by Peter Watson
‘In Greek waters and in broad daylight?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’m not sure that isn’t an act of war.’
From the Observer:
AMERICAN AID WITHDRAWAL PROVOKES BITTER
REACTION
From our own correspondent, New Delhi
Senior political figures here have responded bitterly to the announcement made in Washington on Friday night by Mr Dixon Thayer, US Secretary of State, to the effect that the US is suspending all aid to the sub-continent as a consequence of the raid on the Metropolitan Museum last week. During the raid, by an organization calling itself Hindu Heritage, eight statues were stolen and a security guard was killed.
Mr Thayer, who was addressing the Foreign Press Club’s annual dinner in Washington, said that both the President and he himself had been outraged by the fact that the stolen treasures had gone on show at a Hindu shrine in Hindupur. He said that all US aid to India, currently running at $886 million a year, would be held up. A consignment of trucks, due to leave Baltimore yesterday, has already been cancelled.
Mr Vishwanna Chota, government spokesman for foreign affairs, described the move as a ‘gross over-reaction’. ‘We recognize that one death is one death too many,’ he said. ‘But it is still only one death. America’s aid to India saves hundreds – maybe thousands – of lives. They are now at risk.’
Mr Seba Herma Chandra, deputy leader of the opposition coalition, went further. ‘This is a disaster for India,’ he said. ‘But it also shows how muscle-bound and simplistic American foreign policy is. Not everyone in India is Hindu – so why should the rest of the country be forced to suffer for the crimes of others? Where is the democracy in that? America is currently trying to persuade India not to develop a greater nuclear capability. Why should we listen any more?’
Our Washington correspondent adds: Secretary of State Thayer’s remarks were endorsed yesterday by two leading North American politicians. The Governor of New York, addressing a rally in the state capital, Albany, praised the secretary of state for his ‘firm grasp on the important essentials of foreign policy’. And Mr Robert McReady, Prime Minister of Canada, speaking in Calgary, said that Dixon Thayer’s ‘prompt action had hopefully done enough to nip in the bud this new notion of cultural terrorism.’ In a clear reference to the British Prime Minister, he added: ‘The museums of the West are open to all. Their contents belong to us all – and should not be allowed to become the playthings of the powerful.’
‘Now, your traditional Sunday lunch is the best, of course. Roast beef, nice and red. Gravy. Peas, though personally I can’t abide Yorkshire pudding. But … well, I had thirty-six oysters in Galway one September Sunday, years ago. Then there was a seal in Oslo … bit tough but delicious in its way. Giant crabs – sushi style – in the Seychelles, that I shan’t forget. And this one, of course. Alcohol-free lager and chocolate. Warm alcohol-free lager at that.’
‘Tell me, Riley,’ O’Day shifted in his seat. ‘These fabulous meals … did you really eat them? Or are you making it all up?’
‘Of course they were real. Look at that.’ He patted his stomach. ‘That’s real.’
O’Day fixed him with a stare. ‘And I suppose they all went on expenses, didn’t they?’
‘Two weeks ago, on this programme, we reported the first news of the government’s plans to return to Greece the so-called Elgin Marbles. No one imagined at that time that this would be such a critical issue for William Lockwood. In fact, tomorrow in the House of Commons he faces a censure motion on this matter. In a moment, we shall be talking to a brace of politicians and asking them how they think the debate will go. First, though, we are going over to our correspondent in Athens, Ellis Kirby … Ellis, what is the mood in Athens this weekend?’
‘Well, Douglas, although all eyes in Britain are on the Commons debate, with perhaps a thought for the injured Britons in hospital in Athens, here in Greece we are all awaiting the arrival of HMS Anglesey, carrying the Marbles. About a hundred small boats are gathering in Piraeus harbour. They will go out to greet the Anglesey, as soon as she is sighted, and escort her into the port. Tonight there is to be a vigil on the Acropolis. Anyone who wants to is taking a candle or torch – and thousands are already streaming up the hill. The entire Acropolis will be lit tonight by flamelight and it should be visible from the sea, the hope being that the lights of the vigil will be the first thing the crew of the Anglesey sees.’
‘No one knows, do they, when exactly the Anglesey will arrive?’
‘No. The embassy here says that the secrecy is due to security reasons. The embassy itself is ringed by police though there aren’t many demonstrators outside at the moment. Most people have been taken with the idea of a vigil – and it should be a pretty spectacular sight.’
‘Thank you, Ellis Kirby. Now, with me in the studio I have Frank Whiteman, deputy leader of the opposition, and Jocelyn Hatfield, government Chief Whip. Joss Hatfield, if I may come to you first … All of the Sunday papers this morning carry the picture on the front page of the two Nigerian athletes demonstrating at Crystal Palace yesterday and reports on the injured British tourists in Greece. In sharp contrast, there is the firm action of the US Secretary of State, which has been widely welcomed. Isn’t all that going to damage the Prime Minister’s position still further? According to your calculations, how close is it going to be tomorrow?’
‘I don’t think the Nigerian protest changes things at all. In fact, if you look closely at the situation, it is a non sequitur. There is some doubt about the legality of the Marbles’ export from Greece at the beginning of the nineteenth century. But there is no doubt that the Benin bronzes were legally exported from Nigeria. Therefore the comparison does not arise. I am of course very sorry that our fellow countrymen were attacked by Greek thugs late on Friday night and I hope the culprits will be caught and punished.’
‘And the debate tomorrow? How close will it be?’
‘The government has a majority of thirty-four. Tomorrow’s debate is a three-line whip. A few people on our side may abstain but we’ll have no problem surviving.’
‘Can you put a figure on what your majority will be?’
‘I can but I won’t. I’m too long in the tooth to give hostages to fortune.’
‘Frank Whiteman, Joss Hatfield won’t give a figure. Will you?’
‘Yes. I think the government will lose. At our last count – on Friday, before this Crystal Palace business, before the holiday-makers were attacked, and before we knew about the vigil in Athens tonight – we calculated that exactly thirty of the government’s backbenchers would abstain tomorrow. In one of the papers this morning, there’s an article reporting that a couple of other backbenchers, from dockyard constituencies, who were not in our calculations, rather resent the fact that the Royal Navy has been used to return the Marbles. I also didn’t know that Glen MacTaggart, the member for Fife, is married to one of Elgin’s descendants. He may find it difficult to vote for the government.’
‘But isn’t that a rag-bag of reasons for abstaining? It’s not as if your side was arguing a noble cause and persuading people by eloquence and passion, is it?’
‘That’s modern politics for you. Tomorrow’s debate is a three-line whip because the government is fighting for its life. It has a rag-bag of reasons too. It is not persuading by reason or passion but by force. There will be eloquence tomorrow, and passion. But there are always other reasons – personal reasons – why some people vote as they do. That is perfectly proper in a democracy.’
‘In one of this morning’s other papers,’ said the presenter, ‘it is suggested that the Queen should intervene to prevent the Marbles being landed in Greece. How would you feel about having the royal family on your side, Frank Whiteman?’
‘I would welcome support from wherever it came,’ Whiteman replied. ‘But this is a party political matter now, so of course the royals ought not to be involved.’
‘And you, Jocelyn Hatfield? How would y
ou feel about any involvement on the part of the royal family?’
‘It’s an academic and mischievous question. I can’t imagine for one moment that Her Majesty would wish to be involved in this matter in any way whatsoever.’
‘Dr Shelby to see you, sir.’ The security guard held the door while Eugenie Shelby walked through into Ogilvy’s office. Unusually for him, he was wearing a sports jacket and no tie. Because he was so nervous, he was trying hard to look relaxed.
‘Sorry to bring you in on a Sunday but, as you’ll see, it’s necessary.’
Eugenie Shelby sat on the upright leather chair in front of the director’s desk and tidied her skirt around her legs. She was brown-haired, not tall, and had an attractive – but rather masculine – face, a strong brow and fairly prominent teeth. Lovely skin. ‘What’s all this about?’
Ogilvy took his time. He wasn’t a good liar and did not look forward to the next few minutes. So far as he was concerned, Dr Eugenie Shelby was what she had always been: a very good stone conservator. He had telephoned her the afternoon before and invited her to come to the museum now. ‘How’s the new lab?’ he asked. The museum had a new conservators’ laboratory, in the basement.
‘Fine. No daylight down there but the new equipment is a big help.’
Ogilvy nodded sympathetically. ‘Would it disrupt you if I pulled you out of there for a while?’
Eugenie Shelby sat up straight. ‘What? Why should you? I haven’t even mastered the software yet.’
The director bit his lip. ‘Answer my question first. Would it disrupt you?’
‘Yes, it would disrupt me – and not only me. We’re planning to clean the Rosetta Stone – you know that. We’re nearly ready to go. I was looking forward to it. But why do you want to pull me off? What else do you want me to do?’
‘Something else, more important, has cropped up.’ Ogilvy looked out of his window. There were still protestors with placards at the gateway to Great Russell Street.
Eugenie Shelby said nothing, waiting.
‘Where do you stand on the Marbles business?’
‘What do you mean – “Where do I stand?”?’
‘I mean … do you approve of what the Prime Minister has been doing, do you think it’s right they should have been returned? Do you think the Greeks have a case?’
‘Does it matter what I think?’
‘For the job I have in mind it matters very much.’
Eugenie Shelby hesitated.
Ogilvy reflected darkly that she was trying to assess which answer he wanted.
‘Lockwood is a fool. The Marbles have been here for nearly two hundred years. They should stay here.’
Ogilvy smiled. With luck, Eugenie Shelby would think he was delighted by her answer. In fact, he was relieved she had deceived him. Now it would be easier to deceive her. ‘Before I tell you what I’m about to tell you, Dr Shelby, I must remind you that when you first came here you signed the Official Secrets Act.’ He reached into a drawer and took from it several sheets of printed paper. ‘Would you like to reacquaint yourself with the Act? What I’m about to tell you comes under this Act, very much so. I’m asking you to work on a top secret matter and I want your prior agreement that it will stay secret.’
‘It concerns the Parthenon Marbles?’
Interesting, thought Ogilvy, she doesn’t think of them as the Elgin Marbles. ‘Yes … yes it does.’
Eugenie Shelby shrugged. ‘What would you like me to say? I’ve never worked on anything truly secret before … I don’t know how I can convince you I’m trustworthy.’
Ogilvy smiled again. ‘And I have never had to ask this of anyone in the museum before … so I am as inexperienced as you.’ He tapped the papers. ‘Your promise will be sufficient. A promise to keep to yourself whatever I may tell you.’
He put the papers away again. Was he making too much of this encounter?
She stared back and shrugged again. ‘I promise.’
Ogilvy nodded. ‘Thank you.’ He brushed his fingers through his hair. ‘I saw the Prime Minister yesterday. At Chequers. He asked to see me specially.’ Ogilvy rocked back in his chair. ‘He told me a great deal about this … Elgin affair that I didn’t know – and this is where the Official Secrets Act begins to bite. I’m not at liberty to tell you everything – I don’t know everything myself – but what I can say is that … behind all this … behind the government’s apparent desire to return the Marbles, there is … there is blackmail. Apparently the government is being blackmailed – Lockwood wouldn’t tell me what exactly but it’s very embarrassing, so he said.’
‘What sort of blackmail?’
‘I don’t know and even if I did I wouldn’t be able to tell you. But the important thing is this: the dispatch of the Marbles on HMS Anglesey was a bluff –’
Ogilvy noticed a very slight constriction at Eugenie Shelby’s throat but, in general, she kept very calm. He too had to press on in the most natural way.
‘– a bluff in that its journey was intended to buy time during which the government’s security services could investigate, and perhaps capture, the blackmailers.’
‘And did they? … Did they catch them, I mean?’
She was cool, this Shelby woman. ‘No, not a whiff, so far as I am told. But in any case that’s not our concern. The point of this meeting, the point about my questions to you earlier, is that … some time tomorrow – I am not allowed to know when exactly – the Anglesey will be recalled. She will change course and head for home. The blackmailers’ terrible story will come out, but the Greeks won’t get their Marbles. And that’s where you come in. By the time they get back to London, the Marbles will have had more than a week at sea. They have been decently enough packed but there’s been rough weather off Malta and who knows what damage may have been done to them? Your job is twofold. The Marbles will be back here in four or five days. I want you to get your work on the Rosetta Stone orderly enough to leave it for a while. I’d like you to be ready forty-eight hours before the Marbles and I want you ready to carry out a survey of their condition as soon as they come back, so that they can go on public display as soon as possible. Ideally, I’d like the Duveen Galleries reopened within a week, ten days at the most. Don’t worry about budgets … leave that to me. The Prime Minister won’t stint us on this one. Get whatever help you need and have everybody working all hours until it is done.’ Ogilvy rocked back on his chair again. ‘Do you think you can handle it? I, not to mention the Prime Minister, will be very grateful if you do a good job.’
Eugenie Shelby sat very still but her eyes glowed. She couldn’t help that.
‘Now you know as much as I do, Dr Shelby. And you and I are the only people in this building who know as much as that. For the next twenty-four, or forty-eight, or seventy-two hours, it has to remain that way, until Downing Street gives us our release.’ His eyes bored into hers.
She smiled. ‘I’m glad you asked me to help.’
The lights on the bridge of the Anglesey had just gone on. It would be fully dark in thirty minutes. For the past hour, Victoria and Edward had watched the crew enjoying itself – water-skiing in the distance, a makeshift game of water polo nearer the ship. On board, the rows of ‘dressing lights’ had been hung over the superstructure and, ten minutes before, had been tried out. That had been the signal for the skiers and polo players to come back aboard.
Earlier that day, exactly on schedule, they had passed Kithira. Potamos they had seen as a huddle of white walls to the port side. Radar had duly picked up a large ship which had left its moorings off Kithira about half an hour behind them. It had pursued a more easterly course than the Anglesey but then, about eight miles further out from the Greek coast, it had turned north. This was entirely in order if the boat intended to head east of the Greek mainland in due course and proceed up the Aegean towards Thessaloniki and Istanbul. But of course it was the Strabo. When the Anglesey had stopped, the Strabo had carried on for a while, until she was about fifteen miles to
the north-east. Then she had headed more or less due west, towards Idhra, where to judge from the radar she had berthed a mile offshore. She was keeping a radar watch.
There were just the three of them on the bridge. Lynn kept his eye on the radar while Victoria and Edward waited for the phone call from London. Their conversation was desultory. ‘Dare I ask what time we have dinner?’ Edward grinned sheepishly. ‘I’m famished.’
Lynn grinned back. ‘Seven-thirty for the ratings, an hour later in the senior mess. Two more hours, I’m afraid. Feel like a drink?’
‘That might help, I suppose.’
Lynn reached for the phone but as he did so it rang anyway. They all stared at it. He picked up the receiver. ‘Bridge.’ There was a pause before he held it out to Victoria. ‘For you.’
She listened, absently biting her lip. She looked across to Edward, then to the captain. After several minutes she put down the phone. ‘Eugenie Shelby was briefed by the director of the British Museum at around three p.m., London time, five o’clock here. She was followed from the museum in Great Russell Street. She went straight to a public payphone at King’s Cross station. Her call was not overheard but she may have called the Strabo or …’ Victoria looked at Edward. ‘Or she may have called Nancy Tucker. Either way, the next move should be a call from the Strabo to the man in Basle, at ten o’clock Swiss time tonight as usual. That’s eleven here. Assuming it goes to plan, and they tell him to stand by, pending our change of course, we need to get him to go to the bank as early as possible. The bank opens at nine-thirty, ten-thirty here. So we need to start heading north before that – say, seven o’clock. If we head north for about an hour, that should be time enough to make sure the Strabo is following us again – yes?’
Lynn nodded.
