We Have Lost The President

by Paul Mathews

  Bogdan glared at her but didn’t speak.

  ‘Your nephew, Herbert, works as a security guy. He fell asleep on Monday night in one of the master bedrooms. The camera system went down at eleven, but he didn’t wake up until six hours later. So it didn’t get reported until 5.00am.’

  Bogdan gave a long, guttural growl, as if warning her not to go any further. Britt ignored it and continued. ‘You covered up for your nephew’s incompetence. I know because Herbert admitted it to a woman he met in the park yesterday.’

  Bogdan flashed one of his canine teeth. ‘What woman?’

  ‘An American security expert called Pellie Cann.’

  ‘I never heard of this woman. She talking horseshit.’

  ‘It was me. An identity I used to get the information.’

  ‘My nephew not talk to strangers in parks about security matters.’

  ‘Oh, he does. And then he agrees to meet those strangers in pubs, buys them a tube of Britain’s Finest and invites them back to his pod for a three-cheese lasagne. I didn’t go, of course. But he gave me his address – 190,872 Revolution Towers in Battersea.’

  Bogdan cursed in a foreign language. Then he returned to English. ‘So, you writing story about missing president?’

  ‘Of course I’m writing a story,’ snapped Britt, in an attempt to show the Rottweiler who was boss. ‘I’m a journalist. Why else would I be here?’ It seemed to work. Bogdan’s shoulders dropped in submission and his snarl disappeared.

  ‘What you want from me?’ asked Bogdan, with dread in his voice.

  ‘I want you to get me into the palace.’

  Bogdan chuckled. ‘That not possible.’

  ‘Then you and your nephew will be on the front page of The Republican tomorrow. I hope you both have good CVs. Because you’ll be looking for alternative employment. And before you ask, that’s not a threat. It’s a fact.’

  ‘It sound more than threat. It sound like blackmail.’

  ‘It’s not blackmail. It’s a business arrangement.’

  ‘And what your business in Buckingham Palace?’

  ‘A meeting in the State Dining Room at four o’clock. A Republican Party nomination meeting.’

  Bogdan rubbed his chin. ‘That sound like important meeting.’

  ‘Yes. Get me in there before everyone else turns up, so I can listen to the whole thing. If you do that, I’ll forget all about your nephew’s six-hour nap and your cover-up. And whatever happens – even if I’m discovered before, during or after the meeting – I won’t reveal your involvement in getting me inside.’

  Bogdan eyeballed her for a full ten seconds. ‘How can I trust you?’

  ‘I’m a journalist. We always protect the identity of those who help us. Just like you protected your nephew.’

  Bogdan twisted his mouth. ‘It will be difficult.’

  Britt felt her heart beating in her ears. Her mouth was dry. And her legs felt weak. ‘I need an answer now. Yes or no?’

  Bogdan took a deep breath. ‘Yes. I do it.’

  Britt wanted to scream with joy. But she remained calm. ‘Then we have a business arrangement, Mr Bogdanowic?’

  ‘Yes. We have business arrangement.’

  ‘Excellent. Now, the meeting doesn’t start for nearly two hours. I don’t want to be in that room any longer than I have to. What time will everyone start arriving?’

  ‘Vice presidents’ offices close to State Dining Room. So earliest they probably start arriving is 3.50pm.’

  ‘Okay. Meet me at half past three at this gate.’ Britt pointed at the two police officers they’d been talking with, just moments ago. ‘Speak with those two. Ask them to be here at the same time, so they can buzz me through. You then escort me to the State Dining Room. That’s all you have to do. I’ll find my own way out.’

  Bogdan nodded in acknowledgement.

  ‘Go and speak to the officers now,’ ordered Britt. ‘I want to see you do it.’

  Without a word, Bogdan turned and started to make his way over to them. Britt allowed herself a smile. The rabid Rottweiler was now her obedient poodle.

  Once she could see Bogdan instructing the police officers, she began walking towards The Mall and contemplated grabbing a coffee in Piccadilly. But then she realised she would need a more suitable outfit than a blouse and slim-fit jeans if she was going to walk the corridors of Buckingham Palace without raising suspicion.

  Britt had enough time to take a cab home, make a quick change and taxi it back here for half three. She smiled to herself. Everything was going to plan.

  Chapter 37

  Howie drummed his fingers on the State Dining Room’s oak table until the noise started to annoy him. He’d been waiting fifteen minutes for Martha to return with Kaia-Liisa. The president’s office was just round the corner. Martha’s round trip should have taken a maximum of five minutes. Why was it taking so long? Howie was starting to get worried.

  He leaned back in his chair and pondered the possibilities. Kaia-Liisa might be refusing to cooperate. She had answered their questions about presidential meetings just a few hours ago. Being hauled in for a repeat performance would set alarm bells ringing. She could easily find some excuse not to come here. Or make a quick exit from the president’s office with false promises of an imminent return. But no. Martha would have foreseen that. She wouldn’t tell Kaia-Liisa what this was about until all three of them were in this room. There must be some other reason for the delay. What could it be?

  Howie searched his mind for an answer. After a minute of deep thought, he came up with an idea. Perhaps Kaia-Liisa was enjoying a long lunch with Maurice Skeets? It was entirely possible that she could have worked out that the president had gone missing. Kaia-Liisa was an intelligent woman. Yes, Martha had told her that the president was away on official state business and the Code Red crisis plan was being reviewed. But that wouldn’t explain the increased security activity around the palace. She must have her suspicions.

  Howie felt nauseous at the thought of the missing-president story being fed to Maurice Skeets. He checked his bleeper. There were no new messages from Maurice. Not yet, at least. He was tempted to turn it off. But not reading his e-comms had already caused him enough trouble today, so he kept it on and stuffed it back in his trouser pocket.

  Another couple of minutes passed. Still no sign of Martha or Kaia-Liisa. With nothing else to do, Howie decided to treat himself to a long, loud stretch. The physical exertions of the last day and a half had taken a heavy toll on his body. In fact, he couldn’t remember feeling this knackered in a long while. James Bond probably went to the gym between missions. But Howie had no time for rowing, running or weight machines. Only coffee machines. And even the strongest espresso wasn’t going to cure his current aches and pains.

  Another sixty seconds dragged by. His muscles were still aching. So he stretched even longer and louder than before. As he raised his arms above his head, he felt a muscle spasm in his shoulder. As he twisted to grab the affected area, something clicked in his back. ‘I’m getting old,’ he groaned to himself.

  The door opened. Kaia-Liisa walked in first. She appeared calm as she nodded at him and sat down. But Howie could see fear in her eyes. He’d seen the same fear in many civil servants over the years. Usually when they had been summoned to a meeting with the president to explain why something they should have done hadn’t been done. Or why they’d done it at the wrong time. Or why they’d done something they weren’t supposed to do in the first place.

  Martha followed a few moments later, holding some kind of book. She shut the door and sat down, making sure that she was closer to the door than Kaia-Liisa.

  Howie couldn’t resist asking. ‘What took you so long?’

  Martha turned to Howie and spoke in a matter-of-fact voice. ‘Kaia-Liisa has located the president’s personal diary. I was looking through it.’

  Howie didn’t know the president kept a personal diary. He had assumed that personal engagements would have been entered
in Jan’s official diary. In fact, taking time out from presidential duties was so rare for Jan, Howie was surprised he even kept a personal diary. But the president’s chief private secretary knew about it. ‘You never mentioned a personal diary, Kaia-Liisa.’

  ‘It’s not something I’ve come across before.’

  ‘Why has it suddenly turned up now?’ asked Howie.

  ‘I was being proactive,’ explained Kaia-Liisa. ‘I was trying to find out more about those meetings we discussed.’

  Howie doubted that Kaia-Liisa was being proactive for his and Martha’s benefit. It was much more likely for her own benefit. Possibly so she could provide Maurice Skeets with additional information. ‘How did you find it?’

  ‘I was searching the office for clues, when I noticed a key to one of the president’s private drawers was still in the lock. I opened it and found the diary. I was just about to come and find one of you when Martha came in.’ The corners of her mouth turned upwards for a second, then returned to their former position. ‘Such a coincidence.’

  ‘Unbelievable,’ replied Howie, with a hint of sarcasm.

  Kaia-Liisa cocked her head and examined Howie’s face, as if looking for some physical confirmation of his disbelief. But there was none. He would keep her guessing a little longer. The more pressure she was under, the more she would reveal when she finally cracked.

  Martha patted the diary. ‘It was a very interesting read.’

  ‘Any mention of the three names the journalist gave us?’ asked Howie.

  Martha flicked through its pages. ‘Jan met privately with Sky Eastern three times. Twice with Olga Frik. And just once with Petra Putinov. All in the last six weeks or so.’

  Howie stared at Kaia-Liisa. It was time to put her under more pressure. ‘Does that sound right to you?’

  Kaia-Liisa stared back. ‘I didn’t have time to examine the entries.’ She turned to Martha. ‘Would you mind if we moved on to whatever it is that you brought me here to discuss? It’s just I have a backlog of presidential submissions to read through. With the Independence Day holiday tomorrow, I have to process them all before I leave the office today.’

  Martha smiled. ‘What we wish to discuss with you is exactly what we’re discussing now – the secret meetings.’

  Kaia-Liisa adopted a wide-eyed, confused expression. ‘I don’t understand. I told you everything I know, this morning. You have the president’s personal diary. What more is there to discuss?’

  Howie took over the interrogation. ‘Plenty. We need to find out who’s feeding information to this journalist. Not just so we can plug the leak. We need to know everything they know about the meetings in that diary.’

  Kais-Liisa’s lips hardly moved as she spoke. ‘I’m afraid I can’t help you with that.’

  ‘Oh, I think you can,’ continued Howie. ‘This private drawer that contained the diary – is today the first time you’ve found it unlocked?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So you’ve never seen a key in that lock before?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘And you’ve never seen the diary anywhere else in the president’s office?’

  ‘Never.’

  Howie assessed his interviewee’s demeanour. The fear in her eyes was growing. ‘Then who else could have had access to Jan’s personal diary, Kaia-Liisa? Because whoever’s been talking to the journalist must have seen it.’

  ‘I have no idea.’

  Howie looked at Martha. She gave the faintest of nods. The signal was clear. It’s in your hands now, agent Pond. Finish the job. ‘I’ve had a lot of communication with this journalist lately, Kaia-Liisa. His source is very well-placed within Buckingham Palace.’

  Kaia-Liisa didn’t respond.

  Howie leaned forward. ‘His name is Maurice Skeets.’ Howie watched for a reaction. Kaia-Liisa was doing everything in her power to appear calm. But he could see a tendon in her neck tense. Almost as if a noose had tightened around it. ‘I’ll be honest with you, I’ve never trusted Maurice.’

  Kaia-Liisa blinked rapidly but was otherwise motionless.

  ‘And I wouldn’t trust him to protect his sources. I’ll give you an example. If I offered him a massive exclusive, in exchange for the name of this palace source, he’d give it to me. He might grumble a few platitudes about journalistic ethics at first. But if I told him who I suspected his source was, and I was right, they would be no use to him any more. And Maurice can always find another source.’

  Kaia-Liisa wrinkled her forehead. ‘Why are you telling me this, Howard?’

  ‘Well, we have a good idea who this person is. And we think they work in the president’s private office.’

  Kaia-Liisa’s face was pale now. Howie could see her hands trembling slightly. ‘And you want me to try and find out who it is?’

  She was pretty smart, this private secretary. But Howie was smarter. It was time to go for the kill. ‘Let’s cut the bullshit. We know it’s you.’

  Kaia-Liisa jerked her head to look at Martha, as if expecting Martha to jump to her defence. She didn’t.

  Howie lowered his voice. ‘If you don’t tell me all you know in the next five minutes, I’ll be bleeping my friend the chief of police. And informing him that we have a suspected 24-7 in the president’s office.’

  Martha stood up. ‘I wouldn’t recommend being arrested for a 24-7 offence, Kaia-Liisa. Things can get rather unpleasant.’

  Howie nodded. ‘You’d be lucky to see the outside world again before the weekend.’

  Kaia-Liisa tried to stop herself sobbing, but the muscle contractions were too strong. She covered her mouth with her hand. Her stifled sobs were all that filled the room for a few seconds. No words of denial. Just sobs.

  ‘I’m afraid that your career in the civil service is over, Kaia-Liisa,’ announced Martha. ‘But we don’t want you to go to prison. It wouldn’t be good for anyone.’

  Kaia-Liisa froze for a few seconds. Then she burst into floods of tears. ‘Please forgive me!’

  ‘Why did you do it?’ asked Martha.

  Kaia-Liisa composed herself. ‘The meetings with Sky Eastern – I’m certain it was about old oil and the application for test drilling. She came here, late one evening, when I was working late. The president didn’t know I was still here. I was in the corridor and I overheard them talking.’

  ‘Talking about what?’ asked Howie.

  ‘About oil platforms. About secret locations.’ She wiped her eyes and then launched into a passionate monologue. ‘After everything the president promised about not going back to old energy! He’s going to approve the test drilling. I know it. Sky Eastern has probably filled his head with promises of huge tax windfalls. But it’s all lies. They don’t care about finding oil in British waters. They just want to test their new Tech.’ She gasped for air and continued. ‘But why should we British be the guinea pigs? Why should we play little brother to the Americans’ big brother all the time?’ She put her head in her hands. ‘I can’t believe it. After all he promised the citizens five years ago, when he was re-elected. “Out with the old energy, and in with the new.” Those were his words. He lied to us! And that’s why I gave the information to a journalist. I wanted his lies exposed for all the world to see.’ She burst into tears again.

  Martha handed Kaia-Liisa a tissue. ‘And what about the other meetings?’

  Kaia-Liisa took the tissue and blew her nose. ‘I don’t know anything about the Auto-Tech Industries woman. I swear on the president’s life.’

  ‘And the Russian woman?’ asked Martha. ‘We need to know about her.’

  ‘I don’t know what that was about. All I know is that it was arranged by his brother, Oskar.’ She choked back a tear. ‘He came into the office a couple of weeks ago. They were having a loud conversation in the private meeting room. I heard them arguing. Oskar was shouting about having already arranged a meeting for Jan with Petra Putinov and how it would look bad for him if it didn’t happen. Then Oskar stormed out.’

  Mart
ha thought for a moment. ‘Any other unofficial meetings you were aware of?’

  Kaia-Liisa bowed her head and stared at the red carpet. ‘No. That’s everything.’

  Howie moved closer to Kaia-Liisa. ‘You sure about that? Because you haven’t been very truthful with us, up till now.’

  Tears were streaming down Kaia-Liisa’s cheeks now, faster than her tissue could catch them. ‘That’s … that’s all I know.’

  There was one last question Howie needed to ask. ‘Have you told Maurice Skeets anything about the president being away from the palace for the last couple of days?’

  Kaia-Liisa looked confused. ‘No. Why would I?’

  Howie stared into her terrified eyes. ‘You told him about Martha being in your office. You didn’t give her name, but you told him a pair of eyes that sees everything was watching over you.’ He lowered his voice. ‘What else did you tell him?’

  ‘N-n-nothing,’ stuttered Kaia-Liisa. ‘I wanted him to stop harassing me for more information. I thought he was going to write the story weeks ago. But he kept coming back. Wanting more and more details.’ She choked back another tear. ‘It wasn’t supposed to be like this.’

  Howie was satisfied that Maurice Skeets wouldn’t be contacting him about a missing president. He looked over at Martha. ‘I’m finished with her.’

  Martha took Kaia-Liisa’s arm. ‘So am I. Time to escort you from the building.’

  ‘Will you be calling the police?’ asked Kaia-Liisa, her voice cracking.

  Martha shook her head.

  ‘But you cut off all contact with Maurice Skeets,’ added Howie. ‘And any other journalists. Dealing with them is my job. Not yours.’

  Kaia-Liisa closed her eyes and gave the faintest of nods.

  ‘Human Resources will be in touch about the termination of your employment,’ announced Martha. ‘If you haven’t already resigned by then.’

  Kaia-Liisa began to sob again. Martha ushered her out before she could flood the room with tears.

  Howie watched the door close on Kaia-Liisa and her civil service career. In a few months, he might also be gone. He groaned at the thought of all the contact with Human Resources it would mean. All the impenetrable e-forms, gigabytes of guidance and badly written e-comms. It was enough to drive a presidential spokesperson to early retirement. But Howie didn’t want to dwell on this possibility any longer. He had enough to worry about with all the chaos the nomination meeting would bring.