Providing Cheer

To London, to offer sympathy to Sir Harry, and attempt to cheer him up -- a daunting task at the best of times. I stayed at the Dorchester in Park Lane, and after my visit was looking forward to those excellent Cornish scallops the hotel specializes in.

Sir Harry was recuperating in a safe house provided by MI6, the address of which...well, forget about that. I entered his room, and there he was, propped up in bed surrounded by pillows everywhere.

"You're looking well," he said.

My God, a compliment. Rarer than hen's teeth. Mind you, I was wearing one of my son Sebastian's best creations, a black woolen sheath that fit perfectly.

"Thank you," I replied. "How are the ribs?"

"Better. But still bloody painful."

"I don't doubt it. Had a similar injury myself."

"Do tell."

So I did. The injury occurred during my time at an English Prep school while playing field hockey. A strapping Scottish lass sent me crashing to the ground, breaking three of my ribs in the process. On the way down, I managed to hook her knees, and she wound up with a broken leg. Since then, however, we have become the best of friends. The whole incident prompted her to gain an interest in bones, and she now heads up an orthopaedic clinic in Edinburgh.

So girl's field hockey goes. The men play it relatively sanely, being used to hard contact sports, and, more importantly, not wearing short skirts. (Think about that for a moment). And a curved stick in the hands of an irate female can do vicious things....but I digress.

Sir Harry had fallen asleep. Well, I thought, that anecdote sure cheered him up.

I made to go, when his voice rang out.

"Just dozing. You do go on, you know. I want your opinion on this material. Send it over before you leave. Still at the Dorchester?"

"Yes," I said, taking the file.

"Too many Cornish scallops will cause indigestion, you know."

"Shut up. What's in this stuff anyway?"

"Read, think, write, then get back to me. Now I want to rest."

"It's been a lovely visit."

Sir Harry snorted, and closed his eyes.

Back at the hotel, I opened the material, and read. Fascinating. The Chinese apparently were getting tired of constantly paying off kidnappers who were preying on the myriad of Chinese workers, and now and then executing them, in dicey parts of the world. They were requesting help in going after the perpetrators, freeing any nationals at risk, and making sure that said perpetrators never were in a position to act again. They actually used a phrase that has now become sort of a cliche, to wit: "Exterminate with extreme prejudice." Obviously, some member of the inner circle was reading far too much Robert Ludlum.

This was interesting news. Yes, Britain had forces skilled in what the Chinese were requesting, and could assist. In return, a similar favour could be requested from China. For instance, a marked improvement in British finances. David Cameron would be over the moon, the City would be happy, and I would have achieved my objective.

Sir Harry would be immensely cheered up.