“No. I would never have chosen this.”
“Then why carry on with it? There’s more at stake than just your future.”
She plays with a strand of hair.
“If you have children. They become your heirs.”
Her eyes tell me everything I need to know and if I could take her hand and run away with her to the Hebrides and live in a shack with just us and the elements and the birds, I would.
“I know. And I’m not prepared for that to happen, but I have to ride this out.”
“Unification?”
She shakes her head. “Not on my watch and that isn’t because I don’t agree with it. It shouldn’t be one person’s wish. None of this should. Look at my brother; all his ideals and dreams were being ploughed into something that couldn’t have been successful. What right did he have to govern people’s lives?” She pulls the hair tie and lets her blonde hair lose.
“You’ll work towards a parliament?”
“Yes. I don’t mind being a figurehead. But I’m not God. I can’t dictate without having advisors who will be sycophantic to keep their own position.”
“Your father did it.”
“My father hasn’t made a decision in two decades.”
I don’t disagree with her, because she’s right. Padan has been very good at peacekeeping, but familiarity is now breeding contempt and people need change.
“Let’s go for a walk. To the loch. I need some fresh air.”
She stands and nods. “Where Lennox used to go when he needed to think. Then I can think about him. Miss him a little.”
“Hate him a little.”
“He was my brother. That’s what we did.”
Four years before…
Lennox Stewart sits at the table with a newspaper in front of him and a cafetière of coffee. He wears glasses that make him look like the kid I bullied twice in school before I felt sorry for him but I’m not sure I’ll ever feel sorry for Lennox.
“Ben.” He stands and offers his hand, looking as joyful as a dog seeing a potential friend. “It’s good to see you. Been a long time. How are you?”
I shake his hand and sit down, wondering exactly how much of an answer he actually wants.
“Good. What can I do for you?”
He folds his paper, tidies it away. Not because he’s tidy or careful, but because he’s trying to buy himself time before explaining why he’s actually asked me to meet him here, at an inn in the middle of nowhere on a day when the roads are treacherous.
“I wanted to see if you could help out with some information.” He looks around the room as if one of the ancient suits of armour has ears and is listening to our conversation. There’s no one here; we’re completely alone. Where his security team is at is unknown but I strongly doubt he’s here alone.
I know there have been three threats against him in the last two weeks alone after he gave a speech about the power of nations working together and how we were stronger together.
“It depends what information you’re looking for. If it’s about Manchester United’s chances of winning the title, I’m no help. More of a rugby man.” I fold my arms and watch his face fluster. He isn’t used to working for what he wants.
“I heard that you work closely with intelligence. That you neutralise threats.”
“Something like that.”
Sniper. Hitman. Assassin. There were a few choices of title.
“What do you know of Iain Wray?”
