‘Really.’
‘Really. Well, to tell the truth, old girl, I thought we might be able to help each other out.’
‘Did you indeed?’
Cecil smiled wryly and shrugged his shoulders.
‘So,’ Jones continued, ‘I’ve told the world that I believe the American government, or certainly bodies close to it, might be involved in the explosion at Princeton and all that has followed. By summoning me here today—’
‘An invitation, old girl, not a summons,’ Cecil interrupted, his voice little more than a murmur.
‘By summoning me here today you have already indicated that I’m probably right about that. Am I?’
Cecil didn’t answer the question. His face gave nothing away.
‘I just wanted to give you the opportunity to share with me anything that you might wish, anything you might think I could assist with,’ he remarked obliquely.
He paused and took a sip of wine, then delicately wiped his lips with his napkin.
Jones remained silent.
‘The press have also, of course, shown a certain amount of interest in your recent gentleman companion. Ed MacEntee, I believe, is the name?’
‘Yes, he’s an old friend, that’s all,’ said Jones.
‘Indeed. And I understand there is a suspicion in certain circles, is there not, that he might have a copy of this theory, this theory of consciousness, which seems to have caused so much palaver?’
Jones felt her stomach lurch. How did Cecil know that? She had quite deliberately given no indication of it to the press.
‘People have died, Jimmy, because of Paul Ruders’ work,’ she said quietly. ‘People have been murdered. I was nearly murdered.’
‘Precisely, my dear. So it occurred to me, should there still be a copy of the Ruders Theory kicking about somewhere, and should you, by any chance have access to it, that you might need a little guidance in what the hell to do next.’
Jones’s pulse was racing. It took an enormous effort for her to stay calm, or at least appear to stay calm.
‘If I were to need guidance with anything, Jimmy, why on earth would I trust you? I think you know too much, for a start.’
Cecil raised an elegant eyebrow.
‘Come, come,’ he said.
‘I’m not taken in by you, Jimmy. I know this kind of intrigue is right up your street. It’s what you do. It’s what you deal in.’
‘Is it?’
A wicked smile played around Jimmy Cecil’s lips.
‘C’mon Jimmy. At least tell me this. Who was actually responsible for blowing up RECAP? Who decided to go that far? We know the FBI were involved. They wouldn’t have acted alone. So, if the American government really is implicated, then just how high up is the chain of command?’
‘Sandy, I’m a mere humble servant of Her Majesty. I abide by certain codes of behaviour. I couldn’t possibly put myself in breach of confidence. Even if I did know the answers to your questions.’
Jones sighed. She was still immersed in a highly dangerous game, she realized, and she barely even knew the rules. Jimmy Cecil was absolutely right. She did need help. She couldn’t handle it alone. But she knew she was going to have to lay some big cards on the table. She had no choice. She had suspected what lay ahead, and had actually more or less decided to do so even before arriving at The Ivy.
She leaned forwards in her chair. Jimmy Cecil, perhaps sensing the moment, also leaned forwards. Their heads were almost touching when Jones spoke again. She kept her voice low.
‘OK Jimmy, you’re right. I actually do have a copy of Paul Ruders’ Theory of Consciousness. I’m not telling you how I got it. It’s enough that I have it. I spent the whole of yesterday studying it and now I have to decide what to do with what I have learned. I am telling you this because, although I haven’t a clue whether I should trust you or not, I suspect you are extremely well qualified to advise me. I don’t...’
Jones paused, thinking not only about Paul, but about Connie, and Marion, and Ed, and even Ed’s idiot brother.
‘I don’t want to be responsible for the destruction of any more lives.’
Briefly, Sandy Jones looked down at the table. She was about to take a quite irrevocable step. She raised her eyes again and fixed her gaze on Jimmy Cecil.
‘You should know that I have a particular reason for no longer wishing to keep the existence of the paper a secret,’ she said, her voice still low. ‘A reason which I may or may not share with you today.’
Cecil did not respond. His face was absolutely expressionless. Instead he lifted his wine glass to his lips again, and beckoned to a passing waiter.
‘Shall we order?’ he enquired.
Jones could barely conceal her exasperation.
‘I’ll have whatever you’re having,’ she said irritably.
‘It’ll be the steak and kidney pudding then. Though goodness knows what sort of pud they’ll come up with here, accompanied by sun-dried tomatoes and a rocket salad I shouldn’t wonder...’
Cecil guffawed. Jones was even more irritated.
‘If that’s how you feel about The Ivy, what are we doing here?’ she asked.
‘You’re a celebrity, old girl. Thought you’d fit in rather well. Stick out like a sore thumb at my club, that’s for sure. Particularly after your shenanigans yesterday. Don’t want prying ears, do we?’
So that was it, thought Jones.
When he’d completed the ordering, Cecil turned back to Jones with the air of a man who had given the matter in hand quite enough thought and had now made his decision.
‘Well, my dear, you have in your hands an extremely hot potato,’ he remarked conversationally. ‘I know you are aware of that, but I wonder if you have quite grasped the scale of it. In terms of who may perhaps have already taken action concerning the Ruders Theory, well, I think you should widen the list of suspects, as it were. In fact, you should probably think in terms of pretty much the whole United Nations.’
‘What?’
‘Well, not in name, of course. Not officially. But a number of the member countries have had a degree of involvement. Though they’d all deny it. As indeed I would totally deny that this conversation took place should you ever attempt to repeat it.’
Jones ignored that.
‘I can hardly believe what you’re saying,’ she muttered.
‘No? Well, I will tell you this, because I think you need to know a lot more before you make decisions which could have devastatingly far-reaching consequences. Britain is involved—’
‘Jesus Christ,’ Jones interrupted.
Cecil continued as if she had not spoken. ‘So is France, and several other European countries. So is China. So is Russia. So is Israel. Do you think for one second that the Israeli government wants any kind of link of consciousness between its people and those of Palestine?’
‘Well no, I suppose not. What are you getting at, Jimmy?’
‘Exactly that. Governments are ultimately controlled by individuals. A state like China exists in permanent fear of its people rising up and saying we aren’t going to take this anymore. Now, the thing about a link of consciousness is that it is more or less impossible to combat. It doesn’t rely on groups of people physically uniting, on being prepared to fight, or actively taking part in terrorism or a conventional revolution. It is quite simply a union of minds. Take one individual thinking a certain way and multiply by, say, 100 million. That is a force no government in the world could cope with.’
‘I know that,’ said Jones. ‘It’s one of Connie Pike’s sermons, actually. But I didn’t think the governments of the world were taking the idea of global consciousness so seriously yet. And certainly not on that scale. I had more in mind that a rogue US Government department was behind the RECAP explosion, and what has followed.’