by Paul Mathews
The room fell silent. Oskar’s face drained of colour. His lieutenants glanced anxiously at each other. Howie knew Oskar wanted to scream ‘Why have you been following me?’ across the room. But he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t want the whole room to be told if Martha had uncovered the truth about his relationship with Maxim. Instead, Oskar put his hand on his chest and responded. ‘Dearest colleagues, my sincere apologies. The stress of the last two days has taken its toll on me. This discussion has jogged my memory. I did indeed bump into Mr Maxim in The Savoy yesterday. And we did speak for a short time.’
‘What did you discuss?’ demanded Martha.
Oskar waved a dismissive hand. ‘The food, the wine … possibly the weather.’
‘My agent overheard you discussing some “business”. What might that be?’
A murmur of speculation echoed round the walls and ceiling. As it did, Howie heard that squeaking noise again. He was just about to bend down and peek under the table, when Oskar jumped to his feet.
‘I don’t know who this agent was,’ snarled Oskar. ‘But he sounds no more competent than Mr Pond here. Because he is wrong. I did not discuss any business with Mr Maxim.’
Martha crossed her arms. ‘Maxim International is a government supplier of defence goods – albeit on a small scale. Perhaps the business was a future defence contract?’
Oskar jabbed a finger in Martha’s direction. ‘I am not involved in any improper conduct with regard to defence contracts, with Viktor Maxim or anyone else.’
Nobody spoke for a few seconds. Then Martha pierced the silence. ‘Nobody said you were involved in any improper conduct.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?!’ shrieked Oskar.
‘You’re the only person who’s uttered the words “improper conduct”, Vice President Polak. Which might suggest that improper conduct has been playing on your mind somewhat.’
‘This is outrageous!’ screamed Oskar, his arms flailing. ‘My good name is being called into question on the basis of nothing but a chance encounter in a restaurant and a conversation misheard by one of your halfwit agents. If you’d spent more time looking for my brother and less time eavesdropping on my lunches, maybe you would’ve found him by now.’
Martha looked shocked at Oskar’s outburst. ‘But vice president —’
‘Before this meeting descends into chaos,’ interrupted Oskar, ‘I propose we move straight to nominations.’ He turned to his colleagues. ‘Do any of you disagree with my proposal, vice presidents?’ He didn’t allow enough time for anyone to respond. ‘Good. Then we will move to the main business of this meeting.’ He attempted a warm smile, which was more of a cold grimace. ‘And I would like to put my name forward.’
The vice presidents either side of Oskar spoke as one. ‘I’ll second that nomination.’
Howie looked over at Martha. Her expression was now one of resignation. It matched Howie’s. They had tried to stop this process. But they had failed. They would have to let the meeting run its natural course.
‘Now, if anyone else wants to waste their time standing against me, raise your hand in the next ten seconds.’ Oskar lowered his voice to a growl. ‘But let me make this quite clear. If you do stand against me, there’ll be no place for you in my Government. So think carefully.’
Howie bowed his head. He couldn’t watch. He counted the seconds. He’d reached nine, when, from the corner of his eye, he saw a hand shoot up. He felt a pang of relief. Then he realised who the hand belonged to. It was Zayn Winner. An unlikely superhero. But no one else was offering to save the world from Oskar Polak.
Zayn grinned at his forty-nine astonished colleagues. ‘You’ve got to be in it to win it!’ He turned to Ivan Bonn, sitting next to him, and put an arm round his shoulder. ‘You’ll second my nomination, won’t you, my old buddy?’
Ivan nearly jumped off his seat. ‘What’s that? Me? Second you?’ His head spun towards Oskar. ‘Not sure. Have to think.’
Zayn stood up. ‘Come on, people. We’re not a monarchy any more. We’re a Republic.’ He made a serious face. ‘And we are Republicans. We don’t just let the nearest blood relative take over at the palace. Democracy is at the heart of everything we do.’
A handful of vice presidents started nodding. It was odd. For the first time that Howie could ever remember, Zayn actually sounded like a politician. He decided to sit back and watch.
Zayn stood tall. ‘Democracy isn’t just about the citizens voting. No. It’s about politicians exercising their democratic rights when the constitution gives them that opportunity. We should lead by example.’ He nodded – as if confirming that everyone was in complete agreement. ‘What I’m saying is that we, vice presidents, have a democratic duty to take this to a vote.’
There was a smattering of applause around the table. It was a good speech. Short and to the point. And he had acted in a surprisingly presidential manner. No one mentioned the fact that he seemed to drift in and out of a dodgy American accent.
Zayn put his hand on Ivan’s shoulder. ‘So, Ivan … I’m asking you as a colleague and as a friend. Will you do me the honour of seconding my nomination? If you do that, I will grant you whatever wish you want when I become president.’
Ivan thought for a few seconds. ‘Tech contract. Up for expiry. I like auto-techs. Can we stick with them?’
Zayn raised his hands. ‘No problem. You’re the Tech-head.’
‘Okay. Why not? Let’s do it. I second you.’
Zayn ruffled Ivan’s hair. ‘Good man. And the same goes for any of you here. You back me in the vote and I’ll help fulfil your political dreams.’
‘And where will the money come from for all this dream-chasing?’ huffed Oskar.
‘That’s easy. We’ll cut the defence budget. Your friend Viktor Maxim probably won’t be too happy about it. But he’s no friend of mine, so who cares?’
‘He’s no friend of mine either!’ snapped Oskar.
Martha stepped forward. ‘Vice presidents, I formally declare nominations to be closed. You now have two candidates from which to choose – Oskar Polak and Zayn Winner. In the event that Jan Polak does not return to stake his claim for a third term, one of them will be running as the Republican Party candidate in this summer’s election. Now, do either of you wish to say anything else?’
Oskar stood up. ‘I won’t bother. I’m the only serious candidate. Zayn Winner is unelectable.’
Zayn sat back in his chair. ‘Didn’t you see my interview in today’s Daily Democrat, Oskar? I’m a politician with charisma. A breath of fresh air. A man of the people.’
Oskar eyeballed Zayn for several seconds before responding. ‘That’s your assessment. Mine is that you’re a terrible actor and an even worse politician.’
Zayn responded with a cheeky smile. ‘Tut, tut. That’s not very presidential behaviour, is it now? I think HR run some anger-management training. I’ll put your name down.’
Oskar turned up his nose. ‘I’m fed up with this childishness. I propose we go straight to a vote.’
‘Suits me, buddy. That Daily Democrat article said everything for me.’
Martha nodded. ‘As you wish.’ She took a deep breath. ‘This is to be done via a simple show of hands. All those vice presidents in favour of Oskar Polak standing as the Republican candidate, in the absence of Jan Polak, please raise your —’
A loud knock on the door interrupted proceedings.
‘This room is occupied,’ shouted Martha.
A second knock rang out, louder than the first.
‘Whoever it is, get rid of them,’ barked Oskar. ‘I don’t care if it’s the exiled king of England, this vote is happening now.’
Daisy Gray grabbed the arm of the vice president to her right. ‘Oh my God. You don’t think it really is one of the royals coming back, do you? I mean, they never open the door themselves, do they? They always get someone else to do it for them.’ The vice president she was holding onto shook her off, so she grabbed the one to her left. ‘Mayb
e they got sick of all that Florida sunshine and they’re launching a counter-revolution? I can see it all now. We’ll all be thrown in the Tower!’ She stood up. ‘I’ll skip the vote. I’m going to pack my things. I don’t want my head on display at Traitor’s Gate!’
‘You stupid woman!’ shouted Oskar. ‘Of course it’s not the royals. Now keep calm!’
‘And carry on?’ gabbled Daisy. ‘How we can carry on without your brother? He’s ten times the man you are, Oskar Polak.’ She pointed at Zayn. ‘I’m voting for him! He may not be the sharpest tool in the box, but at least he doesn’t walk around with a face like a slapped arse all day!’
Zayn whooped with delight. ‘Welcome to Team Winner, Daisy! If you fancy a change of scenery after the election, Oskar’s job will be up for grabs.’
Daisy’s face lit up like a Trafalgar Square Christmas tree. ‘Ooh, that’d be lovely.’
Oskar was about to launch into another tirade when there was a third knock on the door. Martha sighed. ‘Would you mind opening it and telling them to go away, Howie?’
‘No problem. Let’s hope it’s Bogdan with some good news.’
Martha shook her head. ‘I doubt that very much.’
Howie got to his feet and opened the door. Standing before him was a familiar face. It wasn’t Bogdan. Or any other member of the security staff. It was someone else. A person who Howie hadn’t been expecting to see for a while.
It was such a surprise that Howie froze on the spot. And his tongue stopped working again.
Chapter 40
Britt had been in some tight spots in her career. But hiding under this table, surrounded on all sides by vice presidents, was the tightest one she could ever remember. Hunched forward, with both arms hugging her legs, she had soon developed a painful cramp in her lower limbs. It had forced her to move position a couple of times and caused her boots to squeak. She gritted her teeth and resisted the urge to move again. There was no way she could risk her footwear squeaking again. She had been lucky to escape detection on the first two occasions – the background chatter had probably saved her. But the whole room had gone quiet now. If she made any more high-pitched noises, she would almost certainly be discovered.
Britt wasn’t sure why the room had descended into silence. As far as she could make out, the vice presidents were just about to vote. Zayn Winner had surprised her and made a stirring mini-speech. But she doubted it would be enough against Oskar Polak’s political reputation.
She closed her eyes and gave a silent cheer. She had her indisputable third source. She had heard Oskar Polak confirm his brother was missing. And she would soon learn the nomination winner. Neither George nor anyone else could deny her this story now. ‘We Have Lost The President’ would be the five words on everyone’s lips tomorrow morning. It would be a headline that would go down in history. She would go down in history. All she had to do now was get out from under this table, get to the offices of The Republican and write the story.
The silence was broken by a man’s voice coming from the far end of the room. She could just about make it out. ‘Hello, Howie. Is there room for one more at this meeting? If there are no chairs, I don’t mind standing.’
The feet, knees and legs around her began moving. There were gasps from some of the vice presidents. Then a door closed.
‘Oh my God!’ screamed Vice President Daisy Gray.
The man spoke again. ‘Please, just keep calm and … well, carry on.’
That cool, authoritative voice was familiar. Whose was it?
Martha spoke next. ‘Can I suggest that the three of us reconvene in your office? We have a lot to discuss.’
‘I’d prefer to stay here for the moment, if you don’t mind,’ replied the man.
This was getting confusing. Britt couldn’t hear Howie any more. Oskar had shut up. Daisy had stopped screaming. Even Zayn wasn’t talking. When was the vote going to happen?
Howie broke the silence. ‘Where have you been, Mr President?’
Britt must have been imagining things. She thought Howie had called the new arrival ‘Mr President’. She must have misheard.
‘Where have I been? It’s a long story. I won’t bore you all with the details right now.’
Then Britt heard Martha’s voice. ‘With respect, Mr President, your absence has caused us a considerable amount of worry. It would be a courtesy to us all if you told us why you left and what you’ve been doing.’
Britt’s whole body shuddered as her brain processed those words. It couldn’t be the president. This must be a bad dream. She’d probably nodded off under the table. In reality, Jan Polak was still missing and the nominations vote was already underway. There was no president in the room. Only vice presidents. And a sleeping journalist under the table.
Then she heard the man’s voice again. ‘All in good time, my dear Martha. I promise you. Now, what has Jan Polak missed while he’s been away?’
It was then the truth hit her. This wasn’t a bad dream. It was a horrible reality. Jan Polak wasn’t lost any more. He was found. That meant he’d be appearing on the Buckingham Palace balcony at eleven tomorrow to announce he was standing for a third term. It also meant this nomination meeting would be abandoned any minute.
What would happen now? She tried to think. Howie, Martha and the president would agree an official story to tell anyone asking awkward questions. ‘The president was taking a well-deserved break at a secret location before his big day.’ Or something else that was equally vague and untrue. And that would be that. Britt wouldn’t be able to salvage anything from the wreckage of her investigation. Not even a lifestyle feature.
Britt kicked out a leg in frustration. The result was a loud squeak as one leather boot skidded over the other. She realised her mistake immediately. All she could do was stay completely still and hope everyone was too distracted by the returning president to bother finding out what was making strange noises under the table. She held her breath.
At the end of the corridor of legs, she saw Howie’s face appear, upside down. He was staring directly at her. He seemed to recognise her. She waved and put her finger to her lips, hoping he wouldn’t reveal that his journalist girlfriend was hiding under the table. Howie put his finger to his lips and then mouthed ‘Stay there’. His head bobbed back up. That was a relief. She had avoided exposure.
But things changed five seconds later. Daisy Gray’s head appeared under the table – upside down and staring at Britt like she had just stepped out of a spacecraft and asked to be taken to their leader.
Then Daisy screamed. ‘There’s a woman under the bloody table! Sat there, listening to us!’ Daisy poked her upside-down finger in Britt’s direction. ‘I recognise her, as well. It’s that bloody journalist who got all those police officers sacked. Britt what’s-her-name from The Republican. She’s Howie Pond’s girlfriend! Oh my God, he’s smuggled her in here!’
‘No I haven’t!’ shouted Howie, his head still under the table.
The president’s head now bobbed upside down in front of Britt. ‘Another unexpected visitor.’
Then Oskar’s head appeared. He said nothing. He just glared.
‘Come on, Britt,’ Howie sighed. ‘Out you come.’
Britt had no choice. She crawled towards Howie’s feet, with one thought in her mind – she had lost her story. She could feel her lip trembling. So she bit it. This was no time for tears. She would have to fight hard now. Or she wouldn’t just lose her story. She would lose her liberty.
Chapter 41
Howie wasn’t sure which had been the bigger surprise – opening the door of the State Dining Room to find President Jan Polak standing there or bending down under the table to find his girlfriend hiding under it. For a second, he wondered if that dodgy tea he’d been given in the police station was still causing him to hallucinate. He peered over the table edge and checked the appearance of everybody else in the room. Apart from their wide eyes and open mouths, they looked relatively normal. As he bent down again a
nd saw Britt crawling towards him, he realised he wasn’t seeing things. This was really happening. He climbed under the table. ‘One second,’ he called out to the people above it. ‘I’ll help her out.’
Before anyone could object, Howie got down on his knees and shuffled a few metres under the table. ‘What the hell are you doing down here?’ he whispered to Britt.
‘Your Code Red crisis,’ she whispered back. ‘My exclusive. Now it’s buggered.’
Howie had to strain every muscle not to raise his voice. ‘How did you find out about that?’
‘You told the cat.’
‘What?!’
‘Yesterday morning, when you were feeding her.’
Howie looked confused. ‘How did the cat manage to tell you what I’d told her?’
‘I overheard, you prince. You thought I was asleep. But I wasn’t.’
Howie looked horrified. ‘So I gave you the story?’
‘Yes. You did.’
Howie pointed upwards. ‘Don’t tell them that, for king’s sake!’
‘Of course I won’t.’
‘So why were you listening to me talking to the cat?’ huffed Howie. He knew it probably wasn’t the best time or place to discuss this. But his privacy had been invaded. And so had the cat’s. It was a matter of principle.
‘You were speaking loudly,’ insisted Britt.
‘I wasn’t speaking loudly!’ retorted Howie, through gritted teeth.
‘You were.’
‘I wasn’t. You must have been listening in.’
Martha’s voice from above interrupted them. ‘Is everything alright down there?’
‘She’s just got a bit of cramp,’ shouted Howie. ‘Be with you shortly.’ He turned back to Britt. ‘Look, you’re here now. We need a plan.’
‘They’re going to call the police, aren’t they?’
‘Don’t panic. I’ve got an idea.’ Howie and Britt wriggled out from under the table and got to their feet. Everyone was watching them – as if they were a circus act about to perform some incredible feat of acrobatics. In fact, that wasn’t far from the truth. They would have to perform some breathtaking manoeuvres to escape from this situation with Britt’s liberty and Howie’s reputation intact. Hopefully his idea would work.