by Peter Watson
‘At eight, we change course, decisively, away from Piraeus. Then it gets tricky. They might follow us for a bit, or they might head somewhere else, Piraeus itself perhaps. Either way we have to maintain our new course but at such a speed that we keep the Strabo on our radar. It will take them perhaps half an hour to contact Basle on the ship-to-shore, call it eight-thirty to nine o’clock our time, seven-thirty to eight o’clock in Basle. To arrive at the bank at nine-thirty, the Greek needs to leave his house around nine. The arrest, if it goes to plan, should take place around ten-thirty Basle time, eleven-thirty here. So, after changing course at eight, we shall need to maintain radar contact with the Strabo for three and a half hours. The question is: can it be done?’
Lynn raised his eyebrows. ‘Impossible to answer. It depends on the Strabo.’
‘Not good enough, captain. We mustn’t lose her! If we do, the whole thing goes up the shoot.’
Lynn bit a nail. ‘Hmm. There might be a way … Let me think about it for a bit.’
‘This van feels quite like home.’ Riley had parked the van in Gerbergasse, on a parking meter, so as to be sure of a good vantage point in the morning. They were planning to be back next day, at eight, when they would have to start feeding the meter with money. Riley locked the driver’s door and stepped back. He looked up and down the street. ‘Good view of the bank, room enough to turn, in case we need to make a quick exit in either direction, well out of the way of the trams, a full tank of petrol, lead-free and environment-friendly. We’ll bring the purple Ford tomorrow and park it nearby. I think we are all set – yes?’
‘Not quite,’ whispered O’Day. He took something from his raincoat pocket and handed it across. In the dark, Riley couldn’t make out what it was. As he took hold of it, however, its weight told him exactly what it was. He should have realized. It was a gun.
Lockwood’s black Jaguar swept east along the A40, past Northolt Airport. In all his time as Prime Minister, this was the one perk he had never come to take for granted, the one privilege he was still thrilled by. Not the car itself, though that was nice enough, but the four police outriders, motorcyclists whose split-second timing, leapfrogging activities and diligence with their official radios meant that the Prime Minister never had to trouble with a red traffic light. Officially, of course, ‘security’ was given as the reason for this piece of showing off – the IRA, certain Arabs (though no longer the KGB) were an ever-present threat. No matter. The sheer speed and slickness of the operation never failed to excite Lockwood. In his heart of hearts, he knew that if he lost the vote tomorrow this was one of the things he would miss most. Except for his driver, Patrick, and his bodyguard, also sitting in the front, Lockwood was alone in the car. Sally, his wife, was spending another night at Great Ormond Street. Little Tommy was improving, apparently, but was still poorly, and the strain was beginning to tell on their daughter. Sally also knew her husband would be preoccupied both tonight and tomorrow and that he would prefer to be alone. She would come across to Number Ten tomorrow, for the vote. She would be needed only if he lost. She wouldn’t really mind if he lost. She would see more of him. Patrick was a different matter. He took a fierce pride in his job and, if Lockwood was ousted, so would he be, at least from the number one slot in the civil service car pool.
‘It’s just coming up to midnight, Paddy. Let’s have the news on.’ The atmosphere in the car was thick and the chatter of the radio would help.
‘… thousand Athenians have tonight crowded the slopes of the Acropolis in what eyewitnesses are describing as one of the most moving pieces of natural theatre ever seen. All those who attended what was dubbed a “vigil” carried a candle or torch, so that the entire hillside, lit in this way, could be seen as far away as Sounion, some thirty miles to the south. The vigil, of course, had been called to prepare for the arrival tomorrow of the Elgin Marbles, which left Greece almost two hundred years ago. Meanwhile, here in Britain the latest calculation on tomorrow’s vote, taken from tomorrow’s newspapers, predicts that –’
‘Enough, Paddy. Turn it off.’
The driver did as he was told. The car turned off Westway and raced down Addison Road. The outriders kept the way clear as they turned into Kensington High Street, past the Commonwealth Institute, Kensington Palace and the Albert Hall. The convoy reached Hyde Park Corner, sped down Grosvenor Place and into the Mall. How many more times will I be doing this? thought Lockwood. Next time I drive up the Mall, maybe it will be to see the Queen … Horse Guards Parade, Birdcage Walk, Whitehall. Beside the Cenotaph, Patrick slowed. The outriders had already reached the gate into Downing Street, the elaborate filigree that had been erected when Margaret Thatcher was Prime Minister and had never been taken down again. The gate was opened and the car turned in. As it did so, a shout went up from a small posse of people on the pavement opposite Number Ten. At the same time, a television arc light went on. Some television crews, desperate for footage, were filming the Prime Minister’s late return and the rump demonstration that still hung on. As the car drew up, the chanting started. It matched the placards: ‘What a carve-up: save our stones’; ‘Don’t bear gifts to Greeks’; ‘Lock up Lockwood; he’s lost his marbles’.
The bodyguard had opened the door of the Jaguar and, wearily, Lockwood got out. As he did so, a television reporter, using a megaphone, shouted across the street, ‘Prime Minister, do you expect still to be Prime Minister this time tomorrow?’ Lockwood was about to wave and smile – the only response that was really called for at that hour – when he noticed Patrick standing in front of him.
‘Paddy – what is it? What have you got there?’
‘It’s for you, sir. All those candles in Athens, sir, they don’t mean a thing. I’m a Catholic. We light candles for good people. So this is for you.’ And he handed Lockwood a small, lighted, wax candle. ‘I’ll be keeping a vigil for you tomorrow, sir.’
Lockwood took the candle and, without looking back or speaking, stepped inside the front door. He didn’t say anything because he couldn’t. There was a lump in his throat.
WEEK FIVE
The Vote in the Commons
27
Monday
Victoria stumbled on to the bridge. She was not yet fully awake and it was still dark. Edward was already there; he had not shaved.
‘Something wrong? What time is it?’
‘Nearly three,’ said Lynn. ‘No, nothing wrong. In fact, I wouldn’t have wakened you but I’ve had an idea. Look at this.’ He led them to the radar screen. ‘Look at these blips on the screen. They are enormous. There are two of them and they are about eight miles south, heading our way.’
‘So?’
‘I can’t be sure but my guess is that they are two tankers heading for Piraeus. In about forty minutes they are going to be abreast of us and, more important, they will pass between us and the Strabo. Now, the only thing that worries me about our plan of action tomorrow is that we might easily lose the Strabo after we change course. She doesn’t have to follow us, and the plan you gave me includes a period of around three and a half hours – maybe more – when I can’t give chase without giving the game away. During that time, the Strabo could easily stray off the radar and, once she does that, we will never know where she has gone.’
The others stared at him.
‘Now, my idea is this. Just as the Strabo is on my radar, so this ship is on theirs. Any direct approach from us to them is therefore out of the question. However, if we were to slip one of our launches just as the tankers were passing, then we would be in radar shadow and the Strabo wouldn’t be able to tell what had happened. Then, if the launch kept in the shadow of the tankers as they headed north, it would remain an unknown. It would take about three hours for the tankers to pass through the range of the Strabo’s radar – say at about six-thirty, quarter to seven. Once the launch had left the Strabo’s radar screen along with the tankers, she would then be free to part company from them and head back towards the Strabo from the north-east. They
will never connect the blip they will see with this ship. A launch can do over twenty knots and so could get back to the Strabo’s position within an hour. If that position changes from where it is now, we shall know from the radar on this ship, which will be in touch with the launch by radio.’
He looked at them anxiously. ‘What do you think? I thought that one or both of you might like to go with the launch. Otherwise, I’d have to brief at least one of the crew on the reason for the rather roundabout journey.’
Victoria grinned. ‘Clever. Bloody good. I’ll go.’
‘Me too,’ said Edward.
‘Is that wise? Shouldn’t one of us stay –?’
‘I’m coming.’
Forty-three minutes later, Lynn signalled from the bridge to the launch riding on his starboard side that the Strabo was now in radar shadow of the passing tankers.
The launch cast off, and Lynn strained his eyes to watch as Victoria and Edward disappeared into the darkness. He hoped the Greeks had not sent out any of their naval ships to welcome the Anglesey. If they had, and they came across the launch, alone, in the early hours of daylight, they would be within their rights to arrest the entire crew.
‘Riley, I think you and me should get married after all this. Days together, all alone, and not a single argument.’
‘I’ve a better idea. We should set up as burglars. It’s got to be better paid than this job. Half past six in the morning for Christ’s sake and we’ve already been on the go for half an hour. A decent burglar would be tucked up in bed now. With a woman. Give me that flask of coffee.’
They lapsed into silence again. They were both used to that. A gentle rain fell on the roof of the van. The bank didn’t open for three hours – but they were taking no chances.
‘We are about five miles from the Strabo,’ Victoria yelled into the radio phone. During the night the Greeks’ yacht had moved, steaming slowly to the south and west of Idhra. She was now much closer to the Greek mainland.
The launch was a lot less stable than the frigate and Victoria wasn’t feeling as well as she might. ‘She’s put down her dinghy, as if someone is preparing to leave. When are you going to change course?’
‘At precisely eight o’clock, in seven minutes’ time.’ Lynn’s voice came over clearly, if not very loudly. ‘The horizons are clear and I’ve been thinking … I reckon that, if I change course right on the button of eight o’clock, it will look to them much more like part of a plot, as if I’m turning back once and for all. They will be less inclined to suspect that I might turn yet again. So stand by.’
Victoria was exhausted, Edward too. Not only had they been awakened in the middle of the night but they had spent the last four and a half hours in an open boat zigzagging across the Mediterranean, or the Mirtoan Sea as it was referred to on the Admiralty charts in the launch. Coffee had been produced by the crew after they had been at sea for an hour, and again at seven o’clock, that time with biscuits. The biscuits had helped but the constant rise and fall of the waves, for hours on end, was wearing. The seats, such as they were, were uncomfortable too and now the glare of the sun on the water strained the eyes. Edward was beginning to wish he had stayed aboard the frigate.
‘This is the Anglesey. Come in – over. This is Anglesey. Come in – over.’
‘Yes. Receiving. Go ahead.’
‘I’m going about now. Repeat, I’m going about now. New course will be one hundred and eight-seven degrees, repeat one eight seven, at a speed of nine knots, repeat zero nine knots.’
‘We copy, we copy.’ Victoria trained her glasses on the Strabo.
Edward was also looking, with a pair of glasses loaned to him by the launch’s bosun. ‘How long does a change of course take to show on the radar?’
‘A minute, minute and a half,’ said the bosun. ‘It’s more obvious, of course, if you make a right-angled turn. If you turn on a sixpence and retrace your steps the only thing to see on the radar is an increasing gap between you and the blip. That can take three or four minutes to become clear.’
‘Except that the people on the Strabo are expecting a change,’ said Victoria. ‘Ah – there she goes!’
Edward too had called out. ‘Turning!’
‘She’s altered course!’ Victoria cried into the radio phone. ‘Did you hear that? The Strabo is turning. Keep your fingers crossed. It looks as though they have swallowed the bait.’
‘Good morning. It is just after seven a.m. and this is Robert Onslow with the BBC Breakfast News and Comment. In the programme this morning we concentrate on this afternoon’s historic censure debate in the House of Commons. But first the news, which is read today by Harriet Ottery.’
‘… Later today, the debate takes place in the House of Commons which will decide the future of William Lockwood, the Prime Minister. The opposition’s censure motion over Mr Lockwood’s handling of the Elgin Marbles affair will be proposed by Frank Whiteman, deputy leader of the party. Mr Arthur Page, leader of the opposition, will wind up the debate at about nine o’clock tonight. The Prime Minister is expected to speak at about nine-thirty/ten o’clock after which the vote will be taken. The debate takes place against the resignation, four days ago, of the Defence Secretary, Mr George Keld. Overnight, the Prime Minister’s position did not improve with the announcement that one of the British tourists attacked in Athens on Friday night has died of a heart attack. Already this morning, in a statement released through the Press Association, Mr Michael Sidey, Member of Parliament for Bridport, Dorset, in whose constituency the tourist lived, has said that Mr Lockwood’s government “appears increasingly accident-prone” and that it is time to call a halt to what he called “a mad episode” in British foreign policy. Mr Sidey was believed to be wavering in his support for the government but this statement suggests that he will now vote against Mr Lockwood … And in Athens last night over twenty thousand people converged on the Acropolis, each of them carrying a candle or a flaming torch. The vigil has been described as one of the most moving pieces of natural theatre ever seen … Elsewhere in the news, two off-duty policemen were killed last night when the car they were driving near Londonderry was fired on. In a phone call to a Dublin newspaper, the IRA later claimed responsibility. One of the policemen was married with a young daughter … The fishing war continues in the waters off New Zealand: during the night a Royal New Zealand gunship fired on a Japanese trawler, which dropped its nets and made off … The Pope is in Russia again for the canonization of St Fyodor at Kiev. Among those present in the celebration of High Mass was Olga Litov, wife of the Russian President. Now back to Robert Onslow.’
‘William Lockwood has been a Member of Parliament for forty-two of his sixty-nine years, yet today he faces the most testing time of that long and distinguished career. It comes, it should be said, after one of the most mysterious episodes during his time as Prime Minister. Only a matter of days ago, the political world’s attention, in Britain at any rate, was given over to the date of the next general election. With a majority of thirty-four, the government’s position was never unassailable, but then it was never so exposed as it is now. Following a sudden decision to return the so-called Elgin Marbles to Greece – an action which, incidentally, may well culminate today while the censure motion on the Prime Minister is actually taking place – Mr Lockwood has mismanaged the situation, or been overtaken by unforeseen events, to the point where deaths in New York – and now in London and Athens – have been blamed on him. Buildings have been defaced around the country. The Board of Trustees has resigned from the British Museum, demonstrations have clogged the capital’s streets, the Reading Room of the British Museum has been closed, the only time this has happened since it opened in 1857. We have seen small boats drawn up on the Thames, trying to prevent the departure of a Royal Naval frigate. And of course the Aghia Sophia, the Greek Orthodox cathedral in London, has been torched, provoking reprisals against the Anglican church in Athens, the British Embassy and the British School. Now, Lockwood is paying the pr
ice of all that, with this afternoon’s debate.
‘With me in the studio to discuss the issue I have Hilary Stockton, chairwoman of the Commons Select Committee on Arts and Education, who is also a trustee of the V & A, and Colin Raine, political editor of the Daily Tribune. Colin, if we may start with you, we heard in the news there about Michael Sidey’s press release this morning … Is that typical, do you think? Are people detaching themselves from the Prime Minister at the moment?’
‘Well, in my view Michael Sidey was never going to support Mr Lockwood anyway. He is the member for Bridport and, whatever he says about his constituent who was killed, Sidey believes he has been overlooked by Lockwood for a place in the government. There are several backbenchers in Mr Lockwood’s party who dislike him heartily for his blindness to what they consider to be their talents. No, to get a truer picture of what will happen tonight you have to consider a different matter, which is this: if Lockwood loses tonight, he will come under very strong pressure to resign as party leader and fight a leadership contest as soon as one can be arranged. His resignation would probably take place tomorrow, after he had been to see the Queen. Then a new leader would have to be elected. At the moment, over breakfast at their clubs, or in their flats around Westminster, MPs are trying to work out whether their party has more chance of winning the general election if it survives tonight and fights the election with Lockwood at its head, or whether its chances would be better if another leader was in place, that leader almost certainly being George Keld.’
‘All right, but the crucial question is: how will the vote go?’
‘According to my soundings, there will be about thirty to thirty-one abstentions so far –’
‘Leaving Lockwood with a majority of about three?’
‘Leaving Lockwood with a majority of about three.’
‘Now, Mrs Stockton, if we can come to you. Is there anything the Prime Minister can say in today’s debate which will cause the troops to rally to his support? What do the party faithful want him to say?’
