Kompromat

‘There have been some developments in the Golden Shower affair,’ he said. ‘The MI5 have somehow managed to depixelate the tape, whatever that means, and they report that Ronald Craig is not, absolutely not, the man on the bed. The original report which gave rise to the Golden Shower scenario seems to have been written by a former MI6 officer, Martin Silver, under contract to the Democratic National Committee. They wanted him to dig up some dirt on Ron Craig. Now they are asking me as the minister responsible for MI6, as well as the Foreign Office, to make it clear that we totally repudiate any suggestion Ron Craig is one of the dramatis personae in the famous Golden Shower event.’

Stokes got up from his desk and strode across to the window. It was late October and the evening was drawing in.

‘Basically, Owen, I think this is a lose-lose situation,’ he continued. ‘If we go public and exonerate Craig, Caroline Mann’s people will complain we are playing politics. They will protest that we are behaving exactly like the Russians, interfering with the US Presidential election by coming out with such a very pro-Craig bit of information just days before the vote. But if we don’t say anything, then Craig’s people will yell blue murder. The Golden Shower rumour has already hurt their candidate. We can be sure Craig won’t put the prime minister at the top of his visitors’ list if he’s elected next week.’

As a SPAD – Special Political Adviser – Owen Griffiths was free from the normal bureaucratic hang-ups. ‘I think there’s some wriggle room here, Foreign Secretary. My advice would be to put nothing in writing. Why don’t you have a quiet word with Warren Fletcher, the American ambassador? You’ll be meeting him at London Zoo tomorrow when the Duke of Edinburgh opens the new tiger enclosure. That way we won’t be making any public statement, but we can always claim that we passed on sensitive information in a timely and appropriate way. What Warren Fletcher does with this particular piece of news is his problem, not ours.’

‘Great stuff, Owen. I know why we pay you.’

Next morning, a select group of invitees, including Foreign Secretary, Harry Stokes, Warren Fletcher, the American ambassador, Gennadiy Tikhonov, the Russian ambassador to the Court of St James’s, and the world-renowned conservationist and broadcaster, Thomas Pulborough, gathered in front of London Zoo’s spectacular new Tiger Territory. The Duke of Edinburgh, former President of the World Wildlife Fund, made a brief but powerful plea for more national and international action to save threatened tigers and all endangered species.

‘The situation of the tiger is getting worse all over the world,’ he said. ‘The Bali, Caspian and Javan subspecies are already extinct. The Sumatran tiger, which you see here today – two adults and three splendid cubs – is critically endangered.’

The duke pointed to the animals in the enclosure. The zoo had done a tremendous job of recreating a pocket of Indonesian rainforest in the heart of London. While the parents lazed in the late October sunshine, the cubs explored their newly enlarged and improved home, climbing up into the trees and splashing in the lake.

‘The Bengal tiger appears to be holding its own and the population of the Siberian or Amur tiger is actually increasing.’

The duke paused. As always, he had been well-briefed. ‘I am delighted to see that we have Ambassador Tikhonov among the guests here this morning. I hope he will pass on to Moscow the pleasure we all feel at the progress being made in Russia today, as far as the Siberian tiger is concerned. But this is no time for complacency.’

After the speeches were over, and the brilliant new Tiger Territory had been officially inaugurated, guests were invited to an official reception in the splendid new Thomas Pulborough Pavilion to mark the occasion.

Harry Stokes buttonholed Warren Fletcher, the US ambassador.

Fletcher had been four years in London already. He and his wife entertained on a grand scale in Winfield House, their splendid official residence in Regent’s Park, barely a butterfly hop from the zoo.

‘Isn’t the duke amazing?’ Fletcher said. ‘Ninety-five years old, if he’s a day, and still going strong. Wasn’t it great when the tiger came right up behind him as he was speaking? If they hadn’t put that glass screen in the way, the tiger could have had a right royal lunch!’ Then, Fletcher turned serious: ‘Nelly and I have had such a good time here. You guys have been really great. We’ll have to leave, of course, if Craig wins. A new president will always want to have his own man – or woman – in London.’

‘Do you think he will win?’ Harry Stokes asked.