Wings of the Morning (43 page)

Fergus nodded slowly.

‘Thank you for telling me. I’d still advise you to try and get him more onside. He knows conditions in Africa very well indeed and I would really like the chance to pick his brains.
And now, you’ll want contact coordinates for me,’ and he handed over a business card. David saw that his email address began ‘cogs@’. He queried this.

Fergus said, ‘Oh yes, that. Cogs Carradine. It came out of typical Aussie humour. In the Mess, they thought I did the crossword too easily and pulled my leg about having a whirling brain.
It’s a good alliteration and speaks of a hearty sort of image which can makes for useful disguise.’

‘And it’s not a challenge to your authority?’

‘Oh no, David,’ said Fergus softly, ‘I don’t make the policy, but when I give the orders, my people listen. And they don’t argue.’

THE OXFORD FIVE — 1997

Stimulated and relieved by his recruitment of Fergus Carradine, David flew back to London where he found the contract from Bastion waiting for him. This covered the action they
would commence to provide data security for The Mansion House and their watching brief over Ginger McCabe. There was a hefty deposit to be paid and David cheerfully signed it off, explaining all
the circumstances to Martin. They agreed that it was necessary and were delighted to recognise the contract as a sign of Conrad returning to the fold.

Then, towards the middle of May, they had a visit to Piccadilly from Pente Broke Smith. He arrived unannounced late in the afternoon and David cleared his desk immediately. They went for a walk
together around the Park. Pente was very unhappy about the rift with Connie and David was pleased to be able to give him the latest and better news. The big man looked happier, but less than
convinced. They went to eat in a small bistro in Shepherd Market, nothing fancy but perfect for a quiet conversation. They ordered, and David started straight in to ask about Pente’s
deliberations over Zero.

‘I think you’d better hear about me first. I’m being moved out of Africa and back home to Hexham. The Abbot wants me to take over the Instruction of our novices and I’m
due to start in October. I’m on some extended leave until then, but I’ll be based in Northumberland. I’ve already left Africa for the last time. Or maybe not?’ Pente beamed
his big smile and it was good to see it back on his face.

‘Is this something to do with health?’

‘Yes, part of it. The new job’s genuine enough, but the last bout of malaria really did knock me out and I’ve been very slow to recover. Can’t seem to get my energy back
and you get even more tired in the climate down there. They think I’m due a big change and a long rest: I didn’t argue.’

‘You’ve certainly earned both.’

‘That’s as may be, David and it’s a done deed now anyway. But it’s not been the main reason why I’ve been looking forward to seeing you.’

‘No?’

‘No. You see, I finished off with a few weeks convalescence at our Home in Dar. It’s a fine place which our Order of the Saints has there with a particularly attractive garden which
is rich in peace and calm. I had day after day to sit there and think things through. In the end, I came to a decision that I just couldn’t go through with it, that I couldn’t justify
in my Christian conscience joining you to support your project Zero.’

There was a pause between them. Then David said ‘you say “couldn’t”. That’s past tense.’

The Priest stroked his greying beard and fumbled for his cigar box as he replied,

‘Well spotted, David. You were always the sharp one. No, well, what happened was this. On my way home, I diverted to spend a couple of nights in Kigali, Rwanda. The Abbot has recently
settled a new Mission there and he wanted a first-hand account of how things are going with them. A reasonable request which I couldn’t refuse.’

He paused again and eventually David had to prod him. ‘And?’

‘Well, honestly, it’s just desperate. Oh it’s peaceful enough there now and there’s a bit of economic recovery. There’s a fair amount of local chaos of course,
shanty dwellings, widespread begging, people looking seventy before they’re thirty, general deprivation. But a lot of that is just Africa and you’ll find it everywhere.’

David nodded his agreement and understanding, but Pente just kept talking.

‘What’s different and worse here is the underlying feeling which is quite palpable. It’s about three years on from the genocide and you still have the clear sense of every man
jack looking over his shoulder and thinking “when’s it going to start again? What’s going to set if off this time”. But you know, David, the worst of it is the way those
guys speak to you and just make you feel guilty with their disappointment. There was one, an intelligent and well qualified lawyer who’d lost all but one of his immediate family and just
didn’t know the fate of many friends. He looked at me over a beer one evening and asked “why weren’t you there for us?” Just that. No recriminating. No fulminating: just
that simple, gentle question which carried for me such a weight of well justified accusation. It wasn’t as if we Europeans turned the other cheek, you see. We didn’t. We just ran for
cover and let them get on with it: our performance and that of the UN, why it was simple disgraceful. So, in that single instant in the bar it came to me. I’ve got to do better than settle
for a sinecure in Hexham. If my friend David thinks he can bring improvement to the wretched shambles which covers so much of black Africa, well, I must do what I can to help. As you put it,
it’s time to stand up to be counted. So here I am, yours for the taking.’

This was a moving moment which reduced them both to silence. Pente stayed overnight in a hotel and spent the following day in The Mansion House, much of it with Felix Maas from whom he learnt a
good deal of the detail of Zero progress. Then he departed for Hexham, but thereafter kept in close contact, frequently on the phone and coming down to visit them every six weeks with a remorseless
regularity.

Meanwhile, across the world in Hong Kong, big developments were taking place in the life of Alexa Bushell. There was no change in the situation of Hugh’s wife Janey and therefore no
opportunity for Alexa to move in with Hugh, much less to marry him. But that status seemed less significant these days. She was by now so much a partner to him, not just in bed and matters of the
heart. She was also in business with him and there was so much to do that she had resigned from Ince and Co so that she could spend her full time in helping to administer Hugh’s involvement
in Zero. By now, he was full bore active in raising finance and he had started a new organisation, Dundas Securities, in order to keep the Project distant from his other business. He had known that
they would need time to stock the war chest and how appropriate an expression was that. Hugh always thought big. Budget for champagne, he would say, if you need water. And, he argued, Zero was a
project for which they simply could not have too much money. Of all the reasons for which they might fail, running out of funds would be the most unnecessary and ignominious. That wouldn’t
happen with him in charge but the demands made on him were considerable and the amounts were stepped up by Fergus Carradine with whom he developed a close relationship through frequent phone calls
and the relative ease with which they could meet. Then there was the new charity which Hugh established as part of his grand financial plan. There was much detail here also, despite the recruitment
of his old friend Ali Shuib to run it out of Kuala Lumpur. David Heaven was hugely happy when Hugh told him about Orphans of Africa, and that was because he immediately spotted a second benefit
which would flow from the charity.

‘What’s the plural of Trojan Horse I wonder,’ he had exclaimed to Hugh over an open line, and then, ‘don’t worry. It’s brilliant and I’ll explain when
we’re next together.’

Other aspects of Alexa’s life were less happy during those months. Her father Joffrey died at home outside Limoges and her mother was hit hard by his loss. Alexa wanted to be there for
Elizabeth and she was, but it entailed some frequent visits and thus many hours in the air between Hong Kong and Paris. At least this made it easy to keep up with Tepee and one day the two of them
managed to meet up with Aischa for lunch outside Guildford. They were happy to have a girly chat, but before the end of their meal there were worries to exchange and the focus of their moans was
David Heaven. Aischa was concerned from the moment David reported with pleasure that Connie had taken the brief to watch out for Ginger McCabe, only to vanish immediately afterwards to see Seb
Mantel in Singapore.

‘He told me,’ she said, ‘that he saw no reason to say anything about that trip and he was sure that Seb would have said nothing either. I told him that was barmy. Seb and
Connie are two parts of the same business and of course they’ll share everything. What’s worse, I said, is that you didn’t tell Connie yourself. You’ve chucked him a crumb
and passed the cake to Seb even though Connie reckons it’s a poisoned chalice,’ and she finished with an apology for her mixed metaphor.

Tepee sought to give them all comfort by reporting that Connie had never mentioned the incident to her. She said he seemed better and more his old self these days but adamant on the few
occasions when the subject arose that his strong disapproval of Project Zero had not diminished an iota. Alexa had less to say on this subject, but in her heart she was truly concerned. She had
more experience than her friends as to the effects of stress and trauma and knew that blocking things out was one of them. Instead, she talked of the weird feeling of being somehow unfaithful to
Connie through her commitment to Hugh and the close relationship, introduced by her, which had developed between him and David. Tepee and Aischa said that they could quite understand what she
meant. They ordered another bottle of wine and agreed that men could be just so perverse, sometimes with all the sensitivity of a concrete block.

Alexa was entirely correct. Connie was soon aware that David had gone to Singapore and hired Fergus Carradine with Seb’s help. It both hurt and infuriated him. Then the matter was made
worse by hearing that Rory Trollope had transferred onto Carradine’s staff. In his challenged state of mind, Conrad was able to overlook the fact that he had never told a soul about the
events of Ndola and the brutal reprisal from Rory in 1992. He had sent Rory to Seb’s office at the end of that year, to keep him out of Africa and hopefully to learn, but he had not revealed
the horrors of his action: not to Seb and certainly not to Tepee. It was all part of the load he was carrying.

During the late summer, King Offenbach came to see David at The Mansion House bringing news which pleased David very much indeed.

‘I’ve been offered the chance to retire from the CIA. In Washington, they’re fixing to devote way more resource to Africa and they want to beef up a couple of our offices down
there — in Kenya and Cameroun. Both have a regional brief right now and operate out of the US Embassies. Well hell, that’s OK and quite a compliment, I guess. The new outfits are to
answer to Langley direct and no longer through me in London. That’s OK again, except that supremo Stateside is to be a young schmuck with the brain of a peanut and an attitude a mile wide.
It’s their call of course, but they know I can’t work like that. Also, would you believe I turn sixty years old in September ’98 — just next year — and they’ve
made me a generous offer to go while the going’s good. I’ve already said yes and thank you kindly Uncle Sam. I’ll be free come this Christmas and I figure to get myself an
apartment somewhere in London and settle down where I can perhaps be a bit useful to you guys in making Zero fly. I’m in David.’

As the world move towards the close of 1997, David was pleased with the progress of Zero. He was delighted to have both Pente and King close at hand. He was mesmerised by the startling figures
which Hugh Dundas bandied with such confidence.

‘I’ll feel comfortable with a total fund of five billion dollars,’ he said, ‘right now, we’re halfway there and I can see where the other half’s coming
from.’

The reports from Fergus Carradine were regular and reassuring. He was getting his act together, satisfied with progress in establishing the human and materiel resources which they would need. He
was now based at their training ground in PNG: it had all they needed and was comfortingly remote. He could also report that Rory Trollope had settled well and was proving of real value as his
ADC.

Felix Maas continued to present David with impeccably presented project management information and this despite his increased workload which had resulted from the disappearance, almost
overnight, of Ginger McCabe. It happened much as Felix himself had predicted. Ginger had done excellent, even inspired work for The Mansion House but after a year and more he had become bored with
routine and his own achievements. According to his phone call on the Thursday of that week, there had been also the matter of his new friend, a long and lissom graphic designer who had been on
assignment to a London agency but was now returning to his home in Brussels — or was it Paris? Honestly, Felix couldn’t remember and now it didn’t seem to matter. David agreed
with him. They must concentrate on finding someone else.