Kingfisher

'We should say who we are. The Kingfisher group is Jewish. We are of a people who have long been oppressed and persecuted. We are political persons. We have flown out of the Soviet Union because we seek to arrive in Israel, and now we need fuel to continue our journey. We mean no harm to anyone, but we demand the fuel. Have you understood that?'

' I have understood that, David. I am going to tell my colleagues what you have said.' Charlie repeated the drill on the console, turned in the swing chair and explained the message.

The Home Secretary said, 'You know, Mr Webster, that there is no possibility of them having fuel. The question is, do they find that out now or later?'

Anthony Clitheroe was an eminent man in his field, accustomed to delivering detailed and lengthy speeches to his colleagues, with a considerable list of major studies to his name and a quarter of a column of Who's Who to back up his claims to be heard out. But he had learned from his two previous encounters with security forces that they required the shortest of responses from him in such situations.

'Find an excuse, put him off, tell him the people necessary to make such a decision are not here, and won't be till the morning.'

Finger back to the console, Charlie speaking again to the flight deck.

'David, this is a very important request that you are making, and one which would have to be considered very carefully by the British government. The problem is that we're in the middle of the holiday season here. Many of the most senior men are away on their vacations. There is no one here who could give that sort of authorization. Probably we won't be able to get a decision till the morning.'

'Don't make a fool of me.' The inanimate, detached voice cracked back from the loudspeaker high on the back wall of the control tower. Pitch rising, and hostility communicated.

' I'm not making a fool of you, David.'

'Don't take me for an idiot. The Germans were able to make a decision that we should not land, the Dutch were able to offer us impossible conditions knowing that we would not accept. We are not peasants. Your people facilitated this landing; that was not authorized by a junior official. Do not tell me that the responsible people cannot now be contacted. Do not play a game with me. We are very tired, we are impatient now. Do you know why I say that…?'

'Of course you are tired, and that is the more reason why you should sleep, and the pilot too must have a chance to sleep, and then we can talk in the morning.'

'Not in the morning. We want the fuel tonight. In the morning we fly.'

"It is not possible..

'It must be possible. Tell your people that, whoever they are. Tell them.'

Clocks ticking, a subdued cough, the shuffling of feet. Charlie sighed, loosened his collar further and turned once more to his audience; but they didn't need him – not to give them the bones, at any rate. They'd picked that up from the voices – David's anger, Charlie's wheedling.

But he went through the drama and the explanation.

The Assistant Chief Constable had manoeuvred till he was at the Home Secretary's shoulder.

'With respect, sir – and I acknowledge that there are others better qualified in these matters than myself-but it's dangerous this way round, codding them along. I suggest we make it plain, right from the start, that they are not flying on, that it's not negotiable.'

' I want to lead them to the realization gradually.' Clitheroe held his ground, not seeking proximity to their political master, aloof and with his hands in his pockets. 'You have heard the man's voice; it didn't need Mr Webster's translation to tell you he's near-hysterical. He is exhausted, and may become totally irrational. If you push him you could have a suicide situation, at best a collapse, at worst mayhem among the passengers.'

First conflict, Charlie thought to himself. Haven't been here forty-five minutes and they're swapping punches already. Always the same when you try and do things by committee.

'You have to take a firm line,..' sNot for its own sake, only if that helps the end result.'

The Home Secretary looked beyond his protagonists. Then he went to the man who had impressed him in London, who seemed to know and who had the humility of caution in his assessments.

'Mr Webster. Stall them, or give it to them straight?'

Charlie closed his eyes, tried to think, to see his way into the minds of the three young Russians; lust photographs and distant voices. How in God's name did you answer that one? ' I think I'd go with the doctor,' he said, noting the anticipation of the Assistant Chief Constable blend into his set, uniformed, clipped moustache face. 'With respect to all who might disagree with me, we should not underestimate what they've been through, to put it crudely. The stress they've been under, the strain…' What do you know about strain, Charlie? Well, more than any of these buggers. "They could go mad if we wrapped them down right now.'

Clitheroe didn't acknowledge Charlie's support, just walked away and jangled the coins in his pocket. The policeman was gazing through the windows.

'Stall them, Mr Webster,' said the Home Secretary. He looked hard at Charlie, seeking rapport, trying to share the loneliness of taking decisions on conflicting advice. Sorry, can't help you, sir.

You say what happens, I just march up and down and do as I'm told.

'David, it's Charlie here. Now you've got to listen to me.' Trying to get colloquial, trying to find the phrases that create understanding. 'David, listen. We've spoken to London by telephone, and we are told that the ministers of the British government will be meeting later tonight or in the early hours of the morning. They have to talk about this thing, David.. You have to believe me, they must be allowed some time. We'll have an answer by dawn. That's the best I can offer you, David. It's a very important matter, this. They must have time to talk about it. They promise an answer by the morning.' They'll have an answer by the time you've had a good night's sleep, by the time you've calmed yourself, by the time the SAS boys have it all worked out.

'You are trying to confuse us, Charlie. You do not think that we are serious people.' But the doubt was registering – that much was clear from the inflection. Don't know what to do, what to say. Had the set speech worked out for the 'yes' or 'no' answer, and they're thrown by the 'wait and see'.

' I'm not trying to confuse you, David. Just explaining things the way they are.'

'You do not deceive me?'

' I don't deceive you, David. You'll have the answer in the morning, good and early.' Like pinching pocket money out of a blind school. First-timers – no briefing, no plan, just showed up and hoped for the best.

'Good night, Charlie. And you will tell us early the reply of your government. Tell us about the fuel and the onward flight to Israel.'

'Good night, David. We'll talk in the morning.'

Believe that lot and you'll believe anything. Charlie tucked the console button back to the 'off' position, stretched up out of his chair and braced his legs stiff from the long period crouched at his desk.

To no one in particular he said, 'I thought they'd be better than that.'

CHAPTER NINE

The Foreign Secretary would dearly have liked another of his PPS's mixtures from the cabinet, but it was hardly the suitable time for that – not with the night stretching ahead, the threat increasing.

For this senior politician with a lifetime of manoeuvring and negotiating in the fraught and deceptive world of diplomacy the problem was totally straightforward – so clear-cut, indeed, that the area for compromise was minimal. He had a fair idea of the appeal that the Israeli would make to him, knew it would be impassioned and emotional and difficult to deflect. His role would thus not be easy. He still carried the burden of the one-time super-power, one-time member of the Big Five, but the world had moved on, and the weight in affairs abroad of the government he now represented had diminished to a startling degree in the previous two decades.