by Brian Aldiss
There seemed to me no possible reply ever to this, but David asked, ‘And you believed him?’
‘It seemed politic to do so,’ Northleech said stonily.
‘Politic! My gods alive, there’s a term being used appositely for once!’ David broke into ragged laughter.
Hopelessness came up and overwhelmed me. The terrible betrayal all round was at last revealing itself, and not a man in the country was innocent. Faintly, I said to Tertis, ‘You were going to put us in the picture. What of the countries of the Commonwealth?’
A. deep voice from the door said, ‘Canada declared war on the common enemy two hours after the US did so. It was expedient for the defence of the North American continent. Australia entered the war as soon as Sydney got news of the Hong Kong disaster. Your government promptly tore up the SEATO agreement. Seems the one thing it is efficient at is the gagging of news.’
General Schuller did not introduce himself. He marched into the room and planted himself by Tertis. He was brusque and angry and had cut himself shaving with an old-fashioned razor that morning. His German-American accent was thick and nasal. Dark, handsome, very neat and bemedalled, he dominated the room with compressed fury.
‘Well, Tertis, here I am. Who are these men? We were to be alone, as I understood it’
Tertis stood up, listing us without introducing us. I felt like an undergraduate again under that black stare. The General made no comment, save for a snort when Northleech’s identity was made known to him. Plainly he dismissed David and me from his calculations. David, with his sensitive nature, would not stand for this. Stepping forward, he produced his revolver and said, ‘I am an enemy of your enemies. I’m prepared to shoot any traitors, sir.’
Schuller never paused.
‘Shoot Northleech,’ he ordered.
As my body seemed to freeze, so the tableau did. Even Northleech only cringed without moving from where he stood. David Woolf remained absolutely immobile. Then he returned the gun to his pocket and spoke contemptuously, in perfect command of himself.
‘I kill from conviction, not to pass a personality quiz.’
Schuller grunted again, outwardly unmoved, but from that moment the first impact of his personality was weakened.
‘I won’t mince matters,’ he said, swinging his head so that he spoke directly to Tertis. ‘Britain has never added anything to the power of America. Rather, it’s been a liability, a weak partner to be helped along, mind without muscle. Get it?’
‘There to aid your muscle without mind,’ I interposed tartly, but he continued without condescending to notice the interruption.
‘We could have done without Britain as a partner once. But because she needed us, we’ve got bases and personnel and war material over here to defend our friends. Now at the eleventh hour – no, by Jesus, nearer half-past midnight! – your Prime Minister announces that Britain is to be neutral. Egged on by Red threats and encouragement, he says America must withdraw from these Isles. Right?
‘It so happens it is no longer strategy for us to withdraw. We cannot withdraw. We are not going to withdraw. What’s going to happen now, Tertis?’
Without hesitation, Tertis said, ‘As things are now, with the present government, we shall fight you to turn you out.’
‘Get in the picture, man! You are fighting us. Norfolk’s a battleground right now. Outside Glasgow, the RAF is bombing our installations.’
‘I don’t believe it!’ I said.
‘You’d bloody better believe it, Sir Simon, because it’s happening right enough.’
‘I believe it, General,’ Northleech said. ‘You presumably want to know what can be done to change the situation?’
‘No. I’m going to tell you what can be done.’
‘You need our help, General. Don’t interfere with our offering it to you. What are the alternatives as you see them?’
‘The alternatives are brutal. Either you get Minnie Menhennick and his boys out of the way and replace him by a reliable anti-Red government, or – or London is going to be destroyed and this island will become an American forward base. You’ve got till sundown to act. We can’t let you have any further time.’
Put the way he put it, it sounded all wrong. Without American interference, we would have set our house in order anyway. Made to do it under threats, we would become inglorious traitors. After all, what future was there for Britain in a nuclear war? Suddenly before my eyes rose a picture of our cities all in ruins, women and children dying, even as they were dying now in Hong Kong … and it could happen within five minutes of our declaration of war. All the same, Schuller’s view was understandable, inevitable even. I just wished it could have been put by someone less obviously a gunman.
Dismissing that hopeless argument ad hominem, I asked Northleech, ‘Where is Minnie? Can you get us to him? Is he at Chequers, or No. 10, or where?’
‘He’s in London, in an underground HQ. I could get us there in twenty minutes in my car, if you’re sure it’s the right thing. …’
‘It’s too late to talk. We have to act,’ General Schuller said. ‘Yes, let’s for God’s sake go in your car. My Thunderbird might be a little kind of conspicuous.’
‘I’m staying here,’ Tertis said. He was the least rattled of any of us. ‘Though I’m under suspicion, I can be more use by keeping in touch at this end. My boss feels as I do, and there are plenty more in responsible positions who will back a change of government. You’re comparatively unknown, Simon, but they’d accept you for PM in the emergency. You go with the Minister.’
As the others moved towards the door, I shook Tertis by the hand and said, ‘I’ll do whatever I can.’
‘One word of warning,’ he said. ‘The country is now under martial law. Conscription for Civil Defence starts tomorrow, and you, Simon, have been officially declared an agitator – by the Dean of your college, so I hear. There’s a warrant out for your arrest, so mind how you go.’
‘It should improve my reputation if I stand for office,’ I said. ‘And David?’
Tertis nodded.
‘They want him too.’
I turned round just too late to see what happened then. David had evidently gone first into the corridor. Northleech was frozen in the threshold with General Schuller close behind. Shouts came from along the corridor, shouts and the sound of running feet.
David pulled out that wretched revolver and fired twice, backing into the room as he did so. Someone screamed and the running stopped. Belatedly, one shot was fired in reply. It splintered through the door, which David had shut by then.
Gasping, he looked round at me and said, ‘They’re after us, Simon. Now what the hell do we do?’
‘Rubbish,’ Schuller growled. ‘They’re after me: who else? What is this, a trap or something? Northleech, Tertis, get that desk across the door before they rush us.’
He strode across the room as Tertis and Northleech went into action. He wrenched open the side door leading into the third room of Tertis’s department. This was the secretaries’ room. There were three of them, nice fresh young fellows all looking rather identical with identical suits and their hands raised above their heads. The General had brought two majors and a signalman with him, to wait for him in this outer office. The majors had already attended to the secretaries, while the signalman worked at his walkie-talkie, speaking into it in unhurried code.
‘Nice fast work, Farnes and Able,’ General Schuller said, striding into the third room and adding to the secretaries, ‘Sorry about this, boys, but if I’m in a trap you’ll have to play hostage.’
‘They’re after Woolf and Sir Simon, General, not you,’ Tertis said, following Schuller. ‘Let me go out into the corridor and explain to them.’
‘You’ll stay where you are. I’m sorry not to trust you, Tertis, but right now the British aren’t my favourite nation. I’m taking no chances with anyone. Farnes and Able, bring those three hostages into the other room. Get the desk in too and barricade the side door with it
. Look slippy. Operator, get Green Devil One on the air.’
‘Right to hand, sir,’ the operator said, looking up and handing a scramblerphone to Schuller.
Both majors carried light machine-guns. The one addressed as Farnes covered Tertis, David, Northleech and me, while Able directed the three secretaries. The latter worked efficiently, dragging in the desk, even smiling as they did so; for them this seemed just a break in FO routine. I wondered whether they were displaying British nonchalance or if they genuinely did not grasp the seriousness of the situation.
For myself, I expected a grenade to come through the door at any moment, until it occurred to me that the guards outside were holding their fire in case they injured the General. Everything happened in such rapid succession that it was difficult to think clearly. Although I did not know in what tone Dean Burroughs had reported my hurried exit from East Lincoln, it seemed likely that he would have exaggerated enough for the group in the corridor to regard me as a potential killer.
The General handed the scramblerphone back to his operator, informing the majors as he did so, ‘They’re going to have a whirlybird at this window in two minutes minus.’
Instinctively we all glanced over at Tertis’s long windows with the balcony looking out across Horse Guards’ Parade.
Later it occurred to me that here was a moment for clear thought – the first since the General had entered the room. He filled it by striding from one desk to the other with his jaw forward, saying with heavy sarcasm, ‘And now, my friend Tertis, we’ll test out your theory that the guards outside aren’t gunning for me at all. Farnes, throw this guy David Woolf out into the corridor.’
You understand there were ten of us in the room. The place was comparatively crowded. I saw David’s face shift as he ducked and moved. He looked rat-like: both frightened and frightening.
‘You can’t do this, Schuller. I’m on your side. Take me in the helicopter with you!’
He dodged behind Northleech, who whinnied with fright, and behind Schuller, pulling out his gun as he went. The crazy scheme no doubt was to hold Schuller at pistol-point until we were all safe in the copter. Doubtless David fell between self-preservation and patriotism and saw this idea as offering more hope than being pushed out into the corridor.
‘Hold still, General, I won’t harm –’ he began, his voice shrill. But Farnes moved too. He sprang two paces across the room, dropped to one knee, and fired an automatic, one short and deafening burst.
The long window splintered and fell in. Northleech dropped next – through sheer panic reaction. For a second, dazed, I thought David had not been hit. Then dark blood gouted out of three holes in his shirt, spreading fast.
General Schuller swung round on him. David closed his eyes and fired one shot. Schuller blundered forward on to him. The two men fell together, breaking a chair as they went. Appalled, the two majors ran forward.
In moments of extreme crisis, a governing mechanism seems to take over from the rational centres of the brain. Without reflecting at all on what I was doing, I went to the outer door, pushed aside the desk that barricaded it, and threw it open.
Behind an open doorway opposite, armed men watched from cover. I saw their weapons come up. Down the corridor one way, another group had gathered, dark suits mingling with khaki.
‘General Schuller has been assassinated! Help!’ I called.
Framed in the doorway with smoke drifting past me, I must have looked a wild enough figure. But it was that pregnant cry ‘Assassination,’ echoing down the corridors of the Foreign Office, that brought them all running. As they came, I turned and beckoned Northleech.
In the excitement, the two of us left unnoticed. My last glimpse into the room caught a sudden shadow falling over it. Schuller’s helicopter was arriving – on time, but too late. We ran down the corridor, Northleech puffing hard. As we descended the grand staircase, more shots rang out. Another fool had gone trigger-happy. Long bursts of automatic fire indicated that the helicopter was returning as good as it got.
We met several people. To all of them I uttered my formula and they scattered. Even at the door, where a no-nonsense captain in the South Wales Borderers moved to block our escape, I said, ‘Captain, General Schuller has been assassinated and you people will have to answer for it. See you get reinforcements and surround the building. Nobody whatsoever must leave until further orders. Clear?’
‘I’m not in charge here, sir –’
‘Then consider yourself so immediately. Get half a dozen men up on the second floor at once.’
He jumped to it and we were through.
‘My car!’ Northleech puffed. ‘It’s got a radio link. I must speak to Whitehall as we go. Over this way.’
He headed towards the Chiefs’ Park and I followed, blinking in the sunshine.
‘We’re going to Menhennick?’ I asked.
‘Yes.’
His car was one of the new JC wagons, with a chauffeur lounging near who threw open the rear door smartly as we approached.
‘The Tower, James – fast,’ Northleech ordered.
We climbed in and I asked, ‘You mean to say Menhennick’s in the Tower of London? How singularly appropriate.’
‘Underneath it.’
Northleech was just recovering his breath. As we rolled forward he opaqued the bullet-proof glass so that we could see out and not be seen. At the press of a button, a small bar slid out at knee level. At the press of another, his radiophone opened before him. We were of course completely sound-proofed off from the driver.
The screen before the Minister lit. A severe matron appeared, with behind her a crowded Whitehall room where people came and went.
‘Give me Bawtrey, General Intelligence,’ Northleech said, still puffing slightly.
‘There may be a moment’s delay, Minister. Routine is a little disturbed at present.’
‘Fast as you can, miss. Emergency.’
She turned away. Northleech stabbed a finger at the screen.
‘I’ll give her “routine disturbed.” Look, there’s some bugger walking round that room with a cup of tea in his hand. Do you wonder the country’s going to the dogs!’
I bit off the obvious answer that it was people like him who helped it go. He poured us some drinks, looked more cheerful, and began to grumble, all the while tapping one knee impatiently and staring at the screen before him.
‘Sorry we had to leave Leo Tertis with his hands full like that. … Expedient, however. Look, Simon, I don’t want you to feel disappointed, but Tertis was flannelling you in there.’
‘In what way?’
‘This incredible stuff about the possibility of your becoming PM No offence, but it just shows how far poor old Tertis’s judgement is awry’. I urged the Foreign Secretary to get him into something safe like Housing years ago. … I mean, for PM we need a man of experience, a young man, a man in the public eye, a man who knows the ropes, knows where to turn for guidance.’
‘To you for instance?’
‘I’ll serve as long as the public need me, Simon. I’m an old warhorse.’
‘You’re a bloody pacifist, Edgar. Appeasement’s the be-all and end-all of your philosophy.’
He looked broodingly at me, entirely without taking offence.
‘You don’t really want to see this grand little country blown to bits just to gratify your ambition, do you?’
‘My record –’
‘Bugger your record! You can’t help being what you are, I know. You’ve never held office and you can’t see the reason for being guided by necessity occasionally. There’s none of the sticker about you, Simon, that’s what’s lacking. In my young days, I had the fortune to be guided by the great Lord Halifax –’
‘You know what I think of Halifax!’
‘I don’t care what you think. You don’t think enough. That’s the world’s trouble. Look at Schuller: the action school, as much brain power as a bull. Need never have been killed if he’d spent thirty seconds cogita
ting instead of emoting. Non cogitavit ergo fuit. Same with Woolf – an anarchist and subversive like all his kind. He had no idea he was shooting Schuller; it was simple father-hatred squeezed the trigger.’
‘Package reasoning! There was a lifetime’s conviction behind that bullet of David’s. He had a reasoned hatred of big and noisy men who use their position to make more noise –’
‘Putting you through,’ said the panel. Simultaneously, a bearded man in shirt sleeves with a cup at his elbow and a pile of flimsies in his fist blinked into being on the screen.
‘Hello, Bawtrey,’ Northleech said, with a parade of affability. ‘What’s happening since I called you last?’
‘Everything,’ Bawtrey said, taking a swig from his cup. ‘What do you want to know, Minister?’
‘Relevant events of the last two hours. Hong Kong?’
‘Nothing fresh. No new H-bombs dropped. First casualty estimate, one hundred fifty thousand dead, wounded, and missing. Singapore on general alert, Aussie fleet engaging Chinese warships off New Guinea. Three Russian nuclear subs detected and destroyed off Alaska coast –’
‘What else? Washington?’
‘Contact with America is just about defunct,’ Bawtrey said, looking at us under his eyebrows. ‘They’re tearing their hair here, Minister. Not a peep from Washington, New York, Ottawa, Toronto – the whole blessed continent might just as well have disappeared. All cables are reported temporarily out of order, and all wavelengths blanketed with unusually strong interference.’
Northleech and I looked at each other.
‘How long has this been the case?’ Northleech asked.
Bawtrey glanced at his watch.
‘I’ve been on shift two hours. Two and a half hours, at a guess. There may be something through in a few minutes. Meanwhile, hang on, here’s something else of interest.’
As he was speaking, Bawtrey leafed through his flimsies. ‘The first space battle is now in progress. US Orbiters attacking the Red nuclear satellite, meeting opposition from Tsiolkos and China bugs.’
‘Europe?’
‘Mobilisation in France, Italy, and the Scandinavian countries. Every man in Western Germany at the frontier, Reuter reports. Same in Turkey, Greece. Main impression seems to be that they’re waiting to see what Great Britain decides.’
