Evensong

But his initiative continued to buoy him. He’d never have done that with Proskar before. He’d only decided to do it while they were talking. But it made sense. Whatever they were sending for her, if it wasn’t in the Signing Room yet, it wouldn’t get there now. If it was a person, it might already be walking among them. Proskar wasn’t the only possibility, but he was the easiest to remove. Privately Anwar thought Proskar was worth ten of Bayard, but he couldn’t get over the resemblance to Marek. After all the evidence to the contrary, he still wanted to stick with his instincts.

Proskar, after this, would probably slip quietly away. Gaetano would just have to make do without him.

This mission, he thought. When he’d first come here the New Anglicans hadn’t known what to make of him, and they suspected he didn’t know what to make of himself either. Then he’d found out about taking initiatives and creating chaos, and they still didn’t know what to make of him.

He still didn’t know what to make of himself either, but he knew that he wasn’t quite the same.

Another day passed. More of the panelling was ripped out, and still nothing was found behind it. The plaster and the carbon-ceramic laths holding the panelling were also ripped out. Contra-polymers were applied to the adhesive holding the laths to the original walls, and it relaxed its huge grip and dissolved away as though it had never been there. The original walls were unmarked.

Anwar’s abrupt decision to abandon exact matches for the wood panelling had provoked uproar among Zaitsev’s staff at the UN in New York, but Gaetano dealt with it and made sure it didn’t reach Anwar—who, even if he’d known, would have ignored it.

The bucket got filled and was emptied. Food came and was eaten. Gaetano’s five armed people started to look a little excessive, even to Anwar. They were also starting to look irritated. Gaetano was getting worried at the distraction. Each time he brought food, he reminded Anwar that the summit was getting closer and these people should be on other duties. Anwar wouldn’t budge.

The panelling and plaster and laths were now completely ripped out, and nothing had been found behind them. The whole Signing Room was now back to its original curving shape. The walls were pristine: white and silver and gleaming. Even the dust didn’t seem to settle on their surface, though it settled everywhere else. Anwar finally and grudgingly admitted there was nothing to find. It still didn’t detract from his feeling of having the initiative.

He ordered the Patel contractors to start fitting the new panelling. He told Gaetano over his wristcom that he now needed only three security staff while the new wood was being fitted. But they should be armed, and should stay there round the clock until the summit.

“How much longer will you be staying there?” Gaetano asked him.

“Until I see them complete the new panelling.” It occurred to him to ask something he should have asked before. “How are your preparations for the summit?”

“Satisfactory. But the Archbishop is getting difficult.” “About the summit?”

“No. About being kept away from the Signing Room. And,” Gaetano’s voice sounded uneasy, “about you. You’ve been in there four days, and she intended to see you the instant you got back from Rafiq. She doesn’t usually go more than a day without...”

“Why not one of your people? Or you?”

“Not me, we don’t do that... and she laughed when I suggested the others. Normally she has no trouble in fixing herself up, often just this side of rape, but she wasn’t interested this time.”

Anwar felt a stirring of unease. “Keep her away from here.”

“I’ve already impressed on her the need to keep away.”

Anwar stayed to watch them finish. They did what they’d done before to fit the earlier panelling. They made a new lattice work of laths which they fixed by polymer against the silver and white of the walls, extending out in regular rectangular shapes. On this they put a layer of plaster. Anwar was fascinated by the skill of those making the laths and applying the plaster: accurate without much apparent measuring, quick without much apparent hurrying.

And then, after another day, the new panelling was done. There was mess and dust on the floor and in the air, and a smell of sawn wood and wet plaster. The room still had to be cleaned and prepped. By early evening he was still there, smelly and unshaven, when he got another call from Gaetano.

“I hear you’re finished in there.”

“Just about. I’m going for a shower and cleanup.”

“No you’re not. She wants to see you. Now. In the Boardroom.” 

JUNE 2061