Sarcs "[the] rather bizarre interpretation by the Deputy Dog that all this skulduggery was in keeping with the new MoU, what I find passing strange was all this high level micro-managing of a matter that should have been more than capably handled by middle management identities.
Except by then Hoody (absent on a sicky); Cook and Watson had washed their hands of it. They must have been amazed at the speed and dexterity with which Wodger fixed Humpty Dumpty, all back together again in just a few days short of a Christmas fortnight; despite their expert cautions. They must be prescient, or perhaps just qualified professionals who can read and write the signs. It was always going to end in tears, perhaps less so for the ATSB who were, at least until Beaker took his thirty pieces of silver, doing the right thing.
(Mods and gods permitting) = = = = = = = The Legend of Sleepy Hollow; chapter 3.
For VW, his life was complete; rubbing shoulders with the 'big dogs', sending snappy little notes (the pigeons were all just about knackered) to the DVG at silly o'clock with demands to sign this and execute that; positively bouncing with righteous zeal. The idea of a Captains scalp was first and foremost in his happy thoughts; although it must be said that his first attempt was a failure, of sorts. Whether it was love at first sight or just too much mutual admiration, the first if the Kings captains happily sold out his crew and accepted the VW job offer, but that is a story for another day (see Vol. IX : A nest of Vipers). A secondary target (Survivor) was soon arranged. There would be an appearance in the 'high court' with lawyers swanning about, while he looked on, stern and concerned waiting for his turn at starring. He had even taken some lessons from his Mum on public speaking and with a defined talent for mimicry, he felt sure he could 'win' the case; any road, the 'facts and circumstances' were rigged by the spell weavers to work properly, so no worries.
He was, he felt dealing quite well with not having his report published, being as it was so important not only to his future, but it dealt some savage blows to the pesky snakes. He'd been bragging about it in the tea room to his 'new' cronies and how it would rid him of the non friendly, pesky snake crew. He had even contemplated 'leaking it'. There was a nasty rumour in the kitchens that this was done anyway, and somehow or another it had been passed along to those who knew exactly what it was and how best to use it. Whether VW had leaked it or one of the pesky snakes had left a copy in a bar somewhere is not known; speculation abounds. But it is known that the result was always going to be painful.
Anyway – just as all of this glory was heading his way; the specialist wolves struck their blow. They were proud of their work and unlike the other snakes were not prepared to amend as required to suit the agenda. There were some serious words spoken and the GV, now fully rested from laying about on Lubby-Loo island got involved. The wolves were banished, scattered and denigrated. "No, no, no " said the GV: "this was to be 'low key', routine and was not to involve qualified experts who can't be bullied, bought or budged". About this time Survivor's lawyers chimed in, pointing out that the Captains scalp may be forfeit, but it was not going to be an easy task, there were 'irregularities' to discuss and Survivor's inconvenient testimony to consider. Well, tempers were lost, books were thrown, one senior Vizier (SV) was almost involved in a corridor punch up. The GV bellowed, threatened, cajoled and bullied the rebels into silence. The only problem was that now instead of the sinking being quietly slid under the carpet; it became a full dress affair with everyone from the office cat to the GV himself being involved and a half mile wide paper trail following; with the wolves and snakes following that
In time, the GV got the brakes on and most of the cat back into the bag. "Look here" says GV, "we could end up with some blowback on this; the crew over to Mariners Trust (MT) reckon we may have to catch some of the blame for the sinking". Well, they held a midnight meeting or two, to look at what had been done, including the wolves work and decided that yes; they were potentially in deep do-do. What made it worse was that VW had been spoon feeding only the choicest morsels to the brand new, clueless minion who was the 'go-between' for the MT and GV camps. Green as grass, the minion was not just feeding the selected parts of the VW line to MT, but also some of the less savoury parts.
No longer certain of who had what, there was a lot of 'evidence' to slide out of harms way. As you know, VW had covered it from all possible angles to ensure that whatever way the GV wanted to play it; he could produce a line of paper-work to support it. Once the final plot was executed; the 'excess' embarrassing, inconvenient 'evidence' could be shuffled away, incorrectly filed or lost, for in this practice VW had no shortage of expertise (although no formal qualification).
Over at the MT HQ, they had been playing a straight bat and working within the 'new' rule set. This meant warning the GV that they were obliged to issue a stern, safety warning which put the not only the King in a bad light, but the GV as well. Unconcerned at first, the GV 's tame spell weavers had been working to minimise the damage, same as always; the under the carpet spell was tried and tested true. If the GV just nipped over to the MT and smoothed the way all would be well, provided the master mariners could be persuaded to just not mention less savoury morsels they had been inadvertently gifted. And so it came to pass, for two long, quiet years, while the poison trapped beneath the surface festered. VW nearly recovered from not being published, he had a tame captain and Survivor mouse to toy with at will; he had intimidated some of the pesky ladder snakes; established meaningful relationships with the DVG and the GV. (They had in fact become quite friendly; having similar tastes in extracurricular activities, mutual secrets and a need to stick together). To all intents and purposes, the sinking of the 'Nightingale' had been quietly put aside. Left to a watery grave, alone, unloved and unattended.
And so it would have stayed, had it not been for Survivor who kept asking awkward questions and making friends with some lone wolves, who were outcast from the GV inner circle. Slowly but irrevocably the Survivor pieced the true story together, the wolves of course saw what was coming and decided to assist by asking some very awkward questions themselves, related to their work and why their expert opinions were being overridden and dismissed by what was, in their eyes, a jumped up, unqualified office wallah. And so the thick plottened and festered; hidden away from sight, on the back burner.
Now the King was a parliamentary, constitutional type of monarch, tolerated to an extent by the ruling party of nobles and common folk; but he had to mind his manners. One day, Survivor was overheard discussing the 'Nightingale' affair with one of the governing nobles by a reporter. Curious, the reporter offered Survivor a beer. A little later, across the road in the pub soon enough the story was told. Once the reporter realised that there was to be a noble involved, he set to work on a centrepiece story, with deep research, pictures and all the trimmings. The stench of a rotting carcass being irresistible.
Now children, we must leave the land of Faery behind and proceed very carefully in the very real, wicked world of men; for second coffee awaits (and a muffin, if we get lucky)....
= = = = = = = = = =
There you go Sarcs – enjoy: you owe me a beer you bugger.
Toot toot.....
