God's Crusade

Part Two

"Sharon Rosen is not exactly the ideal conduit, is she?" Charles Buckingham suggested as he slumped wearily onto the sofa in his Downing Street office.

"She might be the next President Charles and she is a staunch Republican who has adopted several Reformist policies," Quentin Robinson-Smythe replied, handing his Prime Minister a large gin and tonic. It was an evening meeting and they both needed to relax a little after a long heavy day. Charles especially, Quentin thought, noticing how old his boss was looking and how tired he seemed almost all the time. The top job was a demanding one. It was impossible to escape the ravages of it but Robinson-Smythe was quite surprised by the sight of him up close. Buckingham was only just in his fifties, but he looked much older. "She is also the only senior member of the good old party that I have a diplomat having an illicit affair with, of course..."

"I think that is one of those things I really don't need to know Quentin...it hardly fits the moral code these days...the question is, can she make the right introductions? Can we trust her?"

"She is fairly amenable, I believe." Robinson-Smythe continued, taking his own seat on the other side of the room before sighing with pleasure as he took a long drink from his own glass. "The GOP are scared they will lose...we are offering to help them...and she wants to get into the White House. It is well worth following up, Charles. She likes us at the moment so we should have a dance, although she is understandably keen on not becoming a Reformist herself. You never know when the music is going to stop, do you?"

Buckingham nodded and said no more. Reformism remained a largely British phenomenon in terms of absolute power, but the notion of Christian Democracy had certainly spawned many imitations. There had been a Reformist stronghold in Florida soon after the Church of Christian Reform began to campaign in 2019 and the far right Christians of the Bible belt, all Republicans, had started to draw together under a loose Reformist flag. But the Democratic Party had also galvanised themselves to campaign against any sign of a modern renaissance gaining momentum in the states. The American electorate was torn, lurching backwards and forwards between right and left since the days of Barack Obama, and the British needed to have influence with the right people. The special relationship was still important and closer links with the right side could have very positive implications for Great Britain. Equally a frosty relationship with the Democrats could cause serious problems.

Charles Buckingham had struggled to reach any sort of understanding with the Democrats at all over his thirteen years in power. His relationship with Hilary Clinton, who had served two terms as President during that time, was non-existent as she simply could not tolerate the Reformist's record on women's rights and immigration, and things had got no better with her successors. Sharon Rosen was the new favourite, and she was certainly actively courting the Christian community for their support, which put her into contact with people who stood alongside the British government in many things. If she really was prepared to accept help from the British Reformists, the special relationship could quickly be restored to its former glories for the mutual benefit of both sides, but she was also obviously a woman and that might make things awkward in the future, even if she was sleeping with a British diplomat according to all reports. He smiled at that wicked, sinful thought, wondering what Michael Winstanley would say. His old friend, the high priest of Reformism, would not approve of such a thing in a million years. But even if the Reformists had changed the political landscape forever there were some things that would never change, even in God's love. Unlike his friend, Charles Buckingham was quite prepared to use such things to his advantage. He had become rather more of a pragmatist than an idealist and he liked to focus on the objective, not the means.

۩

Mena entered the convent's cold parlour, dutifully following Sister Reineldis, walking two paces behind the old nun, her hands hidden under her cloak, eyes focussed on the stone floor until she passed in through the parlour door. Once into the visiting room, she looked up and grinned, seeing her father on the other side of the grill, looking suitably stern but undeniably handsome in his immaculately cut suit, his expensively groomed hair perhaps a trifle too long for a diplomat, but nevertheless undeniably suave. She grinned even more from behind the nun, who would not have been impressed by such a lack of respect, and made a slow cheeky wink in her father's direction as Sister Reineldis greeted him rather more formally.