‘I believe I can, actually.’
‘Yes, Andrew. So do I. A real hard customer, but ours, that’s the point. A natural assimilator, prison-trained, knows the dark side of the street’ – suck – ‘and the dirty underbelly of the human mind. There’s jeopardy here, which I like. So will the Top Floor.’ Luxmore slapped the file shut and started pacing again, this time in widths. ‘If we can’t appeal to his patriotism, we can put the frighteners on him and appeal to his greed. Let me tell you about head joes, Andy.’
‘Please do, sir.’
The sir, though by tradition reserved for the Chief of Service, is Osnard’s contribution to Luxmore’s self-powered flight.
‘You can take a bad head joe, young Mr Osnard. And you can stand him before the opposition’s safe with the combination ringing in his stupid ears and he’ll come back to you empty-handed. I know. I’ve been there. We’d one during the Falklands conflagration. But a good one, you can dump him blindfold in the desert and he’ll sniff out his target in a week. Why? He’s got the larceny’ – suck – ‘I’ve seen it many times. Remember that, Andy. If a man hath not larceny, he is nothing.’
‘I really will,’ says Osnard.
Another gear. Sits sharply to his desk. Reaches for telephone. Stays his hand. ‘Call up Registry,’ he orders Osnard. ‘Have them pick us a random codename out of the hat. A codename shows intent. Draft me a sub-mission, not above one page in length. They’re busy men up there.’ Takes up telephone finally. Taps number. ‘Meanwhile I shall make a couple of private telephone calls to one or two influential members of the public who are sworn to secrecy and shall remain forever nameless’ – suck – ‘those amateurs from Treasury will put their spoke in anything. Think Canal, Andrew. Everything rides on the Canal.’ Stops in tracks, replaces receiver on cradle. Eyes turn to smoked glass window where filtered black clouds menace the Mother of Parliaments. Beat. ‘I shall tell them that, Andrew,’ he breathes. ‘Everything rides on the Canal. It shall be our slogan when we are dealing with people from all walks of life.’
But Osnard’s thoughts remain on earthly things. ‘We’re going to have to work out quite a tricky pay structure for him, aren’t we, sir?’
‘Why’s that? Nonsense. Rules are made to be broken. Didn’t they teach you that? Of course they didn’t. Those trainers are all has-beens. I see you have a point to press. Out with it.’
‘Well, sir.’
‘Yes, Andrew.’
‘I’d like to get a reading on his financial situation as of now. In Panama. If he’s making a pot of money -‘
‘Yes?’
‘Well, we’ll have to offer him a pot, won’t we? A fellow netting quarter of a million bucks a year and we offer him another twenty-five thousand, we’re unlikely to be tempting him. If you follow me.’
‘So?’ – playful, drawing the boy out.
‘Well, sir, I wondered if one of your friends in the City might get onto Pendel’s bank under a pretext and find out the score.’
Luxmore is already on the telephone, spare hand thrust down the seam of his trousers.
‘Miriam, dear. Find me Geoff Cavendish. Failing him, Tug. And, Miriam. It’s urgent.’
It was another four days before Osnard was once more summoned to the presence. Pendel’s wretched bank statements lay about on Luxmore’s desk, courtesy of Ramón Rudd. Luxmore himself was standing stock still at his window, savouring a moment of history.
‘He’s appropriated his wife’s savings, Andrew. Every penny. Can’t resist usury. They never can. We’ve got him by the short-and-curlies.’
He waited while Osnard read the figures.
‘A salary’s no good to him then,’ said Osnard, whose grasp on financial matters was a deal more sophisticated than his master’s.
‘Oh. Why not?’
‘It’ll go straight into his bank manager’s pocket. We’re going to have to bankroll him from day one.’
‘How much?’
Osnard by now had a figure in his mind. He doubled it, knowing the virtue of starting as he meant to continue.
‘My God, Andrew. As much as that?’
‘It could be more, sir,’ said Osnard bleakly. ‘He’s in up to his neck.’