Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
Lugh walked inside the corridors of 10 Downing Street as security guards and DPG officers patrolled the front gates. He saw aides in their offices and cubicles preparing documents and policy papers for the Prime Minister. Speechwriters toiled over computer screens writing speeches that would be credited or criticized by members of the British press as news broadcasts from England and the free world played on TVs. There were also analysts coming out of and stepping into the elevators with their noses in stacks of documents, deciphering information before it would be delivered to members of the Cabinet.
He was dressed in the finest dark navy blue suit. He watched the impressive precision of humanity in the office. As he clutched his resume, he was searching for someone to speak with when he came across a couple of aides. Lugh took a deep breath and addressed them.
“Excuse me,” he said to the aide wearing a gray and yellow pantsuit as she passed by. She didn’t respond. He tried again in a slightly louder tone. “Excuse me, madam!”
“What is it, sir?” The aide fired back, moving to the elevators. “I’m very busy.”
He fell into step behind her. “My name is Lucas Pearson. I’m here for a job interview with Prime Minister Temple.”
“You're looking for an interview,” the aide laughed at the young man’s naiveté as she waited for an elevator to open up. “Mr. Pearson, there are protocols you must follow to even have your resume considered. Tell me why I shouldn’t toss you out on your butt right now.”
“Well, Minister Cartwright was the one who referred me here. As for my qualifications, coming out of university, I have worked for AMs Butler and Davies in Wales.” The elevator doors began to open. “I also was the youngest spokesman ever in the Department of Local Government & Communities.”
“I imagine Mr. Cartwright then would give you a glowing recommendation,” she smiled. “If someone should ring him, he would say sparkling things about you.”
“Indeed,” he said, handing her his cell phone with the number already dialed. “Just ask him yourself!”
The woman blocked the elevator doors with one hand as she scrutinized Lugh for a long moment. Then she took his phone and stepped into the waiting lift, muttering to herself about how unbelievable this was as the cell call went through. Hundreds of miles away, one of Lugh’s doppelgangers in Cardiff answered the phone using the exact voice of the bureaucrat he was impersonating.
“Good morning, Department of Local Government & Communities. This is Minister Cartwright. How can I help you?”
The aide recoiled at hearing the Minister’s voice over the line. “Um...yes, I have a Lucas Pearson here looking to work at 10 Downing Street. He says he was your former spokesman in the Department and—”
She paused as if interrupted and nodded her head as she listened. When there was an opening in the conversation, the aide would say “Yes” and “I See” to whatever was being said.
The conversation ended a few minutes later, followed shortly by the evaporation of Lugh’s doppelganger in Cardiff. The aide shook her head and handed Lugh back his cell phone. “Take the elevator to the third floor. It’ll be down the hallway, fourth door to the left.”
“Thank you,” Lugh pushed the elevator call button. He pocketed the cell phone. “Want a lift?” He asked with an innocent smile.
“No thanks,” she fired back. “I’ll take the stairs.”
Lugh stepped out a minute later to the spacious and intimidating third floor hallway. He looked at the paintings on the wall of past Prime Ministers such as Winston Churchill, Benjamin Disraeli and Lord John Russell. How noble and powerful these men must have been, he thought. How they would crumble like leaves if they faced someone of his power.
Lugh arrived after a relatively short walk at the Prime Minister’s door. The man’s name, Jonathan Temple, was emblazoned in black letters on the glass pane. Through the pane he could make out the outline of a man working at his desk, and nothing else. After a brief moment, Lugh knocked twice and waited for a response.
“Come in!” The Prime Minister called out after a moment’s delay. The whole situation reminded Lugh of his first meeting centuries ago with Dis Pater. The only difference was that the hallway outside his office was considerably warmer than Pater’s.
The office Lugh walked into was furnished with all of the accoutrements befitting a man in power. There was a large oak desk that stretched wide and a high-backed brown leather chair that towered above it. There were framed degrees in International Affairs and Political Science from Harvard and Cambridge on the wall along with dozens of photos showing the PM with world leaders, celebrities, and scientists.
The Prime Minister stood studying a stack of documents without paying attention to the young man in the suit. On the right lapel of his gray suit coat he wore a Union Jack pin.
“You’ve only got a minute kid,” he barked, breaking apart the silence that had begun to form inside. “Make it quick.”
Lugh took a seat before PM Temple’s desk. “My name is Lucas Pearson. I’m here for a job interview, sir.”
“You’re looking for a job interview,” the Prime Minister looked away from his stack of documents toward Lugh. “I don’t know you from a hole in the bloody ground, son.”
“I was referred by Minister Cartwright in Wales,” he told the Prime Minister, his left hand moving into his pocket to rub his cell phone with the Tromm finish to provide added insurance. “He said he would e-mail your secretary as to my arrival.”
Prime Minister Temple paced over to the left side of the desk, searching for the conversation referred to. Then, the memory appeared as clear as day. “Oh yes, Mr. Pearson! My apologies! It must have slipped my mind. Do you have your resume?”
“It is right here, Sir,” Lugh said, handing the Prime Minister his resume. His other hand released the phone in his back pocket. “I believe it should all be in working order.”
Mr. Temple sat back down in his chair and looked over every inch of the three page document. Lugh wondered after a while if the Prime Minister would accept the intricately made backstory. There were subtle signs from the man’s physical mannerisms though which gave him reason to be optimistic.
“First Welshman to get perfect scores on your A-Levels...A degree in Journalism and City & Regional Planning from Cardiff University...a Master of Public Policy from Oxford,” the note of respect in the Prime Minister’s voice grew with each credential he recited. He looked up at Lugh curiously when he reached a part of the resume. “You even speak Spanish?”
“Si!” Lugh replied with a coy chuckle. “Soy un hombre de muchos talentos, señor.”
After he finished reading, the Prime Minister placed the resume on his desk and addressed Lugh. “I could start you as my liaison to Parliament, maybe bump you up with a little more experience after this corruption business is sorted out.”
Lugh hoped for a position a little closer to Mr. Temple’s inner circle rather than being an envoy to the nation’s legislative body. His hand moved to his cell phone in order to assure himself a more positive outcome. “With all due respect, Sir, I was hoping for a job with more responsibility and a higher profile.”
With any other person, the likely response to that statement would have been summary dismissal from Mr. Temple’s office. But the imposing leader softened as Lugh’s hand touched the hidden phone.
“Well... I could always use an extra set of ears at the G20 conference in Valencia next week. It gives you the high profile you want and gives me someone who’s fluent in Spanish. How does that sound?”
The words were music to Lugh’s ears. He smiled, gently pulling his hand from his pocket and extending it to shake Mr. Temple’s hand. “That sounds perfect. Thank you for this great honor, Sir. ”
He proudly walked out of the office and down the hallway as the world leader sat down in his chair wondering what happened between him and the young applicant. Lugh checked his cell phone for any messages and found on the top of the screen a voicemail message from a familiar associate. A demi-god who helped free Lugh from his barless prison many moons ago and was responsible for a great deal of death and misery in this world - Charon. After listening to the thirty second message, Lugh’s smile grew wider.
“The Halfling is coming to London,” Lugh said to himself, stepping out of the building. “And she is an American! I wonder if the poor girl knows what she is getting herself into.”