Kompromat

‘Well, actually we too thought there might be something in the Chinese theory,’ Brown said. ‘From our own sources in Russia – I’m not going to say who or where – we tracked some actual footage of the tiger-darting incident, rather than the shots of President Popov heroically confronting the tiger which they showed on Russian TV. We examined the film carefully and we came to the conclusion that there was a very real possibility Ronald Craig had indeed been deliberately targeted by Popov. It wasn’t just an accident. If that was the case, then Popov obviously had some ulterior purpose in mind and the most likely scenario, as we assessed it, was that the tiger-darting episode provided the perfect opportunity for the FSB to get something on Ronald Craig, in the most literal sense. There were various possibilities. Craig could have been fitted with a microscopic transmitter right in the forest there. Or he could have been accessed, if that’s the right word, when he was taken into the hospital in Khabarovsk after the incident.

‘To cut a long story short, the CIA and the FBI together requested an Executive Order from the president addressed to Mr Craig, requiring him to present himself forthwith to the Walter Reed Army Medical Centre in Bethesda. Mr Craig duly complied with the order. An examination was made. We found no recording device.’

‘Excuse me one minute,’ Barnard interrupted. ‘I was staying at Hasta La Vista, the Craig place in Florida, when the federal marshals came to whisk Craig away to Walter Reed. Rosie Craig was in touch with her father after the examination. She told me that they actually discovered a small, plastic recording device, concealed somewhere on Ron Craig’s body. I’m not sure where.’

Wilbur Brown smiled. ‘Well, that’s what we told the doctors to tell Craig when he came round. We thought there was less chance of him kicking up a fuss if he believed he really had been bugged by the Russians. But, no, they didn’t actually discover anything. We were disappointed. We really believed they had tagged him and it turned out they hadn’t.’

Barnard was puzzled. ‘So what’s the issue? No recorder, no transmission. All’s well that ends well, surely?’

The director of the FBI sighed. ‘It’s not quite as simple as that. I wish it was. We have reason to believe that our suspicions were right all along. We think the Russians may still be receiving transmissions from a recorder concealed somewhere about Ron Craig’s person.’

‘Can you give me an example?’ Barnard asked.

The Director of the FBI took his time. He examined his fingernails, fiddled with his phone, pushed a finger in his ear. Then he made up his mind.

‘I take it you’re cleared for Five Eyes material?’ he said. ‘What I’m going to tell you is on a Five Eyes basis. Is that clear?’

‘Absolutely. I’m a member of Her Majesty’s Privy Council, duly and properly authorized to receive secret briefings,’ Barnard replied solemnly. Why on earth hadn’t someone told him about Five Eyes before he headed for Washington? Maybe Chancellors of the Exchequer didn’t ‘need to know’.

‘I’ll be back in a moment,’ Wilbur Brown said. ‘The machine’s with my secretary.’

While Wilbur Brown left the room, Barnard quickly searched for ‘Five Eyes’ on his iPhone.

Seconds later he read: ‘Five Eyes: top-secret intelligence sharing agreement, dating back to 1946, originally between the US and the UK, but subsequently expanded to include Canada, Australia and New Zealand.’

Thank God for Google, Barnard thought.

Wilbur Brown came back with the tape deck, placed it on the table and pressed the switch.

‘Listen to this,’ he said.

Barnard heard Jack Varese’s unmistakable tones. ‘Christ, Ron,’ he was saying, ‘you’ve got to take global warming seriously. It’s the key issue of our time.’ Then he heard another voice which he also recognized. ‘Bullshit, Jack, it’s a giant hoax perpetrated by and for the Chinese to make US manufacturing uncompetitive.’

‘My God!’ Barnard exclaimed. ‘How did you get that? I was with Jack Varese last night. He was late at the Embassy because he’d been arguing on the phone with Ron Craig about global warming. That’s definitely authentic.’

‘Do you want to hear a bit more?’ Brown asked. He pressed the switch again.

‘Who gives a fuck about the polar bears?’ they heard Craig say. ‘Ten years from now, there’s going to be a fleet of Craig super-tankers steaming through the Arctic Ocean. The polar bears will have to go play somewhere else.’

They listened a few more moments. The argument between the two men became increasingly heated. Then Varese said, ‘Rosie’s not going to like it.’ Craig replied, ‘I’m the candidate, not Rosie. And Rosie’s not going to be president, I am.’