Sunday 24th January 2016
London
“I don’t know about you, Stephen, but I miss not being able simply to pick up the phone and order a take-away. What wouldn’t I give right now for a decent chicken korma, some naan bread and an ice-cold Cobra?”
Justin Ingleby is sitting at his desk, shirt sleeves rolled up and his chair swivelled around so that he can talk to Stephen Russell who has just walked into his study. It has been a relatively quiet evening for them both. A drinks reception at Number 10 for competing European ice skating teams finished over an hour ago. Since then they have been working on their Red Boxes, preparing for the week ahead.
The home of the British prime minister, Number 10 Downing Street, is the location of his private office, the Cabinet rooms and various functions and state rooms. At the top of the house is located the living accommodation. In keeping with a practice started under former Prime Minister Tony Blair, the private residence at Number 10 Downing Street is actually where the chancellor of the exchequer resides. The chancellor’s main residence, next door at Number 11 Downing Street, has a larger suite of private rooms and is where the current prime minister Justin Ingleby and his family have chosen to live. There is a connecting door between the two houses, allowing relatively free movement in what from the outside might otherwise give the appearance of a living arrangement straight from a West End farce.
“I’d settle for a pizza: crispy base, lashings of cheese, perhaps a few extra anchovies.”
He stretches across his desk to pick up a large half-eaten bag of crisps and offers them to Russell. “Instead all I have to share are some potato crisps. Help yourself.”
“Thanks,” Russell says, reaching across to pick up the bag.
“When is your grilling on the Today programme?”
“Tomorrow morning. The ten past eight slot.”
He groans and they both raise their eyebrows. Ten past eight on the Today programme is the prime slot for any interviewee and often regarded as the toughest. “What a great way to start the week!”
“In person or from the radio car?”
“In person.”
“What do they want to cover?”
“It should be the economy but this Panama Papers’ leak has put tax avoidance back on the agenda.”
“It’s an old chestnut. If you get James Hackett, heaven help you. He gave me a right old earwigging the other week.”
“With luck he might ask about the referendum.”
“There will be plenty of opportunity to do that come April when the campaigning begins for real. I hope it goes all right. I’m sure you’ve been prepping for it.”
“All the way back from Warwickshire this morning, and most of the afternoon.”
“You’ll be fine. You’re a natural at this kind of thing. You are the most obvious person to succeed me as PM later in the year. I could never say that in public, Stephen, you know that. If it were down to me alone, you’d get my vote. You also seem to have public opinion on your side at the moment as well.”
“That’s nice of you to say.”
“I mean it. I am relying on you for your support on this referendum, Stephen. Assuming you’re willing to be part of the Remain campaign, then you would be the obvious and, in my opinion, the best placed person to take over from me as Prime Minister once we are on the other side of the vote. You have the experience and you can take personal credit for the economy being in much better shape than when we first came to power.”
“Who knows? I’m glad you think that. There’s a lot of water yet to pass under the bridge.”
“Changing the subject, I’m pleased you dropped by, actually. Remember our little golf course chat with Ricky at the weekend?”
“I’m not likely to forget it in a hurry. What about it? Trouble brewing on the horizon with the Electoral Commission, is there?”
“No,” Ingleby says, his voice dipping gravely. “Worse.”
“Go on.”
Ingleby chooses his words carefully.
“Strictly entre nous, and definitely not for repeating outside this room, I had a private conversation yesterday with the foreign secretary. In one of her regular chats with Sir Desmond Wheatley, she has learned that MI6 have an undercover agent in place trying to glean information about Ricky’s business empire. This source has been in situ for some time apparently. MI6 are worried about Ricky and some of the things he’s getting himself into. Especially in the Middle East.”
“Oh, shit! That’s going to make it impossible for us to accept any of his money.”
“Quite.”
“Bloody hell. What happens next?”
“Nothing. Nothing we can do, certainly not in the short term. If Ricky starts pressing us to take his money, for the moment we just stall him. Say the Electoral Commission are dragging their heels, that sort of thing.”
“What if MI6 are right?”
“Then the faster we can distance ourselves from Ricky, the better. The fact that the media think he and I are bosom pals from Cambridge is hardly helpful. As you say, oh shit!”