Page 78 of The Love Letter
‘Yes, sir. Sorry again, sir.’ Ian stood up and walked as carefully as he could to the door.
‘You all right, mate? You look green!’ Simon was sitting in a chair outside.
‘I feel it. I have to dash. You’re in.’
As he watched Ian run for the toilets, Simon stood up and knocked on the door.
‘Come.’
Jenkins smiled at Simon. ‘Sit down, will you, Warburton?’
‘Thank you, sir.’
‘Firstly, I want to ask you, without compromising any loyalty and friendship you may have struck up, whether you think Simpson is feeling the pressure, whether he could do with a . . . break.’
‘It was his fortieth birthday yesterday, sir.’
‘Hardly an excuse, but still . . . I’ve told him to shape up. Keep an eye out, will you? He’s a good member of the team, but I’ve seen others go in a similar direction. Anyway, enough of Simpson. You’re due upstairs in ten minutes for a meeting.’
‘Really, sir? Why?’ Simon knew that ‘upstairs’ in Thames House was reserved for the highest ranks.
‘I have personally recommended you for the assignment. It’s of the utmost delicacy, Warburton. Don’t let me down, will you?’
‘I’ll do my best not to, sir.’
‘Good.’ Jenkins nodded. ‘That’s all.’
Having left the office, Simon took the lift up and was then ushered along the thickly carpeted corridor of the upper floor, where an elderly receptionist sat in state alone at the end of it.
‘Mr Warburton?’ she asked.
‘Yes.’
The woman pressed a button on her desk, then stood up. ‘Follow me.’
She led him along another corridor and finally tapped on a thick oak-panelled door.
‘Come!’ barked a voice from inside. She pushed the door open.
‘Warburton to see you, sir.’
‘Thank you.’
Simon walked towards the desk, noting the huge chandelier that lit the vast room, the heavy velvet curtains that hung at either side of the tall windows. The grand setting was in stark contrast to the diminutive, ancient figure sitting behind the desk in a wheelchair. Yet his presence dominated the space.
‘Sit down, Warburton.’
Simon did so, in a high-backed leather chair.
The piercing eyes surveyed him. ‘Jenkins tells me good things about you.’
‘That’s gratifying to hear, sir.’
‘I’ve read your file and I was impressed. Like to sit where I’m sitting one day, Warburton?’
Simon presumed he meant this in the context of the room, rather than in the wheelchair. ‘I would, sir, of course.’
‘Do a good job for me and I can guarantee immediate promotion. We’re putting you on the Royalty Protection Branch permanently from tomorrow.’
