To Cut a Long Story Short (2000) (29 page)

‘No, she only laid the foundation stone, Minister. But perhaps all that will change once the project receives your blessing.’

‘I’ll do what I can,’ promised Will. ‘But you know we’ve been told to make even more cutbacks in overseas funding.’ A sure sign that an election was
approaching, thought Henry.

At the cocktail party that evening, Henry was able to say no more than ‘Good evening, Minister,’ as the High Commissioner was determined that Will would be introduced to every one of
the assembled guests in under sixty minutes. When the two of them departed to have dinner with General Olangi, Henry went back to his office to check over the speech the Minister would be
delivering at breakfast the following morning. He was pleased to see that the paragraph he had written on the swimming pool project remained in the final draft, so at least it would be on the
record. He checked the seating plan, making sure that he had been placed next to the editor of the
St George’s Echo
. That way he could be certain that the paper’s next edition
would lead on the British government’s support for the swimming pool appeal.

Henry rose early the following morning, and was among the first to arrive at the High Commissioner’s Residence. He took the opportunity to brief as many of the assembled local businessmen
as possible on the importance of the swimming pool project in the eyes of the British government, pointing out that Barclays Bank had agreed to open the fund with a substantial donation.

The Minister arrived for breakfast a few minutes late. ‘A call from London,’ he explained, so they didn’t sit down to eat until 8.15. Henry took his place next to the editor of
the local paper and waited impatiently for the Minister to make his speech.

Will rose at 8.47. He spent the first five minutes talking about bananas, and finally went on to say: ‘Let me assure you that Her Majesty’s Government have not forgotten the swimming
pool project that was inaugurated by Princess Margaret, and we hope to be able to make an announcement on its progress in the near future. I was delighted to learn from Sir David,’ he looked
across at Bill Paterson, who was seated opposite him, ‘that the Rotary Club have taken on the project as their Charity of the Year, and several prominent local businessmen have already
generously agreed to support the cause.’ This was followed by a round of applause, instigated by Henry.

Once the Minister had resumed his seat, Henry handed the editor of the local paper an envelope which contained a thousand-word article, along with several pictures of the site. Henry felt
confident that it would form the centre-page spread in next week’s
St George’s Echo
.

Henry checked his watch as the Minister sat down: 8.56. It was going to be close. When Will disappeared up to his room, Henry began pacing up and down the hallway, checking his watch as each
minute passed.

The Minister stepped into the waiting Rolls at 9.24 and, turning to Henry, said, ‘I fear I’m going to have to forgo the pleasure of seeing the swimming pool site. However,’ he
promised, ‘I’ll be sure to read your report on the plane, and will brief the Foreign Secretary the moment I get back to London.’

As the car sped past a barren plot of land on the way to the airport, Henry pointed out the site to the Minister. Will glanced out of the window and said, ‘Admirable, worthwhile,
important,’ but never once did he commit himself to spending one penny of government money.

‘I’ll do my damnedest to convince the mandarins at the Treasury,’ were his final words as he boarded the plane.

Henry didn’t need to be told that Will’s ‘damnedest’ was unlikely to convince even the most junior civil servant at the Treasury.

A week later, Henry received a fax from the Foreign Office giving details of the changes the Prime Minister had made in his latest reshuffle. Will Whiting had been sacked, to be replaced by
someone Henry had never heard of.

Henry was going over his speech to the Rotary Club when the phone rang. It was Bill Paterson.

‘Henry, there are rumours of another coup brewing, so I was thinking of waiting until Friday before changing the High Commission’s pounds into kora.’

‘Happy to take your advice, Bill - the money market is beyond me. By the way, I’m looking forward to this evening, when we finally get a chance to launch the Appeal.’

Henry’s speech was well received by the Rotarians, but when he discovered the size of the donations some of the members had in mind, he feared it could still be years before the project
was completed. He couldn’t help remembering that there were only another eighteen months before his next posting was due.

It was in the car on the way home that he recalled Bill’s words at the Britannia Club. An idea began to form in his mind.

Henry had never taken the slightest interest in the quarterly payments that the British government made to the tiny island of Aranga. The Foreign Office allocated PS5 million a year from
its contingency fund, made up of four payments of PS1.25 million, which was automatically converted into the local currency of kora at the current exchange rate. Once Henry had been informed
of the rate by Bill Paterson, the Chief Administrator at the High Commission dealt with all the Commission’s payments over the next three months. That was about to change.

Henry lay awake that night, all too aware that he lacked the training and expertise to carry out such a daring project, and that he must pick up the knowledge he required without anyone else
becoming aware of what he was up to.

By the time he rose the following morning, a plan was beginning to form in his mind. He started by spending the weekend at the local library, studying old copies of the
Financial Times
,
noting in particular what caused fluctuating exchange rates and whether they followed any pattern.

Over the next three months, at the golf club, cocktail parties in the Britannia Club, and whenever he was with Bill, he gathered more and more information, until finally he was confident that he
was ready to make his first move.

When Bill rang on the Monday morning to say that there would be a small surplus of 22,107 kora on the current account because of the rumours of another coup, Henry gave orders to place the money
in the Swimming Pool Account.

‘But I usually switch it into the Contingency Fund,’ said Bill.

‘There’s been a new directive from the Foreign Office - K14792,’ said Henry. ‘It says that surpluses can now be used on local projects, if they’ve been
approved by the Minister.’

‘But that Minister was sacked,’ the bank manager reminded the First Secretary.

‘That may well be the case, but I’ve been instructed by my masters that the order still applies.’ Directive K14792 did in fact exist, Henry had discovered, although he doubted
that when the Foreign Office issued it they had had swimming pools in mind.

‘Fine by me,’ said Bill. ‘Who am I to argue with a Foreign Office directive, especially when all I have to do is move money from one High Commission account to another within
the bank?’

The Chief Administrator didn’t comment on any missing money during the following week, as he had received the same number of kora he had originally expected. Henry assumed he’d got
away with it.

As there wasn’t another payment due for three months, Henry had ample time to refine his plan. During the next quarter, a few of the local businessmen came up with their donations, but
Henry quickly realised that even with this influx of cash, they could only just about afford to start digging. He would have to deliver something a great deal more substantial if he hoped to end up
with more than a hole in the ground.

Then an idea came to him in the middle of the night. But for Henry’s personal coup to be effective, he would need to get his timing spot on.

When Roger Parnell, the BBC’s correspondent, made his weekly call to enquire if there was anything he should be covering other than the swimming pool appeal, Henry asked if he could have a
word with him off the record.

‘Of course,’ said the correspondent. ‘What do you want to discuss?’

‘HMG is a little worried that no one has seen General Olangi for several days, and there are rumours that his recent medical check-up has found him to be HIV positive.’

‘Good God,’ said the BBC man. ‘Have you got any proof?’

‘Can’t say I have,’ admitted Henry, ‘although I did overhear his personal doctor being a little indiscreet with the High Commissioner. Other than that,
nothing.’

‘Good God,’ the BBC man repeated.

‘This is, of course, strictly off the record. If it were traced back to me, we would never be able to speak again.’

‘I never disclose my sources,’ the correspondent assured him indignantly.

The report that came out on the World Service that evening was vague, and hedged with ‘ifs’ and ‘buts’. However, the next day, when Henry visited the golf course, the
Britannia Club and the bank, he found the word ‘AIDS’ on everyone’s lips. Even the High Commissioner asked him if he had heard the rumour.

‘Yes, but I don’t believe it,’ said Henry, without blushing.

The kora dropped 4 per cent the following day, and General Olangi had to appear on television to assure his people that the rumours were false, and were being spread by his enemies. All his
appearance on television did was to inform anyone who hadn’t already heard them about the rumours, and as the General seemed to have lost some weight, the kora dropped another 2 per cent.

‘You did rather well this month,’ Bill told Henry on Monday. ‘After that false alarm about Olangi’s HIV problem, I was able to switch 118,000 kora into the Swimming Pool
Account, which means my committee can go ahead and instruct the architects to draw up some more detailed plans.’

‘Well done,’ said Henry, passing the praise on to Bill for his personal coup. He put the phone down aware that he couldn’t risk repeating the same stunt again.

Despite the architects’ plans being drawn up and a model of the pool placed in the High Commissioner’s office for all to see, another three months went by with only a trickle of
small donations coming in from local businessmen.

Henry wouldn’t normally have seen the fax, but he was in the High Commissioner’s office, going over a speech Sir David was due to make to the Banana Growers’ Annual Convention,
when it was placed on the desk by the High Commissioner’s secretary.

The High Commissioner frowned and pushed the speech to one side. ‘It hasn’t been a good year for bananas,’ he grunted. The frown remained in place as he read the fax. He passed
it across to his First Secretary.

‘
To all Embassies and High Commissions: The government will be suspending Britain’s membership of the Exchange Rate Mechanism. Expect an official announcement later
today.
’

‘If that’s the way of things, I can’t see the Chancellor lasting the day,’ commented Sir David. ‘However, the Foreign Secretary will remain in place, so it’s
not our problem.’ He looked up at Henry. ‘Still, perhaps it would be wise if we were not to mention the subject for at least a couple of hours.’

Henry nodded his agreement and left the High Commissioner to continue working on his speech.

The moment he had closed the door of the High Commissioner’s office, he ran along the corridor for the first time in two years. As soon as he was back at his desk, he dialled a number he
didn’t need to look up.

‘Bill Paterson speaking.’

‘Bill, how much have we got in the Contingency Fund?’ he asked, trying to sound casual.

‘Give me a second and I’ll let you know. Would you like me to call you back?’

‘No, I’ll hold on,’ said Henry. He watched the second hand of the clock on his desk sweep nearly a full circle before the bank manager spoke again.

‘A little over PS1 million,’ said Bill. ‘Why did you want to know?’

‘I’ve just been instructed by the Foreign Office to switch all available monies into German marks, Swiss francs and American dollars immediately.’

‘You’d be charged a hefty fee for that,’ said the bank manager, suddenly sounding rather formal. ‘And if the exchange rate were to go against you …’

‘I’m aware of the implications,’ said Henry, ‘but the telegram from London doesn’t leave me with any choice.’

‘Fair enough,’ said Bill. ‘Has this been approved by the High Commissioner?’

‘I’ve just left his office,’ said Henry.

‘Then I’d better get on with it, hadn’t I?’

Henry sat sweating in his air-conditioned office for twenty minutes until Bill called back.

‘We’ve converted the full amount into Swiss francs, German marks and American dollars, as instructed. I’ll send you the details in the morning.’

‘And no copies, please,’ said Henry. ‘The High Commissioner isn’t keen that this should be seen by any of his staff.’

‘I quite understand, old boy,’ said Bill.

The Chancellor of the Exchequer announced the suspension of Britain’s membership of the Exchange Rate Mechanism from the steps of the Treasury in Whitehall at 7.30 p.m., by which time all
the banks in St George’s had closed for the day.

Henry contacted Bill the moment the markets opened the following morning, and instructed him to convert the francs, marks and dollars back into sterling as quickly as possible, and let him know
the outcome.