"Let's wait a few minutes before you go out," suggested Toby.
Arthur agreed that no normal tradesman would just walk straight in and out of someone's house so they sat while Joan made Toby a cup of tea. Arthur sensed Toby looked quite nervous. Very nervous, actually. He was sure, however, that Joan would put him at his ease soon. When Joan returned with the tea and biscuits, Arthur bade them good bye, walked out to the van and opened the door ... well, he tried but it was locked. Confused, he looked back at his house and saw Toby's hand, in front of the net curtain, waving frantically at him, pointing up the street. The penny dropped. Wrong van. He wandered nonchalantly up the street, in the direction of Toby's finger and tentatively tried the door of the next van. There was an older man, with a black woollen hat pulled low and overalls, in the passenger seat.
"Welcome Arthur, and I'm terribly sorry I can't help you with your bag - this arm's a bit useless at the moment," said the man, chuckling. Arthur noticed his right arm was in a sling. "Bit embarrassing but you're in the right van now!"
"Uh, yes," said Arthur, feeling quite stupid and knowing full well James Bond would never make such an error. Maybe he was not cut out for this kind of stuff. Though he didn't believe in omens, if he did he would have recognised it as a bad one.
"Right, my man, let's get this show on the road, as they say," said the man. "Dashed exciting, really, isn't it, my man. I've never done this sort of thing before - usually have my chauffeur drive me around. However, we should be able to find ourselves out of this place, eh what! Belt up and let's get moving, shall we?"
"Yes, yes, of course," said Arthur, thankful for some direction, since his brain had none at that moment. He belted up, started up and indicated that he was pulling out ... except that the wipers went instead of the indicators.
"Oh!" said Arthur, his brain unable to formulate any more coherent words. They were soon underway with the man directing from a map on his lap. They managed to find themselves at the same point on the Croydon overpass three times and they chuckled together, a brotherhood of errors. Eventually, they were headed south to Kings Wood.
"Right, Arthur Bayly, I should introduce myself properly, now we've negotiated the tricky part," said the man, taking off his hat. "I'm Lord Atkinson. Pleased to meet you, old chap and we'll have to dispense with the hand-shaking, obviously. Let's just take it that we've shaken, shall we?" He raised his plastered arm a little and Arthur nodded and smiled. Arthur had vaguely suspected it was the Lord but was afraid to confirm by asking. Arthur noted that he had been promoted from my good man to old chap.
"Now, old chap, our estate is just round the corner here," said Lord Atkinson after a ten-minute drive. They turned left off the main road and were soon passing beneath a massive stone archway as the gates opened for them. The hundred-yard, gravel driveway wandered through manicured gardens and curved in front of a three-storey Georgian mansion. Arthur noticed two gardeners working away and other assorted people walking around. A butler opened the van door for Lord Atkinson and then came around to Arthur's side to suggest that he could park the vehicle for him, if he preferred.
"Oh, yes, of course," said Arthur, as if this happened every day of his life.
Arthur took his boots off at the door and a second butler ushered them through ten-foot-high, oak doors, through a marble and oak reception area at the bottom of a curved stairway that led, it seemed to Arthur, to heaven. He had little chance for further inspection as he was whisked into a cavernous drawing room that, despite its size, had been filled to overflowing with furniture, statues, ornaments, paintings, books and all manner of collectible things, leaving little room for the lady who was sitting on one of several chairs around the stone fireplace. The fire crackled happily and she stood and smiled warmly as Lord Atkinson introduced Lady Atkinson to Arthur.
The Lord suggested a cup of tea, to which Arthur assented, despite the three he had already had that morning. He really needed a toilet stop but was hesitant to ask. The Lord then excused himself to change his clothes and asked Arthur if he would like to refresh himself. With a flood of relief, Arthur was led by the butler into a bathroom the size of Arthur's dining room, all tiles and gold and with plumbing worse than he'd ever experienced before. He did manage to get the toilet to flush, after much pumping, and found his way back to the drawing room.
Soon they were all settled round the friendly fire, with tea and cakes before them and with a small desk for Arthur's papers, at his side. He spread his papers out but, despite his lengthy preparation at home, was uncertain where to start. He kept shuffling his papers, hoping his brain would start.
"Now, Arthur, old chap, we have you here, ostensibly, for an insurance claim but, for us, that's incidental," said Lord Atkinson. Now that he was in his accustomed clothes, Arthur could see better that he was a tall, spare man with a good head of silver hair - a man who obviously took great care of his body and clothes, as did his wife. She was slightly shorter than his six foot, wore minimal makeup and looked immaculate. They were dressed in what might be called the casual estate collection - both were in checked shirts (hers with the collar pulled up and his with a school tie), fawn slacks and sturdy leather brogues. "We did lose some items in the burglary and some had a reasonable value, but we'll be far from upset if we're turned down for the lot, old chap."
"Oh, you will?" said Arthur, with relief and puzzlement. He wondered, in the split second that you can wonder something really big, why he'd had to spend so much time on this claim, considering it had so little import to the claimant. Squeezed into the same split second was a question mark, bigger than the drawing room in which they sat, over his real reason for being here - obviously not the reason he was led to believe.
"Of course, you'll probably want to approve a substantial portion of it so the FSA fellows don't become too suspicious," said Lord Atkinson.
"Look, let's not skirt around the woods," said Lady Atkinson. "We know your Sam Lord better than you think we might and he recommended that you're to be trusted in this matter."
"Yes, absolutely, dear," said Lord Atkinson. "You see, the police and the FSA are not necessarily on our side and I'm not sure which of my political colleagues can be relied on so it always comes back to Sam Lord. He's been a brick over the years, such ..."
"Anyway, the crux of the matter, Arthur," said Lady Atkinson, interrupting again, "is that a particularly important item was not taken but we suspect it was the reason for the burglary. And now Sam has disappeared, only a few weeks later. We think they might be related."
"Oh dear," said Arthur. "You think Mr Lord was behind the burglary?"
"Oh no, oh dear no," said Lady Atkinson, leaning forward earnestly. "It may be because Sam was close to completing a contract, on our behalf, and that information may have leaked. We aren't looking for stolen items - we really want to know who's behind all this nasty business."
"Oh?" said Arthur, sensing that sensible questions were less embarrassing than sensible statements.
"We're sure there's a link - initially we were concerned about the plans but now we're more concerned about the safety of Sam," said Lord Atkinson. "They're serious, these people, absolutely ruthless rotters ..."
"So, the plans my husband mentioned," interrupted Lady Atkinson, returning to the crux again, "could mean the end of the petroleum and all other energy industries and that would be catastrophic for hundreds of thousands of workers and for the billions in profits of these companies."
"Oh?" said Arthur, finding it the only one of the two million words in the English language that he had any use for, right now.
"Yes, oh!" said Lord Atkinson, smiling grimly. "That's what we thought when all this was presented to us. You see, our son-in-law, John Maranui, is a publisher in New Zealand and, though his interests are a little ... shall we say, off to the side, he's a jolly good man to our daughter and, as we've got to know him, full of integrity."
"Because of his ... shall we say, interesting interests, as my husband said, he's bee
n drawn into something we now feel as passionate about as him," said Lady Atkinson. "He met a man who wanted him to publish his book and it started from there. This Bruce Cathie, who had written his controversial story, had been a pilot for NAC, New Zealand's national airline, now called Air New Zealand. This Captain Cathie had first seen a flying saucer over the Manukau Harbour, in Auckland, and, in discussions with other airline pilots, discovered this wasn't uncommon. However, his bosses were not impressed that he publicised his discoveries."
"There's nothing so motivates a chap to do something as to tell him not to do it!" said Lord Atkinson, chuckling.
Arthur smiled and nodded, remembering how, a few hours earlier, he had almost wished Joan had objected to him coming on this trip - then he would have had cause to stand up for himself. Maybe there was a belligerent side to his nature, unrecognised till now.
"So, our Captain Cathie felt impelled to know more about those flying saucers - how they moved and powered themselves," said Lady Atkinson quickly, warming to the subject. "In the course of his investigations, he met a Robert Adams, a scientist with New Zealand's Department of Scientific Research. Robert had started working on a free-energy motor and was impelled, by Bruce's enthusiasm, to carry on."
"Robert called his invention a ... now, let me get this right ... an Adams Switched Reluctance Pulsed DC Permanent Magnet Motor Generator and, after many attempts, developed a motor that was 137% efficient. That means that it produced more energy than it used," said Lord Atkinson interrupting, his enthusiasm bubbling over. "And that's where Robert's problems started."
"Problems?" asked Arthur, feeling a knot beginning to form in his stomach.
"Yes, problems," said Lord Atkinson. "You see, in New Zealand, as in many other countries, the patent office can classify any patent application under a Military Use Clause, meaning that inventors are prohibited from publishing details of their devices or promoting them in any manner. In other words, their devices automatically become the sole property of the government and the inventors lose all rights to their inventions."
"But they invented the device ..." said Arthur, astonished.
"Absolutely!" said Lady Atkinson. "But the state has the last say - you either take the risk to get your invention patented (and lose it) or don't get a patent at all."
"And that's what our Mr Adams did, in his naivety - he applied for a patent for his free energy machine and lost it to the state," said Lord Atkinson. "Mr Adams survived an attempt on his life by an individual affiliated with the New Zealand Secret Intelligence Service, the SIS. He believed that the former Prime Minister of New Zealand, Robert Muldoon, suppressed his invention, with pressure from unknown but powerful sources."
"Oh, my God ..." said Arthur, wondering how he'd got himself involved in such matters and where it all could lead.
"Yes, my God alright!" said Lord Atkinson. "Just not cricket, by jove, no!"
"However, the government or whoever was involved, did not reckon on the persistence of people like Mr Cathie and Mr Adams," said Lady Atkinson. "Though his invention was suppressed, under the Military Use Clause, for 20 years, Mr Adams, with help and encouragement from his friend Mr Cathie, continued to develop his motor and eventually decided that his life would be safer if he published his findings - publish and be damned, if you like! If the public knew about it, then attempts on his life (and his wife's) would be pointless - the information's still out there. So, he published his findings in New Zealand's Nexus magazine and the death threats and constant surveillance stopped, much to his relief."
"My gosh!" said Arthur, enthralled. Then, he quickly realised, he was in a large drawing room in England, not in New Zealand, to investigate an insurance claim. "But, please excuse me, but what does this have to do with the burglary or your claim?"
"Ah, yes, good question," said Lord Atkinson. "This is where our son-in-law, John, comes in."
"By this time, Arthur, Mr Cathie had written several books on flying saucers and other related things and he wanted his friend Mr Adams to write a book about his invention," said Lady Atkinson. "However, Mr Adams did not feel confident about such a project and so Mr Cathie sent our John along, in the hope that he could facilitate a book somehow ... perhaps ghost-write it or something."
"The problem was, however, Mr Adams' health," said Lord Atkinson. "The attempts on his life, the constant surveillance from New Zealand's SIS and his advanced years - he was over seventy by then - meant that he was becoming more frail. He wanted to have his book written but didn't feel up to it at that time. He promised to keep in contact with John and the next thing John knew, Robert Adams died."
"And so did his invention and all his writings," said Lady Atkinson dramatically. "Till they unexpectedly turned up with us."
"And so, Arthur old chap, you might see why you're here," said Lord Atkinson, smiling and leaning back in his chair as if everything was perfectly clear. "Would you like another cup of tea?"
"Uh, oh, yes ... no ..." said Arthur, unsure which to answer first.
"You probably mean you'd like another cup of tea and you don't have the faintest idea why you're here," suggested Lady Atkinson, ringing her little bell for the butler, who arrived and poured Arthur another cup of.
"Ah, thank you and, yes, Lady Atkinson," said Arthur. "I'm afraid you were rather reading my mind."
"She does that, you know," said Lord Atkinson, smiling at his wife. "It's all rather uncanny."
"Now, to cut a very long story short, Robert Adams' plans, and one of his motors, was couriered to John shortly after Mr Adams' death and John still has no idea who sent them," said Lady Atkinson. "John, in his ... shall we say, interesting philosophy, puts it down to some sort of destiny he must fulfil and so he kept them firmly hidden, under lock and key, and told no one, believing he would be given a sign of some kind of sign when it was time for him to do something with them."
"Then he fell in love with this English girl, visiting New Zealand, married her and, in the process, discovered her father was a member of the House of Lords and has a passion for the environment," said Lord Atkinson, smiling. "As soon as he met us, he felt he knew what to do with the plans."
"Right," said Arthur, determined to use a different word.
"He knew it was too dangerous to do anything with them in New Zealand, given the trouble Mr Adams had," said Lord Atkinson, "and when he found about my ... er, our interest in stopping all this dashed pollution, and I'm in a position of some influence here, he approached me about them, eventually, wondering if there was anything I could do to get these devices, these motors, manufactured for developing countries."
"But I would have thought New Zealand would be safe from all kinds of interference, being so remote," said Arthur.
"Absolutely, Arthur, that's what we thought," said Lord Atkinson. "But a few years ago a chap from Hamilton, in New Zealand, invented a car battery that never went flat. He needed money to manufacture them, couldn't find any investors and eventually sold his patent to Mitsubishi for a tidy sum. And we've never heard of the Never Flat Battery again - Mitsubishi had no intention of manufacturing them for who can make money from a product that never wears out?"
"Oh yes, obviously," said Arthur.
"So, what we're saying, old chap, is that nowhere is safe but, in a large place like Europe, it may be easier to be a little more anonymous," said Lady Atkinson.
"Ah, I've just got it!" said Arthur, as a light went on in his brain. "You had the plans, or the motor, and someone tried to find them, using a common burglary as a diversion, somehow?"
"Absolutely, Arthur, we're not sure if we should go ahead with our plans until we know who is behind all this and if it's safe," said Lord Atkinson.
"But I still don't see where I come into all of this," said Arthur, "if you don't mind me asking."
"Yes, a perfectly reasonable question and the truth of it is that you're just a pawn in the whole game, as are we all," said Lord Atkinson. "Initially, I didn't let on to Sam, or anyone else, that
the real reason we submitted an insurance claim was to help us find the culprits. I suppose I thought you insurance chaps, with the resources you have to hand, might turn up something, even if it was just a lead to something else."
"And so I got the job and, later, Mr Lord found out the full implications of it," suggested Arthur, as pieces began to fall into place.
"Absolutely, old chap!" said Lord Atkinson, suddenly smiling. "They did say you were good at puzzles ... you know, piecing things together."
"Anyway, we had to tell Sam, eventually, 'fess up' as the Americans would say," said Lady Atkinson, smiling. "There was nowhere or no one else to turn to so we entrusted Sam with the information."
"And then things really started to go haywire," said Lord Atkinson. "The word got out ..."
"You think Mr Lord leaked the information?" asked Arthur, thinking that the explanation didn't go with his gut feelings.
"Good heavens no!" said Lord Atkinson. "We don't know who but the chief suspect is Sam's rather dotty ... pretty but dotty secretary who may not be as dotty as we all suspected. We're not sure ..."
"So, Sam had you on the case, feared for your safety and rearranged your job while the investigation continued," said Lady Atkinson.
Oh gosh!" said Arthur. His mind went blank after thoughts of the enormity of the situation and thoughts of gratitude to Mr Lord flashed through. His brain was now full and it was all a bit much.
"So, the plans are safe, the culprits are still skulking out there and could return, Sam disappeared and we were desperate for the investigation - any investigation - to continue," said Lord Atkinson. "Sam had appraised us of your loyalty, discretion and ability with puzzles, as he put it."
"Oh gosh!" said Arthur. This phrase was becoming an automatic response and all he could mutter right now.
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