Saints and Sinners

Chapter Sixteen

The Ritz Hotel

London

Sean Fletcher found London bewildering and rather frightening if he was honest, after just one short walk in the hectic streets around the Ritz. His only post-revolution visit to Britain had been his state visit, which ended with Mena Forbes and Skylar Hamilton leaving with him in a rush, and he had not really seen anything outside of Buckingham Palace. So, the busy streets of central London represented his first glimpse of the real Britain, and he had to admit that it was an unnerving experience. He was used to seeing the odd gown and bonnet in his version of Washington, and there were always a few on Sanibel, including his sister and his wife, but he had never spent any time in Boston, other than the Procter's wedding when he expected to see everyone in their finery, so seeing the sheer comprehensiveness of the renaissance was something of a shock to his system. In his youth, London had been one of his favourite cities after his three years at Oxford; cosmopolitan, vibrant, diverse and exciting. It had been quite possible to walk down any high street and see different cultures all living cheek by jowl, all different but all sharing the same space, giving the place colour and vitality. But any colour forty-five years since his last visit was suddenly hidden beneath cloaks and mantles.

Because it was not just the rich at play he was seeing on those streets, it was real life. Men and boys were all in suits and ties, rich and poor alike, and the women were all the same, he thought, although he could tell which ones were the fine ladies, because their gowns and cloaks were brighter and less workaday, and they all had keepers at their sides, holding onto their leashes. Annoying his British guide, or rather minder, he turned down side streets and back roads, walking briskly with his own security detail, trying to get his bearings. And then he returned to the hotel bar, in search of a beer to drown the jetlag, which was where he found Jake Palmer sitting on a stool and working his phone hard.

"Comms working?" Fletcher asked lightly, waving at the barman and pointing at Jake's half-empty glass and holding up two fingers.

"Secure in the suite we are using as an office...your phone should work, but we have to assume that our calls can be monitored," Jake replied, still tapping away. "Did you know that our own embassy is not exactly cooperating with us?"

"No...but it doesn't exactly surprise me?" Fletcher took the next stool, easing himself up onto it with a sigh as the barman delivered two pints. "Bateman wanted to veto me so badly he is probably still crying himself to sleep? Thanks for getting Hardwicke to give you a bit of time off to be here?"

"Don't thank me, I offered him two days of your time on the stump next re-election?"

"Great...only two days?"

"He talked me down from three..."

"You are just as unfunny as your father?" Fletcher grinned, and Jake put his phone in his jacket pocket, trying not to smile. "I know it's hard being here...so close to Grace...but you are good at this shit?"

"I'm good at politics...in Washington...this is...a new experience?"

"It's a mess...but yes...this is fresh ground for me too?" Fletcher sighed before taking the top inch off his beer. He noted that his nephew had not commented on his sister. "Montague wants to see me alone?"

"In what capacity?"

"He is the Vice President...and part of their negotiating team...but I got the impression that he wanted a private word?"

"Where?"

"A late afternoon stroll in Green Park...I don't want anyone listening in and he really did not fancy coming here...I imagine that we will sit at either end of a park bench and try not to look suspicious?" Fletcher grinned and Jake raised a quizzical eyebrow.