The plot thickens
THINGS ARE moving fast in my projected airport novel, Names Later, Old Boy. You may remember that the hero is a nobleman who buys a million shares in Lloyd's of London, and books them to the Dalai Lama. Lloyd's is then taken over, and a cheque arrives, dead-heating with the lady of the house, who in a non-executive capac- ity helps Lloyd's out over hardship. A knock on the door heralds two thickset men in bowler hats who identify themselves as inspectors from the Board of Trade. 'Hush, not a word,' they say. In the next chapter the inspectors mole away in secret for six months or so, sometimes pausing to try their draft conclusions on the hero's lawyers, a process called Maxwellisation. Meanwhile his name is put forward, by an old friend in high places, for the Governor- ship of the Cayman Islands. This alerts an old enemy, and news of the inquiry leaks out. Jealous journalists assert that on the day before he bought the shares, a crucial meeting of her ladyship's committee had abolished hardship at Lloyd's. The inspec- tors' report cannot be published, since by law this requires the consent of all persons named in it, and a shorthand typist who appears in the acknowledgments has come over all shy. Nor can our hero reveal that he bought the shares at the request of his friend in high places, who was anxious to see Lloyd's sorted out before his backbenchers began to go bankrupt and cause by-elec- tions. Now read on. Rupert Murdoch's pub- lishing house has offered me between £14 and £22 million for this book and its sequel, a re-working of the Christmas story. I just hope my invention keeps up.
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