The Barbershop Seven (123 page)

Of the six people around the table, all the men had stopped listening to him at around the time that he'd started sounding like Winnie the Pooh. Wanderlip had heard it all and gave JLM a suitable look of contempt.

'Sounds like you're going to pish all over us again,' said Stratton.

JLM nodded and smiled disarmingly. At least you're switched on, you nebby wee cow, he thought.

'Right people,' said JLM, shuffling his papers like he was a newsreader, 'we're through. Let's get out there and kick some backsides.'

'Excuse me,' said Wanderlip, as the men in the room began evacuation procedures. Each of them slumped back into their seats with a resigned sigh. What was the stupid arse going to say now?

'Yes?' asked JLM. One word, a very, very patronising tone.

'Is there the slightest possibility that we could discuss policy, now that we're all in the same room?' said Wanderlip. 'I've got some major issues here, you know. There's a rumour that MotoCell are thinking of closing their communications factory in Bathgate.'

'Why's that a problem?' said JLM. Weirdlove regarded him with a raised eyebrow.

'Several thousand jobs!' said Wanderlip, in a duh-huh tone. 'You know how many millions we, the Executive, have plunged into the bloody thing? We have given them massive government support to keep the factory going, and now it looks like they're just going to pull out, moving the entire operation to Azerbaijan.'

JLM nodded soberly. The loss of thousands of jobs never looked good. Of course, none of the decisions around MotoCell had ever had anything to do with him. It was all the work of his predecessor, Wanderlip and the chancellor in Westminster. So, it could all work out well for him.

'You know, Winnie,' he said, 'I don't even know where Azerbaijan is. Anyone else got any points?'

The men were all keen to get going, and had nothing to say. Nelly Stratton could've talked all day, but just didn't see the point. Wanderlip was too apoplectic to speak. The words would eventually come, but not before JLM had said 'Champion!' and walked out the room, Weirdlove in his wake, The Amazing Mr X ahead of him, armed with rocket launched CS gas canisters.

***

T
wenty minutes later Nelly Stratton was standing at the window of a small ancillary room on the top floor of the Assembly Building, with nothing but towels, brooms, cleaning fluids and large packets of rough-around-the-edges toilet roll for company. Looking out at the sun on Arthur's Seat, the tourists still pounding their way to the top, to be buffeted by the winds that always blow up there.

She was waiting for someone. Another of her little clandestine meetings, of which she generally had one or two a day. This was a little different however, as she wasn't looking to undermine the idiotic leader of the Executive. She had had enough of his total elimination of parliament in the decision making process. As Minister for Parliamentary Business, she was offended by his complete disregard for the seat of government, and she had not been at all fooled by his stupid Three Musketeers speech at the cabinet meeting. However, she had other concerns for the moment.

She was here to find out more about the disappearance of her cabinet colleagues. Not that she was sure the person coming to visit her would be able to help her out, but she had a feeling. With Honeyfoot, she had been unconcerned. Filiben had been a little more troubling, because there was a possible connection with her intended challenge to JLM's authority. But Wally, this was the one which had hit Stratton the hardest. Wally was harmless, the political equivalent of a mild dose of feminine itching. If someone wanted him out, then they might possibly want them all out. It could even be that Stratton's was the next neck on the chopping block.

The door opened, Stratton turned away from the window and the warmth of the sun on her face. The man glanced again along the corridor behind him, stepped into the ancillary room and closed the door.

'Mrs Stratton,' he said. 'A pleasure to be called to another of your little conflabs.'

'Cut the shite, Parker,' she said, 'and tell us what's going on with all these folk going missing.'

––––––––

'H
err Vogts!' said JLM, broad smile on his face. 'Delighted to see you. Come in, come in!'

JLM was in his inner sanctum, where he could sit, like Jean-Luc Picard, and dispense management wisdom to the lucky few who got to enter. Barney was sitting by the window of the expensive and warmly decorated little room, having spent the previous ten minutes agreeing with everything that JLM had been saying.

Vogts was shown in by The Amazing Mr X, who closed the door behind them, and took up position where he could view all avenues of entry and egress, thermonuclear handgun at the ready.

'The sun is shining,' said Vogts, smiling. 'I thought I was in continental Europe.'

JLM laughed. He was about to quip, that's what my government has done for this country, when Vogts added, 'At least until I saw the rubbish on the streets and all the young girls pushing prams, eh?'

'Yes,' said JLM, with a little less enthusiasm. 'X, any idea what's happened to Mr Weirdlove?'

The Amazing Mr X turned sharply at hearing his letter.

'Weirdlove?' he said. As JLM's personal bodyguard he took no interest in anyone other than the First Minister. He glanced quickly around the room, making sure Weirdlove wasn't in attendance, then had a quick but pointless swatch at Holyrood Road three floors below. 'Don't know,' he said.

'Sit down, sit down,' said JLM to Herr Vogts. 'Everything to your satisfaction so far on your visit?'

'More or less,' said Vogts, 'although can I just say that there's not been enough women, alcohol or loud pointless singing. This is a bizarre way to run a government.'

'Can I organise a coffee or something for you? said JLM, attempting to hold up his end of the conversation.

'
Or something
sounds good,' said Vogts. 'Can I get a beer? A German beer, not the coloured water that you drink in this country.'

'X,' said JLM, 'can you locate Herr Vogts a German beer, please?'

The Amazing Mr X looked concerned.

'I'm not actually allowed to leave your side, sir,' he said, as if he was barking orders on a parade ground.

'Do you come with me when I take a shit?' asked JLM carefully. 'Or when I go to bed with my wife? I don't think so. X, you are authorised to do things other than stand at my shoulder holding onto my wiener. Now, go find a beer.'

Reluctantly, The Amazing Mr X left his post.

'You'll remember Barn Thomson?' said JLM, indicating Barney.

'Oh yes,' said Vogts, 'the barber.'

'Financial wunderkind,' said JLM.

'I didn't get that impression,' said Vogts.

'Lovely, lovely,' said JLM. 'Now, you'll be spending most of the next few days with Mr Weirdlove, my principal political advisor. And there's one other I'd like to be involved in the consultations. I trust you've had useful discussion with your people in Berlin as to how we can solve our little problem?'

'I have had several very constructive meetings,' said Vogts.

'Good, good,' said JLM.

'On one occasion,' said Vogts, 'we constructed a ten-foot tower out of beer mats, until that idiot Voeller nudged it accidentally. Hasn't been able to hold his beer since the botched vasectomy.'

'Yes,' said JLM, 'that wasn't quite what I meant.'

Barney sat looking from one to the other with vague amusement. His mind, however, was strangely on the cabinet murders, if that's what they were. How he could glean information to help solve them, and how he could possibly extricate himself from this ridiculous position.

The door burst open and in strode Parker Weirdlove, looking a little dishevelled around the chops, having run along the corridor. Didn't like to be late for anything, even if it was only JLM.

'Gentlemen!' he barked, as he marched in. 'Just had a few things to which to attend.'

'Such as?' said JLM.

'Herr Vogts,' said Weirdlove, nodding at the guest.

Vogts returned the greeting with a casual wave of the hand.

'Mr Weirdlove,' he chimed, 'you look as if you've been making big love!'

Weirdlove smiled uncomfortably, nodding at JLM and Barney. Looked embarrassed. Having been in such a rush, he hadn't had time to mentally prep himself for Vogts.

'Well,' he said, 'I don't think so, Herr Vogts.'

'Don't be embarrassed,' said Vogts. 'We have a saying in Germany. In government, there is more than one way to fuck the country. Clever, no?'

JLM laughed that big booming laugh of his. Weirdlove smiled and wondered how he was going to get out of the next few days. Barney hadn't been listening.

The door opened without a knock and in walked James Eaglehawk, the new Minister for Finance. The initial idea of bringing him in on the Euro plan to undermine Wanderlip had now been overtaken, but his was still the kind of devious, duplicitous and positively venal mind that was required for the project. Sharp-suited and sharp-chinned, he stood before the throng.

'First Minister, sir,' he said.

'Lovely,' said JLM, 'glad you could make it, James. Herr Vogts, this is James Eaglehawk, our new Finance Minister.'

'A pleasure,' said Vogts, taking Eaglehawk's outstretched hand. 'You have a name of many birds.'

'Yes,' said Eaglehawk, with supreme cool.

'I once knew an English girl called Greattits, but I think that was more a statement on her physical attributes than her actual name.'

'The same could be said about my name,' said Eaglehawk, with effortless panache. 'I swoop like the eagle on unsuspecting prey, I hover above the ground and know every inch of my territory like the hawk. I am a hunter, and the hunted are my prey.'

'Splendid,' said JLM, in an effort to cut him off.

'The beasts of the forest are my victims,' said Eaglehawk, continuing despite JLM's best intentions.

'It's the breasts and the forest that are my victims,' said Vogts, 'and I think we know what kind of forests we're talking about.'

'Enough!' said JLM. 'Gentlemen, I have other business. I'll leave you here to begin the formulation of the plan. Remember these three things: complete discretion, precise execution, and no bollocks. Got that? Champion.'

JLM rose from his chair, regarded the room with a generous smile and clasped his hands together in a roguish manner, as if he was about to go out and give a wench a good slap on the arse.

Barney watched him with the same bemusement with which he was currently watching everything. Would not be surprised if he was about to be left alone in a room with Weirdlove, Vogts and Eaglehawk to discus Scottish fiscal matters. Might as well have the future of the country's economy in the hands of someone who had no idea where to even begin.

'Barney!' said JLM. 'Come on, I've got a very important meeting with a mademoiselle from the Canadian government, and I'm looking for a Christopher Lambert
Highlander III
.'

'Hah!' said Vogts, as Barney rose. 'I knew you were the barber.'

'Of course I'm the effing barber,' said Barney dryly, as he walked past.

'Need to speak to you later about a little law suit, Parker,' said JLM quickly, having just been caught in the middle of another lie. Then he marched out, leading Barney from the room. Just as The Amazing Mr X galumphed in, carrying a Stella Artois...

***

'Y
ou see,' said JLM a few minutes later, once more at the whim of Barney's can of mousse and dashing blow drier, 'you can trust some of your people some of the time, but not all of them all of the time, you know what I'm saying? That's why I've got the three of them in there formulating policy. Over the next couple of days I'll take each of them to the side and have a wee chat, make them think they have my ear, that they're my man on the inside. Play them off against each other, find out who's really on my side.'

'Is that what you do with the cabinet?' said Barney, with cool.

JLM snorted.

'Well, I suppose I used to, but they're just so pointless now it's not worth my time. I'm the government, not them.'

'Someone thinks them important enough to murder,' said Barney. Very smooth and entirely natural introduction, he thought. Maybe this detective business wasn't so difficult.

JLM shook his head.

'You're right,' he said. 'Can't understand it myself. Why kill something that's so insignificant that it hardly matters that it even exists? I do think it's more likely, however, that they're not dead and that they're collecting somewhere, intent on pulling some stunt, marching back to Edinburgh to take over the parliament. If they're not dead, I've got a good mind to arrest the three of them. What d'you think?'

'At the very least,' said Barney. 'In fact, if you reinstated the death penalty for treason, assuming they're not already dead, you could have them killed.'

'Very good, Barn,' said JLM, catching his eye in the mirror and nodding. 'What d'you think X?'

The Amazing Mr X, who was standing at the back of the bathroom, one eye on the window, one on the door, had been thinking about women again. However, he didn't want to be seen not to be listening to everything the boss said.

'Delicious,' he said.

'Yes,' said JLM. 'Delicious. A very good way to describe it.'

There was a knock at the door. The Amazing Mr X went through several body contortions in an effort to get himself into position to receive an attack.

'Come in,' said JLM, who didn't always share his bodyguard's flair for the dramatic.

The door opened, and Rebecca Blackadder stuck her head into the First Minister's boudoir.

'Edmund!' said JLM, looking at her in the mirror. 'What a treat. Is there anything I can do for you?'

'Building security are here, sir, I think you'd better come out.'

'Goodness me, Ed, I've got an important meeting in half an hour, and I need the right hair. What is it?'

'Nelly Stratton, First Minister,' said Blackadder.

'Christ,' he muttered under his breath. 'What does the nebby wee cow want now?'