Undercover by Bill James

– and the mission, no doubt, of other handlers around the country, with the aid of inner soul experts like you, Mr Rockmain – to convince these women that the romancing was not a heartless or flippant act, acts, by the officer, but a necessary and valued part of his facade; and to convince them also that acceptance of an honorarium, running into four figures most likely, for this service and their buttoned lip in no way reflects disparagingly on the women and is not in any degree to be confused with payment to a whore
post hoc
.’
    Rockmain said: ‘Naturally, we are aware that the proposed doling out of currency to excuse what these women regard as fleshly exploitation might seem cold and mercenary. Perhaps an insult, even. Handlers such as Howie will have to shape their healing approach very subtly, very delicately. It will not be a rushed matter, and I’ll be ready with specialist support for him at every stage of the challenging negotiations. I should be able to judge the state of the woman’s, women’s, mind, minds, from what Howard tells me, and suggest detailed techniques, distinct and custom-made, individually fashioned, for each and every dupee concerned, thus assuring progress. So, you see, Tom, the potential situation, situations has, have, been very thoroughly reviewed and measures made ready. You may – must – use every means to protect your substitute identity. You can do this certain that all possible subsequent problems will be properly, generously, humanely resolved.’
    Tom dealt with the remains of his meal. ‘We’ll be away,’ Lambert said. ‘Best not leave together.’
    â€˜But we came in together,’ Tom said.
    â€˜There’s that fine argumentativeness again – refusal to take any statement or proposal glibly!’ Lambert said. He offered a congratulatory chuckle. ‘“Glibly” is not a word to be associated with Tom. I believe much has been accomplished this evening. Accord? In-depth mutual understanding?’ With a gentle movement of his arm, as though about to stroke a kitten, he put three fifties flat on the table near Tom’s empty coffee beaker. ‘This OK for fuel and, so to speak, grub?’ he said. ‘You’ll see that, as per guidance, it’s been rounded up to multiples of five.’
    The details of this procedure baffled Tom. He had not seen Lambert take the fifties from his pocket or a wallet. It was almost like a conjuror suddenly producing something out of nowhere: next, a rabbit? And the notes lay uncreased on the Formica surface, not crumpled as they would surely have been if concealed for a while in Lambert’s fist, waiting for the moment. Tom admired Lambert’s deftness. Perhaps he had done the same sort of handover often before and perfected a method. It would have appeared blatant and clumsy to fish the notes from inside his jacket or from a bill-holder. Ungraceful. Vulgar. No wonder they called these officers ‘handlers’.
    Rockmain and Lambert stood. Rockmain leaned over the table to talk reasonably quietly to Tom. Rockmain said: ‘These women, protesting about false provenance pricks trapezing up and down their skiters, were probably bullied into making a fucks-fuss by some libertarian pressure cell. Such groups proliferate. It’s an industry, Tom. But clearly, we have to take very serious and authentically respectful notice, ho-ho, while also ensuring as far as we can that the safety of undercover lads like you, Tom, and – even more vital – the future of undercover itself, are suitably preserved. To that end the women may be offered a silencer sum, a gagging
douceur
, by wad not traceable cheque, obviously, the fee quite possibly deserved and inevitable, given the flagrantly enlightened and sodding fair-play notions that dog us non-stop these days.’
    He and Lambert left, Rockmain ahead again, frail looking and boyish from behind, his