Chapter48
Sunny
Ludo and I spent the rest of the coronation’s long weekend together, bouncing between Ludo’s place and mine, watching musicals and cheesy films, walking on the heath, and shagging until our knobs were raw. By Monday night all my cock could produce was puffs of dust. Time well spent, to be fair. I was sitting up against the pillows of my bed, bare-chested, reading a document on my phone. Ludo nuzzled into me. I leant down to inhale the scent of him, expecting warm linen, and got a bit of a shock.
“These sheets are screaming for a wash,” I said.
“I think it’s too late for that. The only course is to burn them and start afresh.”
“Bourgeoise!”
He kissed my nipple and ran his hand across my chest.
“What are you reading? Mao’s Little Red Book?”
“Just a piece about this new National Infrastructure Committee Carstairs is setting up. I think we need to knuckle down if we’re going to get to the bottom of what’s really going on with this nuclear power plant deal. Time is getting away from us.”
Ludo agreed.
“OK, let’s work out our plan of action,” I said, dropping my phone and kissing my way down Ludo’s forehead and cheeks before stopping to (metaphorically) suck the lips right off him.
“Come on, Henry Hoover,” Ludo said, breaking free. “Plan-of-action time.”
“You’re proper sexy when you put your foot down.”
“Right, that’s it.” Ludo jumped up and put on his shirt.
“Aw!”
* * *
PMQs was back on the Wednesday, and it was full of the kind of knee bending and toadying you expect from politicians, wanking on about the coronation and the event putting theGreatinto Great Britain. What would really put theGreatinto Great Britain was a functional health service and jobs north of Hertfordshire. I sat next to Ludo, our legs pressed firmly against each other under the table.
A backbench MP began her Dorothy Dixer question: “Does the prime minister agree with me…” Ludo put down his pencil and slid his hand down against my leg. I did the same and looped my little finger through his. He smiled at me. A beautiful, beaming, conspiratorial smile. There were hundreds of people in this room, but there was only the two of us. I winked at him and tried to hide the stupid grin on my face so the rest of the press gallery reporters didn’t begin to think anything was up.
* * *
On Thursday, I paid a visit to my new “friend” and co-conspirator, Vladimir Popov. When Ludo and I had divided the research and interviewing tasks for the nuclear plant story between us, I had taken VladPop, and he had taken Torsten Beaumont-Flattery. We needed to find out what they knew, whose side they were on, and whether they were likely to leak anything in our direction. I sat in VladPop’s Westminster office, wondering if he actually paid someone to vacuum the taxidermy. He entered with two cups of tea.
“How are my little lovebirds?” He sat down, passing me a cup and saucer. One coronation and suddenly everyone had gone parody levels of English. What next, bowler hats?
“I’ll tell you as long as you tell me something first,” I said.
“Oh, you’re getting good at this game. Look at you, flexing your muscles.” VladPop made his overdeveloped pecs bounce under his shirt to really underline the point. It kind of felt like flirting, but I didn’t want to think about that for too long. “What do you want to know, Mr Miller?”
“What do you know about a company called ZephEnergies Limited?”
If the question threw him, Vladimir didn’t let on. I suppose you don’t get to be chief whip unless you know how to hold a hand at poker. He shrugged.
“I don’t recall ever hearing that name before,” he said, and he must have caught a glimmer in my eye or something because, just as I was about to tell him I knew he was lying, that I’d seen a letter from the company on his desk, he changed his answer. “No, wait. I think they wrote to me once. It’ll be on file in the electorate office if they did. Mandy will know. Why, what have they done?”
I needed to play my cards close to my chest here. I didn’t want to disclose what I knew, but if I was going to stand up my theory that ZephEnergies had effectively been given the go-ahead on the Newton Bardon nuclear plant, then I needed to know how deep the conspiracy went. Was the entire cabinet in on it, or was Carstairs freelancing? And, either way, why? VladPop was my best source in cabinet.
“Their name has been mentioned in relation to Newton Bardon,” I said. “Is there any truth in it?”
“We’ve only just announced the new National Infrastructure Committee,” VladPop said. “It hasn’t even met yet. It’d be premature to comment.”
“Has the prospect of ZephEnergies taking over the project been discussed at cabinet?”
