“Now you sound like a conspiracy theorist. Maybe you should start a blog.”
Sarah laughed. “No one blogs these days, Winston. Even you should know that.”
“So I take it you’ll be out front with the protestors, then?”
“Mmm. Perhaps not that far.” There were any number of protests going on these days. Most were concerned with the ongoing deportee crisis. The European Union had made clear that it intended to refuse all deportation claims unless they were settled on British soil before arriving on the continent.
Temporary emigration offices had been set up in Southwark and elsewhere, but word was they were already overwhelmed. Some people were protesting the EU, others on behalf of the deportees and a few for issues only tangentially related to the crisis. She sat back. “At least not until I see what our Right Honourable Prime Minister has up his sleeve.”
It was Winston’s turn to laugh. “Pragmatic as ever, Sarah.”
“One does what one must for one’s constituency, Winston. Speaking of which…”
“Albion,” he said.
“Indeed. I hear you’re thinking of swinging your weight behind them.”
“And who told you that?”
“A little bird.”
“Gossipy things, birds. Because I’d heard the same thing about you.”
Sarah paused. “Did you now?”
Winston nodded. “Oh yes. Sarah Lincoln and law-and-order go hand in hand. Forgive me for saying so, but there’s always been a strong whiff of New Labour about you. People remember these things.”
Sarah considered this. “I admit, I’ve always had a soft spot for market economics, but I don’t know that I’d go that far. And you’re hardly one to talk, Winston.”
“Fair dues,” he said. He sipped his coffee, watching her over the rim. “But I think we both have the best interests of Tower Hamlets at heart, don’t you?”
“I hope so.”
“Good.” Winston smiled again. “By the way, I invited Nigel Cass. To join us today.”
Sarah didn’t give him the satisfaction of reacting. “How lovely, I wanted to speak to him as well. Thank you, Winston. You’ve saved me a trip.”
“Not even a twitch,” Winston said, with some disappointment. “Am I that predictable, Sarah? Or are you merely that devious?”
“A little of both, I think.” Sarah folded her menu and set it aside. The waitress was closing in, an anxious look on her face. “Have you eaten here before?”
“Once or twice.”
“Order for me.”
Winston smirked, but did as she asked. She turned her attentions to the rest of the clientele. They were all of a type: young, professional, well-off… the exact sort of people one wanted in one’s borough.
“They all look a bit like shop dummies, don’t they?” Winston murmured.
Sarah looked at him. “I wouldn’t say that. Not in public, at any rate. When is Cass supposed to be here?”
“Any minute now. I– ah, speak of the devil.” Winston stood, and Sarah followed his example. Nigel Cass prowled through the tables, moving like a man awaiting enemy fire. He was accompanied by four other men – hard-faced, well-dressed, but uncomfortable in their suits, obviously bodyguards – and a young woman. The woman was pretty, in a cool sort of way. Another Oxbridge clone, Sarah thought, somewhat uncharitably. She had her Optik in hand, and was talking softly to someone. A PA, then.
The bodyguards peeled off, taking up unobtrusive positions across the room, where they could watch Cass without being obvious about it. The PA stayed glued to his side, still talking. Cass didn’t so much as look at her.
“Ah, Nigel,” Winston said, arms spread in welcome. “We’re pleased you could make it. I trust we’re not taking you away from anything important?”
“Nothing that can’t rescheduled,” Cass said. He nodded to Winston, and looked at Sarah. “Ms Lincoln. A pleasure to see you again.” He looked at his PA. “Go get a drink. Leave us to it.”
The woman hesitated. Cass made a sharp gesture. “I said go.” She went, visibly reluctant. He smiled apologetically as they sat. “Danielle is in public relations. She’s working to… rehabilitate my image for the public.”
“And does it need rehabilitation?” Sarah asked, innocently.
Cass grinned mirthlessly. “I wouldn’t know. Not my area. But it is yours, isn’t it? I saw you on the news, standing firm against my man, Faulkner. He had quite a bit to say about it, in this morning’s briefing.”
Sarah allowed herself a smile. “I’m sure he did. And how is Mr Faulkner?”
“Sergeant,” Cass corrected.
“Hmm?”
“It’s Sergeant Faulkner.”
Sarah gestured aimlessly. “I trust he wasn’t too put out by that bit of theatre?”
Cass frowned. “Saying he’s put out is putting it mildly. You dressed him down in front of the lower ranks and the locals.”
“Winston and I are locals as well,” she said.
Winston nodded and joined in. “The fact is, your man has been throwing his weight around a bit. He was due a bollocking, and Sarah gave him one. Trifle more public than I myself might have done in her place, but it was overdue.” He shrugged apologetically. “I’m sorry, but there it is.”
Cass stared at them for a moment. Then he nodded and looked at his menu. “Is that why you invited me to lunch in the mess? To complain about the conduct of my men?”
“Not at all. We merely wished to get better acquainted.”
“And to pump me for information.” Cass smiled. “Fine. I’m always open to answering questions. I have a – well – what you might call a reductionist view of the world. Good versus evil, that sort of thing. As politicians, you don’t have the luxury of that sort of view, I know, but I’m not a politician.”
“Oh, except you are, now,” Sarah said. “Of sorts, at least.”
Cass grimaced. “Don’t remind me.”
Sarah and Winston laughed politely.
“But you are,” she pressed. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have come for lunch.”
“I was taught to seize opportunities when they present themselves,” he said, studying her. She could read the interest in his eyes. “You’re a perceptive woman. You two are my biggest opponents at the moment. If I can flip you, it solves most
