements. So this boy decided I was his first phone call.”
“What did he want?”
“Fifty thousand.”
“And what did he see?”
Judd said, “Well, we could probably call it fifty thousands’ worth, in the circumstances. I mean, the bar bill came to more than that.”
“I assume he had some kind of recording.”
“He made no such claim. He simply asserted knowledge of Number Seven’s presence at what he called an orgy, and suggested I might like to buy his silence. Before, as he put it, things went viral.”
“And have you paid?”
“Not yet.”
“But you plan to?”
Judd picked up his empty glass and revolved it slowly in his hand. Unusually, he seemed unwilling to look at her while doing so. For Peter Judd, any physical action undertaken in the presence of a woman was foreplay; doubly so if the action involved food or drink. Or plucking his nasal hairs, in all likelihood. But now, his gaze directed elsewhere, he said, “I may have made a . . . tactical error.”
“A tactical error,” she said flatly.
“It happens.”
“I know it happens, Peter. I know it even happens to you. But hearing you admit it, well. That’s on the level of a Tour de France winner testing clean.”
“I decided the best thing to do was throw a scare into the boy.”
“Of course you did.”
“And that it might be best if I weren’t immediately involved. Given my current intentions.”
“You mean, given your plans to re-enter politics, you’d rather not be dragging a traumatised teenager in your wake? I see your old nous hasn’t deserted you.”
“So I, ah, referred the matter upwards.”
“You resorted to prayer.”
“Not exactly.”
“No, I didn’t think so. Who? One of the parties at this
He nodded.
“And they are?”
“Let’s say they’re a nation state currently looking to consolidate their power base.”
“By eradicating opposition within their borders, no doubt.”
“I’m a democrat, Diana. And I believe in the sovereignty of nations.”
“How wonderful for all concerned. What did they do?”
“They may have brought in hired help,” he said. “Professionals.”
“Mercenaries.”
Judd nodded, once.
“So,” Taverner said. “We have a teenage boy who witnessed God only knows what depravities involving sex, drugs and a senior royal, as a sideshow to an arms deal. And one of the parties to the deal plans to kill him before he can make this public.”
“You can’t be sure they intend to kill—”
“And Peter Judd is having a crisis of conscience. I think that’s the detail that really frightens me.” She picked up her glass, put it down again. Nothing in it. “Okay, you’ve got my attention. What arrangements were made? For paying off the boy, I mean.”
“A handover near where it happened, in Pembrokeshire. As the boy suggested.” The hint of a sneer crossed his face. “I rather suspect he wanted me to think he’s local.”
“So you managed to identify him.”
“Well it wasn’t complicated, Diana. And even in Seb’s absence, I do have staff.” He paused. “There is a slight further, what shall I call it? Further
She sighed. “Enlighten me.”
“His father was one of yours.”
“One of my what?”
“A
Di Taverner said, “It never stops, does it?” She thought a moment. “The only Harper I recall was one of Lamb’s. A slow horse.”
Judd said nothing.
“Which means Lamb will almost certainly find a way of complicating matters.”
“There’s no reason he should find out about this.”
“Not having a reason is one of the things Lamb does best.” She looked him in the eye. “I’m still unconvinced by the crisis of conscience.”
“Maybe I just wanted to do you a favour.”
“With an eye on my owing you one.”
“And Number Seven remaining firmly in the shadows. Whatever the outcome.”
Di Taverner said, “Oh, absolutely. We must safeguard our national treasures.”
She rose to go.
Judd said, “We have more to discuss.”
“I don’t have time.”
“I don’t mean now. Once this matter has been . . . disposed of.”
“I’m not in the mood for cloak and dagger, Peter.”
“Aren’t you? I rather thought that was your thing.” He stood too. “We’ll talk more. To your advantage. Trust me.”
She laughed. “Trust you? Oh, Peter. You say the funniest things.”
He leaned across as if to embrace her, but she was already on the move.
