The Call of Destiny (The Return of Arthur Book 1) by Unknown Read Free Book Online

straight to the
point, Merlin. May I call you Merlin?’
    He already had, hadn’t he? ‘Of course.’
    ‘I am authorised by the Prime
Minister to offer you a knighthood.’
    ‘Why?’
    Now the PPS had considerable
experience in such matters. Offers of honours elicited varying responses;
either fulsome gratitude, or incredulity, or some disingenuous expression of
unworthiness was invariably involved. Never in his experience had anyone
responded with a question quite so challenging, more than challenging –
provoking. ‘Are you asking me in what way you have earned a knighthood?’
    ‘Not at all,’ said Merlin, ‘I
have not the slightest doubt that I have earned it. I am questioning the Prime
Minister’s motives in offering it to me.’
    Bloody impertinence. Who did this spook think
he was? The PPS took a deep breath and resolved to remain calm. His speciality
was handling awkward customers with skill and tact. ‘The PM feels it is time to
recognise your outstanding work in research. He believes, and I understand his
view is shared by the President of the United States, that your contribution
has been unique and invaluable in many fields, not least in the development of
new weapons systems, satellite surveillance, communications, and
micro-technology – to say nothing of your remarkable work with – um – robots.’
    ‘What you say about my work is
undoubtedly true,’ said Merlin, who saw no point in false modesty. ‘I was
wondering whether the timing of the offer had any particular significance?’
    ‘A simple case of achievement justly rewarded.’
    ‘There are no conditions
attached? Because if there are . . . ’ ‘None whatsoever,’ confirmed Pettifer.
    Merlin considered. ‘I am most
grateful for the honour, then.’
    ‘It is we who should be
grateful. Your work at Weapons Research has been, and of course continues to
be, of national importance.’
    Merlin’s eyes flashed.
‘Continues to be? But I have handed in my resignation. Had you not heard?’
    An unctuous beam. ‘I believe
there was some . . . chatter, though I never took it seriously. Anyway, I
imagine that now . . . ’
    ‘Am I being asked to withdraw my resignation?’
    Alec Pettifer shifted uneasily
in his chair. He was not accustomed to being put in corners. A corner was not a
convenient place from which to conduct good public relations. ‘The PM expects
nothing from his friends, nothing, that is, but loyalty. I’m not saying he
would not be enormously . . . pleased, and . . . relieved, if you were to see
fit to stay on another . . . what shall we say?’ He was suddenly uncomfortably
aware of the unsettling effect of Merlin’s gaze. It was like being observed by
two shining satellite dishes. ‘ . . . another year or two, perhaps? Entirely up
to you, of course. Absolutely voluntary.’ He bared his teeth, emphasising how
voluntary it was. ‘Shall we say . . . three or four years? So much work to be
done. Your decision, naturally. The PM was adamant. No conditions, no deals. He
has the very greatest respect for your integrity.’
    ‘And my millennium proposals
for research and development?’
    ‘Are being studied.’
    ‘What about my paper on the
formation of a dedicated anti- terrorist task force?’
    ‘That too is under
consideration.’ ‘But not acted on.’
    ‘Give it time, Merlin. The
wheels of government . . . ’ ‘How long?’
    The PPS offered up the palms
of his hands. ‘We do what we can. The constraints of budgets, you know. People
do so loathe paying taxes. Who can blame them?’
    He was already congratulating
himself on his people skills, and on a job well done. It could so easily have
ended differently. Pushing back his chair, he clapped his hands on his knees
and leaned forward, indicating that the meeting was over. ‘Your name will be in
the New Year’s Honours’ List. May I be the first to congratulate you.’
    Merlin stood. ‘Be sure to
thank the Prime Minister. Tell him how much I appreciate his kind