To Cut a Long Story Short

Henry’s speech was well received by the Rotarians, but when he discovered the size of the donations some of the members had in mind, he feared it could still be years before the project was completed. He couldn’t help remembering that there were only another eighteen months before his next posting was due.

It was in the car on the way home that he recalled Bill’s words at the Britannia Club. An idea began to form in his mind.

Henry had never taken the slightest interest in the quarterly payments that the British government made to the tiny island of Aranga. The Foreign Office allocated PS5 million a year from its contingency fund, made up of four payments of PS1.25 million, which was automatically converted into the local currency of kora at the current exchange rate. Once Henry had been informed of the rate by Bill Paterson, the Chief Administrator at the High Commission dealt with all the Commission’s payments over the next three months. That was about to change.

Henry lay awake that night, all too aware that he lacked the training and expertise to carry out such a daring project, and that he must pick up the knowledge he required without anyone else becoming aware of what he was up to.

By the time he rose the following morning, a plan was beginning to form in his mind. He started by spending the weekend at the local library, studying old copies of the Financial Times, noting in particular what caused fluctuating exchange rates and whether they followed any pattern.

Over the next three months, at the golf club, cocktail parties in the Britannia Club, and whenever he was with Bill, he gathered more and more information, until finally he was confident that he was ready to make his first move.

When Bill rang on the Monday morning to say that there would be a small surplus of 22,107 kora on the current account because of the rumours of another coup, Henry gave orders to place the money in the Swimming Pool Account.

‘But I usually switch it into the Contingency Fund,’ said Bill.

‘There’s been a new directive from the Foreign Office - K14792,’ said Henry. ‘It says that surpluses can now be used on local projects, if they’ve been approved by the Minister.’

‘But that Minister was sacked,’ the bank manager reminded the First Secretary.

‘That may well be the case, but I’ve been instructed by my masters that the order still applies.’ Directive K14792 did in fact exist, Henry had discovered, although he doubted that when the Foreign Office issued it they had had swimming pools in mind.

‘Fine by me,’ said Bill. ‘Who am I to argue with a Foreign Office directive, especially when all I have to do is move money from one High Commission account to another within the bank?’

The Chief Administrator didn’t comment on any missing money during the following week, as he had received the same number of kora he had originally expected. Henry assumed he’d got away with it.

As there wasn’t another payment due for three months, Henry had ample time to refine his plan. During the next quarter, a few of the local businessmen came up with their donations, but Henry quickly realised that even with this influx of cash, they could only just about afford to start digging. He would have to deliver something a great deal more substantial if he hoped to end up with more than a hole in the ground.

Then an idea came to him in the middle of the night. But for Henry’s personal coup to be effective, he would need to get his timing spot on.

When Roger Parnell, the BBC’s correspondent, made his weekly call to enquire if there was anything he should be covering other than the swimming pool appeal, Henry asked if he could have a word with him off the record.

‘Of course,’ said the correspondent. ‘What do you want to discuss?’

‘HMG is a little worried that no one has seen General Olangi for several days, and there are rumours that his recent medical check-up has found him to be HIV positive.’

‘Good God,’ said the BBC man. ‘Have you got any proof?’

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‘Can’t say I have,’ admitted Henry, ‘although I did overhear his personal doctor being a little indiscreet with the High Commissioner. Other than that, nothing.’

‘Good God,’ the BBC man repeated.

‘This is, of course, strictly off the record. If it were traced back to me, we would never be able to speak again.’

‘I never disclose my sources,’ the correspondent assured him indignantly.

The report that came out on the World Service that evening was vague, and hedged with ‘ifs’ and ‘buts’. However, the next day, when Henry visited the golf course, the Britannia Club and the bank, he found the word ‘AIDS’ on everyone’s lips. Even the High Commissioner asked him if he had heard the rumour.

‘Yes, but I don’t believe it,’ said Henry, without blushing.

The kora dropped 4 per cent the following day, and General Olangi had to appear on television to assure his people that the rumours were false, and were being spread by his enemies. All his appearance on television did was to inform anyone who hadn’t already heard them about the rumours, and as the General seemed to have lost some weight, the kora dropped another 2 per cent.

‘You did rather well this month,’ Bill told Henry on Monday. ‘After that false alarm about Olangi’s HIV problem, I was able to switch 118,000 kora into the Swimming Pool Account, which means my committee can go ahead and instruct the architects to draw up some more detailed plans.’

‘Well done,’ said Henry, passing the praise on to Bill for his personal coup. He put the phone down aware that he couldn’t risk repeating the same stunt again.

Despite the architects’ plans being drawn up and a model of the pool placed in the High Commissioner’s office for all to see, another three months went by with only a trickle of small donations coming in from local businessmen.