Evensong

“It’s a better-than-expected outcome. A breakthrough. The Statement of Intent will be substantive, not cobbled together. The signing will take place earlier than we all expected. All the meetings and negotiations under the old Agenda are out of the window. The Statement of Intent can, we think, given the goodwill we’ve all shown so far, be drawn up relatively quickly. That will be our goal this afternoon: to finalise it, and get it formally signed and adopted tomorrow. Then, all the treaties, commercial agreements, and contracts needed to implement it can follow. Perhaps,” he added, as though it had only just occurred to him, “if the Archbishop agrees, some of them can be done in this marvellous venue which will now have such good associations for us.”

Olivia nodded graciously as some delegates turned towards her, and returned their smiles and words of thanks. But she was scared, and Anwar saw it. She might have less time to live. They exchanged a glance which, to anyone around them but not to themselves, was unreadable.

They walked back together through the Garden, through the lobby of the New Grand, and up to her apartments without exchanging a word. Only when they got into the main living room did they speak.

“Our last night in each other’s company.” She made it a statement, not a question, and was careful with the words. Not “together,” but “in each other’s company.”

“Yes,” Anwar agreed. “Our last night, whatever happens.”

It was their own private statement of intent.

While they sat together in her apartment, the drafting in the summit went on. It was going well, as they verified from time to time by listening to news channels or the live feed from the Conference Centre.

The media circus, which was already huge, got bigger. Some of the worthies who had attended the opening ceremony and left early when problems appeared, were wheeled out by news channels to make statesmanlike pronouncements. Other heads of state, who hadn’t initially gone to the summit but were now quick to be associated with it, were similarly wheeled out. Anwar knew a similar frenzy would be roiling in state intelligence and science agencies the world over, as everyone would be hungry to get access to Rafiq’s toys.

Anwar switched back to the live feed and listened to Zaitsev as he luxuriated. The Statement of Intent had been successfully drafted, as expected, and would be formally signed tomorrow at 10:00 a.m. in the Signing Room.

Without actually saying so, Zaitsev was using the outcome to erase his humiliation over the voting in the General Assembly. At one point someone rather mischievously suggested just that. “A fair question,” he said graciously, “but no.”

An accurate question. “A chance to erase your humiliation” would be exactly how Rafiq sold it to him, Anwar thought. Of course, Zaitsev wasn’t stupid enough to buy something that wouldn’t work, and Rafiq wouldn’t sell him something that wouldn’t work. Rafiq had made sure over the years to do all that research on the technology and all that work on the business model, so that when a time came that was right, all of it would work. He always played long. You really are a clever bastard. It’s always the same when you put these intricate plans together. You get what you want, and you make something better.

Olivia, who’d also been listening, asked, “Did Rafiq really foresee all this?”

Anwar hardly thought it worth an answer, and she didn’t press for one.

Outside it was getting darker. The sky was now the same gunmetal colour as the sea. Celebrations continued along the Brighton seafront, as at midday, but now the horns and music and beach party noises carried more sharply over the evening air, and the lights were brighter in the gathering dark. From Zaitsev’s suite on the floor below—Anwar’s floor, where his suite stood empty—came sounds of celebration.

Also, he could now hear waves. And seagulls. The noises from the sea had been something he’d previously blanked out, but now he was ramping up his senses for the coming night.

He waited until Olivia was asleep. As usual, when she had nobody in bed with her, she fell asleep quickly and slept soundly. When he was satisfied she was deeply asleep, he went out into the main living room of her suite. He left her bedroom door open.

He called Gaetano. “I won’t be able to check the Signing Room tonight. Have you checked it?”

“Yes. It’s secure. I’ll check it again, last thing tonight.”

“Thanks. Talking of last things...”

“Yes?”