Chapter 15

'What the fuck is he doing here, Tony?' I hissed.

'Shhh, Dick,' whispered Sir Anthony. 'He'll hear you.' He glanced nervously over at the grey suit in the corner of the committee room that was Peters.

'Fat lot I care whether he hears me or not,' I growled. I raised my voice. 'What the hell's that snooping bastard doing here?' I demanded, glaring at Peters. Peters affected not to notice our conversation or my hostility.

'He's been assigned to COCE, Dick, as you very well know,' replied Sir Anthony placidly.

'But what for, exactly?' I demanded. I turned my baleful stare towards him again. 'He's no scientist.'

'Neither is Arthur,' countered Sir Anthony, 'And you have never objected to his presence.'

'Arthur sorts things out for us,' I said. 'He's part of the Cabinet Office. He's been in COCE from the start. What's Peters think he's going to do for us?'

Sir Anthony rolled his eyes in exasperation. 'Oh, please, Richard, don't always be playing the bloody egg.'

'What do you mean?' I asked.

'I mean you know perfectly well what sort of thing Peters sorts out,' replied Sir Anthony sternly.

'Yeah, I know, all right,' I snapped. 'He's a bloody snoop. A fuzz.'

'An MI-fuzz, if you please, Dick,' said Sir Anthony in a low voice. 'And do keep your voice down, old chap.'

Nothing makes me shout like being told to keep my voice down. 'So then tell me bloody why a bloody secret policeman's bloody here on this bloody committee, dammit!' I roared.

With that bellow, Peters couldn't act any longer as if he wasn't hearing at least a few snatches of this conversation. He looked straight at us over the files he'd been riffling through. 'Oh, Jim, old boy,' called Sir Anthony happily, beckoning energetically to Peters. 'Do come over and introduce yourself properly to our Dick.'

Peters ambled over towards us and extended his hand to me. 'Umm, Jim Peters,' he said softly. His blubbery, mobile lips crawled into an ingratiating smirk.

I ignored the loose-fitting, rubbery hand. 'We've already been introduced, Peters,' I drawled snidely. 'Perhaps you've forgotten?' Peters shrugged and dropped his hand. I suppose he could recognise hate at first sight as well as I could.

'Jim's been asked to come along and look after COCE for us,' explained Sir Anthony gaily, 'as our security manager.'

'Oh, yes?' I asked, cocking my head sideways. 'And by who, exactly?'

'Umm, by the Prime Minister, Professor,' said Peters. 'Ah, personally, sir.'

'And what has she done that for?' I snapped.

'Well, the PM is extremely worried over potential information leaks about the Bulges, Dick,' said Sir Anthony.

'At the risk of becoming repetitive, I'll ask again: what for?' I demanded.

'In case there's damage to the national interest, Professor,' explained Peters patiently.

'I suppose you lot think that no one in Britain travels, has the Internet or access to foreign news?' I asked hotly. 'You think they won't hear about it from somewhere else? Somewhere else possibly less "responsible" than we?'

'Oh, you'd be surprised how extremely cooperative world governments have been over this whole unfortunate situation, Professor,' said Peters happily.

'You mean they've all gone and put the screws down on it together?' I asked.

'Umm, yes, I guess you could put it like that, if you want to see it like that, Professor,' murmured Peters.

'So you mean that untold millions of people have drowned or are displace all along the West African coast and nobody knows anything about it at all?' I demanded incredulously.

'Let's just say that governments and the international media are cooperating actively in preventing widespread panic,' murmured Sir Anthony smoothly. 'It really is in no one's interest if that happens, Dick. Panic won't do the slightest bit of good to anyone. Those poor people have no where to run to, anyway.'

'And I suppose that's why I'm not allowed to go home?' I asked.

'I'm afraid that is certainly part of the reason, Professor,' said Peters flatly.

'And that's why an outsized gentleman with large feet follows me where ever I go, I suppose?' I asked.

'Umm, well, frankly, yes, Professor,' confirmed Peters slowly. You could tell he really didn't like admitting the truth about anything, even if it was as obvious as that.

'And why my telephone calls are monitored and my post is opened coming and going?' I continued.

Well, Professor,' said Peters evasively, 'You know, the phones and mail aren't really working all that well for anyone since the last storms.' He paused and looked at me. 'And by the way, Professor, is it possible that this Philip Germen person might have been able to find out about the Bulge somehow?'

I shook my head vigorously. 'Not from here,' I said firmly, 'No way. We only saw him once and that was before we knew about the Bulge.'

'What about Hamilton and his people, Professor?' he asked. 'What about them? How much do they know about it?'

'They only discovered the Bulges. And I only know Roger Hamilton through COCE,' I replied. 'I've never met anyone else from his establishment. You'd have to ask Hamilton that question yourself.'

'You do know Mark Buntrack, Professor,' stated Peters blandly.

'Buntrack, Buntrack,' I murmured. 'Oh yes, he and I were in the same post-graduate department. So what?'

'You and he were good friends once,' stated Peters.

'Why shouldn't we have been?' I asked. I nearly asked Peters for my inside trouser leg measurement but I was afraid he might just happen to know it.

'He works for Hamilton,' said Peters. 'I thought you said you didn't know anyone at the Institute.'

'Oh, for Christ's sake, Peters,' I protested, 'You've been seeing too many of those dreary Colombo films. I didn't even know Mark Buntrack worked at the Institute. It's been ten years since I even saw him last, maybe longer.'

'Hmmm,' grumbled Peters. He shot a funny look at Sir Anthony and shuffled back to root through his files again.

Sir Anthony leaned towards me: hot dog breath. 'Look, Dick, old boy, Arthur and I are in exactly the same boat as you are, you know. Admittedly we have different large, flat footed gentlemen following us around,' he said with a friendly smile.

'Well, I had noticed that I've been seeing a lot of you two lately,' I said with heavy sarcasm. 'I mean it's not that I'm not exceedingly fond of you, Tony, but being locked up in a Whitehall flat with you and Arthur for a month isn't exactly the same calibre experience as a weekend of bliss in Brighton with Miss Boat Show's sister.'

'Well, really, Dick,' placated Sir Anthony, 'We have been awfully busy with our briefing groups and advanced planning committees, anyway. It would hardly have done for you to have been nipping back home every weekend to your loved ones, even if it were physically possible with all these storms and whatnot.'

'Look, Tony, I've got a job at the University, too, you know,' I said plaintively. I knew the University was likely to cease to exist in a year, but I was going to try absolutely everything I had on him.

'Now that's all been squared away, Dick, as you very well know,' explained Sir Anthony patiently. 'They know that you're doing extremely important work for the Government. They're getting paid for it. You're getting paid for it. You've even been formally seconded to the Cabinet Office for the duration.'

'The duration of what?' I asked, 'The rest of the 21st century?'

An amused twitch crossed Sir Anthony's face. 'The duration of the work you're doing for us, Dick,' he evaded adroitly.

'I'm losing an absolute bundle on missed consultancy work,' I complained glumly.

'That is and will continue to be all be made up to you, Dick,' soothed Sir Anthony. In fact,' he said, laying a finger along his ample nose, 'I think that some species of official gratitude could very well be shown to you any day now.'

'I'm beginning to think that official gratitude could jolly well get stuffed,' I huffed.

'Dick, Dick,' chided Sir Anthony. 'Whatever am I going to do with you?'

'Let me go home for a few days,' I said quickly. 'This is destroying my marriage. My children hardly remember me.'

'No,' he said firmly.

'Please, Tony.'

'No, Dick. Absolutely not.'

Finally, I decided to try a bit of honesty as a shock tactic. 'Tony, things aren't going well with my wife and me. I want to get things squared away at home before the Flood hits us.'

'We all do, my boy,' replied Sir Anthony softly. 'But we just can't take a chance with anyone, Dick. Not you, not Arthur, not even me.'

'For God's sake, Tony, I'm absolutely worried sick to death about my wife and kids,' I begged.

'You know that your family will be taken care of when the time comes,' Sir Anthony stated. 'You're doing far more for them here than you could do for them there.'

'But, Tony, I don't like what we're doing,' I whined.

'You know that what we're doing makes sense, Dick,' he replied.

I shook my head and blinked back real tears. 'I know that, Tony, but it's absolutely fucking monstrous,' I said. 'It really is.'

'Dick, it's the only sensible course of action,' said Sir Anthony soothingly. 'The only option.'

I looked him straight in the eye. 'Tony, look. We're likely to go down into history as the biggest mass murderers of all time, if there is any history after this is finished. I mean Hitler, Stalin and Genghis Khan are going to look like The Three Stooges beside us.'

'We've been through this a hundred times, Dick,' sighed Sir Anthony. 'It's the only thing that can be done. And, anyway, it was your line of thought, in the first place.'

'Just because I could think of it, doesn't necessarily mean that I approve of putting it into action,' I retorted.

'I can appreciate that, Dick,' replied Sir Anthony, 'But you know there really is no alternative. No sensible alternative solution. You know that.' My shoulders slumped. I said nothing. There was nothing to say. He put his head close to mine and whispered, 'And you know, Dick, it really isn't very sensible for you to wind Peters up the way you do. He could make an awful lot of trouble for you, if he puts his mind to it.'

'But I don't like him, Tony,' I protested.

Sir Anthony shook his head sadly. 'Personal feelings have no place here in the Cabinet Offices, Dick,' he said piously. 'We all are here pulling towards the same goal.'

'But he's creepy, Tony,' I insisted. 'I don't want to work with him, even for the same goal. Especially this one. If I'm going to be a mass murderer, I want to be among people I like.'

'Be reasonable, Dick. Besides, a man who raises budgerigars as a hobby can't be all bad, can he?' replied Sir Anthony.

'Peters raises budgies? You're making that up? I asked, amused. It seemed unlikely enough to be true.

'I have had it from reliable sources,' replied Sir Anthony firmly.

'The Bird Man of Whitehall,' I joked.

Sir Anthony ignored the joke; he must have been very serious. 'Peters comes to us most highly regarded, too. But nobody's patience is infinite, Dick, except God's - perhaps not even His, considering everything at the moment. So please do remember, my boy, that Peters really can make an terrific amount of trouble for you if you keep on knocking him about the way you've been doing.'

* * *

Well yes, Lizzie, it's exactly what happened, just like that. I suppose I would say this, but I wasn't away in London all that time by choice, lovey. That's what I was doing, really. Planning and evaluating Retreat sites all day long and locked up in the flat of a safe house all night. Yes, that's what we called it, the Retreat. You know, a retreat from the sea. Well, it may sound silly now, but it sounded a hell of a lot more dignified than "Run for Your Life" or "Last Helicopter from Saigon".

No, the Miss Boat Show bit was just a joke, Lizzie. It's just the kind of macho thing men say to each other when they're locked up together without women. Honestly, I was too lonely and depressed to think about that sort of thing at all, dear. No, safe houses did not come with elegant, gorgeous keepers; smelly male policemen just locked us in at night. It was a drag, pure and simple. All I wanted to do was go home and stop having to make up lies for them. I missed you every minute, baby. They just wouldn't let me go, Lizzie. Honest, they wouldn't. Couldn't you have waited?