Wings of the Morning (53 page)

When it was time for PMQ’s, the Prime Minister went into the Chamber with his briefing book under his arm. His staff had put together some suggestions as well as background on those
questions which he knew to expect that day. The first was from a Birmingham MP, Richard Burden, who wanted to pose something random but designed to shine a glowing spotlight on the efforts of the
newly formed MG Rover car company. The Prime Minister heard him out and then rose to approach the Despatch Box to provide his reply and he opened the folder to have the relevant briefing note in
front of him.

The PM was too accomplished a performer to be thrown off course, nevertheless those present who knew him best did note an untypical delay before he turned a page in his folder and commenced a
fluent comment. He carried this off well, whilst simultaneously asking himself how a sheet displaying in full colour the flag of Millennium had been placed at the front of his briefing book.

Much later, right at the end of a very long day, there was a well attended conference at No 10 under the chairmanship of the Prime Minister. By then, the truck had been towed away, the mangled
gates had been removed for repair or replacement and a tripled strength police detachment installed in their place. The Home Secretary had appeared on television to explain that a displaced and
disgruntled Armenian had been responsible for this morning’s incident. The authorities had a name, but had not yet managed an arrest.

The PM demanded the views of his phalanx of advisors. What were the day’s strange events intended to signify, and how should they respond? Of the twenty or so of the great and the good
sitting round the table, it was Jonathon Powell, the Prime Minister’s aide and Chief of Staff who produced a succinct reply which he knew to be the clear majority view of those attending. He
had taken trouble to ask them.

‘Prime Minister. We should take these incidents as a single message. The people managing Millennium have delivered their calling cards which are intended to inform us that they are neither
fools nor incompetents and that they have capabilities greater than we have assumed. There is no commentary here on the political element and neither do I wish to address that now. We have an
abundantly clear British Government position that a former sovereign state has been illegally annexed and that in consequence, the correct international policy should be a restoration of the status
quo. The only issue which I put before you now is the question of timing. As has been already agreed, we need an initiative, and critically one which calls for a military force of intervention, to
be multilateral and thus to enjoy the unequivocal support of our partners in Europe. I believe that requirement may now be seen to be all the greater because these people in Millennium are better
resourced and equipped than we had supposed them to be. My advice is therefore that we should make haste more slowly. Let’s back off a little and give ourselves a break during this summer
season. We can afford to move Millennium back up our agenda after the recess as we move into autumn.’

‘And what happens meanwhile? We allow them to take advantage of the respite?’

Powell raised his hands from the table in an expressive gesture.

‘That may be so, Prime Minister, but whatever. I still say that we have greater fish to fry.’

The PM looked around the table.

‘And this is the view of you all?’

There was no vote, of course, but a general murmur of assent. The PM looked suddenly weary of the subject.

‘OK,’ he said with a sigh, ‘put Millennium on the back burner for now. But there is one thing we can do right now, Jonathon. Cancel the passport of that bastard Heaven.
He’s persona non grata here now.

PENTE BROKE SMITH — December 2000

Pente was standing in the warm mid morning sunshine at Acacia Grove, his own choice of a new name for Panje. The prolific trees all around supplied a little shade as they
rustled in the light breeze of an exceptionally beautiful day. Behind him rose tall and straight the recently finished National Monument and before him was gathered a large crowd, standing silent
and patient all over the killing field which had followed their arrival a little less than a year ago. Pente was leading a simple service which he had created to mark the Day of Gratitude, a name
he had chosen to devote to the memory of all those, without discrimination, who had died to bring Millennium into being.

He finished a closing prayer which he had composed for the occasion and then the Combined Services band, supported by two choirs from Century City, struck up the newly created National Anthem.
Out on his own at the front of this great assembly, Pente felt his heart lift and as the stirring music rang out, he felt a tear escape from one eye and run down into the cover of his copious
beard. ‘Sloppy old fool’, he told himself, ‘but this is a great day’.

The congregation started to break up, a few slipping away but the majority in their various groups wandering to find a spot to set up a picnic. Pente meandered through the crowd, stopping for a
word here and a handshake there. As he made progress, he had an eye for the surroundings and was well pleased with how Acacia Grove was developing. It still looked raw of course, but so much work
had been done. A handsome wrought iron railing fence enclosed the entire site and within it, their arboreal specialists, one of whom had come to Millennium from Kew Gardens in London, had been busy
with felling, lopping, pruning and planting. Meanwhile, a master stonemason of Russian descent had crafted the elegantly simple monument from locally quarried material. Acacia Grove was a fitting
symbol of progress which looked good now, and would weather and settle to become superb.

Pente gave himself a moment to wonder how other things and people would settle. At the top of his list were David and Aischa. David had stepped down from his position as President of Millennium
at the end of November, handing over to Hugh Dundas who was to take them through to June 2001, during which, it had been announced, there would be an election, with international observers invited,
to seek consensus on a Constitution for the country. David had taken the toothless title of ‘Father of the Nation’ which was fair enough but a bit overblown for Pente’s taste.
He’d been given a life tenancy to the former Presidential Palace, now renamed Founder’s Hill. He and Aischa were settled there with her now busier than he was.

Pente knew that David would never have agreed to this demotion without the influence of Aischa. He’d discussed it with King who agreed that she had been the power to reallocate the throne.
She had told him that he had to give up. Millennium’s future depended on being accepted into the international community and he, David Heaven personally, was standing in the way of that
accomplishment. Pente and King had been present when Aischa had delivered the firm, gently expressed lecture to her husband.

‘Millennium would not have happened without you, David. It has been your dream, your drive, your determination. Don’t spoil that now by refusing to allow your baby to grow in its own
way. I know this is happening sooner than any of us wanted, but you know Darling, that’s because of your success and not in spite of it. The major powers around the world, especially the
States and in Europe, are about ready to recognise us as a new, legitimate country but they won’t do that with you in charge. You’re the bogeyman and you’ve just got to go. But if
you concentrate hard and let your logic rule your heart, you’ll see it as I do: it’s a compliment.’

Aischa had a second and a knockout argument but she didn’t produce it until she and David were alone together. It was to do with Aischa herself and with her health. She had breast cancer.
Her first fears had been raised in Lisbon around the time of Alves’ death and she had consulted a London specialist before they left the UK. For now, Millennium and Century City were short of
oncologists. That was not a surprise: it was the whole point and the whole plan. They needed plumbers before piano tuners. But Aischa had assumed that she would be able to travel at will to seek
advice and treatment and it had been a shock to discover that she could not do so. As Mrs David Heaven, she was not welcome and she could not appeal for sympathetic consideration without telling
David the whole story. So she did just that, sitting him down after dinner one evening in Founder’s Hill.

The following day, David had summoned Hugh, Pente and King to put them all in the picture. Pente remembered it as a very painful occasion. He had never seen a David Heaven quite like this. The
man looked bereft already — shocked, shattered and frightened. But the crisis did produce results and they seemed to be positive, at least so far.

David had announced his retirement from public life, his impending handover to Hugh and the plan for a national referendum on the Constitution. Matters went further than that. At Hugh’s
instigation, they brought forward plans to delegate more widely the management of the fledgling nation, appointing men and women who had come in with the First Fleet, but including some who had
been nationals under the previous regime. There was a form of democracy here which the European Union had been relieved to acknowledge as it would enable Millennium to be removed from the
‘worry list’. The United Kingdom remained obdurate and continued to refuse both David and Aischa permission to enter the country, but Hugh managed to persuade her specialist from London
to visit them in Century and thereafter she flew to Lisbon for treatment.

As he meandered through Acacia Grove, Pente reflected that things were not perfect, but they could be a great deal worse. He paused to savour his well loved scent of Africa, then drove it from
his nostrils as he lit one of his noxious cigars. He turned his thoughts to the Musketeers Club, his own initiative which sought to establish social centres in town and country where the growing
number of new arrivals from a huge variety of countries could mingle with those who were locally born. He was interrupted by a familiar shout and saw King Offenbach waving him over to the location
in which their group was encamping. Pente modified his direction and increased his pace towards them.

They had been hoping that Martin and Ruth Kirchoff would fly down and stay over Christmas. David had been disappointed but had to accept Martin’s judgement that he remained the subject of
interest and speculation in both Downing Street and the City. It was just too soon for him to be observed travelling to Millennium, although he was confident they would make it next year.

Bill and Tina Fullerton were there. They had moved from Hong Kong to Shanghai, but Hugh was hoping to persuade his old friend to move to Millennium and start working for him in Century. Hugh
wanted to start a stock exchange during the next eighteen months and he needed Bill around.

‘It’ll be mostly to carry his bags,’ Bill remarked to Pente over drinks on the evening of their arrival, ‘I’m really too simple to be of use for much
more’.

They had laughed together but it was well known how Hugh valued the relaxed friendship of his buddy from schooldays.

‘And you know the other reason, doncha darlin’, Tina said to Alexa when the girls were alone together.

‘I do, Tina. We’ve talked it over, Hugh and I. He wants to bring Janey down here to live. Perhaps not really wants, but needs to, and that’s alright with me. So long as he
comes home to me at night.’

Tina Fullerton shook her head in exasperation and reached for her cigarettes.

‘She’s sure as hell lucky to have him, that broad, and she’s just as lucky to have you. She had a shit of a time with that accident — a life ruined and all that. But I do
still wish that she’d try a little harder. She’s got all that can be done for her in Hong Kong and he’ll make that happen here too won’t he. Waal, if you can stand it, Alexa
honey, I guess I can too.’

The picnic lunch was under the trees, with some of them on folding chairs, some perched on the benches scattered about and others lying on rugs spread on the ground. It brought back to David
their first gathering at the time of the Queen’s Silver Jubilee when they had met under the eaves of 100 Piccadilly, an address then new to Kirchoff and Son. Sol had been there of course, and
Martin and Ruth but he had been without Aischa which now seemed unimaginable to him. And there had been no Hugh either. He happened to catch Alexa’s eye just then and they exchanged a secret
smile, perhaps both remembering for a fleeting moment how they had consoled each other on that occasion. Much worse for them both was the absence of Connie and Tepee. David sighed to himself. He
would never stop missing the man, but at least the girls remained in close touch and they had the promise from Tepee that she would fly down in the New Year.

There was just one topic of serious conversation during that happy picnic lunch.

Hugh remarked, ‘Now we know George Bush has been declared the winner in Florida and will be going to the White House in January, we can start to work on our contacts with the incoming
administration. Right, King?’

King was propped on one elbow as he reclined languidly on the close cropped grass. He put down his sandwich and replied.