The Prime Minister looked out the window. Rolling thunder and torrential rain had broken the summer humidity. And that reflected his mood. He and his government still maintained a comfortable lead in the polls, but a long political career had taught him that elections were only won once all the votes were counted. It took just one bad political episode to change the press’s, and the electorate’s, opinions.
‘God damn it!’ he snarled and turned towards his press secretary – who was absorbed in the latest public polls.
‘This matter with the Special Forces soldier is inconvenient, to put it mildly. The opposition will use it to spark life back into that old debate about our military engagement in Afghanistan,’ he continued and clenched his fists.
‘A majority in Parliament backed the decision,’ attempted the press secretary cautiously.
‘A majority!’ snorted the Prime Minister. ‘It was our own damned seats, along with the People’s Party. As you know, the opposition chose not to vote, and now the electorate has completely forgotten that they only abstained. But the opposition will claim that they, from the very beginning, pointed out that it was 199irresponsible to partake in self-appointed nation-building. That we only did the US’s bidding, and that they had warned it would only bring terrorism to our doorstep. That’s the line they love to work in the committee on foreign policy,’ continued the Prime Minister, while unbuttoning the collar of his shirt and relaxing the stranglehold of his tie knot.
‘I could put up a smoke screen by leaking to a couple of journalists here at Borgen that this Jaeger soldier disappeared on holiday in Russia. Say he’s been mentally volatile since returning from Afghanistan; PTSD or something like that,’ said the press secretary and jotted down notes on his pad.
‘That is easily the most ludicrous thing I’ve ever heard,’ said the Prime Minister, fixing his gaze upon the secretary: jet-black holes burned through his shirt.
The press secretary knew from bitter experience that there was no point in being offended. He had learned that long ago. But he still hated being treated like this. He also knew that if he didn’t continue his work on damage control, he would be blamed for that at a later date.
‘There aren’t any easy solutions to the problem. Regrettably, I think we must wait for the story to come out. And if we’re lucky, there might be a way for us to salvage the situation. Until then, we must make sure that we’re on top of things,’ the Prime Minister continued, taking a deep breath before sitting behind his desk and reaching for the telephone.
‘Birthe, get me the Minister of Justice, please.’
‘We must leak a version of the story today that we can control. It would be catastrophic if the kidnappers kill him before we can control the narrative,’ the press secretary tried again.200
The Prime Minister covered the mouthpiece with his hand and looked at the press secretary while a smile formed on his lips.
‘As long as he is just killed, that’s something we can keep under wraps. Our Special Forces units often undertake dangerous missions, notably classified missions. We’ll simply refer to operational security, or whatever they call it. No one will then get to know where or how he died. OPSEC means that he will be given a hero’s funeral. I can already see the headline. That’s a story you can spin in the election campaign.’
The Prime Minister removed his hand from the phone:
‘Good morning, Rikke. I merely wanted to let you know that you handled the police incident at Christiania superbly on TV yesterday. I’ve said all along that you’re one of the government’s aces in the campaign.’
He winked at the press secretary and continued authoritatively:
‘Yes, the latest polls are still with us; I’ve just read them. You can claim your part of the credit for that. But Rikke, I’m actually calling because we have a situation we need to control. You know, this Special Forces soldier. It would be most unfortunate if that story came out during the election campaign. As you know, the government has a policy of fighting terrorism by every means possible. That makes it difficult for us to ignore the Russians’ stance – that this is Chechen terrorism that they will take care of. We can hardly object to them solving the situation by force without appearing hypocritical. After all, we have repeatedly backed the US in their assertion that the war on terror means the gloves must come off.’
The press secretary could not hear the response, but the repeated nodding of the Prime Minister confirmed his suspicion that the minister of justice needed to be more on message.201
‘Yes, of course, there’s a risk that he may be killed. The Russian hostage rescue legacy isn’t exactly rife with success stories. Seen from the hostage’s perspective, that is,’ answered the Prime Minister and caught the eye of the press secretary before rolling his eyes towards the ceiling and continuing:
‘This is exactly why we must ensure that no one here does something rash. I suggest you get PET to keep tabs on this soldier’s wife, friends, colleagues and whoever else might be too emotional to wait for things to resolve.’
He sighed deeply and stared at the ceiling while listening to the response.
‘Thank you, Rikke. I knew you’d understand the delicate situation we’re in. And yes, I understand that PET requires a warrant to tap phones and premises, but I am confident you can convince them that this is an exceptional case. You are their minister, after all. And will be after the coming election,’ he concluded and put down the phone.
The press secretary left him looking out at the rain.