Page 8 of End Game
‘Of course they do,’ said Artemisia. ‘But what theydon’tknow is how I plan to hold on to the job. You see, it’s only temporary, during the Games, but the editor has said he’ll consider offering me a full-time position if I can come up with an exclusive. He hinted that I could take advantage of my father’s position.’
‘Clearly a man who specializes in bribery and corruption,’ suggested Ross. ‘Although I’m sure a smart kid like you will have no trouble coming up with an exclusive without your father’s help.’
‘Not much of a kid any more,’ said Artemisia, wistfully. ‘I have a few ideas but … if I’m to land an exclusive, I could do with your particular brand of,’ she paused, ‘wickedness.’
Ross laughed. ‘Fire away, young lady.’
‘I need to find a way of getting into the athletes’ village, but I don’t have a pass.’
‘You could ask your father to supply one. After all, he’s in charge of security.’
‘I don’t want him to know what I’m up to,’ admitted Artemisia, as she looked over Ross’s shoulder. ‘Which is why I need you and not my father.’
He grinned. Unlike the commander, Ross had never exactly followed the rulebook to the letter. Even his recent reprieve from traffic couldn’t hold him back. He remained silent for a few moments, before he said, ‘You’ll have to get hold of an official accreditation badge that will allow you access to the athletes’ village at any time.’
‘How do I get one of those?’ asked Artemisia.
Ross lowered his voice and said, ‘First, you’ll have to find a competitor who …’
•••
Across the other side of the garden, William was chatting to his mother, Mary, while Beth was deep in conversation with Christina and her husband, Wilbur. Beth and Christina’s friendship had been long and not always smooth. Christina had lived an unusual life, that included a brief and tumultuous marriage to Miles Faulkner, and there had been a time when Beth was never quite sure if she could trust her – but since marrying Wilbur Hackensack twelve years ago, her friend had been transformed. They had been working together at the Fitzmolean Museum for several years now, with Beth as director and Christina as chair of the board.
‘I’d love to know what those two are scheming,’ said Beth, as she looked across at her daughter and Ross.
‘No good, would be my bet,’ suggested Christina, with a grin.
‘So dare one ask,’ said Wilbur. ‘How’s the special exhibition coming along?’
‘So far so good. All being well,The Hermitage Comes to the Fitzmoleanwill be opening in two months’ time,’ replied Beth. ‘I can’t believe it’s finally happening. It seems years ago that I first wrote to the director of the Hermitage in Saint Petersburg to suggest an exchange of Dutch paintings for a dual exhibition. Back then, I didn’t even receive a reply.’
‘But that was before London landed the Olympics,’ said Christina.
‘That reminds me – the Russian Ambassador has invited me to a gala reception at the embassy next month, and they’ve asked for a list of people who should be invited.’
‘Yes, I know,’ said Christina. ‘My invitation arrived this morning.’
‘A gala reception came as a surprise, considering howuncommunicative most of our exchanges with the Hermitage have been so far.’
‘A goodwill gesture, perhaps,’ suggested Christina.
‘I don’t think you’ll find the word goodwill in a Russian dictionary,’ chipped in Wilbur. ‘And one thing’s for certain, they don’t make gestures.’
‘It’s probably nothing,’ said Beth, ‘but …’
‘What does William have to say on the subject?’ asked Christina.
‘I haven’t mentioned it to him,’ admitted Beth. ‘He’s got enough problems of his own at the moment. And, to be honest, I don’t really know what I’m concerned about. It’s just an uneasy feeling that something isn’t quite right.’
‘Why not have a word with Ross?’ said Christina.
‘He’d tell me I’m just overreacting,’ Beth said, as she looked across at William’s mother on the other side of the garden.
•••
‘What’s Ross up to these days?’ asked Mary.
‘Still issuing parking tickets to anyone caught on a double yellow line,’ said Alice, ‘although I know he’d much prefer to be chasing real criminals.’
