"A lot of people down that way regard the coca plant as a double blessing bestowed on them by God," Denham resumed, launching himself on a paean of self-exculpation. "Not only does Uncle Sam choose to poison himself with it, but he enriches the oppressed Latinos while he's about it! What could possibly be jollier? The Colombians will be frightfully willing to cooperate with Uncle Sam in a venture like this, of course. But they just may not quite get their act together in time to stop the shipment. Weeks of diplomacy necessary, one's afraid, and a lot of people on holiday. And they will want a guarantee of costs for when they pull her into port. All that unloading, the overtime, the unsociable hours." The sheer force of his harangue was producing calm. It is not easy to fulminate and listen at the same time. "And they'll want legal indemnification in case the Lombardy is clean, naturally. And if she isn't, which I'm delighted to believe, there'll be unseemly haggling about whose guns they are once they're confiscated. And who gets to keep them, and sell them back to the cartels when it's all over. And who goes to prison where, and how long for, and with how many hookers to keep him happy in the meantime. And how many thugs he's allowed to have look after him, and how many telephone lines to run his business, and order his assassinations, and talk to his fifty bank managers. And who gets paid off when he decides he's done enough time, which will be in about six weeks. And who gets disgraced, and who gets promoted, and who gets a medal for bravery when he escapes. Meanwhile, one way or another, your guns will be safely in the hands of the chaps who've been trained to use them. Welcome to Colombia!"
Burr mustered the last of his self-control. He was in London. He was in the land of make-believe power. He was standing in its hallowed headquarters. He had left the most obvious solution till last, perhaps because he knew that in the world where Denham lived, the obvious was the least likely course.
"Okay, then." He rapped the centre of Panama with the back of his hand. "Let's grab the Lombardy when she goes up the Canal. The Americans run the Canal. They built it. Or have we got another ten good reasons for sitting on our arses?"
Denham was enthusiastically appalled.
"Oh, my dear man! We'd be infringing the most sacred article of the Canal Treaty. Nobody ― not the Americans, not even the Pans ― has a right of search. Not unless they can prove that the vessel they're after presents a physical danger to the Canal. I suppose if it's full of bombs that could go off, you'd have a case. Old bombs, they'd have to be, not new ones. If you could prove they were going to go off. You'd have to be jolly sure. If they're properly packed, you're scuppered. Can you so prove? It's an all-American thing, anyway. We're only observing, thank God. Leaning a bit where it's helpful. Staying out of their light when it's not. We'll probably make a démarche to the Pans if we're asked. In concert with the Americans, of course. Just to give strength to their elbow. Might even make one to the Colombs, if State twists our arm. Nothing much to be lost, not at the moment."
"When?"
"When what?"
"When will you try and mobilise the Panamanians?"
"Tomorrow probably. Could be the next day." He glanced at his watch. "What is today?" It seemed important to him not to know. "Depends how tied up the ambassadors are. When's Carnival, Priscilla? I forget. This is Priscilla. Sorry not to have made the honours."
Tapping softly at her keyboard, Priscilla said, "Not for ages." Eccles had more telegrams.
"But you went through all this, Nicky!" Burr implored in one last appeal to the Denham he thought he had known. "What's changed? Joint Steering held policy meetings galore! You had every bloody contingency cooked three ways! If Roper does this, we do this. Or that. Or that. Remember? I saw the minutes. You and Goodhew agreed it all with the Americans. Plan A, Plan B. What happened to all that work?"
Denham was unperturbed. "Very hard to negotiate a hypothesis, Leonard. Particularly with your Latin. You should try my desk for a few weeks. You've got to present him with facts. Your Latin won't budge until it's real."
"Won't till it's not, either," murmured Eccles.
"Mind you," said Denham encouragingly, "from all one hears, the Cousins are absolutely busting a gut to make this one stick. The little we do isn't going to alter the price of fish one farthing. And of course Darling Katie will be pulling out all the stops in Washington."
"Katie's fantastic," Eccles agreed.
Burr had one last, terribly mistaken shot. It came from the same locker as other rash acts that he occasionally committed, and as usual he regretted it as soon as he had spoken.
