of your own. Or not as far as we know, given your prolonged periods of foreign exile.’
‘No.’
‘And none off the record?’
‘No.’
‘Joe,’ says Brammel, turning to Joe Lavender, star of internal security, ‘you had a couple of questions.’
*
Joe Lavender has to wait his turn. A Shakespearean messenger has popped up in the person of Marion’s second spear-carrier. With Guy’s permission he would like to ask me a question that has just come in from his Service’s investigative team. It is inscribed on a thin strip of paper that he holds between the fingertips of each huge hand.
‘Nat. Were you personally or were you at any point aware,’ he enquires with aggressive clarity, ‘during the course of your many conversations with Edward Stanley Shannon, that his mother Eliza is on record as a serial marcher, protester and rights activist on a wide range of peace and similar issues?’
‘No, I was not so aware,’ I retort, feeling the bile rise in me despite my best intentions.
‘And your lady wife, we are being told, is also a robust defender of our basic human rights, no disrespect. Am I correct?’
‘Yes. Very robust.’
‘Which I’m sure we would all agree is only to be applauded. May I then enquire, has there been to the best of your knowledge any interaction or communication between Eliza Mary Shannon and your lady wife?’
‘To the best of my knowledge, there has been no such interaction or communication.’
‘Thank you.’
‘My pleasure.’
Exit messenger left.
*
A period of random questions and answers follows, a kind of free-for-all that remains foggy in my memory, while my chers collègues take it in turns to ‘tighten up the nuts and bolts’ of Nat’s story, as Brammel kindly puts it. A silence falls and Joe Lavender finally takes the floor. His voice leaves no prints. It has no social or regional origin. It is a homeless, plaintive, nasal drawl.
‘I want to stay with that first moment when Shannon picked you up at the Athleticus,’ he says.
‘Can we say challenged, if you don’t mind?’
‘And you, in order to save his face, which is what you said, thereupon accepted his challenge. Did you observe, as a trained member of this Service, or do you recall now, any casual strangers at the bar – new members, male or female, guests of Club members – taking a more than normally close interest in the proceedings?’
‘No.’
‘I am told the Club is open to the public. Members may bring guests. Guests may buy drinks at the bar, provided they’re accompanied by a member. Are you telling me as a matter of certainty that Shannon’s approach to you—’
‘Challenge.’
‘—that Shannon’s challenge was not covered or observed in some manner by interested parties? Obviously we’ll be getting on to the Club under a pretext and digging out whatever video footage they’ve got.’
‘I did not observe at the time, and nor do I recall now, anyone taking a more than normally close interest.’
‘They wouldn’t though, would they, not that you’d notice, not if they were professionals?’
‘There was a group at the bar having a bit of fun, but they were familiar faces. And don’t bother hunting for footage. We haven’t installed any video.’
Joe’s eyes open wide in theatrical surprise.
‘Oh? No video? Dear me. That’s a bit strange, isn’t it, these days? Big place, lot of comings and goings, money changing hands, but no video.’
‘It was a committee decision.’
‘You yourself being on the committee, we’re told. Did you support the decision not to instal video?’
‘Yes, I did.’
‘Would that be because, in common with your wife, you do not approve of the surveillance state?’
‘Do you mind keeping my wife out of this?’
Did he hear me? Apparently not. He’s busy.
‘So why didn’t you register him?’ he enquires, not bothering to lift his head from the open box file on his lap.
‘Register who?’
‘Edward Shannon. Your weekly and sometimes biweekly badminton date. Service regulations require you to inform Human Resources of all regular contacts of either sex regardless of the nature of the activity. The records of your Athleticus Club tell us that you have encountered Shannon on no fewer than fourteen separate occasions over a highly consecutive period of time. I’m wondering why you didn’t register him at all.’
I manage an easy smile. Just. ‘Well, Joe, I should think over the years I have played a couple of hundred opponents. Some of them – what? – twenty, thirty times? I don’t imagine you’d want them all registered on my personal file.’
‘Did you take a decision not to register Shannon?’
‘It wasn’t a case of deciding.