Best Interests - Tony Blair in the Wilderness

...on the runway...McKong and Freeman were fighting...Mrs. Harris appeared too having seen Tony from the airport terminal...then a few more people started appearing...that empty silo is coming back to haunt Tony...



Floodlights, brilliant white in the cold air, poured onto the concrete. Mr. Ferguson and Aristotle Paterson walked onto the runway.

“Now, McKong. Can I ask you what in the name of William O’McCreedie is going on here? We have a runway to build haven’t we? Standing around talking isn’t going to build a runway.”

Paterson wrung his hands.

“I tried to stop him, Breeze. He’s got some idea or other about the runway.”

Mr. Ferguson kept walking.

“It’s not good enough, McKong. I have to talk with you, McKong, man to man, adult to adult, grown up to grown up. Freeman has brought it to my attention that there are certain irregularities, and I don’t need to remind you that the good name of our brave forefather Colonel William O’McCreedie is in jeopardy here.”

“Old Concrete Bill.”

“I don’t need to remind you that Concrete Bill…er…Colonel William O’McCreedie struggled out of Ireland with nothing but a starving family to his name. Colonel William O’McCreedie created this ancient and revered company out of the land, and this runway is not fit to bear his name. I command you to break it out now and to preserve the good name of Colonel William O’McCreedie. This runway will ruin our reputation.”

Freeman looked up from the pages of the British Standard, ‘Guide to Making Concrete’.

“Absolutely. There’s no cement in the concrete. You never reordered Paterson. The silo’s been running empty for a month. Break it out.”

McKong looked horrified, and then he turned to me.

“You took the measurements, sir? Can you explain this, sir?”

“I told you the silo was empty, guys, but there was no way you would listen. My first reading was correct, and I acted in the best interests of the people of the area. You should have reordered when I said. It’s your fault, not mine. Break it out.”

Paterson was shaking as if he was about to burst, holding the sides of his head.

“Jesus, man. There’s no way. My runway is not coming out for anyone, not for Ferguson, not for Freeman, not even for Tony Blair. Can’t you see? This is a fine piece of runway.”

McKong put his hand on Paterson’s shoulder.

“So it’s come to this has it, Freeman. You really want to exhume the runway, after all the struggles to bring this project to life. I thought you believed in me. Well it will be over my dead body. There’s nothing wrong with the runway, Freeman.”

But Freeman held up the British Standard book, and stood next to Mr. Ferguson. He said there was nothing that couldn’t be fixed using the British Standard book.

“I have the relevant section right here, McKong.”

The four men stared at each other. Freeman dropped the book. They put up their fists, and circled. I looked at my watch. I had to be out of there. Mrs. Harris touched my arm and whispered.

“Will they be doing any exciting stuff soon, Mr. Tony, like on the telly? Only, I have to meet a friend—a very good friend.”

“Search me, gal. Freedom beckons.”

But someone else was standing behind her, witnessing humanity shake off its ancient bindings and break free. A man was standing in the umbrella of light. He opened a long coat, and put his hands in his pockets. His face, rough as the surface of the concrete, was full of pity.

“Breeze McKong, of no fixed abode. I am arresting you for the abduction of a Mrs. Francis-Prior of 3, Sunbury Gardens, London, NW3.”

...to be continued...