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The politician had moved more quickly than he had anticipated, Charlie admitted. There was a chance that he could prevaricate until the following day, pleading the problem of the time difference between America and England, but the company would have to restore cover within twenty-four hours. It was a bugger.

He was moving towards the door, to answer Cosgrove’s summons, when the call came. He smiled, recognising Clarissa’s voice. He wondered why he was pleased to hear from her.

‘How are you?’

Fine,’ he said.’You?’

‘Missing you.’

‘I thought all your friends were there.’

‘They are. I’m still bored. I hoped you might invite me up for the celebration.’

‘What celebration?’ demanded Charlie.

‘The one that Kelvin Cosgrove is planning. Sally had a call this afternoon talling her to come up He said he wanted her with him; that it was important.’

‘When is it to be exactly?’ asked Charlie, feeling the beginning of a warmth spread through him.

‘Tomorrow, I gather,’ said Clarissa. ‘Surely you knew about it?’

‘No,’ said Charlie. ‘Apparently I’m not to be invited.’

If the celebrations were planned for tomorrow, then he had a timing for the robbery. No wonder Cosgrove wanted him so urgently. Strange how the most difficult things were often resolved by the simplest of errors. He wondered if Cosgrove had overlooked his wife’s friendship with Clarissa Willoughby or merely forgotten the tendency to gossip among the people with whom she mixed.

‘Can I come up?’ asked Clarissa.

‘I’d rather you didn’t.’’

‘I see.’

‘No,’ said Charlie, ‘you don’t see. I’d like you to be here, really I would. But the next couple of days aren’t going to be safe.’

There was an urgent knocking on the door of Charlie’s suite.

‘Wait a minute,’ he said to Clarissa.

Heppert stood in the corridor trying to mirror the anger of the men waiting downstairs.

‘It’s been half an hour,’ said Heppert. ‘They’re furious.’

Charlie left the door open, returning to the telephone.

‘Something has come up with the exhibition,’ he said. ‘I’ve got to go. I’ll call you as soon as I can.’

‘Tomorrow?’

‘I hope so.’

Charlie didn’t move away from the telephone.

‘One more call,’ he said to the sighing man in the doorway. Because it was internal, it took less than a minute.

‘There!’ said Charlie. ‘Ready.’

Still he did not leave the room, lingering a further few minutes, ensuring that he had everything in his pockets that he wanted and then, at last, he moved out into the corridor.

Heppert was already hurrying off, leading the way and trying to speed Charlie towards the lift.

‘Christ,’ said Heppert. ‘They’re mad. Bloody mad.’

‘Yes,’ said Charlie, ‘I expect they are.’

22

This was the first time that Charlie had seen the organising committee in a formally assembled group. There were eight men in the room. The senator sat in the middle, as the chairman. He was white-faced from what Charlie presumed was the anger Heppert had spoken about, but appeared tightly controlled. Open annoyance from a politician would be unseemly, Charlie supposed.

He looked around, expecting Heppert to have followed him in, but the man had stayed in the foyer, near the closed entrance to the exhibition. Pendlebury wasn’t around either.

‘Sorry for the delay,’ said Charlie brightly. ‘Telephone call I wasn’t expecting.’

‘It was discourteous,’ said Cosgrove.

‘But unavoidable, I’m afraid,’ said Charlie. He saw the senator’s body stiffen at his attitude. In the army Charlie had been able to make sergeants almost apoplectic by holding himself before officers just short of stiff-backed attention but yet not sufficiently insubordinate to be put on a charge.

‘We’ve called you here,’ began Cosgrove officiously, speaking with occasional glances at some papers before him, on which Charlie assumed he had written notes, ‘to demand from you, as the representative of the British insurers, the reinstatement of full cover for this exhibition.’

‘I told you earlier today that I would have to get London’s authority for any such action,’ said Charlie.

‘And I told you I was having my lawyers examine the legality of what you have done. Their opinion is that the withdrawal of cover for the reasons you’ve stated are utterly specious and would not be supported in any court of law, either in this country or England. If you continue to refuse, then I shall tomorrow issue in London a writ against your company in particular and the syndicate as a whole, alleging breach of contract. I shall also officially complain to whatever professionl governing body covers the activities of your company.’

‘The lawyers responded quickly,’ said Charlie, ignoring the threat.

‘They were told to,’ said Cosgrove, his voice that of someone used to having his orders obeyed unquestionably.

‘When?’ demanded Charlie.

‘When?’ Cosgrove looked across the table at him, frowning at Charlie’s question.

‘When exactly did you receive this advice from your lawyers? The timing might be a legal issue.’

Cosgrove smiled, glancing needlessly at his watch.

‘Six-thirty this evening, precisely,’ he said.

‘It’s been recorded?’ insisted Charlie.

‘There seemed little point,’ said Cosgrove with growing curiosity. ‘But this committee will support that time, I’m sure.’

From either side of the table there were immediate nods and movements of assent.

‘Good,’ said Charlie, ‘I’ll accept that guarantee.’

‘And reintroduce cover?’ said Cosgrove expectantly.

‘No,’ said Charlie.

Cosgrove had been turning away, smiling his satisfaction at the imagined victory to the others at the table. He swung around to Charlie, his annoyance flooding back.

‘Now see here…’ he started.

‘This meeting was a little premature,’ interposed Charlie, so that Cosgrove remained with his mouth half open. ‘I am quite happy to continue it as an open discussion, but I would suggest to you, senator, that it might be better if we had a private conversation.’

The change in Cosgrove’s demeanour, from anger to caution, was almost discernible.

‘I see no point…’ began Cosgrove, spreading his arms to include the men either side of him.

‘You will,’ predicted Charlie. ‘But I repeat, the choice is yours.’

Cosgrove looked rapidly at the rest of the committee, then back to Charlie, who stood quite relaxed, wondering how the man would find a way out.

‘Might it speed the settlement of this problem?’ Cosgrove demanded.

Charlie nodded at the man, admiringly. ‘It might,’ he said.

Cosgrove went back to the other men, shrugging the shrug of a man prepared to carry burdens for the rest of them. There was a moment of uncertainty as first Cosgrove, then those around him, stood.

‘Perhaps your rooms, senator?’ suggested Charlie.

Cosgrove hesitated, then nodded his acceptance, striding from the room ahead of Charlie, having no intention of being associated with the man, even walking across a hotel foyer. Charlie walked slowly behind, taking his time so that Cosgrove had to hold the lift doors until he arrived.

‘This had better be worthwhile,’ threatened Cosgrove, as the doors closed and the lift moved upwards.

‘Yes,’ agreed Charlie. ‘It had better be, hadn’t it?’

‘I intend making the strongest possible complaint to your company. Rupert Willoughby is known to us, you know.’

‘Yes,’ said Charlie, ‘I believe he might even regard you as a friend.’

He had little justification for sarcasm like that, thought Charlie. When the lift halted, Cosgrove strode ahead again, thrusting himself into the suite and then wheeling in the middle of the sitting room, legs astride and hands imperiously on his hips.