Free Keep Calm by Mike Binder Page A

in the company is pushing him along. That’s the sense I had. I think he’s what we call a ‘closer.’ Very smooth. Lots of personality.”
    â€œWhy would they need that when they have you, Sir David?”
    Heaton liked her. He liked her cheek. He might have even liked the fact that she didn’t seem to like him and didn’t feel the need to hide the dislike.
    â€œThere’s a good question, too. You’ve got yourself on a roll, Ms. Steel. Nevertheless, someone wanted him at the table, someone felt he’d be a strong asset, and in the end it was fine with me.”
    â€œSomeone who? Can I get the name of the person who wanted him at the table?”
    â€œI will get it for you. I don’t have it on the tip of my tongue. It was someone in retirement services. You do realize I have three thousand people working for me, right, Inspector?”
    Steel didn’t volley back. She wanted to let him sit for a beat and wondered if this was anything, thought that maybe he was playing with her, having his idea of fun. Heaton just stared across at her, smiling, beaming, trying hopelessly to be charming, she assumed.
    â€œAnd you don’t have his name? The American? His address in the UK?”
    â€œNo. But my office does. You can feel free to get it on the way out. Even though I don’t know his name, you can rest assured I didn’t bring a terrorist into Number 10. It’s not my style.”
    â€œI’m just doing my job, sir.”
    â€œOf course you are. From what I hear, you do it quite well. Make sure you let me know if I can help in any way. Okay?” He leered at her now, openly checking out her figure. “Feel free to call me anytime, Inspector Steel. I’m going to make it a point to leave my door always open to you.”
    She headed down to the private elevator.
    There was something about people like Heaton that she couldn’t stand. The odds were, she was sure, that he was clueless as to what had happened at Number 10, but a side of her wished he wasn’t. She wished she could pin the whole thing on him. As ludicrous as it was, a smile came to her mouth just thinking about it as the elevator door closed.
    *   *   *
    THE PRESS WAS packed a good twenty people deep around the entrance of St. Thomas’s Hospital when Georgia’s Jaguar pulled up for her visit to Roland Lassiter. Poor Jack Early got out too fast, tripped on the curb, and fell straight onto the cement, picking himself up quickly as the cameras flashed and whirled. Georgia was sure this would be on the nightly news. It was typical Jack Early, though, and she didn’t even mention it as he opened her door and got her through the noise and the nonsense into the hospital.
    His Majesty, the king, was scheduled to visit, too. The palace had arranged for him to pay his best wishes and to make a public appearance with an early morning call in Lassiter’s hospital room. It wouldn’t do much good: they had the PM sedated and unconscious as they monitored his body and tried to ascertain which of the several courses of surgery were going to be most useful. It had been a full thirty-eight hours since the blast had opened him up, and the best the doctors could come up with was to keep his organs still for a few more hours and watch his vitals. No one was in too keen a rush to do extensive surgery. There wasn’t a doctor on staff who could be sure that his broken body could handle any more trauma.
    Georgia was there to await the king. She had managed earlier to get a minute with Lassiter as well, but there truly was no point. She sat by the side of his bed and spoke softly to her old friend.
    â€œI’m so sorry, Roland, so sorry this happened to you. I beg you to please pull through, for your family, for me, for the country. Please, Roland, I suspect you can hear me. Please fight on.”
    There was no response, just more bleeping from the bank of