‘I can’t imagine why,’ said Kenny, as he continued jogging down the corridor.
‘Because Parliament will now have to change the law,’ said the Chief Inspector, ‘and this time it will undoubtedly tie up all your little loopholes.’
‘Not in the near future would be my bet, Chief Inspector,’ Kenny said as he left the building and began jogging down the courtroom steps. ‘As Parliament is about to rise for the summer recess, I can’t see them finding time for new amendments to the Data Protection Act much before February or March of next year.’
‘But if you try to repeat the exercise, I’ll arrest you the moment you get off the plane,’ Travis said as Kenny came to a halt on the pavement.
‘I don’t think so, Chief Inspector.’
‘Why not?’
‘I can’t imagine the CPS will be willing to go through another expensive trial, if all they’re likely to end up with is a fine of PS1,000. Think about it, Chief Inspector.’
‘Well, I’ll get you the following year,’ said Travis.
‘I doubt it. You see, by then Hong Kong will no longer be a Crown Colony, and I will have moved on,’ said Kenny as he climbed into a taxi.
‘Moved on?’ said the Chief Inspector, looking puzzled.
Kenny pulled the taxi window down, smiled at Travis and said, ‘If you’ve nothing better to do with your time, Chief Inspector, I recommend that you study the new Financial Provisions Act. You wouldn’t believe how many loopholes there are in it. Goodbye, Chief Inspector.’
‘Where to, guv?’ asked the taxi driver.
‘Heathrow. But could we stop at Harrods on the way? There’s a pair of cufflinks I want to pick up.’
CHALK AND CHEESE
‘SUCH A TALENTED CHILD,’ said Robin’s mother, as she poured her sister another cup of tea. ‘The headmaster said on speech day that the school hadn’t produced a finer artist in living memory.’
‘You must be so proud of him,’ said Miriam, before sipping her tea.
‘Yes, I confess I am,’ admitted Mrs Summers, almost purring. ‘Of course, although everyone knew he would win the Founder’s Prize, even his art master was surprised when he was offered a place at the Slade before he had sat his entrance exam. It’s only sad that his father didn’t live long enough to enjoy his triumph.’
‘And how’s John getting on?’ enquired Miriam, as she selected a jam tart.
Mrs Summers sighed as she considered her older son. ‘John will finish his Business Management course at Manchester some time in the summer, but he doesn’t seem able to make up his mind what he wants to do.’ She paused as she dropped another lump of sugar in her tea. ‘Heaven knows what will become of him. He talks about going into business.’
‘He always worked so hard at school,’ said Miriam.
‘Yes, but he never quite managed to come top of anything, and he certainly didn’t leave with any prizes. Did I tell you that Robin has been offered the chance of a one-man show in October? It’s only a local gallery, of course, but as he pointed out, every artist has to start somewhere.’
John Summers travelled back to Peterborough to attend his brother’s first one-man show. His mother would never have forgiven him had he failed to put in an appearance. He had just learned the result of his Business Management examinations. He had been awarded a 2.1 degree, which wasn’t bad considering he had been Vice President of the student union, with a President who had rarely made an appearance once he’d been elected. He wouldn’t tell Mother about his degree, as it was Robin’s special day.
After years of being told by his mother what a brilliant artist his brother was, John had come to assume it would not be long before the rest of the world acknowledged the fact. He often reflected about how different the two of them were; but then, did people know how many brothers Picasso had? No doubt one of them went into business.
It took John some time to find the little back street where the gallery was located, but when he did he was pleased to discover it packed with friends and wellwishers. Robin was standing next to his mother, who was suggesting the words ‘magnificent’, ‘outstanding’, ‘truly talented’ and even ‘genius’ to a reporter from the Peterborough Echo.
‘Oh, look, John has arrived,’ she said, leaving her little coterie for a moment to acknowledge her other son.
John kissed her on the cheek and said, ‘Robin couldn’t have a better send-off to his career.’
‘Yes, I’m bound to agree with you,’ his mother concurred. ‘And I’m sure it won’t be long before you can bask in his glory. You’ll be able to tell everyone that you’re Robin Summers’s elder brother.’
Mrs Summers left John to have another photograph taken with Robin, which gave him the opportunity to stroll around the room and study his brother’s canvases. They consisted mainly of the portfolio he had put together during his last year at school. John, who readily confessed his ignorance when it came to art, felt it must be his own inadequacy that caused him not to appreciate his brother’s obvious talent, and he felt guilty that they weren’t the kind of pictures he would want to see hanging in his home. He stopped in front of a portrait of his mother, which had a red dot next to it to indicate that it had been sold. He smiled, confident that he knew who had bought it.
‘Don’t you think it captures the very essence of her soul?’ said a voice from behind him.
‘It certainly does,’ said John, as he swung round to face his brother. ‘Well done. I’m proud of you.’