Part 22 (1/2)

Geraint experienced a fleeting moment of something close to depersonalization. He knew he was going to have to listen to words he would later dread having heard, but right now he felt almost completely uninvolved in what was happening.

”I want to thank you for keeping young Lawrence's name out of all this with that Eddowes woman. I know what you did there, old boy. d.a.m.n decent of you.

”I can't tell you how glad I am you're keeping quiet about this. ”

It was a thunderbolt, the slow emphasis of the final sentence. What it meant was so simple: keep your mouth shut.

He remembered the words of the man in the back of the limo: You'll learn a little more about that later. For a second, Geraint wondered whether Lawrence had possibly been sent to the woman, and even arranged for him to come there deliberately. It would be part of the plan, increasing the chances of Geraint becoming involved in the Ripper killings when he knew one of the victims. That would mean the Earl would have been in on it. He made a mental note to check Manchester's stock holdings in HKB.

”Well, my boy, I have to say that the Prime Minister will be making some minor modifications to the Cabinet tomorrow afternoon. Consensus of opinion is that Farquahar isn't too sound at the Foreign Office. I'm delighted to say that you can expect to be named Junior Minister of State at the Foreign Office at five tomorrow afternoon. How does that suit you, eh? We need a man we can trust there to keep an eye on the Foreign Secretary, my dear boy. We need one of our own. That is, unless you'd prefer something a little less onerous at the Treasury?”

Geraint hardly knew what it was he mumbled, but the Earl took it as acceptance of the Foreign Office offer and saw himself out. Staring blankly across the room, Geraint saw the vellum and red ribbon sitting on his table. Wearily he pulled himself up and went to investigate, already knowing exactly what he would find. Reading the header, he discovered that he had been owner of ten thousand HKB shares for three months. He had little doubt that his own financial transactions would have been retroactively altered to show when, and how, he'd bought them.

How did it go again?

We need one of our own.

The telecom messages kept piling up until well after midnight. There were journalists, tridstars, media agencies offering their brokering services, image consultants, a couple of psychics, wackos, even some faces he would have known, if he had looked at them.

Francesca called twice from Oxford to say she was recuperating and wanting to arrange dinner for the next day.

Serrin called twice from Cambridge, saying he had found what he'd gone there to find, and wis.h.i.+ng Geraint success and happy dreams. He'd see him Tuesday.