‘Act of God,’ said Chatterton contentedly. ‘Who managed to get it right for once. Well now, Mr Hollies, imagine where that left our Mr X. He’d laid out oodles of funds and in the twinkling of an eye it was all going to be wasted. Or was it? In his shoes I know I’d have gritted my teeth and called it a day, but here was another one that didn’t believe in money going down the drain. So how about a replacement for Big Thief? To cut what must have been a long story short, the best he managed to come up with was A. Hollies Esquire, a real swine who turned out to be a literary agent. Not that I’m trying to make you sound unimportant, Mr Hollies.’
‘No, of course not.’
‘Right. Anyway, what had you done to him?’
‘I’ve never done anything much to anyone. What did he say I’d done?’
‘I didn’t deal with him direct, but there was something about gross professional misconduct.’
‘In my part of the trade it’s not worth cheating anybody. I suppose I could have told him a book he’d written wasn’t worth publishing.’
‘Could be, very well,’ said Fotheringay. ‘Something that don’t matter, like a book. You remember I thought this bloke was crazy right from the start.’
‘You said yourself it was out of proportion, didn’t you, Mr Hollies? And have you ever physically abused a girl, as I was told last night? Of course you haven’t. Nobody could believe such a thing who saw you reacting to what you thought was the real thing. Oh dear.’
‘There’s not much time,’ said Fotheringay. ‘We’ve said we’re sorry. We’re going to wrap this up. But you understand, Adrian, we want to protect ourselves. We request – that’s all we can do in the circumstances, request you to assist us. You’re a clever sort of fellow and you know about things like stories and writing scripts and that. Now you just get down to it and write a story for, er, for Chatterton here and me to learn, right, showing how you got the better of us and got out of here. Clocked one of us on the head, kind of style, and made a fool of the other, get the idea? Best you can do in the next hour or two. We’ll help you any way we can, I give you my solemn word.’
‘What about Beaumont-Snaith and Llewelyn?’
‘Yeah, well I reckon Llewelyn’ll do what we tell him, don’t you, Chatterton? As regards Beaumont-Snaith, he took a nasty bang on the head just now when we were discussing what to do, so could be he’ll turn out to fit into the scheme quite smoothly. We’ll just have to see how it goes, won’t we?’
‘Wouldn’t it be simpler,’ said Adrian, ‘if we all just pretended to have gone through the whole programme?’
Fotheringay nodded slowly with eyebrows raised. ‘Okay, but only if you fancy spending a couple of months pretending to be a nervous wreck after it, which is what you would have been. And us trusting you to do it, of course. No, I reckon we’d all be better off with Plan A.’
III
‘And I presume Plan A went reasonably well,’ said Derek Richards the following week.
‘That’s what I presume too,’ said Adrian. ‘We started off by cleverly buggering up the closed-circuit TV system, which naturally I’d assumed was there from the start. Then I luckily turned out to know a bit of karate, anyway enough of it to put paid to Beaumont-Snaith. Marvellous name, that. As for it going well, I’ve had no complaints, though I must say if I’d been one of them I wouldn’t be feeling all that easy in my mind.’
‘How about the doctor?’
‘The ex-doctor was going to disappear somewhere abroad whatever happened, on account of a previous piece of his doctoring having gone seriously wrong, and duly did, in a flash. He was a real ex-doctor, by the way, quite a different figure from the others.’
‘What tipped you off about them?’
‘Well, the general way they spoke and carried themselves and the rest of it, as if they were on the green, in mummers’ parlance. If you were brought up in a theatrical household as I was, it’s unmistakable. You must have noticed, when you turn the TV on or switch channels at random, how quickly and certainly you can tell whether it’s acted, however straightforwardly, or real life. I realized rather late on that those chaps talked like coppers in telly plays, not actual coppers, though that was right in a way, but I had plenty of time to take in that they were camped-up villains too. Then when Chatterton took two actorial phrases from me in quick succession without turning a hair I knew I was right, and confirmed it by firing a couple of lines from Macbeth at Llewelyn and getting a shock-horror reaction. He must have carried a spear some time in a rep production of the Scottish play as they call it because they think it’s bad luck even to call it by its right name, let alone quote from it offstage. They’re all grossly superstitious.
‘What else did I know about actors as a tribe? That they were fluent but slow on the uptake, conformist, emotional and sentimental, impressionable, above all impressed by acting, so wrapped up in the theatre that to see a part played with conviction, in other words hammed up a trifle, affected them more than the real thing ever could. So I set about acting my head off in the part of the decent, plucky little man who stands up to the big bullies even though he’s scared to death and who can put up with his own sufferings but not somebody else’s. And it went down a treat, didn’t it?’
‘Don’t undersell yourself, dear boy. You showed some real pluck as well.’
‘I found I could miss a lot of that film by rolling my eyes up. And it’s easier when you’re acting. I must go.’
‘Where does Julie think you were?’
‘With A. N. Other. She had a fling with S. O. Else so that’s all right. We were having a difference at the time. I was only away for one night.’
Adrian left Derek Richards in his office and went upstairs to his own. He had not told Derek or anybody else about how, immediately on returning to his desk, he had telephoned that Pennistone whose pitiable book on the world of high finance he had so rightly dismissed out of hand, nor how he had given Pennistone notice of his return, just that and no more, nor how half a minute’s complete silence at the other end of the line had been the only response.
Afterwards, Adrian had been as satisfied as he cared to be that he had identified the man Chatterton had stagily called Mr X and that there was nothing more to be expected from that quarter. He wished only, and that not very ardently, that he could have known the whereabouts of the house he had been taken to in a drugged state and brought back from with his head, however willingly, in a bag.
But there was one more thing. With the obstinate punctuality of the unwelcome, Jack Brownlow arrived no more than a couple of seconds after the agreed hour, full of fraudulent apologies for taking up the firm’s valuable time. He settled himself down in a chair by the window with a self-importance suggesting his conviction that, in the years that lay ahead, visitors to this office would be told in hushed tones that that was the self-same chair Jack Brownlow used to sit in. No doubt for a similar reason he wore his usual archaic suit.
‘Did you manage to glance at those rough xeroxes I dropped in the other day?’ he asked when he was ready to.
‘Yes I did.’ Instead of going on to say that he had thought he recognized them as the opening pages of Brownlow’s last novel, and had had to check to make sure they were not, or not quite, Adrian went on to say, ‘I don’t know how you do it.’
Luckily Brownlow made no offer to explain how. He said, ‘That’s a relief. I just thought it was time I made a clean break with the sort of thing the public expect from me.’
Adrian made some reply. This time what he did not say was that he had got an idea for a sort of thriller that began with a kidnapping, something he would gladly part with if Brownlow thought it was time he made a clean break with the sort of thing the public expected from him. Another lecture on how novelists should stick to their own experience might be too much to bear.
Captain Nolan’s Chance
A PLAY FOR RADIO
Principal Characters (*denotes
a fictitious person)
CAPTAIN LEWIS NOLAN In his late twenties. An upper-crust Irishman brought up in Milan.
LORD ROBERT CECIL In his mid-twenties. [later Lord Salisbury]
CAPTAIN IVOR MORRIS A few years older than Nolan. I see or hear him as a fairly posh Welshman. ‘Ivor’ is my invention. I cannot find Morris’s true Christian name nor much about him, but a Capt. Morris certainly led the 17th Lancers at the charge, which he survived though grievously wounded, and was certainly a close friend of Nolan’s and a fellow-enthusiast for cavalry.
COUNT ROGACHEV * In his thirties or forties.
LORD LUCAN Mid-fifties.
LORD CARDIGAN Late fifties. A ‘plunger’, an aristocrat who spoke with a distinctive jargon or accent, pronouncing R as W and interlarding sentences with loud and meaningless exclamations of ‘Haw haw’.
JOSEPH * In his forties or fifties. Speaks with an accent differentiating him from Russians, e.g. Polish or Ukrainian.
LORD GEORGE PAGET In his mid-thirties. A gallant soldier, later a general.
SIDNEY HERBERT ‘Secretary at War’ in the 1852 cabinet of Lord Aberdeen.
Sequence 1 – London
We are in Pall Mall in the year 1854. A cab draws up.
CABBY: Here we are, gents. Retrenchment Club. Oh, thank you, captain. You two gentlemen going to be off to fight them Rooshans?
NOLAN: One day, maybe.
CABBY: Well, give ’em a bang on the boko from me. Good night, sir.
The cab moves off. During the exchange NOLAN and his companion have alighted. They cross the pavement, mount some steps and enter the lobby of the club. A PORTER approaches.
PORTER: Good evening, gentlemen.
NOLAN: We’re here to see Lord Robert Cecil. We are Captain Lewis Nolan and Captain Ivor Morris. His lordship is expecting us.
PORTER: If you’ll be good enough to wait a moment, sir, I’ll inform his lordship that you gentlemen have arrived.
NOLAN: Thank you kindly. (A moment.) Ivor, for God’s sake: this fellow is younger than you or me. Sure he comes from a grand family and they say he’s a coming man, but there’s no side about him at all. He’s always been interested in the Eastern Question, that’s Turkey and Russia and the rest of it. And the lad’s fond of horses, do you understand.
PORTER: (Approaching) Would you come this way please, gentlemen.
They walk through part of the club.
PORTER: Captain Nolan and Captain Morris, your lordship.
CECIL: Thank you, Hawkins. Thank you for coming, Nolan. So this is the estimable Captain Morris. All I know about you, sir, is that you’re a childhood friend of Lew Nolan here, and that you share some of this mad Irishman’s delusions.
MORRIS: I’m afraid there are one or two subjects, my lord, on which neither Lew nor I is quite sane.
CECIL: That’s a relief. I pass my days with sane people and believe me it’s hell. Now sit down and let’s have a drink. The sherry here can just about be swallowed if you grit your teeth, or you might prefer a little brandy.
Fade down and fade up in the main dining-room of the club. CECIL, NOLAN and MORRIS are at a table by themselves.
CECIL: What’s being said about the appointment of Lord Lucan to lead the cavalry?
NOLAN: Well, unlike the other generals he has seen active service.
CECIL: Oh, I didn’t realize that.
NOLAN: Twenty-six years ago. He did well enough then.
MORRIS: And then, on April Fool’s Day, if you please, it’s announced that Lord Cardigan is gazetted Brigadier-General in command of the Light Brigade. Now Lucan’s a difficult fellow, but the word is he’s a good tough officer. But Cardigan, he’s … may I speak plain, sir?
CECIL: Please do.
MORRIS: Lord Cardigan is a lunatic, that’s the kindest thing you can say of him. Arrogant, reckless, obstinate, brooking no opposition, a damn fool, and unfortunately as brave as a lion. And in the 17th Lancers I’m to be under his command. The thought of that frightens me.
NOLAN: Which doesn’t often happen to Ivor Morris. And my lord Cardigan wants me as his personal assistant, his A D C.
CECIL: Are you going to take the job?
NOLAN: I’ll see the fellow in hell first. You know, my lord, when I think that the British cavalry list is full of brilliant and experienced officers in the prime of their careers, not one of whom has been given a command in this expedition, because their service has been in India – well, I want to weep.
CECIL: Before you collapse altogether, Nolan, you’d better have a glass of port.
We have moved to the port-drinking room of the club. NOLAN is well away.
NOLAN: It’s my belief that, properly led, cavalry, especially light cavalry, can do anything.
CECIL: Is it your belief that cavalry could break an infantry square?
NOLAN: Yes, even that – sir. There’s not just the one key to it, but two. The first is the man; well, the British army knows about him and how to train him. The second is the horse, and the British army needs a lesson or two about how to train a horse.
MORRIS: You mentioned leadership, Lew.
NOLAN: That comes later.
CECIL: When we talked before, Captain Nolan, you mentioned kindness as the basis of your system.
NOLAN: That’s it, my lord. A horse should never be punished or startled, but shown he can trust the man on his back. I’ll see if I can find you a copy of my book, Nolan’s System for Training Cavalry Horses, it’s all in there.
MORRIS: I’m afraid Nolan is something of a fanatic on the subject, my lord.
NOLAN: Ah, to hell, you’re as bad yourself, Ivor.
MORRIS: All right, I may be pretty bad, but I have to admit in all honesty that my lads in the 17th are second to none as cavalry soldiers, and even some of the Hussars are pretty fair.
NOLAN: Oh, they’re not all hopeless.
CECIL: You think they’ll give a fair account of themselves against the Russians?
MORRIS: I think so, my lord, yes.
NOLAN: If they get the chance.
CECIL: M’m. I hope you’re right.
We are in the same place but time has passed. All three men are slightly foxed.
CECIL: I think one more glass, don’t you? Well, no doubt we could go on about horses all night, but I didn’t invite the two of you along here just for that. Let me put it briefly. Now perhaps Lew Nolan has told you, Captain Morris, I concern myself greatly with the activities of Russia in the Near East. I scent a grave threat to our interests there and further afield. This affair now in the Black Sea, it may prove to be no more than a skirmish, a preparation for something larger. There’s a devilish crafty fellow in St Petersburg called Count Rogachev whom I don’t care for the sound of one little bit. Very powerful in an underhand way and a deadly enemy of England and jealous of our possessions overseas. I see in him a grave danger to our country.
MORRIS: Lew and I promise to throw this Count Rogachev into the Black Sea as soon as we set eyes on him, my lord, but what can we do meanwhile?
CECIL: I’m sorry, I think I was a little carried away. What the two of you can do for me meanwhile, my dear Morris, is to compile a report for my eyes only on the fighting qualities of our troops – morale, state of training, whatever may signify. They haven’t fought a serious war for forty years – how would they resist a powerful and determined foe? You’ve told me something already; I need to know more. Will you do it?
NOLAN: We’ll do all we can, sir.
CECIL: As it comes to you, nothing fanc
y. The telegraph would be quickest, but you’d have to resort to code.
NOLAN: We’ll find a way, my lord, never fear.
Sequence 2 – St Petersburg
We are in a reception room in a palace. Men and women are chattering and laughing, eating snacks and drinking. JOSEPH, a dignified butler, is supervising the serving of drinks.
JOSEPH: A glass of champagne, my lady? Your excellency?
EXCELLENCY: Thank you, Joseph. Always on hand when you’re wanted, eh?
JOSEPH: (In undertone to SERGEI, waiter) Two champagnes, Sergei, quick. And a napkin.
SERGEI: (Nervous) Yes, Mr Joseph.
EXCELLENCY: Splendid stuff. Yes, my dear, I always say it’s a blessing the French can’t fight half as well as they make champagne.
LADY: They fought well enough under Bonaparte.
EXCELLENCY: Until our Russian lads broke their spirit. Before you were born, Tania. I was just a young subaltern then. Yes, and Wellington finished Bonaparte off at Waterloo. I doubt if any British army could manage such a thing today.
LADY: Have you visited the Crimea yourself, uncle?
EXCELLENCY: Not as yet. I hope to go in a week or so …
COUNT 1: Well, as for our armies in the Crimea, they have only to wait for the British and the French to die of cold and fever and thorough incompetence, especially at the top. Their Lord Raglan and the others are drunk from morning to night.
COUNT 2: As I see it, Prince Menschikov need only hold firm and use his guns whenever he can. Our Russian artillery will settle things, as always.
COUNT 3: Allies? The flower of England, France, Turkey and Sardinia, if you please. A pitiful polyglot rabble, sir.
ROGACHEV: (Calling imperiously) Joseph, over here.
JOSEPH: (Calling) At once, my lord count. (To SERGEI) Come, Sergei – when Count Rogachev calls, you move fast.
ROGACHEV: Yes, colonel, I think this news makes the prospects for our little scheme look quite encouraging. (To JOSEPH) Some vodka for the colonel. No, just soda water for me.
Complete Stories Page 51