Jerusalem by Patrick Neate

Author:Patrick Neate
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780141943695
Publisher: Penguin Books Ltd
Published: 2009-06-11T00:00:00+00:00

28

Principles are ridiculous

Queenstown, Republic of Zambawi, 2008

For the second time that day David Pinner’s plan was not going to plan. It was frustrating because it was such an excellent plan that it seemed inconceivable anyone could be blind to its merits. Indeed, it was so inconceivable that he had not prepared himself to conceive of it before now. His plan required concession and compromise, consideration and competence, consolidation and commitment. He had already said as much once that day. He had enjoyed the alliteration and been as astonished as he was disappointed by the unenthusiastic response.

Pinner thought back to his previous career and every cell he’d ever walked into in every detention centre or police station around the UK. He remembered the horror stories he’d heard from waif-like young women with cheekbones like scars and dark-eyed young men, defiant and damaged. He’d listened to those stories, he’d taken notes, he’d stood up and said, ‘Right. This is the plan.’ The gratitude he’d seen on those strained Slavic faces was almost tangible. The refugees had been helpless, they hadn’t known what to do. But he had been there to help and knew what to do. He’d had a plan.

And he had a plan now too and it was being frustrated – he was being frustrated. It was not a feeling he was used to and it felt like a personal affront. Where was the gratitude? He liked gratitude.

Sitting in the anteroom outside Solomon Mhlanga’s office in Zambawi’s State House, Pinner’s frustration manifested itself mostly in the form of wordless grunts, whinnies and snorts. And the more frustrated Pinner became, the greater volume, regularity and variety of his noises.

When he had first sat down, Mhlanga’s secretary had thought the visiting UK minister cut quite a dash with his crazy hair and his Savile Row suit. In fact, she thought he looked rather more like a film star than a politician. However, she’d never before come across someone who expressed frustration in such a way and now assumed he must have some embarrassing digestive complaint. Consequently, she tactfully ignored him and Pinner became more frustrated and his noises grew louder still.

According to Jim Tulloh, the skeletal expat who was Pinner’s sole contact in Zambawi, Solomon Mhlanga was one of President Adini’s top aides. Frankly, Pinner didn’t understand why he wasn’t meeting the President himself, but Jim had claimed that wasn’t possible.

‘Does he know our position?’ Pinner had protested. ‘Does he know how important this is?’

‘Yeah,’ Jim said. ‘I think he does.’

Pinner was beginning to find Jim’s attitude frustrating too. This reluctant gofer appeared to find everything slightly funny. But perhaps this was just a by-product of his being half dead of half a dozen AIDS-related illnesses. Such a condition might, Pinner allowed, give one an unusual perspective.

Mhlanga’s office overlooked the croquet lawn where Jim was currently losing the third consecutive game he’d played since Pinner and Jeremy had sat down to wait. Jim’s opponent was a tall, broad-shouldered fellow in plaid tropical golfing shorts and a polo shirt.

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