Bit 2.5
"The figures for this month have shown a slight rise in incidents. If you look at the paper, you'll see we've had a number of incidents in the past month, spread across Guinevere, and Lancelot." He took in Humphreys' troubled gaze, and added in a placatory fahsion "Mercifully Gawain, Bedevere and Merlin have stayed trouble free so far."
But this was not enough to quell Humphreys' anxiety. His heart was sinking fast. Why was it impossible to control the SRAs? "Have DfIS managed to get to the bottom of these? How come IPC haven't been running with this?"
"George, there's no need for too much concern." Martin's attempt to placate Humphreys fell on deaf ears. "Intelligence shows that there's no pattern in the attacks, it's not a co-ordinated scheme again. Both arson attacks were results of NFA activity. The remaining incidents seem to be fall out from the last few gang members still free."
"And IPC?"
"As far as IPC are concerned, the majority of their coverage no longer deals with the SRAs. As I understand it, there is a blanket ban on any unauthorised coverage from within any of the zones."
It was true. In the heyday of the SRA conflicts, losses sustained by IPC staff attempting to cover incidents were comparable to those sustained by the Police. The introduction of the National Guard had provided scant support, and in the end, IPC Management had withdrawn all staff from the areas, except for a few individuals left behind with National Guard units to relay official statements on action.
"So apart from official statements from DfIS, IPC haven't mentioned the incidents at all?"
"Not a jot."
"Well, I suppose that's something." Humphreys relaxed a little. "Still, not exactly the news I was hoping for before going away. Nothing else to report?"
"No, George, that's the sum of it."
"Well, then, that's it for me this term. You were the last appointment of the day. Care to share a drop of brandy?"
Humphreys didn't wait for an answer, but produced a small decanter and two glasses from a draw in his desk. Pouring out a generous measure for both of them, he proferred the glass at Martin. The two men had been involved in and around government for the bulk of their careers, and once upon a time, Friday afternoon drinks had been commonplace. But with an increase in responsibility for them both, they had grown apart, and it had been some months since they had last found themselves in the position to enjoy each other's company.
"Anything nice planned for the recess?"
Martin took the glass gratefully, raised it in acknowledgement and drank a sip. "Not really George, you know me - I'm a winter sports type of chap. No, thought I'd stay on hand - for one thing, I thought it might help you relax, knowing there's someone on hand should anything arise."
Humphreys smiled gratefully "I do appreciate that, Frank. Might help me have some proper time off this year. Poor Marie and the children haven't seen me properly for months - they'll have forgotten who I am." And George Humphreys let his mind drift to his beloved family, who meant everything to him. Even good friends such as Frank Martin come and go, but Marie had been there with him since their early teens and had never wavered in her support of him. Back then, they had often talked of growing old together, and George thought, with a pang of regret, that although they had grown ever closer emotionally over the past few years, they had grown physically further apart, as their careers had lead them to live increasingly separate lives. The attempt to resolves the problems of the SRAs had therefore taken on the aspect of a personal crusade for Humphreys - as the problems decreased, he regained more of his life. And with the beast seemingly finally at bay, George Humphreys felt a sense of relief and pleasure that even Martin would have struggled to realise.
Frank Martin would never have admitted it to anyone else, but he was thinking almost enviously of the settled, stable family life of the Prime Minister, with his devoted wife, and adoring children. His passions belied his appearance as an elderly "Old Colonial" type. He constantly sought adventure and change, and as a result of this had lived an exotic and adventurous life. Yet in the calm, reserved outlook of George Humphreys, as far removed from his own view of life as you could get he had found a friend who supported him in his moments of weakness and loneliness, and someone who, strange as it may seem, he could aspire to.
Eventually, it came the time for Frank Martin to make his excuses and leave. Their parting was a fond one, full of sincere wishes of good health and fortune for the next few weeks. James showed Martin out to his car, and as they made their small talk, the latter felt a vague hint of regret at having been so critical of the good-natured PPS of the Prime Minister.
And sat in the grand office with its wood-paneling and plush green carpet, George Humphreys, the Prime Minister, let his mind wander out through the window, over the swathes of green grass, towards the tranquility and calm of the lakeside where his wife and children waited for him.
But this was not enough to quell Humphreys' anxiety. His heart was sinking fast. Why was it impossible to control the SRAs? "Have DfIS managed to get to the bottom of these? How come IPC haven't been running with this?"
"George, there's no need for too much concern." Martin's attempt to placate Humphreys fell on deaf ears. "Intelligence shows that there's no pattern in the attacks, it's not a co-ordinated scheme again. Both arson attacks were results of NFA activity. The remaining incidents seem to be fall out from the last few gang members still free."
"And IPC?"
"As far as IPC are concerned, the majority of their coverage no longer deals with the SRAs. As I understand it, there is a blanket ban on any unauthorised coverage from within any of the zones."
It was true. In the heyday of the SRA conflicts, losses sustained by IPC staff attempting to cover incidents were comparable to those sustained by the Police. The introduction of the National Guard had provided scant support, and in the end, IPC Management had withdrawn all staff from the areas, except for a few individuals left behind with National Guard units to relay official statements on action.
"So apart from official statements from DfIS, IPC haven't mentioned the incidents at all?"
"Not a jot."
"Well, I suppose that's something." Humphreys relaxed a little. "Still, not exactly the news I was hoping for before going away. Nothing else to report?"
"No, George, that's the sum of it."
"Well, then, that's it for me this term. You were the last appointment of the day. Care to share a drop of brandy?"
Humphreys didn't wait for an answer, but produced a small decanter and two glasses from a draw in his desk. Pouring out a generous measure for both of them, he proferred the glass at Martin. The two men had been involved in and around government for the bulk of their careers, and once upon a time, Friday afternoon drinks had been commonplace. But with an increase in responsibility for them both, they had grown apart, and it had been some months since they had last found themselves in the position to enjoy each other's company.
"Anything nice planned for the recess?"
Martin took the glass gratefully, raised it in acknowledgement and drank a sip. "Not really George, you know me - I'm a winter sports type of chap. No, thought I'd stay on hand - for one thing, I thought it might help you relax, knowing there's someone on hand should anything arise."
Humphreys smiled gratefully "I do appreciate that, Frank. Might help me have some proper time off this year. Poor Marie and the children haven't seen me properly for months - they'll have forgotten who I am." And George Humphreys let his mind drift to his beloved family, who meant everything to him. Even good friends such as Frank Martin come and go, but Marie had been there with him since their early teens and had never wavered in her support of him. Back then, they had often talked of growing old together, and George thought, with a pang of regret, that although they had grown ever closer emotionally over the past few years, they had grown physically further apart, as their careers had lead them to live increasingly separate lives. The attempt to resolves the problems of the SRAs had therefore taken on the aspect of a personal crusade for Humphreys - as the problems decreased, he regained more of his life. And with the beast seemingly finally at bay, George Humphreys felt a sense of relief and pleasure that even Martin would have struggled to realise.
Frank Martin would never have admitted it to anyone else, but he was thinking almost enviously of the settled, stable family life of the Prime Minister, with his devoted wife, and adoring children. His passions belied his appearance as an elderly "Old Colonial" type. He constantly sought adventure and change, and as a result of this had lived an exotic and adventurous life. Yet in the calm, reserved outlook of George Humphreys, as far removed from his own view of life as you could get he had found a friend who supported him in his moments of weakness and loneliness, and someone who, strange as it may seem, he could aspire to.
Eventually, it came the time for Frank Martin to make his excuses and leave. Their parting was a fond one, full of sincere wishes of good health and fortune for the next few weeks. James showed Martin out to his car, and as they made their small talk, the latter felt a vague hint of regret at having been so critical of the good-natured PPS of the Prime Minister.
And sat in the grand office with its wood-paneling and plush green carpet, George Humphreys, the Prime Minister, let his mind wander out through the window, over the swathes of green grass, towards the tranquility and calm of the lakeside where his wife and children waited for him.
posted by U-B | 3:09 pm
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