Upstairs in Polly’s flat the intercom buzzer went. Someone was at the front door.
Jack was on his feet in an instant. “It’s him. He’s back,” he said. “And this time he isn’t going to get away.”
“What do you mean?” said Polly “What’re you going to do?”
“I’m going to deal with him.”
The buzzer went again.
“You keep him talking,” Jack continued. He was at the door now. “I won’t be long.”
“No, Jack, I don’t want you to-”
The buzzer was insistent. Not for the first time that evening Polly was torn. So much of her wanted to let matters take their course. If Jack wanted to confront the Bug then why not let him? On the other hand, what if Jack got carried away? What if Jack killed him? The buzzer sounded again. Gingerly Polly picked up the receiver, half resolved to shouting a warning to her hated enemy below.
“Polly, it’s Constable Dewison,” the receiver said.
Jack stopped dead, his hand on the door. “Cops?” he hissed.
“Oh, hello, Frank,” said Polly. “This is a surprise.”
“We had a call from your admirer’s mum, Polly. She said he was hanging about. I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about, but she did say that he had a knife. We just wanted to check that you were all right.”
Polly assured the officers that although the Bug had indeed been about earlier in the night she had heard nothing from him for an hour or so. Constable Dewison asked if she would like them to come up and take down the details of the harassment for an official complaint in the morning. Polly glanced at Jack. Somehow she felt that the presence of a four-star American general in dress uniform in her flat was a conversation that she did not wish to have.
“No, it’s all right, officer. I think I’d rather try and get some sleep.”
Downstairs in the hall Peter watched as the silhouettes of the policemen retreated. His relief at escaping arrest was entirely overshadowed by the fury that was consuming him. Peter had heard every word that the policemen had said. He could scarcely believe it! His own mother had grassed him up! She’d even told them about his knife! Peter’s blood boiled at her betrayal. Well, she’d regret it, that was for sure. Peter would deal with his mother later.
For now, however, he was still inside the house. Inside her house. Even the police hadn’t found him out! Surely this was a sign that fortune was on his side. Surely now he could do exactly as he liked.
52
Polly laughed. It seemed the only thing to do. “I wonder who’ll turn up next,” she said.
But Jack was not laughing. Quite the opposite, in fact. His face was like stone. The last thing he had expected was to find the police at the door. It reminded him as nothing else could of the vulnerability of his situation.
Polly caught the look on his face and stopped laughing. She remembered the last thing that Jack had said, before the police had called.
“Jack,” she said. “What did you mean before, about what you have to do?”
Jack could not look at her. “Did you ever hear about an army general named Joe Ralston?” he asked. “He was in the news a year or two back.”
Polly did not want another endless, pointless conversation. “Tell me what’s on your mind or bugger off.”
“I am telling you,” Jack said quietly. “Joe Ralston was all set to become the chairman of the US joint chiefs of staff. The most powerful soldier on earth. Employing about half a million people and spending an annual budget of trillions of dollars.”
“Which is totally obscene,” said Polly, unable to restrain herself.
“You know where he is now?” Jack continued.
“No, and I don’t care.”
“Well, I don’t know either, because he never stood for that top job. He withdrew his candidacy and retired from the army. Because fifteen years ago he had an affair. Fifteen years ago, while separated from his wife whom he subsequently divorced, General Joe Ralston had an affair. That is why the best soldier in America could not pursue his destiny.”
Polly remembered the case. It had indeed been on the news in Britain.
“Your people made that happen, Polly,” said Jack.
“My people? Which people would those be, then?”
“Your people, your kind. You see, around the same time that Joe Ralston was considering his application, a young lady combat flier called Kelly Flinn got caught fucking the civilian husband of an enlisted woman. She was forced to resign her commission, but not before the whole damn country had had a crisis about whether the army would have hit her so hard if she’d been a man.”
Polly recalled this case also. The British press always gleefully reported any example of America in the throes of self-torture. But she still could not see what it had to do with her.
“You know what you people have done, don’t you, Polly?” Jack continued. “You’ve created an ungovernable world.”
Polly had had enough of this.
“What people? Who are ‘my people’?”
“Your kind. Liberals. Feminists.”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake, don’t be so pig ignorant!”
Jack poured himself more whiskey and tried to refill Polly’s glass, but she had had enough to drink. He took a gulp of bourbon and continued.
“They tried to indict the president of the United States for dropping his trousers! Are you pleased about that?”
“I don’t care, Jack! I don’t give two tosses! What does any of this have to do with me? What the hell are you talking about?”
Jack took a breath. He did not want to shout. He wanted her to understand what he was saying.
“The president of the United States, Polly. The most powerful man on earth. The commander in chief of the most formidable army ever known. The person responsible for weapons of destruction that could obliterate life on this planet a thousand times over. That man had put the world on hold, in order that he could prepare to be taken to court to decide whether or not one night six years ago he showed his dick to a female employee. Do you think that is a good thing or a bad thing?”
Polly shrugged. “If the president’s a nasty little shag-rat that’s his problem.”
“Plenty of guys are nasty little shag-rats.”
“Yes, well maybe it’s time they started facing up to the consequences.”
Despite his efforts to remain calm and reasonable Jack’s frustration bubbled over and he banged his fist down on the table.
In the room below, the milkman looked up from his cornflakes.
Four twenty: Shouting and banging, he noted piously in his little book.
“Traditionally women have been aware of what men are like,” Jack continued, “which is why they didn’t tend to go into guys’ rooms in the middle of the night!”
“A woman should be able to go where she damn well pleases!” Polly snapped back, unwilling to be lectured on gender behaviour by the likes of General Jack Kent.
“That’s right!” Jack snapped back. “And on this occasion one did and in the process she claims she got to see the then governor of Arkansas’s dick! Late one night she accepted an invitation to his hotel room, he proffered his penis, she declined, retreated and there the matter rested for six years! He didn’t beat her up, he didn’t rape her, he showed her his dick. Then suddenly the whole world was discussing this episode, the whole world! My God, there was a time when a girl would have been proud to see a future president’s dick! She would have told her grandchildren! ‘Hey, kids, did I ever tell you about the time the president showed me his dick?’”
“Yes, and there was a time when millions of women suffered endless abuse and harassment in silence.”