Jefferson Tayte Genealogical Mystery - 03 - The Last Queen of England by Steve Robinson

Author:Steve Robinson
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Mystery, Historical Fiction
ISBN: 1477818545
Published: 2014-03-18T00:00:00+00:00

Trenton McAlister’s office reeked of expensive cigars and fine Scotch. With him were five notable figures—distinguished gentlemen in tailored suits, both current and former MPs and members of the House of Lords. They represented an essential and powerful network of republican support that was as useful to McAlister as the considerable sums of money they had each contributed to the cause. The Scotch and cigars had been brought out merely to pacify. McAlister’s associates were not happy people.

‘What the hell kind of complication?’ one of the men said. He was a balding, older man in charcoal pinstripes whose words were preceded by a dense puff of smoke.

‘I know only what I’ve told you, Brian,’ McAlister said. ‘That the circumstances surrounding the procurement of our ‘trump card’ for the coming campaign have become a tad more, shall we say, involved.’

‘Are you screwing with us, Trent?’

McAlister turned to a man who was perched on the corner of his desk. ‘On the contrary, Michael. In fact, it could very well work to our advantage.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘Haste, Michael. I mean that this little complication has merely facilitated the need for speed, as it were.’

‘Did he give you a timescale?’

‘Perhaps sooner than I’d hoped,’ McAlister said, thinking that the next call from his contact couldn’t come soon enough. The people in his office had high expectations. They were paying for results out of their own pockets. He knew that to let them down now, after building them up so high, would be to his utter ruin. His career, perhaps even his life, depended on a positive outcome. He smiled as if to show that he wasn’t worried in the least.

‘Well, why didn’t you say that in the first place?’ another man said. ‘That sounds like a real reason to have a drink.’

McAlister raised his glass, thinking that he’d turned the situation around rather well. ‘To the campaign,’ he said.

He stepped back and watched his associates drink and smoke and talk amongst themselves. His stomach was in knots, and he knew his anxiety would remain with him until his anonymous contact called again. The man held all the cards. And yet if the things he had spoken of were true—if they could be substantiated—the scandal he would unleash would surely turn the nation to their cause.

He thought about the people and tomorrow’s rally, and he reminded himself that this was surely his last and best hope of seeing Britain as a democratic republic. That was all that mattered to him now, and he didn’t care how it came about—whether by fair means or foul. Although, given the asking price and the covert way the deal for this information was going down, McAlister suspected the latter.

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