by Duncan James
CHAPTER NINE - IGNITION
Sir Robin Algar was in the office even earlier than usual.
He had made as many discreet phone calls from home as he dared the previous day, but now he needed the security of the Whitehall machine around him before he could take things much further. There were several things he needed to do urgently, and he knew that much of his time that day would be taken up with the two special meetings the Prime Minister had called. He would be at both, although he wouldn’t be taking the minutes as he usually did at such gatherings. There wouldn’t be any minutes.
The Cabinet Secretary had to make sure, too, that no one else took any notes, and that would be tricky. He knew that he would have to personally ‘disarm’ each member of the two meetings as they arrived, and relieve them of their briefcases, notebooks and any portable dictating machines they may have. They wouldn’t like that, but it had to be done to ensure the utmost security. It had gone through his mind that he should also ask them to leave their pens and pencils in the outer office, but he had concluded that there was little point in rubbing salt in their wounded pride by going quite that far. After all, they would have nothing to write on, as they would be sitting at an empty table. He certainly wasn’t going to let the private office staff put out paper as they usually did.
He imagined Colin Carlucci would soon be going through the same sort of procedures in the President’s office. Algar knew there was nothing either of them could actually do until each side was certain that the other was totally committed to the plan and all its ramifications. But he felt certain that they would get the green light in a day or so, and wanted to be ready to put things in motion as soon as he could. He knew that Secretary of State Miles Bragan would be leaving for the Middle East later that day, and just hoped that the President would be able brief him before he went, if he hadn’t already. If not, it would be the end of the week before they had any news of the American attitude, as Bragan was planning to be away for at least two days.
In the meantime, he saw no reason why the new hot-line video conferencing link should not be set up between the two leaders. They had been pondering such an idea for some time, so now let’s do it. At the same time, the new cipher was probably worth starting work on, as he couldn’t imagine things like that were devised at all quickly.
It was also in his mind that, even if they found no support from America for the whole plan, which would mean that every aspect of it would be abandoned, it would still be worthwhile emptying the terrorist's coffers. At least that would put a severe brake on their activities for the foreseeable future, although he really didn’t know where to begin. The Prime Minister had, almost casually, given him responsibility for that aspect of the operation, and in a way it made sense, as he did have some quite good contacts in the financial world. But he had to admit that he had no real idea about where to start tracking down the accounts they used, never mind - what had the PM said? - ‘emptying them’. Algar remembered that Weaver had also said that his Army contact in Northern Ireland - Clayton, wasn’t it? - knew where most of the money was, but the Cabinet Secretary found it difficult to believe that an Army Major could know anything of the sort, even if he was part of the intelligence network. But it might be useful to meet this man at some time, not least because Weaver thought so highly of him. He knew that Clayton had been over for another briefing only yesterday, with James Anchor, and he wondered how that had gone.
There seemed to be so much to do, apart from the normal routine of Cabinet Office life, that he hardly knew where to begin. Not that there ever was anything normal or routine about life where Tony Weaver was concerned. But now the workload had been piled even higher.
Soon, there would be the normal early morning ‘prayers’, with Andrew Groves in attendance. He would have seen from the diary that there were two extra meetings today, and would obviously wonder what they were all about. Algar had no doubt that he would be kept in the dark by Weaver, although eventually Groves would have to be brought in to the picture. Groves, and his colleagues around Whitehall, would have a pivotal role to play in moulding public opinion, and especially the Ulster Unionists, in favour of the political solution once the operation started. But not yet. Other things had to fall in place first, and as long as there wasn’t a leak of any sort, Andrew Groves had no need for the time being to know what was being planned.
The first man he needed to speak to was Paul Bridges, the retired Air Commodore who ran the Cabinet Office Briefing Rooms. He dialled the number himself, as neither John Williams nor Isabelle Paton had yet arrived in his outer office. As luck would have it, Burgess himself answered the phone.
“’Morning, Paul, Robin Algar here.”
“Good morning, Robin. You’re early for a Monday.”
“I have a feeling,” replied Algar, “that it’s going to be one of those days. But I need to talk to you. Can you spare a few minutes?”
“Yes, of course. I’ll come up straight away.”
When Bridges arrived, he shut the door firmly behind him, and sat in front of Algar’s desk.
“How can I help?” he asked.
“We need another secure hot line to Washington,” said Algar, without beating about the bush. “and I wondered how quickly one could be set up, and whether it was possible to have a video conference facility with it. But it must be really secure - latest scramblers, everything.”
“Shouldn’t be any great problem,” replied Paul Bridges. “But could I ask what’s suddenly brought this on? Is anything wrong with the present link?”
“No, there’s nothing wrong with it at all, and we shall keep it in use for routine and regular contacts between the Prime Minister and the President,” replied the Cabinet Secretary. “But we’ve been thinking for some time that a second direct link between them would be very useful, particularly with a video link, but with access available only to the two men. As you know, the present hot line has links to the Foreign Office and God knows where in the States. But both men agreed over the weekend that future discussions between them on a particular topic needed to be much more secure than at present and with a much more restricted access. I can’t tell you now why the need has suddenly become urgent. Very strictly ‘need to know’ at the moment, I’m afraid.”
“Understood,” replied the Air Commodore, who had one of the highest security clearances possible. “It so happens that we have already set up a few video conferencing links to the States recently, including one to the Secretary of State’s ops room, so it will be no real problem to set up another, providing we can find the satellite space. If we can’t, we’ll have to give up one of our existing links.”
“That’s very encouraging,” said Algar. “I must emphasise, though, the need for the highest possible security.”
“You shall have it,” replied Bridges. “The difficult bit is scrambling the video, although that’s becoming easier with agile digital data links.”
Sir Robin Algar looked puzzled.
“The picture needs to be coded too,” explained Bridges,” because some hackers can lip read if they should intercept it.”
“Ah,” said Algar, as the penny dropped.
“I do suggest, though,” continued Paul Bridges, “that even if the link is to be discreet between the two Heads of State, this end of it should be in one of the emergency rooms downstairs, rather than in the PM’s office. I’m quite sure the American end won't be in the Oval Office, either. Too easily bugged and too many people in and out all the time.”
“Sounds very sensible,” replied Algar. “I’m sure the PM will agree to that. How long will it take to set up?”
“Allowing time for a few test transmissions, I would say by the end of this week, if all goes well. I’ll get my people on to it right away.”
“That’s excellent, Paul. Thank you.”
“If this is all so hush-hush, will the White House know what I’m talking about when I get on to them?” he asked.
“Talk to my opposite number. Colin Carlucci is th
e President’s Chief of Staff, and may well already be making similar moves. He’ll certainly know what it’s all about,” replied Algar.
Air Commodore Bridges stood to leave.
“Could I ask your advice about one other related matter, while you’re here?” asked the Cabinet Secretary.
Bridges sat down again. “Of course.”
“You will have gathered from what I’ve already said that the two leaders are embarking on something of quite unusual sensitivity. So sensitive, indeed, that I can’t even tell you about it yet, although I’m sure I shall be able to soon.”
Bridges nodded. “I’m not in the least offended,” he said, with a smile.
“At the moment, nothing at all has been put in writing or committed to paper by either side as an additional precaution against leaks, and only the minimum possible number of individuals are in the loop,” continued Sir Robin. “But the time will come, and soon, when communication between the two sides will have to be on paper rather than verbally. For that, I think, we shall need a special code or cipher. How do we go about setting that up? Any ideas where I might start?”
“You just have started,” replied Bridges. “There are several wizards with codes, especially in MI5, and I know quite a few of them. Our own codes and ciphers are always being changed, of course, both the diplomatic and defence ones, so there are plenty of experts about. Will this one just be for use between the two Heads of State, or will lower mortals also need access?”
“Wider access than just the two of them, including perhaps Northern Ireland, but still very restricted indeed,” replied Algar. “But I don’t want it universally available - just for those involved on this particular project.
“I’ll dig up someone for you, and bring him along to see you, if that’s all right.” offered Bridges. “You can then brief him yourself as much as you can, and leave it to him to deliver.”
“Sounds good,” replied Sir Robin.
“I’ll be in touch later today, hopefully. If that’s all, I’ll toddle along,” said Bridges, standing again.
“Thanks for your help.” said Algar.
John Williams, Algar’s SPS, put his head round the door as the Air Commodore left.
“Thought I heard voices, but didn’t like to interrupt,” he said. “Is everything all right?” he asked. “You’re in early.”
“There are two extra meetings this morning, John, so I thought I would try to get a few things done before ‘prayers’.”
“You should have said, and I would have come in early too,” responded Williams. “How was the trip to Washington?”
“Very satisfactory, but a lot of extra work is flowing from it, I fear, and not all to do with the Middle East, either,” replied Sir Robin. “But I can’t tell you much about it, I’m afraid - something the two Heads of State are cooking up between them at the moment. I’ll brief you as soon as I can, but in the meantime, say nothing to anyone, please.”
“Very good,” replied Williams, thinking that he really had nothing to say to anyone even if he wanted to.
“The Air Commodore will be in touch with you soon to arrange another meeting. Make sure you fit him in as a priority when he rings. We’re setting up another hot line to the White House. And when you’ve settled, could you try to get Alistair Vaughan on the phone? He’s Head of Security at the Bank of England. I’d like a quick word with him before ‘prayers’, if that’s possible, and then probably a meeting with him soon. With any luck, he’ll offer me lunch somewhere!”
