‘So?’
‘So your husband’s name could well come up.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. My husband has nothing to do with this.’
‘Well that’s not strictly true,’ Cronin said. ‘I gather he and Ray Vossler have a lot of clients in common.’
‘Of course they do. My husband is an international tax consultant, but he has a fine reputation.’
‘I’m sure he does,’ Cronin said equably, ‘but he has some pretty shady clients. And I wouldn’t be too sure that he’s as squeaky clean as you think. He’s not going to enjoy talking about them to a Senate Committee and they can be very tough on people who give evasive answers. His fine reputation could take quite a beating.’
‘He could refuse to appear.’
‘He certainly could but he does go to the States a lot, does he not, and that might create quite a few problems.’
Cronin sat back in his wheelchair. ‘I’m not saying any of this is going to happen. I hope it won’t. I’m all in favour of harmonious relations between couples, even heterosexual ones.’
‘What do you want?’
‘A safe passage for Rachel Hunter out of her troubles.’
‘I can’t guarantee that.’
‘Yes Virginia, you can. There’s always a choice. She can either be the courageous young police woman who risked her career in the interests of national security. On the other hand, the Met could take the line you’re pushing now: that she is a foolish young woman who wanted to round up a gang of baddies for her own personal career advancement.’
Cronin looked at her coldly. This time where was no casualness in the voice. ‘Stop pushing that line, Virginia. Do it now, or I’ll see your husband crucified along with Vossler.’
Virginia looked at me then back at Cronin.
‘Very well. I’ll see to it.’
When she had gone, Alastair came back in.
‘I gather from Virginia’s face that all went well,’ he said.
‘I guess so,’ Bob said, ‘you never can tell with Virginia but I reckon I threw a pretty good scare into her.’
‘Bob, I can’t thank you enough, I said, ‘can we take you anywhere?’
‘No thanks, Leslie’s picking me up. He’s on his way now.’
‘How did you get here?’
‘A friend of yours brought me. She’s in the bar.’
I said my good-byes and found Kate sitting at the bar, sipping an orange juice.
I kissed her and gave her a hug.
‘All OK?’ she asked.
‘Yes. I think so.’
‘I’ve told Tim what’s going on. He says he’ll buy you more beer than even you can drink. And I’ve spoken to Chunk. He says the C.O. is being a bit sticky but he’s pretty sure the boys will all be OK. Birdy’s fine too. He’s gone to make peace with the guy whose helicopter he trashed. How was jail?’
‘It wasn’t jail exactly,’ I said, ‘just a police cell and several hours of utter frustration ended, as usual, with the help of some very good friends.’
‘That’s what friends do,’ Kate said. ‘Now we have to get out of here. She indicated the decor. I can’t stand these palm trees. They remind me of Ocean Dream.’
‘Where are we going?’
‘A party.’
‘What party, where?’
‘World Service newsroom. Hilary Azar got the editorship. They’re having drinks. It’s our chance to say good-bye.’
We took a taxi to Bush House and on the way I tried to pluck up courage to ask the question I’d thought about a lot in the police cell. I wanted to suggest a holiday with Kate, possibly sailing together, to give us time to find out whether we had a future. Instead, I let her chat happily about the way the story was playing out world-wide.
When we reached Bush House, we were given warm welcomes by the receptionists and allowed to go straight to the newsroom, even though both our BBC passes had been cancelled.
The reception was already at the champagne and toasting stage and Hilary Azar looked very happy and relaxed. She was currently North American editor and we had always got on well. I was determined not to upstage her moment of triumph by becoming the centre of attention and I went over quickly and gave her a hug and my warm congratulations.
‘You’ll do a brilliant job,’ I said.
‘I’m sorry you’re not staying on.’
‘It’s not really possible.’
‘No, I suppose not.’
Hilary turned to Kate.
‘What about you? Will you be back?’
‘No, I’m resigning too.’
‘Back to sailing?’
‘Yes, but I’m not going to sea straightaway.’
Moira Claiborne, ever ready for gossip, closed in immediately.
‘Have you something better to do on land,’ she said, with a half glance at me.
I looked at Kate hoping for some hint of how things stood between us.
‘I’ve been asked by a syndicate of American magazines to cover the Sailing Olympics. I’ll be doing that first.’
‘Will you spending some time with John?’ Moira said, forming the question I wanted to ask.
‘I tend to take life as it comes.’ Kate said, then she turned and gave me a quick smile, ‘but I’m sure John will be a part of it.’
About the author
Photo: Dominic Ennis
Norman Hartley was educated at Manchester Grammar School and Durham University.
He has spent his whole life writing – as a Reuters correspondent, newspaper reporter and feature writer, television script writer and BBC editor.
He has written three previous thrillers, The Viking Process, Quicksilver and Shadowplay.
They all deal in various ways with the power of multi-national corporations and their influence on politics - a theme to which he returns in The Saxon Network.
normanhartleybooks.com
About The Saxon Network
Right from my earliest days as a foreign correspondent I became aware that intelligence officers could get into serious trouble for telling the truth.
I saw the careers of several agents, both British and American, damaged and in two cases actually ruined, because they gave a truthful account of the situation on the ground which did not fit with what London or Washington wanted to hear.
This was the first impulse for the character of John Saxon, an honest and straightforward man in a devious and treacherous world.
A second theme was the comradeship which builds up in dangerous situations. This has been evident in every conflict situation I've ever observed and I decided to use this loyalty to rescue John Saxon from his seemingly impossible predicament.
The impulse for my heroine, Kate, was quite different. In my last decade or so with the BBC, my work brought me into contact with a great number of intelligent, lively, high-achieving women, most of them in their thirties and I became aware of the ever-present conflict between career and relationships.
The women I came to know stand on an equal footing with the men in their lives and juggling the needs of two careers, coupled with the added stress of travel and long hours, can lead to endless complications.
So it is with Kate – torn between her love of the sea and her desire for an emotional life – a conflict that will carry on into the sequel to The Saxon Network.
On a less serious note, I’ve greatly enjoyed having some fun at the expense of the BBC.
I have a great liking and respect for the BBC. I did my first broadcasts for them from a West Africa in turmoil in the Biafra era and much later I spent some years as an editor in the World Service, and another decade touring the overseas bureaux to check on systems and people.
When my hero was cut off from the resources and support of MI6, I decided to let him use the BBC’s instead.
I hope my many friends among the Corporation’s broadcast engineers and technical specialists will forgive me for allowing Saxon to hack merrily into supposedly secure systems and generally misuse the
vast storehouse of knowledge accumulated by correspondents and producers around the world.
My creation of UpstairsBackstairs showcases Citizen Journalism, a concept that wasn’t even thought about when I began my own career.
The other themes, though - corruption, over-bearing corporate power and its attempt to influence national policy and the dangers of misreporting situations like Iran – are threads that have run through all my earlier books and will doubtless continue into those still to come.
Acknowledgements
My thanks to retired British Airways Captain, Clive Elton, for his generous advice on Tiger Moth flying. I also owe Clive an apology as a former Master of the Guild of Air Pilots and Air Navigators for hijacking one of the guild’s delightful garden parties and putting it to nefarious use.
My thanks also to Mark Tyrrell of the BBC for his advice on filming the ambush and getting the pictures out to the world. However, Mark had no hand in advising me how to hack into and generally abuse the BBC’s systems – that was entirely my own work.
And finally my special thanks to Jonathon Savill for all the contributions he didn’t realise he was making.
Also by Norman Hartley
The Viking Process
Quicksilver
Shadowplay
The Saxon Network Page 25