‘And another thing,’ said Norman. ‘He has become utterly convinced that the world as we know it will come to an end at the stroke of midnight on the final day of this century. Says he’s known it for years and years and that he’s going to be prepared.’
‘Tomorrow belongs to those who can see it coming.’
‘I thought up that phrase,’ said Norman. ‘He nicked it off me.’
‘Don’t you ever get fed up with him nicking your ideas?’
‘Not really. After all, he is my bestest friend.’
‘But he’s Richard.’
‘Oh yeah, he’s Richard all right. But I don’t let that interfere with our friendship.’
We drank down our pints and then Norman got a couple in. ‘The landlord said to tell you not to forget your woosie address book, it’s still on the floor.’ Norman placed the pints upon the table.
‘We’d better drink these up quickly,’ I said, ‘and get back to work.’
‘Not today. The Doveston said we are to take the afternoon off. Another of his secret meetings.’
‘Bugger. I want to get finished.’
‘Me too, but we’re not allowed back this afternoon.’
I swallowed Death-by-Cider. ‘I’d love to know what he gets up to at those secret meetings, wouldn’t you?’
Norman shrugged. ‘We could always sneak back and watch him on the closed-circuit TV.’
‘What closed—circuit TV?’
‘The one I fitted last month. There’re secret cameras in every room.
‘What? Even in my bedroom?’
‘Of course.
‘Then he’s been watching me having sex.
‘Well, if he has, then he hasn’t shown me the tapes. The only footage I’ve seen of you involved a mucky mag and a box of Kleenex.’
I made gagging croaking sounds.
‘Oh yeah, those were the noises you were making too.’
‘The bastard,’ I said. ‘The bastard!’
‘You think that’s bad. You should see the tapes of me.’
‘Of you?’
‘Oh yeah. In my bedroom. The landlord has recommended iodine.’
‘You mean there’s a hidden camera in your bedroom too?’
‘Of course there is. I installed it there myself.’
‘But..., I said. ‘If you...I mean...Why...I mean...’
‘Precisely,’ said Norman. ‘It’s a right liberty, isn’t it?’
We finished our pints and sneaked back to Castle Doveston.
Norman let us into the grounds through a hole he’d made in the perimeter fence. ‘I can’t be having with all that fuss at the main gates,’ he said. ‘So I always come in this way.’
We skirted the great big horrible house and Norman unlocked a cellar door. ‘I got this key cut for myself,’ he said. ‘Just for convenience.
Once inside, Norman led me along numerous corridors, opening numerous locked doors with numerous keys he’d had cut for convenience. At last we found ourselves in an underground room, low-ceilinged and whitely painted, one wall lined with TV screens, before which stood a pair of comfy chairs. We settled into them and Norman took up a remote controller.
‘Here we go,’ he said, pushing buttons. ‘Look, there’s your bedroom and that’s mine. And there’s the great kitchen — and what’s Rapscallion doing with that chicken?’
‘It beggars belief But there’s a hidden camera in the boardroom, is there?’
‘There is. Mind you, the Doveston doesn’t know it’s there. I just put one in for—’
‘Convenience?’
‘Bloody-mindedness, actually. Wanna see what’s going on?’
‘Damn right.’
Norman pushed a sequence of buttons and a bird’s-eye view of the boardroom table appeared on the screens. I recognized the top of the Doveston’s head; the other five heads were a mystery to me. ‘I wonder who those fellows are,’ I wondered.
‘They’re not all fellows. The bald one’s a woman. I know who they all are.’
‘How come?’
‘I can recognize them from their photographs in the Doveston’s files.’
‘Those would be the ones he keeps in his locked filing cabinet?’
‘And a very secure filing cabinet it is too. I built it myself. It opens at the back, in case you forget where you’ve put your key.’
I shook my head. ‘Can you turn the sound up, so we can hear what they’re saying?’
‘Of course and I’ll explain to you who’s who.’
Now history can boast to many a notable meeting. In fact, if it hadn’t been for notable meetings, there probably wouldn’t have been much in the way of history at all. In fact, perhaps history consists of nothing but notable meetings, when you get right down to it. In fact, perhaps that’s all that history is.
Well, perhaps.
And perhaps it was sheer chance that Norman and I happened to be looking in on this particular notable meeting on this particular day.
Well.
Perhaps.
‘That’s what’s—his—face, the Foreign Secretary,’ said Norman, pointing. ‘And that’s old silly-bollocks the Deputy Prime Minister. Those two on the end are the leaders of the Colombian drugs cartel, I forget their names, but you know the ones I’m on about. That bloke there, he’s the fellow runs that big company, you know the one, the adverts are always on the telly, that actor’s in them. He was in that series with the woman who does that thing with her hair. The tall woman, not the other one. The other one used to be on Blue Peter. The bald woman, well, you know who she is, don’t you? Although she usually wears a wig in public. In fact most people don’t even know it’s a wig. I never did. And that bloke, the one there, where I’m pointing, that’s only you-know-who, isn’t it?’
‘It never is!’ I said.
‘It is and do you know who that is, sitting beside him?’
‘Not..
‘It certainly is.’
‘Incredible.’
‘He’s having an affair with the woman who used to be on that programme. You know the one.’
‘The other one?’
‘Not the other one, the tall woman.
‘The one on the adverts?’
‘No, she was in the series. The bloke in the adverts was with her in the series.’
‘But she’s not the same woman that the bloke sitting next to you-know-who is having the affair with?’
‘No, that’s the other one.’
‘Oh yeah, that’s the other one. And who’s that?’
‘The bloke sitting opposite you-know-who?’
‘No, sitting to the right of the fellow who runs that big company.’
‘His right, or our right?’
‘Does it matter?’
‘Of course it matters. You have to be exact about these things.’
‘So who is it?’
‘Search me.’
‘I’ll tell you what,’ I said to Norman.
‘What?’
‘That thing the tall woman used to do with her hair. I never thought that was very funny.’
‘I don’t think it was supposed to be funny. Are you sure you’re talking about the same woman?’
But whether I was, or whether I wasn’t, I never got to find out. Because just then the Doveston began to talk and we began to listen.
‘Thank you,’ said the Doveston. ‘Thank you all for coming. Now you all know why this meeting has been called. The harsh winter, followed by the sweltering summer has led to an economic crisis. Everywhere there is talk of revolution and there have recently been several more bombings of cabinet ministers’ homes by the terrorist organization known only as the Black Crad Movement. We all want these senseless dynamitings to stop and none of us want the government overthrown, do we?’
Heads shook around the table. I looked at Norman and he looked at me.
‘And so,’ continued the Doveston, ‘I have drawn up a couple of radical proposals which I feel will sort everything out. Firstly I propose that income tax be abolished.’
A gasp went up around the table.
‘I’ll give that the thumbs up,’ said Norman.