“Bowles stood at the helm, still fully buttoned, the officious and, it had to be said, efficient captain. He’d done this trip before, knew the form, and wanted everyone to know it. Sid Proffit, dear fellow, was a member of the House of Lords, in his late seventies and happy to claim the status of 2I/C on account of his seniority and enthusiastic naval whiskers. He still retained a roguish twinkle, which became evident as he summoned the cabin attendant to refill his glass. Bobby Malik was the se...rious type, quiet, diligently wading through the briefing papers he had brought with him, the youngest in the group, a new arrival to Westminster after a much-heralded victory at a by-election. He seemed uncertain why he had come or what he was doing here. Harry barely knew him but concluded that, like Mac, he had been a victim of the Bowles press gang. And then there was Martha Riley. Martha was late thirties, petite, provocative and, in Harry’s view, overflowing with attitude. Their brief encounters around Westminster had always left him with a headache; she seemed somehow to resent him and his success, as though it was undeserved.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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