AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Mr. Ladd coughs into his hand, though I believe it to be an affectation rather than a real cough. “Moving on. The room has been swept. Nothing comes in or out, including but not limited to radio waves. What you say and hear does not leave the room. Are we understood?”
“I understand.”
“I’m sorry. What I meant to say is, do you agree?”
“Of course. Whatever Pippa has to say will remain between us.” Though what, precisely, she has to say that is of such import is beyond me. She is a fire-eating, fire-walking instructor at a resort. I am a polo professional. I may meet people who wield wealth and political influence, but my actions have no bearing upon world events. At least, they never have before now.
“Excellent. As you know, you are not technically required to physically sign the Official Secrets Act. The fact of me informing you that you are bound by it is enough. However, we prefer a boots and suspenders approach. Yes, bootsandsuspenders.”
As I understand it, the Official Secrets Act, is Great Britain’s ultimate non-disclosure agreement. This is fine. I have signed many such documents before. Every polo sponsor has one. My ownWounded Warrior Workforceuses one because the veterans sometimes speak of things that should never go beyond our walls.
Mr. Ladd produces a sheaf of papers and a fountain pen and spreads them on the table before me.
The papers are dense, but the gist is clear. Just as he says, I am not to repeat what is about to be revealed.
Mr. Ladd pushes his glasses up his nose. “If I may, I’d like to explain the Act. Under Section 1, a person commits the offence of spying if,for any purpose prejudicial to the safety or interests of the State, they enter a prohibited place defined under the Act; make or communicate a plan, sketch, model or note which is calculated to be useful to an enemy.”
Okay. Well, I haven’t entered any prohibited spaces, so that doesn’t apply to me. I look to Pippa for guidance, but she has her hands folded in her lap, her knees to one side (not crossed) and her eyes down, just as The Trunchbull instructed the ladies to sit.
“There are further categories, if I may?” Mr. Ladd has not relaxed his stance, his hands remain alabaster white, his knuckles threatening to break the skin. “The 1989 Act creates offenses connected with the unauthorized disclosure of information in six specified categories. These are…” He lists six very serious-sounding categories, none of which apply to me.
It all seems rather cloak and dagger, and I can think of nothing I have done, nor ever will do, that is of such significance to “the State.” A perverse part of me wants to tell him my concerns are Lolly and polo—in that order—not state secrets, but I resist. If Pippa requires me to sign these documents for her comfort or safety, then I shall oblige.
Apparently satisfied, Mr. Ladd retrieves his pen, gathers up the papers, and stands to attention next to Pippa, head lowered and eyes hooded.
“Thank you, Ladd.” Pippa dismisses him with a tight smile and a nod.
He bows, rather lower than I expect Englishmen to bow, and backs up towards the door. My alert alarm is sounding.
“Don’t pay him any mind. He’s full of his own self-importance.” She reaches for the teapot. “Shall I be mother?”
It’s an English question I’ve learned requires no answer. They ask it before they pour tea, or, in some cases, as they’re pouring. It’s a rhetorical question I have yet to unravel.
“As you’ve no doubt guessed, Henrietta was a plant, a feint, an actor designed to draw the eye away from the matter at hand.” She hands me my tea and offers the plate of biscuits.
I have guessed nothing of the kind, though the poem I was asked to recite to theforeignerand the subsequent TMZ pictures suggest there’s something afoot.
“I mentioned last night there’s a trade deal in the offing. I can’t discuss the specifics, but the deal between Alan and ourforeign friendmust go ahead, albeit quietly.”
“How can I help?”
“We require a certain amount of disinformation to be shared.”
“Disinformation? As in, lies?” Lolly’s accusations fill my head, nearly drowning out what Pippa says next. If I’m to have any hope with Lolly ever again, there can be no lies.
“If anyone asks, Alan deals in imported goods. You barely spoke to thevisiting gentleman. You know nothing of what passed between them.”
This is no lie. I can put my hand to all of that without compromising myself. Though if I am to infer a deeper meaning, Alan—the one who plays the donkey so, so well—is not an importer of luxury goods. Do I need to know more? Not if my primary purpose is to win Lolly back…
“The whole point of me being here—the reason I was sent in the first place—was to make sure the two of them met.” Pippa hauls me back to the present. Even as my love is in tatters, the world turns. History does not pause for the brokenhearted. Nor time.
“Oh.”
“To tell you more would be unwise.”
I need to give Pippa my attention in this moment. “You were sent? ToThrills, Spills, & Kills?”
“Indeed.”
