After arriving at Chequers, Kilmartin was kept waiting for an hour sitting on a Jacobean chair in the Stone Hall beneath the portrait of an unidentified Edwardian woman. Scotch and water, a bowl of cashew nuts and magazines were brought to him on a tray by a member of the Chequers staff. It was hardly the atmosphere he expected. The place was quietly frantic. At least two meetings seemed to be in progress. Doors were opened and closed. People passed from room to room, nodding to him on the way. He stretched his legs and looked at the paintings. When he asked if he could see the Chequers library, he was told it was being used for a presentation.
He had rather old-fashioned notions about the English country house weekend, a sense, particularly at Chequers, that the affairs of state should be conducted at a more leisurely tempo with good conversation, wine and ideas – the big picture. Even in wartime the place had been maintained as an emblem of English civilisation. Hitler strutted before the inflamed skies at the Berghof while Churchill pottered in the Rose Garden in his siren suit. But Chequers in the twenty-first century had become a hive filled with the dreary hum of consultants and technocrats who knew nothing but work and targets and their own ambition. As he came through the front door, he had noticed a room on the left filled with young people working at screens. The security procedures at the gates and at some bollards, which rose automatically in the middle of the drive as he approached the house, had been unusually heavy.
He was on his guard and when Dawn Gruppo asked him to follow her to a large conference room, and with the certainty that the prime minister did not want to consult him on the politics of Tajikistan, he girded himself as though for a difficult border crossing. In fact Temple did not want to talk to him at all. In the room, sitting in four adjacent seats on the far side of the table, were Andrew Fortune, a man who introduced himself as Ferris, Christine Shoemaker and another man of about forty who gave only his first name – Alec.
Producing a show of bonhomie, Andrew Fortune gestured him to a seat opposite them and offered him a drink, which Kilmartin declined.
‘JT will be along shortly,’ Fortune said, ‘but he did just want us to have a word by way of preparation. Sorry to have kept you. Things are rather hectic.’
Kilmartin nodded amenably.
‘This is in the nature of catch-up. The prime minister has asked us to find out how things stand.’
‘In what way?’ asked Kilmartin. What bloody amateurs they were. If they wanted to lull him into indiscretion they shouldn’t arrange themselves like a board of inquiry; if they hoped to force some sort of confession from him, Chequers was not the place. What he read into this hastily convened interrogation was panic.
‘On the thing you came to see me about in my office last week.’ Fortune grinned and looked down at some papers. ‘David Eyam and this woman who used to work for SIS – Lockhart.’
‘Yes,’ said Kilmartin. ‘The prime minister asked me to keep an eye on things.’
‘And?’ prompted Shoemaker.
‘This was only a week or so ago, as you know. I attended the inquest in High Castle.’
‘Indeed,’ said Fortune. ‘Did you get anywhere with it all?’
‘As a matter of fact yes, I did. But what I have learned is for the prime minister’s ears only.’
‘I think you’ll find that we are in his confidence on these matters,’ said Shoemaker briskly. She looked round to suggest they would hardly be there without Temple’s blessing. ‘Would you mind telling us what you’ve discovered?’
Kilmartin looked at her. Of course they knew. He must assume that Murray Link had wetted his bed and sold to a higher bidder, forgetting that the information was not his to sell.
‘The film shown at the inquest didn’t seem quite right to me,’ he said. ‘I noticed a peculiar jump and one or two anomalies. Put together with the remarkable coincidence of the explosion being filmed, it did raise one’s suspicions. As you know, initially the prime minister asked me to look into the matter and make sure that there was no suggestion of the British government assassinating Eyam. But my inquiries led me to believe that Eyam was alive. I thought it would be wise to have it checked since no one else seemed to have questioned its authenticity and I got in touch with Murray Link, formerly a technical support officer with the Secret Intelligence Service. He came back to me with the evidence that the film had been faked.’
‘Why didn’t you tell us immediately?’
‘I wanted to make sure. I felt it would be useful to find out Eyam’s motives and what sort of help he’d received.’
‘But this information was plainly very urgent,’ said Shoemaker.
‘In what way urgent?’ he asked innocently.
‘It must be obvious to you.’
‘Not really, though I do agree that it is sensational news, which is different: that is why I wanted to be sure of my facts. I don’t know how much work you have done in the field Ms Shoemaker, but it is my practice to make sure something is as accurate as possible before making a report.’
‘When were you going to make that report?’ asked Ferris.
‘Well, the summons to come here seemed to be a perfect opportunity.’
‘Not before?’ said Ferris.
‘No,’ said Kilmartin, drawing the DVD of Murray Link’s analysis from his pocket and placing it in front of him. ‘You will find all you need here.’ He had an idea what was coming next but wondered who would ask the question. Fortune? No. Fortune knew very well that Kilmartin remembered every detail of his adventure with Ali Mustafa Bey. Fortune did not want to be there. In the event it was Alec who spoke. Kilmartin guessed him to be a senior officer with the Security Service. A thinker and a planner, a man who didn’t object to six weeks in a room asking the same questions over and over.
‘But you weren’t simply inspired by the notion that Mr Eyam’s death had been elaborately faked?’
‘I am not sure about the word elaborate – there are clues he left in the film that give the lie to the whole exercise, which I find rather baffling.’
‘That’s as maybe,’ said Alec. ‘I am interested in what else you have taken upon yourself to investigate.’
‘I didn’t take anything upon myself. I am still actively working for the prime minister, as he will confirm, and I view the assignment in a wide context.’
‘Which includes talking to convicted criminals?’ said Alec.
‘If you mean Mary MacCullum, yes. But I’m afraid she told me nothing about Eyam and the Intelligence and Security Committee, which is obviously the key to this matter. Despite my reassurances she would not talk to me.’
‘But you made a second arrangement to rendezvous with her.’
‘No, I met her just once.’
‘Twice: the second time at St James’s Library yesterday. Both of you were seen there.’
‘Coincidence. We were not there to meet, though I would have been happy to have talked to her and in public.’
Alec lifted the top sheet of a stapled document. ‘We have no report of you leaving the library.’
‘Oh really?’ said Kilmartin. ‘Evidently I did leave because I am here with you.’
Alec did not look up for another minute. ‘You see,’ he said at length, ‘we don’t understand what you’re doing.’
Kilmartin stared at him dully. Perhaps he did recognise him. There were so many like him in Britain’s intelligence establishment; bureaucrats who commuted to the Home Counties each night, and drew a pathetic self-esteem from official secrecy and their ability to reach into other people’s lives. The man was utterly average – brown hair with a little grey, parted on the left; small square glasses; an ordinary, passionless face, crimped into neat regular folds at the eyes and mouth. He knew Alec, though he had never seen him before.
‘I came here to see the prime minister and that is what I am going to do. If he is unavailable I will leave.’
‘Not just yet, if you don’t mind,’ Alec said. ‘We would like to ask you a few more questions.’
‘What is the wide context you speak of?’ said Shoemaker.
‘Why?’ asked Kilmartin.
‘What do you mean, why?’
‘Why did he do it? Why did he go to all this effort? What motivated him? Who else is involved and why? I believe I am beginning to have some success.’
‘In what way?’ said Ferris.
Kilmartin’s gaze settled on Ferris. ‘Are you allowed to hear this sort of thing?’
‘He is empowered,’ said Shoemaker.
‘Who by? You? Is Mr Ferris a civil servant, or just some overpaid part-timer?’
Ferris grinned but Kilmartin saw him shift in his chair with discomfort.
‘Then I will ask the question,’ said Alec. ‘In what way are you having success?’
‘That’s between me and the prime minister. But, yes, I think I am beginning to get some understanding of this.’
Shoemaker was nipping at her cuff. She turned to Fortune and gave him what was clearly an unwelcome cue. Fortune cleared his throat. ‘Last week, Peter, when you came to see me you mentioned SPINDRIFT.’
‘As I recall, it was you who gave the name to me, Andrew. You see, I had never heard of SPINDRIFT before you mentioned it. As you know, I have spent a lot of time out of the country on various projects for the prime minister and have been rather out of touch.’
‘You told me that the prime minister had asked you to look specifically into that area, whereas the prime minister says he said no such thing.’
‘He asked me to dig around and find out what was being said. Those were his words. I made a note after our conversation, as I always do. It helps to remind us both of the mission. I usually send him a private memorandum so that he has the opportunity to correct, expand or refine the assignment, and this I did last week. He told me to keep my ear to the ground and mentioned there would be an election this year and the undesirability of allowing conspiracy theories to breed. You can check for yourself: the memorandum is on record. At that stage no one – least of all the Security Service, it seems – questioned the authenticity of the film. That was my work, but since none of you asked to see the analysis in this DVD, or have even asked about the hidden messages discovered at the end of the film, I must conclude that you’ve already seen it. Either Murray Link came to you, or you got to him. To be frank, it makes no difference to me, but do please give me the credit for advancing this investigation to its current state. Now, if you have problems with what I have been doing, please take it up with the prime minister.’
Fortune gave him a persevering smile. ‘It’s odd. I distinctly remember you being specific about the programme.’
‘It was you who mentioned SPINDRIFT, Andrew. Perhaps you would like to see my note of our conversation as well?’
‘It was a private conversation!’
‘Andrew, please don’t talk to me about respecting people’s privacy. Not here, in this room, in this company. You told me about SPINDRIFT but I have no idea what it is. I might add, nor interest either.’
‘And the woman, Kate Lockhart,’ said Shoemaker hastily. ‘You agree that you mentioned her name to Andrew?’
‘Yes, indeed: I explained that I saw her at the inquest and then at the funeral. You were there. Perhaps you missed her, Christine. I talked to her because I recognised her from SIS. I asked Andrew about her past.’
‘Have you been in touch?’
‘Not yet, but I certainly plan to.’
‘You haven’t phoned her?’
‘No, but I have her number. As you know, she was arrested in connection with the murder of that solicitor outside Eyam’s home, which the more I think about it seems to be an increasingly important part of this affair.’
There was a silence.
‘Don’t you?’ Kilmartin said, sweeping the group.
‘There are many criminal aspects to this case,’ said Ferris. ‘That is one of them.’
‘Why did you go to see Sidney Hale this afternoon?’ Alec asked.
Kilmartin shook his head with real incredulity. ‘Did the prime minister order this surveillance of my movements?’
Alec avoided his eyes and said nothing.
‘Please answer my question!’ he said with the menace that he rarely allowed himself to show.
Alec’s eyes lifted with the calm of an obdurate booking clerk. ‘It’s no good using that tone with me, Mr Kilmartin. We are merely allowing for all eventualities. These are very serious matters.’
‘Is the prime minister aware of your operation to monitor my activities, or not?’
There was no answer.
‘Then I must assume he is. And that leaves me no option but to terminate my work on his behalf.’ He rose and stood looking down at them. Ferris reached for the DVD, but Kilmartin was too quick for him and returned it to his pocket.
‘We would like that,’ said Shoemaker. ‘It may be important.’
‘Come on, let’s not pretend: you’ve got a copy of your own. This is mine and I paid for it.’
‘But you must understand that—’ she began.
‘If you want this, you will have to go to court for it, Christine. Is that clear? In the meantime, you can be confident that this information will go nowhere. By the way, Sidney Hale’s recollection of events is not as sharp as it used to be. He could tell me nothing about David Eyam’s motives in returning to give evidence to the ISC. But no doubt you know that too.’
He moved towards the door, but before reaching it he turned to them. ‘In everything I have done over the past week, I have had the prime minister’s interests at heart. My time and dedication, both in this matter and in past assignments, has now been rewarded by suspicion, doubt and unwarranted surveillance. I will make this clear when I explain why I can have no more to do with this affair.’
When he opened the door Gruppo was standing there with her hard little face turned up with a look of inquiry.
‘The prime minister’s ready for you,’ she said.
Kilmartin regarded her. ‘I am afraid I have to go.’
‘But you can’t. He’s coming now.’
‘I will be happy to explain to him in a letter.’
He moved past her.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘It would be totally unacceptable for you to leave now.’
‘I’m not in the habit of subjecting myself to this kind of interrogation, and nor am I content to allow my movements to be watched.’ Wondering if he was overplaying the indignation, he began to walk down the corridor. Gruppo skittered after him but soon he was taking the stairs down to the ground floor. At the bottom, he ran slap into Temple.
‘Peter says he has to go,’ piped Gruppo from behind him. ‘I explained that you’ve set aside time for him.’
‘Going, Peter? But you’ve only just arrived. And I do need a word with you.’
Prime minister, if I may . . . Look, I don’t take kindly to the sort of treatment I just received. I won’t tolerate it again.’
‘Tolerate what, Peter?’
‘Being given the third degree by Christine Shoemaker and her little gang; I didn’t sign up for that. I’m more than happy for them to take over this work but I must ask that the surveillance on me is lifted immediately.’
‘I don’t know what they said to you but clearly they have overstepped the mark. Look, come and have a drink. I’ve got half an hour and I want to ask your advice on all this.’
Kilmartin was happy to go along with the fiction that Temple was ignorant of what had happened. He almost suspected that the prime minister had been given some kind of a nod, possibly a call from Shoemaker’s cell phone, or had even listened to the whole thing himself. Kilmartin allowed himself to be led to a room that Temple used as a study, where they sat in armchairs facing each other.
‘These are very difficult times, Peter. I’ve just been talking to the president and we were reflecting that the pace of events seems to quicken every day. You know, it is only from this job that you have true perspective of the world. It’s enough to give you vertigo.’ This commonplace of statesmen over, he appraised Kilmartin. ‘I’m sorry that you were irritated by Christine and her colleagues but I want you to know that we are all working for the same thing – stability and the security of the state. They plainly misunderstood my instructions, but you do see that Eyam could make a lot of mischief at this moment?’
Kilmartin nodded. There was nothing for him to say. Both looked round the room.
‘I love this place, you know,’ continued Temple. ‘It has bestowed immeasurable benefits on British public life. Chequers gives the prime minister breathing space. It allows decisions to be made more rationally.’ He stopped. ‘You know that when Winston stayed here after he lost the forty-five election he wrote Finis in the visitors’ book?’
‘No, how interesting,’ said Kilmartin, wondering why it was that prime ministers felt able to refer to Churchill by his first name. Perhaps the job conferred retrospective familiarity with greatness: a club where people referred to each other by first names.
‘But it wasn’t finis,’ continued Temple. ‘Winston came back in fifty-one. I plan to come back too.’ He stopped, got up and went to his desk where he aligned a leather blotter and a book. ‘This business about Eyam: what do you think he wants? What’s your opinion, Peter?’
‘Motive is always difficult to read,’ he replied. ‘We make a rational assumption about someone’s behaviour based on what we would, or would not, do in the same circumstances, ignoring the otherness of the other. We consider only influences that make us what we are and impose those beliefs on them. It is the classic mistake of intelligence analysis.’
‘Which Eyam never made; he was very good at that job, though I know he hated the JIC.’
‘What I’m trying to say is he may not mean anyone any harm.’
‘Yes, that’s one argument I’ve heard today, but you don’t agree with that, do you? You think that we haven’t worked out what his intentions are because we’re not seeing things from his point of view. Is that what you’re saying?’
‘Perhaps. But certainly that is the right approach.’
Temple returned to his chair and pressed his fingertips together. ‘I want you to continue to look at this, Peter. Find out about his friends – plug in and see what you can discover. See how organised they are.’
Kilmartin began shaking his head. ‘In the circumstances, I don’t think I can.’
‘Why is that?’
‘Because I’m not prepared to work under the constant supervision and monitoring of the Security Service, or anyone else that may be involved, like Ferris.’
‘That was all a misunderstanding.’
‘To be frank with you, I felt I was used to flush out information, prime minister. I prefer to work alone. I do not function effectively when second-guessed or monitored. It’s a matter of personality, I’m afraid.’
‘That’s what I like about you, Peter. You’re your own man; you have no allegiances. That was why I took to you all those years ago when I was in the Foreign Office and no doubt making a hash of things.’ The false modesty allowed him to pause and make an astonishing statement. ‘It’s vital that I’m re-elected this year. Without me, without our policies, I truly believe that the nation will be less safe. I must see things through. Another term. That’s all.’
Kilmartin did not say, ‘Après moi le déluge,’ but he very much felt like it.
‘I respected Eyam,’ continued Temple. ‘I’ve sat next to him in countless negotiations and watched that mind at work. Everyone who’s seen it at close quarters is in awe. His grasp of a problem is immediate: he thinks ahead, helping the other side to reach a more moderate position without them realising. If they proved less than cooperative, he was brutal, remorseless.’ Temple’s lips spread into a wide but humourless grin. ‘A mind like that deployed against the state represents a very considerable threat.’
‘Against the state, prime minister? I’m not sure you’re right about that. David loves this country. He’s quietly very patriotic.’
‘We think we know people, Peter. But we don’t. In this job you really see that. David was about to be charged with child pornography before he skipped the country. Did you know that?’
Kilmartin shook his head but allowed no other reaction to this unbelievable revelation. ‘If he was about to be charged,’ he asked, ‘why would he come back? Why would he leave clues and hints that his death had been faked, instead of vanishing for ever?’
Temple leaned forward with the drink cupped in his hands. ‘You are the best person to answer those questions. You’ve already had a lot of success: I expect you to have more.’
Was Temple admitting he knew what he had said to Shoemaker half an hour before? ‘But I will not be your mechanical hare, prime minister. I won’t be pursued and watched while I do my job. If I have your agreement that all surveillance on me is suspended, and I put that in writing to you, I will continue. I hope you understand.’
Temple’s eyes flinched then hardened, giving Kilmartin a sudden glimpse into the dismal vault that contained the prime minister’s soul. ‘Of course, if that’s what you want, Peter. Now go and find the otherness of the other for me.’
‘The Hawtrey Arms in Better Times’ was the caption of the framed black and white photograph of the hunt meeting outside the pub in 1910. Kilmartin idly examined it as he waited for a steak and new potatoes in the pub close to Chequers. A voice sounded behind him. He turned and recognised the prime minister’s chief spokesman, Philip Cannon. He was also looking at the photograph.
‘What did Virginia Woolf say about human beings changing for ever in December 1910?’ asked Cannon.
‘Exactly that, though I was never sure why 1910,’ said Kilmartin. ‘Do you want to join me?’ He’d met Cannon a few times at Number Ten and had always thought of him as a decent sort, perhaps overwhelmed by the pressure of the job.
‘For a minute or two,’ said Cannon sitting down opposite him. ‘I’ve been here long enough as it is. Are you going to Chequers, or have you just been?’
‘On my way home. Thought I’d get a bite before I hit the road.’
‘I’m not going to ask you what you were seeing him about, but I’ve got a damned good idea.’
Kilmartin smiled pleasantly but said nothing.
‘I’ve had ten calls, none of which I have answered,’ said Cannon, looking at the screen of his phone. ‘And more emails than I can count.’
‘I don’t envy you,’ said Kilmartin. ‘Is there a big dinner up there tonight?’
‘Not especially,’ replied Cannon. ‘A few cronies. He calls it a huddle. Trusties. No outsiders. Can I get you a drink?’
‘No thanks – driving.’
Cannon nodded. ‘I had the idea you were a fisherman, but maybe I’m imagining that.’
‘Very rarely: my brother occasionally invites me to the Dee.’
‘Lovely! Good spring fish, even these days of factory ships scooping up every living creature in the sea and salmon farms screwing up the stock.’
‘I believe so,’ said Kilmartin, ‘though I rarely lay a hand on one.’
Cannon looked morosely into his drink. Kilmartin thought he’d had one or two too many. ‘I’ve got a couple of days booked on the Spey in ten days’ time but I’m bloody well going to have to cancel.’ He sighed. ‘This time of year – there’s nothing better.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that. Work?’
He nodded. ‘I’ll try for May after the election.’ He stopped and took a long draft of his beer. ‘That’s a state secret so keep it to yourself, but I don’t see how he’s going to the country with this panic over red algae.’
‘I was reading about it.’
Cannon grimaced, then his face clouded. ‘You are aware that we are strangely bound together, Peter?’
‘How so? Not on red algae, I hope.’
‘Eyam,’ he said, lowering his voice and talking at the table. ‘I assume you know Eyam is alive and that we’re looking for him. A lot depends on him being found and all that being wrapped up without too much fuss. It’s the sort of story that obsesses newspapers, even in their depleted, feckless state.’
‘More than red algae?’
‘Yes. What do you make of the Eyam business?’
‘Not easy to know, and I’m not sure we should be talking about it here.’
‘But you’re on the inside, Peter. JT trusts you; he likes you; respects you.’
‘No more than Christine or Jamie Ferris or Alec.’
‘So you’ve seen Shoemaker’s familiars. Did you know they’ve all worked for Eden White? Alec Smith still does.’
‘Smith – does he indeed? White is quite the éminence grise.’
Cannon’s index finger followed the grain of the wood on the table-top. ‘You see, my problem is that I will obviously have to handle the Eyam story, but I have no bloody idea how. When I saw you come in it struck me that we might be able to help each other.’
Kilmartin’s steak arrived. ‘What d’you have in mind?’ he asked when the waitress had gone.
‘I’d like you to give me heads-up when this thing is going to blow. JT thinks I can drop my trousers and perform without any bloody foreplay.’
‘He wants it all to come out?’
‘No, he knows it’s just something we’re going to have to deal with now that Eyam is—’
‘Yes,’ said Kilmartin quickly and cut into the steak. ‘There’s no guarantee I’ll be able to give you much advance notice.’ He looked at Cannon and noticed that the bottom of one eye was bloodshot and that his ears were flushed. Cannon was in his forties and wasn’t wearing well. ‘It is, after all, a very novel situation.’
‘I’ll say. Now, what can I do for you?’
‘Nothing yet, but I’m sure I’ll think of something. I’d like to know of any developments you hear about in connection with Eyam – what that fellow Ferris is up to. And the election is interesting.’
They exchanged cards. ‘Probably better if I ring Number Ten once in a while,’ said Kilmartin. ‘Cell phones can be unreliable.’
Cannon rested his chin in his hand, pushing the flesh of one cheek up. ‘You’re not an assassin, are you, Kilmartin?’
Kilmartin continued eating for a little while, then put down his knife and fork and wiped his mouth with the napkin. ‘No, I am not an assassin,’ he asserted quietly with a look that ought to have made Cannon apologise and change the subject.
‘I heard someone today say you can’t kill a man who’s already been declared dead. That worried me. And the murder of that lawyer at Eyam’s place made me wonder if this is all going to turn ugly. We need to protect the PM from that kind of madness. He’s basically a good man, the best prime minister we’ve got; the country needs him.’
‘Yes,’ said Kilmartin.
‘Forgive me for asking that, but you know what they say about governments these days – they are run either by gangsters or spooks.’
‘Yes, I have heard it said, though it seems a little on the simplistic side.’