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‘I don’t think he looks up to it,’ said Jean-Pierre. ‘You’re the captain of the Team, Stephen. I volunteer to take his place.’

‘It’ll cost you $250,000.’

‘Agreed,’ said Jean-Pierre.

‘You don’t have $250,000,’ said Stephen. ‘You have $187,474.69, being one quarter of what’s been raised so far, so my decision is that James must be the bridegroom.’

‘It’s an Anglo-Saxon plot,’ said Jean-Pierre, ‘and when James has successfully completed his plan and we have the full amount, I shall reopen negotiations.’

They sat talking and laughing for a long time over the toast and coffee. Stephen regarded them fondly, regretting how rarely they would meet once, if, he corrected himself sternly, James’s operation were accomplished successfully. If Harvey Metcalfe had ever had a team like this on his side instead of against him, he would have been the richest man in the world.

‘You’re dreaming, Stephen.’

‘Yes, I’m sorry. I mustn’t forget that Anne has put me in charge.’

‘Here we go again,’ said Jean-Pierre. ‘What time shall we report, Professor?’

‘One hour from now, fully dressed to inspect James and take him to the church. Jean-Pierre, you will go and buy four carnations — three red ones and one white. Robin, you will arrange for the taxi and I shall take care of James.’

Robin and Jean-Pierre left, singing the Marseillaise lustily in two different keys. James and Stephen watched them depart.

‘How are you feeling, James?’

‘Great. I’m only sorry that I didn’t complete my plan before today.’

‘Doesn’t matter at all. September 13th will be quite early enough. In any case, the break will do us no harm.’

‘We’d never have managed it without you. You know that, don’t you, Stephen? We’d all be facing ruin and I wouldn’t even have met Anne. We all owe you so much.’

Stephen stared fixedly out of the window, unable to reply.

‘Three red and one white,’ said Jean-Pierre, ‘as instructed, and I presume the white one is for me.’

‘Pin it on James. Not behind his ear, Jean-Pierre.’

‘You look fantastic, but I still fail to see what the lady sees in you,’ said Jean-Pierre, fixing the white carnation in James’s buttonhole. Although the four of them were ready to leave, they still had half an hour to kill before the taxi was due. Jean-Pierre opened a bottle of champagne and they toasted James’s health, the Team’s health, Her Majesty The Queen, the President of the United States, and finally, with simulated reluctance, the President of France. Having finished the bottle, Stephen thought it wise for them to leave immediately and dragged the other three down to the waiting taxi.

‘Keep smiling, James. We’re with you.’

And they bundled him into the back.

The taxi took only a few minutes to reach Trinity Church, Copley Square, and the driver was not unhappy to be rid of the four of them.

‘3.15 pm Anne will be very pleased with me,’ said Stephen.

He escorted the bridegroom to the front pew on the right-hand side of the church, while Jean-Pierre made eyes at the prettiest of the girls. Robin helped hand out the wedding sheets while one thousand overdressed guests waited for the bride.

Stephen had just come to Robin’s aid on the steps of the church and Jean-Pierre had joined them, suggesting they take their seats, when the Rolls Royce arrived. They were riveted to the steps by the beauty of Anne in her Balenciaga wedding gown. Her father stepped out behind her. She took his arm and proceeded to climb the steps.

The three stood motionless, like sheep in the stare of a python.

‘The bastard.’

‘Who’s been conning who?’

‘She must have known all along.’

Harvey beamed vaguely at them as he walked past with Anne on his arm. They proceeded down the aisle.

‘Good God,’ thought Stephen. ‘He didn’t recognize any of us.’

They took their places at the back of the church, out of earshot of the vast congregation. The organist stopped playing when Anne reached the altar.

‘Harvey can’t know,’ said Stephen.

‘How do you work that out?’ asked Jean-Pierre.

‘Because James would never have put us through this unless he’d passed the test himself at some earlier date.’

‘Good thinking,’ whispered Robin.

‘I require and charge you both, as ye will answer at the dreadful day of judgment when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed...’

‘I’d like to know one or two secrets right now,’ said Jean-Pierre. ‘To start with, how long has she known?’

‘James Clarence Spencer, wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in the Holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor and keep her in sickness and in health and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?’

‘I will.’

‘Rosalie Arlene, wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband, to live...’

‘I think,’ said Stephen, ‘we can be sure that she’s a fully fledged member of the Team; otherwise we could never have succeeded at Monte Carlo or Oxford.’

‘...so long as ye both shall live?’

‘I will.’

‘Who giveth this woman to be married to this man?’

Harvey bustled forward and took Anne’s hand and gave it to the priest.

‘I James Clarence Spencer, take thee, Rosalie Arlene, to my wedded wife...’

‘And what’s more, why should he recognize us when he’s only seen each of us once, and not as we really are,’ continued Stephen.

‘And thereto I plight thee my troth.’

‘I, Rosalie Arlene, take thee, James Clarence Spencer, to my wedded husband...’

‘But he must have a chance of working it out if we hang around,’ said Robin.

‘Not necessarily,’ said Stephen. ‘No need to panic. Our secret has always been to catch him off home ground.’

‘But now he’s on home ground,’ said Jean-Pierre.

‘No, he isn’t. It’s his daughter’s wedding day and it’s totally strange to the man. Naturally, we avoid him at the reception, but we don’t make it too obvious.’

‘You’ll have to hold my hand,’ said Robin.

‘I will,’ volunteered Jean-Pierre.

‘Just remember to act naturally.’

‘...and thereto I give thee my troth.’

Anne was quiet and shy, her voice only just reaching the astonished three at the back. James’s was clear and firm:

‘With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow...’

‘And with some of ours too,’ said Jean-Pierre.

‘In the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.’

‘Let us pray,’ intoned the priest.

‘I know what I’m going to pray,’ said Robin. ‘To be delivered out of the power of our enemy and from the hands of all that hate us.’

‘O Eternal God, Creator and Preserver of all mankind...’

‘We’re near the end now,’ said Stephen.

‘An unfortunate turn of phrase,’ offered Robin.

‘Silence,’ said Jean-Pierre. ‘I agree with Stephen. We’ve got the measure of Metcalfe, just relax.’

‘Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder.’

Jean-Pierre continued mumbling to himself, but it didn’t sound like a prayer.

The blast of Handel’s Wedding March from the organ brought them all back to the occasion. The ceremony was over and Lord and Lady Brigsley walked down the aisle watched by two thousand smiling eyes. Stephen looked amused, Jean-Pierre envious, and Robin nervous. James smiled beatifically as he passed them.