Crocodile Tears

things.” Alex dredged his mind, trying to remember what he’d been learning the term before. “It’s something Prince Charles is always going on about,” he said. “He’s afraid they’ll accidentally destroy the world.”
    “ The real problem with GM crops could be the corporations who end up controlling them,” Edward said. “Have you heard of the terminator gene?”
    Alex shook his head.
    “ It’s something they’ve built into plants that effectively turns them off. It stops them from reproducing.
    So if you want more wheat or barley or whatever, you have to go back to the same company and pay them. You see what I mean? Whoever controls the genes could end up controlling the world’s economy.
    It might be a good subject for me to write about myself. The real danger of genetically modified food . .
    .”
    There was the sound of footsteps coming down the spiral staircase and suddenly Desmond McCain was there, pacing toward them. Sitting at the card table, Alex hadn’t realized how big the man was. He was almost seven feet tall, built like an American football player, with oversized shoulders and arms. Given his life story, he must have been at least fifty years old, but he looked much younger. He obviously still kept himself in shape.

    Edward Pleasure turned around and recognized him. “Reverend McCain!” he exclaimed.
    “ Mr. Pleasure …” McCain came to a halt. Alex saw a hard-to-read emotion pass over his face. His eyes, ever so briefly, clouded over as the zigzag that was his mouth stretched tight. Then, just as quickly, the expression of unease was gone. He smiled. “I’m very glad you could make it to my little affair,” he said. He gestured at Alex. “Are the two of you together by any chance?”
    “ Yes. Have you met?”
    “ Alex and I were playing cards just a few minutes ago.” McCain’s smile remained, but it seemed a little strained and artificial. “If I’d known he was your guest, perhaps I wouldn’t have been so rash with my betting. He actually cleaned me out.” They were now all standing on the same level, but McCain still loomed over them. “How is the article?” he asked.
    “ It’s finished.”
    “ I hope it won’t contain any unpleasant surprises.”
    “ You won’t have long to wait. It should be out next month.”
    “ Have you delivered it?”
    “ Not yet.”
    “ I’m looking forward to reading it.” McCain examined the journalist as if it was his mind that he was trying to read. For a moment neither of them spoke. Then McCain blinked as if he had suddenly lost interest. “But now you must forgive me,” he said. “I have a speech to make. Thank you so much for coming to Kilmore Castle. It was very good to see you again. And a pleasure to meet you, Alex.”

    He swept past them in the direction of the banqueting hall. Edward Pleasure was looking puzzled.
    “What was all that about?” he asked.
    Alex shrugged. “I don’t know.” He hesitated. “I thought he looked upset about something… .”
    “ I thought so too.”
    “ Maybe he’s worried about what you’re going to write.”
    “ He shouldn’t be. I’ve already told you. I had nothing bad to say. Actually, I think he’s quite a remarkable man. Take tonight for example. All these people have come here because of him. And it’s all for charity. He never rests.”
    He stopped as Sabina appeared, hurrying down the corridor toward them. “Dad!” she said. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”
    Edward Pleasure put an arm around her. “We’re leaving,” he said. “Mum’s still awake. We can toast the New Year when we get in.”
    They had no choice but to leave through the banqueting hall. By now all the guests had assembled and were standing together, champagne glasses in hand, facing the gallery where the bagpipe players had been performing and where McCain was about to make his speech. At least nobody would notice the three of them as they left early. Alex and Sabina followed Edward Pleasure and they made their way down the side of the buffet table—which had been partly cleared—on their way out.

    There was a sudden fanfare, a single trumpeter standing at the back of the hall, his instrument glowing golden in the candlelight. The notes echoed across the chamber and the guests stopped talking and looked up expectantly. McCain appeared on the gallery. Two of the Highland pipers walked behind him, flanking him, a guard of honor. Alex couldn’t help wondering if they