Snatched (2 page)

‘Never,' Angus Beresford (Entomology) said.

‘We must snatch all opportunities for betterment. The way museums are treated tells us the state of culture and learning in a country,' Simberdy said. ‘Think of the Victoria and Albert. And, certainly, one way to help towards the highest rating is to ensure no slip-ups – ABSOLUTELY NO SLIP-UPS – in our efforts to attract the Japanese Ancient Surgical Skills exhibition, against all competition.'

‘Absolutely,' Beresford had said. ‘The Tokyo show that proves they could yank kidney stones and appendixes from – from the year dot?'

‘And far far more than that, including transplants,' Simberdy said. ‘These instruments are a wonder, and their number and variety astounding. Well, there'd be no JASS exhibition otherwise. This goes far beyond the trumpeted discovery recently – 1988? – of that comparatively primitive Roman medical gear.'

‘Do we know if the people lived?' Lepage had said.

‘Director? Which people? The people of those ancient civilizations? Oh, certainly. Plenty of indisputable evidence,' Simberdy said with exceptional mildness, surprising restraint. Normally, Lepage might have expected impatience, perhaps irritation, because his question hinted at doubt.

‘The people who were operated on with this equipment,' Lepage said. ‘Did they survive?'

‘We must assume so, Director,' Simberdy said, ‘or would they have persisted with the manufacture of these things? The people were not called Japanese then, you'll understand, but native to those islands. This would be the Yayoi period, or even earlier, the Jomon era, perhaps around the time of the Iron Age. Some sort of advanced civilization long before Christ – the very point of the exhibition. It has astonishing implications. For instance, some medics say tonsils only developed recently, coincident, apparently, with extended use of the “i” vowel sound owing to the growth of the middle classes and trade – “dividend”, “profit”, “impecunious”, “invest”, “increase”, “interest”, “discount”, “insolvency”, “rich”, “business”.

‘But the exhibition makes such time-fixing very questionable, since instruments found were obviously intended for tonsils' excision. This is a world-acclaimed collection. It's been everywhere – the States, New Zealand, Sweden – and I feel sure that we at the Hulliborn are not going to stint in our efforts to attract it here. Our style is gloriously different from that, thank God – particularly now, if I may say, Director, under your leadership. And the dear Japanese can be so touchy. They were reluctant that these unique relics should leave Tokyo at all, but have been persuaded. What I know we all wish to avoid is any appearance of, one, churlishness, and two, instability, which could lose everything. The grapevine tells me that we are virtually sure to be selected for the only British showing of these wonders. Not even London or Glasgow will get a sniff. It would be a clincher, a life-saver, a real boost to our image, Director.'

‘Well, image is important, but not
all
-important,' D.Q. Youde (Art) had said.

Lepage felt a momentary shift in the meeting's mood, not a helpful shift.

Simberdy said: ‘Yes, a real boost to the Hulliborn's image, despite our recent purchase for unbelievable money of the disputed quote “El Grecos” unquote.'

‘I'll stake my reputation they are genuine!' Youde said, the articulation big but nervy, his fine pallor enhanced by rage. He had on that black leather blouson: mutton dressed as cow, to quote Julia.

‘Well, you
have
staked it, Quentin,' Simberdy replied. ‘And ours. But I say that, despite such shadows, the Hulliborn would stand high and benefit immeasurably from JASS. No further threats to our grant and status or, indeed, existence could be contemplated, not even by the present vandals in power.'

‘Obviously, we're in your hands on this, Vince,' Lepage said. ‘You're the expert, and a very considerable expert.'

‘We must devote all our efforts into winning the exhibition,' Pirie, Museum and Galleries Secretary, said. ‘It will put even Tutankhamen and the Dinosaurs into the shade.'

‘Admirable shows in themselves, but ultimately gimmicky and concerned with comparative trivia,' Simberdy said. ‘Nothing must be allowed to shake our reputation at this important stage. We should be particularly on guard against attacks, in whatever form they might take, from people who have lost their posts here during what we would all admit were painful rationalization measures, and whose chief purpose now is to wreak revenge by bringing contumely upon the Hulliborn. Yes, contumely. I need only mention one name and you will understand my point – Neville Falldew, formerly Palaeontology. I can tell you – or perhaps I don't need to tell you – but, for those who haven't heard, he's been seen loitering, possibly disguised, in the vicinity of the museum grounds, day and night, his purpose unknown. This is impeccable info.'

‘Scheming, embittered, crazed swine,' Beresford said.

‘Oh, Nev's not wholly bad, even now,' Wex (History of Urban Development) said.

‘Ursula, we are aware of your former, possibly continuing, feelings in that direction,' Simberdy said. ‘Neville certainly had a way with him. But the rest of us can only judge as we see and hear now, following his enforced departure. Poisonous intimations. Threats. Lethal envy of those of us who were
not
let go. He reads some reflection on his work and reputation in this. He is a very strange case, of course, in that he continues to worship – indeed idolize – Butler-Minton, who actually made him redundant.'

‘Butler-Minton fought for him,' Ursula Wex said, ‘but was overruled by the politicians. Nev is eternally grateful for his efforts, sees them as a noble failure.'

Simberdy had stood up to make his later points and, very wearied by the tiny effort, tried to arrange himself so that his great, buff-cardiganed gut was supported by the edge of the table, like Humpty Dumpty on the wall. His ample cheeks glowed puce. ‘We must not forget Falldew and should try to counter him, pre-empt his malevolent plans, whatever they may be, and look to the future. The local Press, in commending us recently, rightly said our management group was now lean and fit and strong. “Bracingly lean” was the phrase, I recall,' he said, bracingly leaning his belly on the fine old timber, ‘and—'

But this was the moment that Keith Jervis erupted into the Octagon Room with his news and stains.

Simberdy, still on his feet, radiating delight from Press praise, stared at Jervis and said, mildly: ‘You speak of channels, Keith, but I'm not sure this is the way to approach your Director and his Keepers, Curators, and Museum Secretary. This
is
our Hebdomadal Conclave, you know.'

‘Never fear, this is a ructions that can still be kept in bounds,' Jervis replied.

‘You spoke of the withdrawal of the museum staff,' Simberdy said. ‘Withdrawal to where?' He was seated again now, panting slightly.

‘I was cut off,' Jervis said. ‘Was involved at the earliest, then couldn't reach the refuge. Became separated from the other porters. Cornered, like a cop at a Millwall game, such as in the papers. Hence, the personal damage.'

‘My God, yes, the Press,' Simberdy whispered, as though a reporter might be under the table. ‘This disaster, whatever it is, must not get out. It could ruin the previous good publicity, and the Japanese might turn extremely inscrutable.'

Pirie mentioned the noise.

‘We must go to them,' Ursula Wex said very loudly, perhaps eager to emphasize her loyalty to the new, slimmer Hulliborn, after her possibly unpopular defence of Neville Falldew. She picked up the full water carafe, a modern, worthless thing, and held it by the neck like a club, drops of the liquid dribbling out down her sleeve and on to her shoes. She was small, slightly built, brilliant, off-and-on combative, mostly gentle.

‘Which refuge, Jervis?' Simberdy asked.

‘Like I mentioned, Coins and so on,' Jervis said. ‘The Secure Room? The Chief Porter – staff – pulled the grille down after them, self-locking.'

‘Presence of mind,' Beresford said. ‘Good for Hamilton. Some of these NCO types – remarkable leadership qualities.'

‘They're like animals in a cage,' Jervis said. ‘Or the Black Hole. I mean, four in that tiny place, only intended for historic moolah: shekels, doubloons, ducats.'

‘We should go to them,' Ursula Wex shouted, waving the carafe.

‘I was trapped,' Jervis replied. ‘Caught in the killing fields between Urban Development, History of, and
Draped
Snatch.
'

‘Vintag's
Serenity
statue,' Quentin Youde said.

‘Obviously, I knew I had to get an account of the incident through to management, regardless—'

‘Sterling,' Beresford said.

‘—Regardless of not being staff. To date,' Jervis replied.

Ursula went to the door and pushed past Jervis. She listened for a second, then turned her head back and snarled to the meeting, ‘Yes, downstairs, bloody
sans culottes
.'

‘How it all started,' Jervis said.

‘What do you mean?' Simberdy said.

‘
Sans culottes
?' Jervis asked. ‘French Revo term for the republican poor. Literally, no trousers. Supposed not to be able to afford them.'

‘I know that, you self-educated, ungrammatical ponce,' Simberdy said. ‘But why did you say “how it all started”?'

‘A lady's modesty given fleshly outrage,' Jervis said.

‘Which lady?' Ursula said.

‘Then friends and relatives ran to her defence. A coach full, from Kidderminster.'

‘Outraged how?' Lepage asked.

Jervis said: ‘I have to piece things together from all the screaming, howling, bellowing, but as I hear it, she was by herself in that cosy ancient peasant room off the Folk Hall—'

‘Middle Ages Domestic Scene, yes,' Lepage said.

‘Wax models of some early-century yokels and their kids having the much-missed traditional Old English breakfast – a couple of swedes, some dandelion leaves and an acorn, you know. Suddenly, the Dad figure stands up from his tree stump – yes, this dummy gets to his feet and offers the solitary, lady visitor a big, inviting grin from behind the medieval moustache and whiskers, then drops his trousers and gives her a full meat and potatoes frontal. This was a pre-boxer-shorts epoch. She screeches and passes out. Well, who wouldn't? This is a meaningful tableau! I heard her cries, and visitors heard, and we all came rushing. She stirs a bit on the floor and does something of an explanation – “the patriarch, a flasher” was how she finished. Friends of hers go berserk and start attacking the models, pulling garments awry, looking for any more working vitals, but they're all just models, nothing there but seams. He's gone, scarpered, while she lay out for the count. So they turn on Mr Hamilton and me and the other porters who've arrived because of the din. I mean, these visitors have come to believe this is what the Hulliborn stages as the normal thing, and they're upset, belligerent.'

Simberdy boomed: ‘Don't you see, all of you, it's someone who aims to sabotage our standing with the Museums Inspectorate, and destroy our chance of hosting JASS? I've dreaded something of this sort.'

‘Falldew,' Beresford hissed. ‘Neville's name is written all over it.'

‘She didn't mention no tattoo,' Jervis replied.

From the door, Ursula said: ‘As to that, is there a description of the perpetrator at all?'

‘Well, he's covered in hair, isn't he?' Jervis said. ‘Couldn't see much face, most probably. But tall, I understand, thin, and the woman said glassy blue eyes; glassy, mad blue eyes.'

‘And?' Ursula said.

‘Dr Wex?' Jervis asked.

Ursula stared towards his crotch.

‘Oh, I get it,' Jervis said. ‘Your special knowledge. But all the woman said was it seemed very present-day and alive, not a prop.'

So, Lepage, in charge, hurried excitedly towards the door and Ursula. Perhaps if the job was going to be like this he wouldn't want early retirement after all. As he stepped into the corridor, he heard Simberdy call: ‘Director, nothing extreme, I beg. No police. Don't invite media interest. TV! Christ, think of it. Something unkind, satiric from Bernard Levin! Remember JASS.'

Simberdy was right to detect overtones. The Hulliborn's fight for status might typify many a similar fight in Britain's menaced cultural bodies. Although his views about his own future might vary, Lepage would never deny a strong love and admiration for the Hulliborn. After all, he had been here for fifteen years and was fond of its big, ugly buildings and its galleries smelling of floor polish and school groups. He wished the Hulliborn only good, more or less.

Another factor: Julia wanted him to collect a knighthood for his time at the top of the Hulliborn, in line with Flounce's and the previous Director's. It had to be admitted that Julia could be a bit of a snob. It had to be admitted, too, that there were times when this side of her came near to turning him fatally off. Julia liked being live-in partner to the Director of the Hulliborn, and if he quit early she wanted something to replace that rank and cachet: a knighthood would suit very nicely. Julia did not visualize their future social ranking as dependent solely upon her ownership of the Spud-O'-My-Life kiosk, or even upon a chain of kiosks, if things took off. But a knighthood for George, possibly marriage, and so, Lady Lepage, renowned head of a food combine – that might add up to something decently eminent.

And so, because George Lepage for most of his time did want to hang on to Julia, and because he had a soft spot for the Hulliborn, its good repute was doubly vital to him. The JASS exhibition seemed the best way on offer to lift its rating and impress those who gave out gongs. He must do all he could to further Vince Simberdy's campaign –
snatch
all helpful openings, in Vince's term – particularly as very destructive, knowledgeable flak could start flying any day about Quentin Youde's expensive ‘El Greco' deal, which would have to be diverted and offset. So far, the insurers and auditors had the paintings as assets slightly above the price the Hulliborn paid, but some troublesome questions had begun to circulate.