What made this disturbing remark even more chilling was the fact that it was addressed directly at Dick. Or at least, that’s how it seemed. Dick gave a nervous laugh and smiled back. Taylor had been right. There was a secret weapon after all but it wasn’t a thing; it was a he. The rest of the Council meeting was a blur. Updates on hospital building, the proposed introduction of a new school syllabus, new social housing initiatives and public fundraising for a new wing of the Natural History Museum. All this information washed over Dick; he was too distracted to take any of it in. All he could think about was the impending deaths of his colleagues. He remembered the dream when he first arrived. Of trying to escape from infiltrators in his room and stumbling over the dead bodies of his colleagues lying in the corridor and in the lounge. Except this hadn’t just been a dream. It was a premonition. Dick was still lost in his thoughts about the impending slaughter of his colleagues at the hand of this trained killer when he became aware of someone addressing him loudly.
‘Mr. Brunel. Mr. Brunel!’.
Startled, Dick looked up to see Enid staring at him. ‘Are you all right? You were lost in your thoughts’.
Around him, Dick’s Ruling Council colleagues were packing their papers up and drifting out of the room. Dick looked at the end of the table but the Leader was nowhere to be seen.
‘I’m fine’, said Dick, lying in the same unconvincing way that a dwarf might say, ‘I’m tall’.
‘It’s just that I’m suffering a bit from information overload’, he told Enid.
‘I know’, she said, sympathetically. ‘I was just like you on my first day. So much to take in. News about this. News about that. Updates, reviews and proposals! I saw you taking lots of notes which is splendid! Let it all sink in. Mull it over and you’ll be able to make sense of it all!’
At this moment in time there was only one thing that Dick wanted to make sense of. ‘That ‘Operation Trojan Horse’’, Dick asked, ‘What a great idea. Did you think it up?’
‘Alas, no’, Enid commented. ‘It came from the Leader. Who else could think of such a cunning and ruthless plan?’
‘Who indeed?’, said Dick nodding. ‘And when do you think this Mr. Parnell will start his killing?’
‘Tonight, of course’, Enid answered. ‘After all, there’s no time like the present, is there?’.
‘I suppose not’, sighed Dick with an air of deep dismay and even deeper panic. He said goodbye to Enid and returned alone to his office to consider his next course of action. Glancing out of the window on the way back the grey overcast skies reflected his own sombre mood.
CHAPTER 27
The first thing Dick did was to get a sheet of paper and pen so he could work out a strategy. Actually, the first thing Dick did was to pull the blinds on the inner windows of his office to main a degree of privacy; not too closed that it might give the impression that he was masturbating furtively under his desk, but just shut enough that he could focus on his plans without too many distractions.
Dick decided to approach the situation logically. At the top of the paper he wrote his main objective: ‘Warn Taylor and colleagues about Parnell’. Underneath that Dick wrote a number of different methods to achieve that objective. Except he didn’t, and that was because he couldn’t.
Taylor’s insistency on complete anonymity when it came to names, home or work addresses meant there was absolutely no way Dick could make contact with any of his resistance colleagues. Not Taylor, Alice, Susan, Edward, Humphrey, George, Clifford, Grace or anyone. Plus, he wasn’t due to meet them again until the following week and by then it would be far too late.
Dick looked at the piece of paper again. He was still staring at it, searching for inspiration that he knew would never come, when the phone rang. It was Stanley reminding him that a table had been booked for eight o’clock that evening. Shit! Dick had completely forgotten about this. He’d been invited out by his Ruling Council colleagues to a sort of ‘welcome aboard’ dinner. At a time like this the last thing he felt like doing was socialising with a group of people implicit in the impending murder of his friends. Dick looked at his watch. It was nearly half past five and it was all going terribly wrong. Almost as a portent of the doom that was fast approaching there was a loud crash of thunder and the heavens opened. The rain was so sudden and so heavy that Dick walked over to his window to see the pavements below suddenly awash with water and people scurrying to find shelter.
From Dick’s position the umbrellas suddenly appearing ten floors below resembled spring flowers bursting into bloom under the downpour. He watched more and more umbrellas open and that’s when a thought hit Dick as suddenly and as powerfully as the bolt of lightning that arced down from the clouds. This was the time when the visual processing, memory and reasoning functions of Dick’s brain all worked together for the common good. Usually these parts of Dick’s brain functioned like the Three Stooges. This time they acted like the Three Musketeers.
With the second clap of thunder Dick rested his hands on the cold glass of the window. He closed his eyes and thought himself back in the resistance library, being confronted by Taylor after the episode with Alice. Closing his eyes even tighter Dick tried to retrieve all the details of that awkward and embarrassing night from the depths of his memory. Another clap of thunder. There was Taylor framed in the open doorway. He and Alice quickly and ashamedly dressing. Then Dick, not knowing what to do, scooping a few things back into Alice’s bag after he’d swiped it on to the floor in the heat of the moment. What were they? Dick concentrated like he’d never concentrated before and the objects slowly came into focus. Her tortoiseshell hairbrush. A small bottle of rose-scented perfume. A railway ticket and a plastic laminated card. He saw himself putting everything back in the bag and handing it to her. Wait! He remembered glancing at the card as he’d put it back. At the time he was so shocked by events that he didn’t register the information but now he could see it; her ID badge for work. Closing his eyes as tightly as he could without making them haemorrhage Dick willed himself with every ounce of strength he possessed to remember the details on the card. A company name gradually took form: ‘Liberty Parasols and Umbrellas’. Then a photograph of Alice and her name. Her real name. Margaret Tomkinson.
Another lightning bolt and a crash of thunder, the loudest yet, shook the building. Dick suddenly opened his eyes. Standing here, looking at the foreboding sky while the torrential rain continued outside, Dick experienced a brand new feeling; an epiphany. Some would call it his ‘Road to Damascus’ moment but Dick wouldn’t have understood this reference, thinking it was the title of an old Bob Hope / Bing Crosby movie. This was the moment, the first time in Dick’s life, when he thought of others before himself, and he knew exactly what needed to be done. He reached for his phone, called directory services to obtain the number of Alice’s company, and then rang her.
‘Margaret, it’s me Jeremy Brunel. I need to see you right away’.
To say that Alice was surprised would be like saying that Dick was relieved. Not wanting to give anything away in case their phone calls were being monitored, Dick arranged to meet her at the Pelican Café, the scene of their first rendezvous. The overcast sky made the corner in which they were sitting even darker, perfect for their discrete meeting and the conversation that played out. Over glasses of tonic water Dick told Alice everything he knew and the immense danger that was imminent. Alice took it all in then sat back in her seat, looking at Dick through narrowed, suspicious eyes.