Holt picked up a pen and a piece of paper from Sir Charles’s desk and wrote, ‘Tell Sandra to put this in the broom cupboard and not to speak,’ on a piece of paper, which he handed to Sir Charles, who then called Cut-Glass and gave her the sheet of paper and then the phone, which she clutched somewhat nervously.
Holt proceeded to fill in the details of what had happened undercover, only leaving out the specifics of the amorous sessions with Trophy Wife. He explained Consuela was not part of the Owl’s organization, knew nothing about it, and had in fact worked for them on a one-off basis for a bit of adventure, believing they were a US secret agency like the CIA. He was glad Sir Charles was not interested in her and only in the Owl himself and his organization.
‘Who do you think the Owl could be? Maybe it’s a she.’
‘I don’t think so, as the nurse kept on referring to the Owl as he. The only concrete information is that the Owl learnt that the government had been tipped off about the toppling of Lord Nelson. This means that either the Owl’s statement that he has sympathizers at the highest levels of government is true, or that he himself is a cabinet minister, high official, political adviser, or someone in the security services. The great lengths the Owl went to in order to make it impossible to determine the exact moment our meeting took place and the use of his underlings in future dealings suggest he is someone operating in the centre of things, but of what things?’
Sir Charles asked Holt whether he had been able to gauge what type of person the Owl was.
‘I hesitate to say it, but at times it seemed as if I were talking to you – perhaps it was because of similar backgrounds, and you both wanted to use me in similar ways. Perhaps an establishment civil service or secret service figure, to put it bluntly.’
‘Really?’
‘I do not think he is an evil person – for instance, he took measures to ensure no one was injured in toppling Nelson.’
‘I myself thought the same, but not everyone in government, certainly not the PM, agrees.’
‘The distortion of his voice, fluctuating from deeply male to shrill effeminacy with the intercalation of computer-generated phrases, was very off putting and made it difficult to assess him. However, after a time I thought I could pick out the computer-generated words, as most were rather simple interjections – such as “like”, “well”, “actually”, “come to think of it”, “to put that into perspective” – obviously intercalated to prevent me noting mannerisms. He was certainly a highly educated individual.’
‘You said he had a list of demands, so we shall have to wait for them, to get a proper idea as regards what he wants. Have you any idea what they might be?’
‘All I know is that he was very concerned about the state of the country. He wanted to make England great again. He had me attend a Rethinking Democracy seminar on a mega‑yacht called the Vessos, moored near Monaco. Many important people were there.’
‘What did they mean by that?’
Holt explained the seminar’s keynote speaker’s suggestion that voting in democracies needed tweaking to give more weight to merit and intelligence. He had admitted the problem was how to allot full votes to people whose contribution to society could not be measured in monetary terms, such as intellectuals, writers, carers, voluntary workers and some housewives and single mothers.
‘Do you think the Owl would like to apply that to Great Britain?’
‘He might,’ replied Holt, ‘be seeking that in the long term but gave the impression that might be a bridge too far at the moment. I think he wants to push some pet policies. Of course, there is the possibility, as you mentioned when you asked me to work undercover, that all this might be a red herring, with the real aim being to make a financial killing on currency speculation.’
‘Sounds a bit like super-UKIP to me,’ commented Sir Charles.
‘I actually suggested that to him, and he replied that UKIP were much too simplistic, though the fact that Farage sometimes stated obvious truths that the PM and others were afraid to mention or could not comprehend was refreshing. He said Farage was right in saying that the brouhaha with Russia was unnecessary in that the European Union in befriending Ukraine and trying to pull them into their orbit had provoked Russia stupidly.’
‘From what you say, the only thing I think we can be sure of is that his – we assume it is a man – intention is to cause as little harm to people as possible. Probably our greatest problem will be preventing the government escalating it into a tragedy.’
‘You may think I am suffering from Stockholm syndrome, in that I ended up sympathizing with the Owl – or rather, with some of his ideas regarding what the UK needs.’
‘You are being frank with me, and I in turn will be frank with you. This is a unique, unexpected chance for Giraffe to be at the centre of things, and I recognize you are now the lynchpin. Jeremy, from now on I shall regard you as one of my protégés. In consequence, you will have the highest security clearance possible in Giraffe.’
Chapter 20
Captain Holt
Sir Charles had told Holt that in keeping with that security clearance he would have access to masses of material, even from the CIA, that other departments, let alone the prime minister, could never set eyes on.
‘Please do not abuse my trust in you,’ he had said before telling him to return to Sackville Street at ten the following morning so they could continue their talk.
In trying to ensure he would not be late, Holt arrived at Sackville Street much too early and to kill time decided to drop into a very well-known jeweller’s in nearby Bond Street to see whether the bracelet Consuela had given him as an afterthought on their parting was of any significant value – he knew rich people very often wore imitations in public out of fear of being robbed.
‘I was given this by a wealthy American friend,’ he said, addressing the clerk, ‘but cannot believe it is as valuable as it looks. It must be an imitation – though if it is, it’s so good it’s great to have. Plus it has great emotional value.’
The clerk examined it closely and raised his eyebrows. ‘Please wait a moment, sir. I’ll run it by our expert just to make quite sure.’
So saying, he disappeared into an office at the back of the shop, leaving Holt behind under the suspicious gaze of a well-built man in a morning coat standing at the door.
The clerk finally came out of the office and returned the item to Holt.
‘Three hundred and fifty,’ he said in an unfazed voice.
‘Pounds?’
‘No, thousand pounds – more than half a million US dollars.’
‘I can’t believe it.’
‘According to our man, it’s a unique piece. Of course that is the price he would recommend we try to sell it for. He said that because it’s unique, there’s no knowing what it would fetch at an auction. If you ever do want to part with it that might be the better option, though I should not really be telling you this. You could always set a reserve.’
Holt stepped outside in a state of disbelief and walked the short distance to Sackville Street thinking how lucky it was that he had been too preoccupied to mention the bracelet to anyone at Giraffe. Doing so would have made people jealous. Also there might be some regulation that significant items received in the course of duty had to be forfeited. Perhaps he had meant more to Consuela than he realized. He regretted not having something to give her to show how much she had meant to him. But then there was nothing of equal value that he could have given her.
On arriving at 45 Sackville Street and entering through the double doors, Holt was as usual about to go straight ahead to the stairs on the left, only to find the elderly tailor blocking his path.
‘It’s your uniform, sir.’
‘What uniform?’
‘Your captain’s uniform.’
‘How come? I’ve never even been in the army or any of the armed forces for that matter!’
‘You are now. At this rate of promotion, you’ll soon be back here for your c
olonel’s or brigadier’s clogs.’
‘I doubt that. The steps get steeper after the rank of captain. What is the old joke? “The higher they get, the thicker they get,” meaning it’s not only the stripes but the people inside the uniforms that are thicker, stupider. I’m not stupid enough.’
‘You must,’ said the tailor, ‘at least try it on – though I am sure it will fit perfectly – just to see how my creation looks. You see, I had to invent it.’
Taken aback, Holt went into the tailor’s just as he had done on that first day. The youngish assistant again took his jacket, but with less disdain than before, and hung it up in the cupboard as the tailor picked up a snazzy uniform with a captain’s insignia from the bench.
The tailor insisted he put on the trousers as well.
‘Not bad, eh? Sir Charles wants to see how you look in it too, so keep it on and leave your suit here with me. If you’re too embarrassed to go out all dolled up, put it back on when you leave.’
‘It does look great, I admit,’ said Holt. ‘What regiment is it?’
‘Apparently, you are attached to, but not part of – whatever that means – the Special Reconnaissance Regiment, the SRR, which is based up in Hereford with the SAS. No one knows much about them.’
Holt was pleased to see how good he looked. He could have been playing an officer in a World War II film. Going upstairs with a spring in his stride, he even seemed to impress Cut‑Glass. The words of the major came to mind: ‘A great suit gives one a lift and makes one feel someone. Of course, a military uniform with several pips would be even better.’
How he wished the major were around so he could show it off, with three pips indicating he was a captain!
Sir Charles came out on the landing on hearing him talking to Cut-Glass.
‘Don’t you think he looks great,’ said Cut-Glass to Sir Charles.
‘Yes, Sandra, I certainly do,’ he replied, pausing for a moment and then adding, ‘You had better wear it in. You do not want to look like a tailor’s dummy. Prince Charles has some flunky his size wear in his new suits and uniforms. Wear it around your flat, even sleep in it for a few hours. If it looks too new, you will not only look silly but risk those generals and top officials cottoning on to what we’ve done. Another thing…don’t go around saluting people indoors. Pity there’s not time to send you to Sandhurst for a couple of days. Then you could say you had been there without lying, just like Jeffrey Archer said he went to Oxford when he just went to some school there and not the university.’
‘I’m worried l will ham it up, pretending to be Michael Caine.’
‘Don’t worry too much. They won’t be seeing you face to face, at least for now. You will be at Farringdon, and we will be seeing you from the Cobra room via a video link on a smallish screen, so there will be no need for hamming. The reason I am making you a captain is that “Captain” will be more impressive than “Holt” in the presence of the prime minister, senior officials, and top brass. Pompous officials always put people into slots so they know how relate to them according to an established pecking order. Given time, we could establish your position in the hierarchy as a recognized expert, an intellectual James Bond. However, time is something we don’t have, and by giving you a military rank we can slot you in and ensure you are respected.’
‘I get it.’
‘ “Captain” gives the feeling of the go-ahead bright chap. “Major” sounds too staid, and anyway you are a bit young for that. This fits in well with the fact that you are now an “officer” in Giraffe, whereas before you were either a technician or undercover operative.’
‘That’s nice to know.’
‘By the way, you are attached to the Special Reconnaissance Regiment, the SRR, who are even more secretive than the SAS, with whom they work, so it won’t seem strange that no one has heard or even read about you. They will realize they can find even less about you in that you are only attached to them. Come into my room so we can review the situation.’
Holt followed Sir Charles into his room, while Cut-Glass went off to deal with other matters.
Holt and Sir Charles then discussed what would be likely to happen when the Owl contacted them after the weekend, and how they might handle the situation as it evolved.
‘The top brass,’ said Sir Charles, ‘would very likely want to have the OwlPhone in the Cobra room, but apart from the fact that switched-on mobile phones are forbidden in there, I will be able to dissuade them from that by saying it almost certainly contains enough explosive to kill them all.
‘I’m afraid, Holt, you will again be putting yourself at risk for the cause. If it blows up, it will be you who will be nearby. However, as the Owl has said that you personally should remain in charge of it, I don’t think you are at any risk, as the Owl would gain nothing by killing someone, if I may say so, as low in the food chain as you, and would have a lot to lose thereby.’
Although calls from the Owl via the OwlPhone would be patched through to Sir Charles at the Cobra room, there would be a twenty-second delay to allow Holt to filter them if either he thought it necessary or the Owl insisted on confidentiality. That would give Sir Charles in particular considerable power.
Betting against the pound was continuing in the money markets and Sir Charles was certain that some form of attack on London instigated by the Owl was imminent. They both felt that the care the Owl had taken to see no one was killed, let alone injured, in the toppling of Nelson meant that he would endeavour to avoid loss of life, and nothing as deadly as 9/11 was in the offing. However, the government was working itself up into a lather on the assumption that they were dealing with someone sinister or an al‑Qaeda‑related group.
‘Of course, as I have said before,’ said Sir Charles, ‘all this political stuff may just be a smoke screen to hide the fact that the Owl and his associates are in it for the money they can make speculating against the pound.’
‘Quite possible. His demands do seem rather outlandish,’ commented Holt.
‘Anyway, I’m officially putting it on record by notifying all the concerned departments, including Downing Street, that we at Giraffe think significant – a weasel word – loss of life is most unlikely.’
Giraffe’s HQ at Farringdon would have feeds from the various news services and ability to see the same images from video cameras as those available to the government. They would also have the CIA feeds.
Here, Sir Charles let Holt into a little secret. Thanks to personal relationships built up when – like Kim Philby – he had been MI6’s liaison man in Washington, he could access ultra-secret satellite images and intercepts from assets that the US did not want to share with the British security services at large. They even sent someone over to install equipment at Farringdon to ensure Britain’s GCHQ could not spy on or even detect those communications.
‘How many people know about that?’
‘Just a couple at Giraffe. My let-out is that if I did not keep it from the government, the CIA would not let us have it anyway.’
‘You seem to think of everything!’
‘Not only that, I even have access to the memos and briefing material that the CIA prepare for US presidents before they receive foreign dignitaries. You’d be surprised at the titillating information they contain, such as that a French president was called “three‑minute or five‑minute X” because that was the time it took for consummation of his sexual conquests with party activists and secretaries in his younger days, and that allegedly included the shower afterwards! The CIA drafter’s idea was that the US president should mention it to the French president to break the ice, as in France having sexual conquests is something of which to be proud and increases support amongst female voters.’
‘Makes sense.’
‘I told our prime minister at the time that I had a copy of a memo concerning him in particular, recommending the president build up his vain ego with the usual ceremonies on the White House lawn and trips on Air Force One, and then knock it back down
in the course of prayers in the Oval Office.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes, and just like J. Edgar Hoover would do with senators and the like, I told the PM not worry, as my copy of the memo, which, although in the computer system and undeletable, was in safe hands with me. I would take good care to protect it.’
‘That must have worried him.’
‘Not only that, I said the memo detailed the procedure whereby the president could use prayer to show who was top dog by positioning himself so when they kneeled he would be gazing upwards towards the Almighty, and the British PM would have his view of God obscured by the presidential posterior. There were, I said, further unmentionable details regarding how the president could humiliate the PM even more that would make him a laughing stock should the press get hold of them.
‘Though it started off as a joke, it gave me a free hand in setting up Giraffe with myself in charge! If you ever mention that to anyone, your life will not be worth living – not that anyone would believe you. Whistle blowers rarely come out of these things well. Usually, they are shunned by colleagues and suffer a fate worse than witnesses on witness-protection programmes.’
With these confidences having, as intended, tightened the bonds between the two of them, Holt thought it a propitious moment to ask something that had been troubling him almost from the very moment he joined Giraffe.
‘Why don’t you get rid of Blackwell? He’s a pervert exploiting his position.’
‘I know, but he knows everyone’s secrets – not only here but in a number of other sensitive places where he previously worked. We could only risk terminating him if he committed an indictable offence and had been sentenced to a long prison term.’
‘Maybe I should set a trap for him.’
‘Be careful. He’s no fool.’
Holt spent the weekend pottering around, aimlessly doing this and that. On the Sunday afternoon he went to Dulwich Park – seeing normal people out with their kids full of the enthusiasm of youth made him feel life was worth living. One reason he felt so low was that he missed Consuela, not only for the sex and the high life but also for the companionship she provided. He remembered how one of the rich women he had met in the course of his relationship with Consuela had said once you get used to the high life, it is impossible to renounce it, even when the money runs out. He could well believe it.
LONDON ALERT Page 20
