Kompromat

Mabel Killick paused to give her next words the emphasis they deserved. ‘I cannot stress how essential it is that you should treat this material with the greatest discretion.’

She turned to the commissioner of police, sitting beside her. ‘Sir Oliver, perhaps you could take a moment to explain what we are dealing with in legal terms, in other words going beyond the security issues.’

‘Thank you, Home Secretary.’

As the highest ranking police officer in the country, Sir Oliver Holmes was proud to wear on his epaulettes the insignia of rank – the crown above a Bath star, above crossed tipstaves within a wreath. As much at home on a police horse as he was in a police car, he had placed his cap, with its chequered peak and distinctive silver braids, on the table in front of him when he sat down, and now he pushed it to one side.

‘My job, as you know, ladies and gentlemen,’ Sir Oliver began, ‘is to fight crime whenever and wherever it occurs. It is my duty to tell each and every one of you today that if you were to divulge to a third party information about what you read here today, or about the discussion which will shortly take place, you could be charged with aiding and abetting the commission of a serious crime, or with helping to conceal or cover up that crime, or assisting others to do so. I have absolutely no wish, as I come to the end of my career, to go out with a bang, but I have to remind you that when I took the Oath of Office on being appointed Commissioner of Police, I swore that I would discharge my duties – and I quote “without favour or affection, malice or ill will”.

‘I take that oath very seriously. So I want to tell you all, without beating about the bush, that we will probably be seeking search warrants as we pursue this case and those warrants may very well include the office or premises of the prime minister himself, as well as those of the chancellor of the exchequer and other concerned parties.’

Sir Oliver wondered, as he pressed on, whether he was laying it on a bit thick. Was anyone, he asked himself, really going to rush out of the room to warn Jeremy Hartley, the prime minister, and Tom Milbourne, the chancellor, to burn any incriminating documents as soon as possible?

Well, yes, he immediately reconsidered, it was precisely what they might very well do, unless he gave them the sternest possible warning.

How far, he wondered, had the stain and stench of corruption actually spread, if corruption was what they were dealing with? Were some of these actually in the room today implicated? He couldn’t rule that out. Indeed, at this point in the proceedings he couldn’t rule anything out.

‘Let me be clear,’ Sir Oliver laid it out for them in no uncertain terms. ‘If the authenticity of the material in front of you is conclusively established, then frankly we will be confronted with a scandal of massive proportions, a scandal which could – and I believe should – rock the government to its very foundation.’

Sir Oliver looked pointedly at the home secretary. ‘I imagine we would need a clean sweep at the highest levels of government, Home Secretary. Others would have to step in.’

‘The election lights on Fortinbras,’ Barnard murmured to himself. There were some lines from Hamlet he always remembered.

‘Good heavens, Commissioner, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,’ Mrs Killick said.

She finally to Edward Barnard. Though he was no longer a member of the Cabinet, everyone in the room recognized the central role he had played in the current crisis.

For the next few minutes Edward Barnard summarized, as concisely as he could, the events of the previous few days: the World Tiger Summit in St Petersburg, the trip to the Russian Far East, the dinner in Khabarovsk with President Popov and Yuri Yasonov.

When Barnard had finished, it was MI5’s turn.

‘From the Russian point of view,’ Jane Porter began, ‘this must look like a win-win situation. They hand the tape to Edward Barnard, knowing that if it becomes public the prime minister is finished. And if Jeremy Hartley goes down the drain, his cause goes down the drain too. He is committed, politically and personally, to achieve victory for the Remain camp in the Referendum. If he is out on his ear and possibly heading for jail, and if these documents become public, the prospects of Remain winning the vote will suddenly look much thinner than they do today. Precisely the objective the Russians are aiming at. They are fed up with the EU. They would like to get rid of it. Brexit is off to a good start.’

‘So what do we do?’ Mabel Killick was beginning to sound impatient. ‘Do we just sit on this Referendum dossier and hope it doesn’t emerge before the next election? Do we pretend to the PM that we know nothing and suspect nothing?’

Sir Oliver Holmes stood up suddenly. He picked up his chequered cap and solemnly placed it on his head.