Bitter End Part 24

Buchanan smiled. 'There are several differently sized meeting rooms. I'm just counting on the political meeting being held in one big enough to let us lose ourselves in the crowd. I don't particularly want to catch Gra.s.sick's eye.'

Tn that case,' Fizz said, seizing the moment, 'you and I shouldn't take the risk of sitting together. I'll sit with Giles and you can--'

'No,' Buchanan said blandly. 'I think it would be better if Giles and I were to sit together. Just a row or two away.

If you wouldn't mind being on your own, Fizz, there are one or two points I'd like to bring up with Giles while I have the opportunity. It would save a lot of time later.'

Fizz minded like h.e.l.l since sitting next to Giles was precisely what she was here for but she would look pretty naff if she insisted on it. She might not be gagging to leap into bed with the guy, but she liked to keep her options open. It was small comfort to note that Giles was a tiny bit miffed as well. 150. 'I hope we'll have time for a drink or a coffee afterwards,'

he said. 'I don't know why it is, but I find discussing my problems with both of you helps to straighten out my thoughts on this business. I must come to a decision soon on whether to authorise the payout or not. I've already swung it longer that I should have -but I can't see any way forward.'

Tell me about it,' said Buchanan tersely. 'I planned to spend a couple of days on this inquiry and it has dragged on for over a week already. We'll get ourselves a quiet table somewhere after the meeting and do some brainstorming.'

That suited Fizz fine since it left her free to have an hour's doze while the debate went on, which she couldn't have done had Giles been with her. She had no interest in hearing what either of the factions had to say, her sole experience of politics being tainted by reluctant a.s.sociation with a friend's husband, back in Am Bealach. It was, nonetheless, interesting to see Ghengis Gra.s.sick in the flesh.

It came as something of a surprise to find that he was not the beetle-browed, blackavised ogre painted, subconsciously, by her imagination but actually quite handsome, in a horsey sort of way. His nose was too big and his cheekbones too p.r.o.nounced but he had a fine head on a strong neck that would look good cast in bronze. He sat immobile and withdrawn while the chairman introduced the panel of four speakers, none of them professional politicians but leading figures in medicine, social services, law and the media.

The first subject to come under discussion was antiabortion legislation and since Fizz already knew where she stood on that she stretched out her legs, crossed her ankles and her arms and composed herself for a period of rapid eye movement. Normally she was able to black out anywhere, any time, in seconds but the first speaker had a particularly raucous voice and, although she agreed with every word the woman said -about women having the 151. right to choose etc -the irritation to her eardrums kept jerking her back to consciousness.

The second speaker took the medical viewpoint which swayed Fizz not at all and she was just drifting into nirvana when another voice took over -a deep and powerful voice that compelled her attention -and started to say things that made her open her eyes and sit up. It was Lawrence Gra.s.sick, of course, and he was saying things that Fizz had heard before but in a way that made her distinctly uncomfortable.

He spoke, not on the legal aspect of the subject, but on the moral perspective and the psychological effect of abortion on the mother. His manner was neither bombastic nor dogmatic -in fact he was much less pa.s.sionate than the previous speaker -but he put his argument across in a quietly compelling manner that had Fizz considering really considering, for the first time -the points he made.

You could see he really meant what he was saying but that he was bending over backwards to see the opposition's point of view. Abortion was perfectly acceptable, he argued, where the mother's mental or physical health would otherwise be endangered, but the murdering of a foetus should never be considered as a form of contraception like the morning after pill. He spoke sensibly and unemotionally about the risks to a mother's mental health inherent in her decision to kill her child -or to refuse it life -and held calmly to his point of view throughout the free-for-all that ensued.

Fizz was not only hugely impressed but so fired up that, had it not been necessary to maintain her incognito status, she'd have been on her feet putting in her ten pence worth.

It was infinitely more enjoyable than the debating society at the uni, which she also quite enjoyed, and went straight down on her list as one of the best free entertainments the city had to offer.

She found Buchanan and Giles in the entrance lobby, talking to a suit with a moustache, but the group broke up just as she joined them. 152. 'Who was that?' she asked Buchanan.

'Phil Reece-Williams. He's a member of the Labour faction in the council.' Buchanan touched her elbow and pointed her towards the door. 'I was picking his brains about what committees Gra.s.sick was on but he had nothing interesting to tell me. He doesn't know of any crucial decisions that Gra.s.sick might be able to sway -nothing,

by implication, that might be worth blackmailing him for.'

'Back to the drawing board,' Giles said, taking her other arm and giving it a brief but promising squeeze. 'One step forward and another step back.'

They headed for the nearest watering place, a hotel lounge half a block away, and installed themselves in a corner with a pot of coffee and, because Fizz's Chinese carry-out had scarcely registered on her appet.i.te, a selection of fancy m.u.f.fins.

'You said earlier that you were hoping to waylay the postman,' Buchanan said to Giles. 'Did you have any luck?'

'Lenny. Yes, I spoke to him,' Giles nodded, 'but he was in a bit of a hurry and wasn't willing to give me a lot of time. Apparently Vanessa Gra.s.sick rarely spent time at Brora Lodge during the winter months and Lawrence only used it intermittently. If he had work that he needed peace to concentrate on he'd take it to the cottage, usually at weekends but occasionally midweek as well. He'd been using the cottage every weekend for at least a month, if Lenny's memory is correct but, of course, he has no idea what project Gra.s.sick might have been working on.'

'Probably not a political one,' Buchanan surmised, 'judging by what Reece-Williams just said. And, if it's a legal project, it's not one that's on his calendar, that much I do know.'

'So, where does that leave us?' Fizz snapped, still suffering the traces of belligerence she'd had to suppress at the debate. 'He could be writing a book, for G.o.d's sake, or studying Sanskrit. There's no way we're going to find out what he was up to.' 153. Buchanan stirred his coffee thoughtfully. 'Not unless Vanessa knew what he was doing and mentioned it to Rudyard. Maybe we should pay him another visit.'

'I'll do it,' Fizz said. 'I want to see that guy for myself.'

She had half hoped that Giles would offer to accompany her but he wasn't in favour of overkill. The look in Buchanan's eye, however, told her that it would be a long time before she went anywhere without him. 154.

Chapter Thirteen.

Buchanan was bored out of his skull by the time he got rid

of Giles. The three of them had stayed sitting there at their

table reviewing evidence, tossing around possibilities and

cudgelling their brains until gone eleven. Quite unnecessary

and, as it turned out, a complete waste of time. Of course, wasting time was the whole point of the exercise, as far as Buchanan was concerned because the later they parted, the more convincingly he could persuade Fizz of the advisability of staying overnight at his place.

He had antic.i.p.ated that either Fizz or Giles would initiate the close of business, but it was clear from the outset that they viewed the discussion as merely an excuse to enjoy each other's company and, for all he knew, play footsie under the table.

'Well, I have to admit I enjoyed that more than I'd expected to,' Fizz announced when they got back to the car.

Buchanan, having decided to make no mention of her obvious approval of Giles, replied rather dryly, 'Yes. I noticed.'

She turned her head and regarded him at her leisure for several seconds. He immediately regretted his stupidity and braced himself for the put-down he deserved, but all she said was, 'No, I'm talking about the debate. Ghengis is a powerful speaker, isn't he? It makes it all the more surprising that he has such a short temper. I mean, you'd imagine he'd be able to put his point across convincingly, 155. during a disagreement, without getting all frustrated and losing the place.'

'Lack of vocabulary is one reason for tantrums,'

Buchanan agreed, dawdling his way along George Street on a route that could be construed as leading to both their places of residence, 'but it pre-supposes an audience of equal intelligence to the speaker. I imagine super-intelligent people like Gra.s.sick get easily frustrated by stupidity.'

Fizz looked out at the virtually empty street. 'You'd have been quicker going the other way and up the Mound,'

she pointed out.

That's true.' Buchanan tried to sound as if he hadn't thought of that but knew right away that she was on to him and decided to come clean. 'I was about to suggest that you crash at my place tonight. It's pretty late and . . .

to be honest. . . I . . .'

'If I were stolen away for the white slave traffic you'd feel guilty for wis.h.i.+ng it on me so often. Am I right?'

'Only partly,' he said virtuously. 'The main reason being that I have evil designs on you and plan to slip you a shot of my mother's elderflower wine and ruin your reputation.'

'Hm. Is that your final offer?'

'Glenmorangie?'

'You interest me strangely. Can I have the bed?'

'Gad, you drive a hard bargain, woman!'

'Okay. Keep your pest of a moggie away from me and you've got a deal.'

Relief made Buchanan generous. He encouraged her to indulge herself with a long bath while he made up a bed for himself on the couch and then shared a considerable amount of his malt whisky with her while she dried her hair. His feelings, as he watched her sitting on the floor in his bathrobe fluffing up her ringlets, he put down to the effects of alcohol and drowned them in another dram which was enough to give him a good night's sleep.

Fizz was already up and about when he awoke. He could smell the coffee she'd made and hear Selina complaining 156. about being shut into her travelling basket for the night.

When he staggered into the kitchen, there was Fizz at the table surrounded by the makings of a hearty breakfast and reading his paper. She eyed him critically.

'You should stay off the liquor, Buchanan. You don't have the const.i.tution for it.'

Buchanan grunted and reached for the coffee pot. In another half-hour, after he'd showered and shaved and disposed of the rest of the coffee, he might feel like conversing, but seven-thirty in the morning was no time for social intercourse. Fortunately Fizz was more interested in the morning's news and he heard nothing further from her than a sound of munching coming from behind the Scotsman.

She left for the office before Buchanan because, she said, she wanted to walk. This was completely in character because it was a beautiful morning again and the office was only ten minutes away, but Buchanan wondered if she was also being diplomatic. If they arrived for work together just once every member of staff would be aware of it and the obvious conclusions would be drawn. It was a pity, because he was tempted to walk with her but, he reasoned, he needed the car at the office in case he had to go out during the day.