The Predicament of Redwood Paddock Page 7

  Chapter 15

  Tarquin De Vere was a very resourceful individual despite his outwardly ‘blowhard’ manner. For some reason he had been highly disturbed by his first meeting with the Owl. He decided he should have another conversation prior to initiating his plan.

  “Drink Sir?” prompted Collie.

  “Yes, the usual - and a sandwich or something. Anything to keep me going until lunch.”

  “Very good, if you are intending to engage the Holo-matrix I can bring everything over in a few minutes”.

  Not wanting the bardog eavesdropping he declined that offer and said he would summon the Owl later.

  “A question my good man, how is it we can engage with the Owl on demand as it were, when he is actually dead? I mean these are real time exchanges, he is always available and I feel he can see me - nonsense really.”

  “Miracle of modern technology sir, I suppose, don’t savvy it myself,” said Collie, handing him his elevenses.

  Disposing of the sustenance rapidly, De Vere approached the machine and logged in.

  “Yes De Vere, will this be more stimulating than the previous encounter?”

  “Depends on you really, not another blank screen I hope.”

  “Technical glitches are beyond my influence, let us proceed.”

  “To be completely frank,” De Vere lied, “I’m rather surprised but impressed with this Improbable Richardson chap. He has already buffeted some of the inhabitants in the corridors of power, and rumour has it that he intends to proceed with a breath-taking disregard for even the most innovatively camouflaged fence sitting, irrespective of its seniority. There is no hope of him surviving and you know it.”

  “He does have an air of impatience. What is your point?”

  “Well I’m in opposition, party-wise as you know, but inertia is both the enemy and the safeguard of our political arena, dependent of course on your position in the pyramid. Timing is extremely critical if you wish to affect the amplitude of the swinging pendulum.”

  “And you are a perfect example, I repeat. What is your point?”

  De Vere felt the calculating presence of the owl, which confirmed his theory of manipulation, and he accepted that he had to open up the discussion to try and determine where the technology equipment might be stored and who could gain access to it.

  “I sense that this young citizen must not be sacrificed without achieving something other than destabilising a few egos. You achieved this a long time ago but the drifting sands have virtually obliterated that awareness. In some citizens’ perception you were a martyr, but then the omnipresent entity digested you, the irritant, relentlessly. And yet the message is more relevant than ever. I’m not suggesting that IR should appear as inflammatory as you were with your scary Defcon warnings, however he does have the advantage of no career to protect and doesn’t display ambition for higher office.”

  “I detect mischief De Vere.”

  “Well, thanks for the honesty, I will therefore reciprocate. I would be happy to support the fledgling on certain issues at a local level, even where there is differing party policy, if I can see that the resolution of said issue clearly overshadows entrenched party policy. In fact I would be prepared to stress that point in any interview with the media. I would also be willing to recruit the H.U.F.F. candidate into this campaign.”

  “IR has many diverse offers of help from sources with which he is not even familiar. Why aren’t you approaching him directly?”

  “Because, if we’re seen to collaborate openly it would become a beacon to be extinguished by the Inquisition, you know that.”

  “I will think about this before I expose the Councillor to your suggestion. Log in again in a couple of days.”

  “You don’t give much away do you? In our first session you appeared to recognise me even when you greeted me as ‘stranger,’ but how could you possibly know me?”

  “In a couple of days then.”

  Blank screen! Tarquin was hopeful, no more than that.

  Chapter 16

  There was a real buzz in the café, as every citizen knew about the ‘Saviour of the Hospice’ and Enrico was bombarded with questions about Councillor Richardson.

  He advised cautious optimism, telling them that IR would have to count on their support if he was to continue with his unrelenting implementation of such policies.

  Malcolm G, (real name Ebeneezer J. Wampy) was a tropical avian of mixed ancestry. His father was a starling and his mother a humming bird. His focus in life was to be the opposite of the early bird who catches the worm, he was so laid back he was beginning to lose his ability to fly. Enrico, who had almost always been successful in motivating citizens, and instilling aspirations in them, had continuously failed with Malcolm G. He never really understood why. He was to be further confused.

  Amongst all of the feel-good bustle, Enrico noticed that the strumming bird, as he had become known, was very quiet, not involved, and devoid of his usual cynical quips. After a while Malcolm G’s restlessness got the better of him and he asked Enrico how he could meet this Improbable Richardson. The café owner offered to introduce him, but enquired as to the nature of his interest. Malcolm G said that he didn’t know why, he just felt it would be ‘real cool’ and accepted Enrico’s offer.

  ***

  IR was reflecting on how exciting his first few days in office had been and thought it would probably not live up to this sustained adrenaline rush in future. He hadn’t counted on the demonstration which was taking place outside the so-called ‘Justice Chambers.’ The citizens were there in force to support Marmaduke Pinstripe, a long-standing pillar of the community. He was an affable, porcine fellow of the large white variety. A burglar had broken into his domain and tried to abscond with most of ‘Duke’s’ prized audio-visual collection. When Pinstripe challenged the intruder, (Uranus Ormine, a decidedly obnoxious frog) he realised he was facing a weapon of considerable or even absolute destruction. The resulting struggle left Duke with slashed ears and the amphibian with a twisted foreleg.

  The Law Officers had arrived after Duke had called the emergency number. They subsequently took both parties to the station where they each faced charges. Ormine with breaking into a property which was not his, but no charge of stealing as the intruder hadn’t actually left the premises, regardless of the fact that his sack was full of porcine hi-fi. His legal aid claimed the shabby receptacle belonged to Duke, either way the ownership of the sack couldn’t be proven. Pinstripe was charged with using unreasonable force in dealing with the incursion. Both were found guilty, the frog was given community service and Citizen Pinstripe was to be incarcerated for six months. The demonstration was peaceful, but feelings were running high, so extra law officers were called in. Richardson was about to be informed of the situation in the middle of reading a memo from Echo Tubthumper, outlining another ‘crisis case.’ A middle aged pony had been diagnosed as probably terminally ill and had been denied medication on cost effective grounds. The medication may not save her, but would at least help to make the final stages more bearable. Memphis Chloe had pinned all hope on Echo coming up trumps. Tubthumper’s point was centred on the government proposal to prescribe anti-obesity drugs for another two million citizens in the coming year. This astronomic cost was being justified as preventative medicine, thus producing a net saving, in years to come. No numbers or time of payback were detailed, just a strong ethos. It was argued by Echo that many (not all cases of obesity) were able to counteract the problem, notably by the subject changing their lifestyle, whereas Chloe was simply the victim of a random illness that medical science had no way of predicting or curing with any certainty.

  IR was formulating a letter of response to some minor traffic-related concern, when Placidus said he really ought to go to the Justice Chambers, and summarised the scenario with her usual nucleic penchant, reciting her shorthand notes as he hurried out of the office. No time for consultation on this one, it was down to him and he knew the media would be there.<
br />
  He arrived to see a rather forlorn looking Pinstripe, handcuffed and being shuffled to a vehicle of conveyance, decked with the official detention livery. Cheers rang out when the unruly crowd spotted IR, and even the law officers appeared to be relieved. A microphone was thrust into his face followed by a demand to explain his presence, and his view on the matter. He addressed the whole gathering as one in declaring his feeling of injustice, stating he had just been told about the case, and when he had been fully briefed, he would be taking the matter up with Homeland Security. More cheers, gradual dispersal, and a vehicle speeding away.

  He spent the evening writing his letter to the respective Ministers and made them both aware of each situation. The outline was brief and with no reference to any specific action he was seeking on the two individual issues. The thrust was to suggest that although it was the responsibility of central policy makers to deal with such negative reaction (such as demonstrations) to their doctrine, it was also the responsibility of local elected councils to uphold the Law. In doing so, there must be provision to challenge those laws to cover similar cases in future. He stressed that the citizens themselves could mount a legal challenge and local government officers must then judge whether to support such causes or indeed lead them. The two cases could then be considered on their own merits and as to where they differed. The burglary was covered by clearly defined law, but didn’t seem fair to most citizens. The use of defensive force in tackling the intruder was a bit of a mealy-mouthed pronouncement, and took no account of the urgency facing the property owner. In stark contrast he indicated that Memphis Chloe’s plight was self-explanatory and had to be resolved, pronto. He stated he would prefer some comment from the respective Ministers before taking any action himself, but failing any dialogue he would be forced by conscience to resort to a legal approach of some kind.

  The response was swift but had an overpowering stench of inertia, which was obviously arrived at by collusion, and were committed to the written form as emails. Following receipt he saved these mails, and he concluded that he had no choice but to challenge both cases, based on their individual circumstances.

  Health Minister Standin-Line had spoken to Wimp Fargo - Minister for Homeland Security, and suggested that the burglary and refusal of medication for terminal conditions had no overlapping implications, and as such didn’t merit any further discussion between them, and furthermore, he had no intention of keeping the Cabinet in the dark. This local upstart was there and simply had to be dealt with. Wimp, a balding duck, and an imminent pension qualifier, lived up to his reputation and concurred, but felt a clammy sweat coming on.

  ***

  Meanwhile, at the hostelry in Hell’s Hill, sorry, Harmony Rise, Jacky Jack Jackson the Jackdaw, a professional burglar of some repute, was waxing eloquently about how the new laws made his profession more enjoyable. “I get up in the morning full of beans now, not like the old days when it was just boring if you were lucky enough not to get caught, and a stretch in porridge if you weren’t.” This pub, The Bragging Joint, was about as different as imaginable from the Old Oak. The clientele was exclusively ‘working’ rather than relaxing and imbibing, taking orders for stolen goods, planning benefit fraud, selling information on vacant premises, all verbal and through a sophisticated barter system. You get the picture, a nexus of an under-life, burgeoning in this climate of ‘rights of the perpetrator, tough on the victim.’

  “I’ll use my latest cosy community service sentence to ‘clock’ new jobs, a kind of busman’s holiday, see ya’ll in a bit.” He knew he would meet other beneficiaries of the ‘soft option’ of community service, including the frog.

  Chapter 17

  IR wasted no time in contacting the Owl about Pinstripe, but was confronted with a stumbling block. Enoch felt this was a case for the best available legal counsel, while also admitting that his database was not a fertile source of such expertise. He suggested he might contact De Vere, as he had promised support and this would be a good test.

  They met at the pub a couple of hours later and discussed the situation in the presence of the Owl. Tarquin was mortified at IR’s headstrong, gladiatorial stance, nevertheless he did have strings he could pull and recommended a legal advisor to pen communications in Richardson’s name to begin this ‘last man standing’ contest. De Vere stated his take in a paternalistic tone. “You see, we’re living in an ever-increasingly changing atmosphere. It used to be just oxygen and nitrogen, now we also have litigation tagged on to every breath. The country across the pond which fuelled this change has by far the most cunning legal profession to harvest the spoils. Also, they’ve realised that there is an alternative growing market for overturning such stupidity. They initially collected pay-outs by invoking legal judgements to warp long-accepted laws, but now in an about turn they are proposing arguments to head off absolute legal meltdown. The problem over here lies with the judiciary, and new guidelines have to be forged. This would be complicated by any further binding agreements with the EU.”

  De Vere gave IR the contact details for Buckmananov Detroit, a scavenger descended from a long line of racoons, which were native to his homeland as far back as records were available. He was simply the best.

  ***

  Heads of steam were building on all fronts and as yet Richardson was blissfully unaware of the seminar to which he was to be invited. Horace Hoarsescheit convened an exploratory discussion with his cohorts to repay Hedinsand with a little interest. They all felt let down by the Education Minister’s volte-face on EU. The Cabinet was really split on whether they should finally concede to the referendum which had been promised. The PM had dressed up the next episode of cowardly surrender to the EU as a rigorously modified treaty, which in his view didn’t pose the same risk of capitulation as opting out of national self-determination. This, he stressed to all dissenting ministers, would avoid the need to keep the pledge of a referendum, without losing face. He stressed that what they should all really be concerned with was the capability of the electorate to weigh up all of the considerable complexities, with sufficient detachment from their parochial little domains.

  This bullying didn’t really address how detached the ministers could afford to be from their grubby careers. Such paradoxes inevitably involved a gamble by all parties, with a sprinkling of brinkmanship, or the watered down bluff technique, or even the odd ritualistic sacrificial lamb. In algebraic terms, if there are more ministers who are petrified at loss of status than the square of those who pretend rebellion, minus the ones who have a ‘folding quotient’ there could be bloodletting.

  The PM would have leverage to isolate those who have been deemed not worthy of survival, a Cabinet reshuffle. Whisperings only served to hint at one way streets (Cabinet speak for career culs de sac), but nevertheless could be a useful distraction tactic. If however, the Pompous Maximus was to be honourably defeated, promises must not only be made to the hoverers, but they had to be backed up with emergency parachute strategies. One such mitigating surprise is the prospect of voting for the Numero Uno, only to find he is now suddenly lower in the powerbroker pecking order. Ergo, certain individuals from both sides will be afflicted with parachutes which do not open.

  Being aware of all this is a given, engaging in manipulating it is treacherous, steering it requires infinitely better odds than a blackjack bank, timing the final push is crucial, a swift domino cascade of the fallen is mandatory, but only if all checkpoints are reliable. Any internal turmoil caused by possible accusation of betrayal has to be utterly deniable and thoroughly rehearsed. An intense examination of one’s principles, in that split second available to assess the genuine ‘ayes and nays,’ may well test sphincter efficiency to the limit. Finally, the overt truth as to which Cabinet members were ‘fibbing’ becomes apparent. Abstention is an even more dangerous option.

  ***

  Thus the dual need for Horace to sculpture this round of Russian roulette and orchestrate the fate of unexplainable fall from grace for
Hedinsand was a stimulating challenge, as only one part of it was to be transparent to his co-conspirators.

  The first step. He chuckled to himself, well aware that the more obvious the conspiracy, the more likely it would be dismissed as a gross oversimplification of the factors at play. He decided on a gradual disinformation campaign on Hedinsand’s handling of IR, the seed of which could be scattered at the seminar in the presence of other local councillors. He would oversee a controlled release of rumours by ministers in high office that even the PM, normally above such blatantly judgemental body language, could not hide a discernable antipathy in Trenchy’s presence.

  The seminar was a perfect platform because Hedinsand had suggested it. Will Standin-Line (Wishbone to only his closest friends), was a no compromise character. He would never surrender his right to change polarity if a new study (by anonymous researchers), suggested modification of the hypothesis under scrutiny. However, he never extended credibility of such unprincipled shifting of the feet to those of perceived lower moral fibre than himself. Horace was banking on this.

  Strange that, isn’t it! Wishbone needed absolutely no encouragement to attack Trenchy. Bombortwo could wait, he was obsessed with structure, technology, deployment of stratagem, and chain of command. In Wishbone’s view an intellectual microbe, undeserving of depleting his arsenal of dry powder. Regardless of priorities, who was to be first was not the burning question, how was everything.

  Horace was finally ready and feigned humility when he asked if Sean Bombortwo could take on the reconnaissance mission of the Cabinet members, and report back on how the algebra was panning out, together with recommendations for any diplomatic winning of hearts and minds. Wishbone nodded enthusiastically and leapt into leadership mode (a potentially premature move come the inevitable day of reckoning), by demanding that Trenchy’s abandonment of the EU pledge should be leaked to his own constituents through the local council.

  “How and where would we do that?” hissed Horace, already ahead of Wishbone.