The Call of Destiny (The Return of Arthur Book 1) (33 page)

‘Elimat.’

‘When matter is eliminated?’
‘Correct.’

‘In other words, destroyed.’
‘Yes.’

‘For ever.’ ‘For ever.’

‘My God.’ Now Arthur was
beginning to understand the significance of what Merlin was telling him.

‘Quite so,’ said Merlin
calmly. ‘The potential is unlimited.’

Later, over a coffee, Arthur
asked the questions that were troubling him. ‘These experiments you do, and the
laboratories and so on. It must all cost a great deal of money. Where does it
come from?’

‘I prefer not to answer that question,’ said
Merlin.

Arthur was dismayed. Merlin
seemed to be confirming his worst suspicions. ‘Why not?’

‘You suspect me of taking
bribes – or something else in kind – from some government? Or perhaps from
big-time criminals?’

‘I didn’t say that,’ said
Arthur, his voice low. ‘Nevertheless it is what you thought.’ Arthur could not
deny it.

‘I am disappointed, Arthur,’
said Merlin. ‘I thought you had more faith in me.’ He raised his hand to
silence Arthur’s protest. ‘I will tell you only this, and you will have to be
satisfied with it.’ It did not help to allay Arthur’s suspicions that Merlin
looked so very uncomfortable. ‘The project on which I am working does indeed
require money, a great deal of money, as you say. No one in the world would
finance me, that I have always known. Even if some individual or government
were willing to, I should lose the most precious and important of all things –
my independence to act as I see fit. So . . . because there was no other way to
get the money I needed for my project . . . ’ Merlin mumbled the words. ‘I
stole it.’

‘You what!’

‘That’s right, Arthur,’ said
Merlin calmly. ‘I stole it. How, I will not tell you. All I will say is that
those from whom I stole are the very worst kind of criminals. Their money does
as much harm to the world as the terrorists. More, perhaps.’

Arthur had some idea what
Merlin was talking about. ‘You mean – ?’

Merlin lifted a hand to
silence Arthur. ‘I mean no one. I mean nothing. My only justification is the
vital importance of the cause.’

That word again. ‘What cause, Merlin?’

‘Oh, you know,’ said Merlin casually. ‘Saving
the world.’

For a long time Arthur was too
overwhelmed to speak. ‘These experiments,’ he said at last, ‘they are not just
experiments, are they. I mean, this is not the end of it.’

‘No, Arthur,’ said Merlin,
‘this is not the end. This is the beginning. Of course, not all experiments work
out. But the successful ones are developed, first on a small, then on a large
scale. Some exist only as prototypes. Some are already in full production.’

‘Where?’

‘Far from here,’ said Merlin vaguely.

No one could be more
infuriating than the magus. ‘Can’t you tell me more?’

Merlin threw Arthur a crumb of
information. ‘On an island.’

‘May I see it?’ ‘Soon.’

And that apparently was that.
He could get no more out of the magus. The more Arthur reflected on what he had
seen and heard, the more anxious he became. Not for the first time he asked
himself a painful question. Was Merlin sane? If he were not, thought Arthur . .
. such power in the hands of a madman . . .

 Leo grant was still trying to persuade
anyone who cared to listen that he intended to stand down as leader of the
United Labour Party. The problem was that he had cried wolf so often that no
one took him seriously any more. In his desperation to move things along, he
now made it known to a few selected members in the House and to some key party
activists that his resignation would be ‘in the very near future.’ What exactly
he meant by that was not clear, neither to the Party nor to him. The fact was
that Leo had left the date of his departure open for a very good reason; he had
no intention of handing over the reigns to anyone but Arthur, and he had not
yet convinced

Arthur to stand as his successor.

In the spring of 2023,
however, something happened that made Arthur think again. A mystery figure
calling himself Lord Mark proclaimed the independence of the counties of
Herefordshire and Worcestershire. That evening, television newscasters featured
the proclamation as their lead story, focusing on the identity of Lord Mark.
Who was he? Should he be taken seriously, or was he just some crackpot? No one
seemed to know.

The following morning the
story was headline news in every newspaper in the country with most carrying
the full text of Lord Mark’s statement. Journalists were divided between those
convinced it was a hoax and those who believed that the long anticipated
break-up of the United Kingdom had begun.

The message was as follows:

We, the LandLords, can no longer tolerate
the inhumane and divisive policies of Westminster.

Your record speaks for
itself. You have turned our cities into fortresses of privilege and wealth. In
so doing you have ignored the needs of the underprivileged. You have cut
welfare to the bone, targeting the poor, the homeless, single parent families,
the sick and the elderly. You have made the rich richer and the poor poorer.

We country dwellers have
been deprived of the basic amenities that are the right of every citizen. Our
shires and counties are supposed to be autonomous, but what use is that when
council budgets are cut by Westminster every year? Our mail is not delivered,
our trash is not collected, our shops have disappeared, our transportation
system has broken down, our police force is understaffed, our schools are
underfunded, our hospitals are a sick joke.

Fromthis
day
forward
we reject
the authority
of
Westminster. In due time we
shall implement the expropriation of the land the capitalists have stolen from
us over the centuries. God gave
us
the
land.
It
is
our
land,
the
people’s
land.
It
belongs
to us
by
right.
We
shall
never
surrender
it.
We
–
not
you
–
are
the
law. We
–
not you – are the government. We
–
not you – will make
all decisions relating to our Kingdom – who lives, who works and who travels
here.

We,
the wronged
people of
Herefordshire and
Worcestershire, this
day
proclaim
our
independence,
and
call
on
our
persecuted
brothers the length and breadth of the land to follow our example. A new era
has
begun.

Lord Mark of Cornwall,
The
LandLords
.

When after several days no further statements
were issued by the self-styled LandLords, the press and the general public
began to lose interest. A Downing Street spokesman said that in his view the
whole thing was an elaborate hoax, unworthy of serious consideration. Arthur
did not agree. At Prime Minister’s question time a few days after the release
of Lord Mark’s statement, Arthur rose in a packed and silent House to put a
question to the Prime Minister. Expectation was high, for although it was by no
means the first time the Prime Minister had been challenged by Arthur
Pendragon, the exchanges between father and son had invariably been sharp, and
were becoming sharper with each successive confrontation.

Arthur wasted not a moment.
‘In the view of the potential seriousness of the subject I would like to put a
number of questions to the Prime Minister – all relating to the same matter.’

‘If the Prime Minister has no
objection,’ said the Speaker. Uther inclined his head graciously.

‘Very well,’ continued Arthur.
‘My questions are these. Who exactly is Lord Mark? Who are the Landlords? What
are their aims and objectives? On what basis has the Prime Minister assured the
House that Lord Mark’s ultimatum is nothing but a hoax? Where is the evidence
for this assertion?’

From the government backbenches
there were shouts of ‘Sit down!’ Arthur had asked too many awkward questions
for their liking.

‘Many members,’ continued
Arthur, who had no intention of sitting down until he had finished, ‘are deeply
concerned at the Prime Minister’s casual handling of this matter – some of
them, I dare say, on his own side of the House.’ This jibe was greeted with
laughter, loud cries of protest and counter protest and shouts of ‘withdraw!’
Waiting for the House to quieten down, Arthur raised his right hand and pointed
directly at his father. ‘I cannot help suspecting that we are not being given
the whole story by the Prime Minister. It would not be the first time,’ he
shouted above the uproar as he sat down.

Uther gave a forceful reply
justifying the government’s position, succeeding at least in satisfying his own
Party. Lord Mark, he said, was a social misfit, a drunk and a drug addict; his
so-called followers were united only be their hatred of what they termed ‘capitalists’,
a term that in their view included anyone who owned land. They clung to Lord
Mark because they too were malcontents, people on the fringes of society. There
was no rebel movement, no substance to the breakaway threat, no truth in Lord
Mark’s claim that the budgets of Worcestershire and Herefordshire had been
slashed, no truth in the wild accusations relating to hospitals, the transport
system, the police and so on. ‘It is self-evident,’ Uther concluded, ‘that the
law of the land upholds any man or woman’s right to own land. Anyone who tries
to take it from them by illegal means will be dealt with the full force of the
law.’ In answer to a question about Lord Mark, he amused the House by informing
them that Lord Mark was not a lord at all.
Lord
was apparently his first
name, one he had taken by Deed Poll, an indication of the unseriousness and
vanity of the man. In the Prime Minister’s view
Mister
Mark (more
laughter in the House) saw himself as some kind of latter-day Robin Hood. The
government did not intend to waste any more time on this deluded individual.

Whoever else Uther had
satisfied, he had not satisfied Arthur. A few days later Arthur requested, and
was granted, an interview with his father in 10 Downing Street.

‘I believe Lord Mark could one
day pose a real threat to the stability of this country,’ he began. ‘I am told
he already has a following – a not insignificant one.’

Uther was not in the least
perturbed. ‘I don’t deny it. He’s a kind of cult leader, wouldn’t you say?’

Arthur shook his head. ‘More
than that. An increasing number of disaffected citizens feel no loyalty to our
country, indeed hardly any sense of belonging to it. They are the ones he is
targeting. Lord Mark is no fool. He sees the trend, and he’s taking advantage
of it.’

Uther drummed impatient
fingers on his desk. ‘What trend?’

‘Town against country,’ said Arthur, ‘North
against South, East against West, the haves against the have-nots, ethnic and
religious differences creating social and geographical divisions. I believe
that far from being a deluded individual Lord Mark is a very clever, very
dangerous man. My information is that he is secretly training bands of
vigilantes in remote areas of the countryside.’

Disbelief rode the steep arch
of the Prime Minister’s eyebrows. ‘
Your
information?’

Arthur had seen his father’s
play-acting before. It was obvious that the Prime Minister had access to the
same intelligence Arthur had seen. Why then did Uther insist that Lord Mark was
not to be taken seriously? It did not make sense. ‘One day he might lead a
full-scale revolution,’ he warned. ‘We could be talking not just civil strife
but civil war.’

Uther regarded his son
thoughtfully. ‘There are wheels within wheels,’ he observed mysteriously.

Arthur awaited an explanation,
but none was forthcoming. ‘What wheels within what wheels, father?’ he asked.
‘Why are you making light of a clear threat to national security?’

Uther smiled – a bland smile
that left his eyes cold. ‘Government policy,’ he observed.

‘Are you saying,’ said Arthur,
‘that it is government policy to bury its head in the sand?’

‘It is government policy not
to create needless panic. Do me a favour, Arthur,’ said Uther wearily, ‘call
off the dogs. You are making political capital out of this business.’

‘And you are trying to silence
the opposition,’ retorted Arthur. ‘It won’t work. A lot of people are genuinely
concerned, and you know it.

Uther removed a file from his
‘in’ tray, dropped it in his ‘out’ tray, and taking his time, re-aligned it
with compulsive care. Arthur’s eyes followed it. ‘Listen to me,’ said Uther,
his voice low, as if he were afraid of being overheard even here in the secure
confines of Number 10. ‘And listen carefully, because I shan’t repeat it.’ He
jumped up and began to pace the room.

‘You talk of revolution. Well how’s this for a
revolutionary thought?’ Uther paused for dramatic effect. ‘What if you are
right? What if there really is a growing rift between town and country? Does it
really matter?’

What kind of question was
that? ‘What are you saying, father?’

Uther grasped the arms of
Arthur’s chair and loomed over him, his face inches from his son’s. ‘What I am
saying,’ he said, enunciating his words with exaggerated clarity, ‘what I am
saying is who gives a damn if a few deprived areas of the country decide to go
it alone? You want to know something? It’s what many people have been hoping
for a very long time.’

This was a new and startling
thought for Arthur. ‘What people? Who are these people?’

‘People like me, Arthur,
people who see how strong and prosperous we are in London and in the other
great cities of the United Kingdom. People like me who believe our poor
deprived country cousins are a millstone round our necks. They want schools?
They can have them. They want transport? They can have that too. Hospitals and
police, post offices and garbage collectors? Theirs for the asking. Welfare? As
much as they like – from cradle to grave, if that’s what turns them on. All
those good things they can have, as long as they don’t expect us to pay for them.
We have better things to do with our hard- earned money. Let them break away.
Good luck to them, say I. Good riddance too,’ he added provocatively.

So that was it. Uther was
ignoring the Landlords’ threat because he hoped they would do his dirty work for
him. ‘I cannot believe I am hearing this from the Prime Minister of the United
Kingdom.’

‘Believe it, Arthur,’ said Uther. ‘Just don’t
quote me.’

‘Have you forgotten that
you were elected by all the people of this country?’ said Arthur. ‘That means
all
the people, wherever they are, including the deprived and the
underprivileged.’

A tired smile. ‘Spare me the clichés.’

Arthur stood up to go. ‘You are even more
dangerous than Lord Mark, father. Power has gone to your head.’

‘Power?’ Uther chuckled. ‘What
power is that, pray? You think politicians have power, do you? Dear me, no. Not
any more. Not in the twenty-first century. The multi-nationals have power, the
drug barons have power. The arms dealers, the crime syndicates, the media
moguls – they have power. What power do politicians have?’

‘The power to change things,’ said Arthur.

Uther opened the door to show
his son out. ‘How very naïve of you. Let me tell you something, Arthur. We
politicians can do a lot, but the one thing we can never do is change things.
Take my advice, forget all this idealistic claptrap of yours. You are living in
Never-Never Land. Get real, or you won’t last long in this business.’