Gingerly, the man sat up in the bed. The deep, luxuriant mattress creaked and sagged as he settled against the pillows the woman arranged behind him. He hurt practically everywhere but not particularly badly anywhere in particular which was a good sign. His right arm was only lightly bandaged, itching rather than painful. He was wearing some kind of long nightshirt, and nothing else…
“Your uniform,” the woman grimaced, “all our clothes actually, were ruined. They’d cut away most of what you were wearing to assess your injuries. Tom and Pat helped me get you into the, er, night things…”
Battered, bruised and nearer the end of his tether than he’d been at any time since the world had gone insane thirteen months ago, all Julian Christopher wanted to do was hold the woman in his arms.
Chapter 21
Jim Callaghan picked up his cup of tea and raised it slowly to his lips, pausing to view the gathering that would have constituted — had God had an even crueller sense of humour than he’d thought possible — all that was left of the United Kingdom Interim Emergency Administration if the attack on the Balmoral had gone as the conspirators had planned. God helps us! He thought sourly, wondering yet again if the traitorous bastards who’d carried out the atrocity had had succour or encouragement from any of the men in the room.
The leader of the Labour and Co-operative Party sipped his tea, wishing he could shut out the background noise.
Ian Macleod, the Chairman of the Conservative and Unionist Party was shouting at Airey Neave, presumably because the Angry Widow’s right hand man was sitting in front of him and he thought somebody ought to be shouting at somebody. Peter Thorneycroft, Jim Callaghan’s deputy at the Ministry of Defence was staring into space, still a little dazed. Across the table the three Chiefs of Staff were impersonating three brass monkeys, horribly embarrassed by the way the politicians were deporting themselves. Several Cabinet members who’d emerged from the woodwork on hearing the terrible news from Scotland had demanded entrance to the meeting and been firmly excluded.
Jim Callaghan put down his cup and saucer.
“Shut up, Ian!” He snapped.
This briefly silenced the other man. However, an outraged protest was not long coming.
“How dare you speak to me like that, you…”
“Jumped up little Leftie?” The Minister of Defence and, by virtue of the agreement he had signed on behalf of his party as a non-negotiable condition of its support for Edward Heath’s leadership of the UKIEA, the de facto Deputy Prime Minister, inquired coldly.
“No, I was going to say…”
“Shut up,” the large, lugubrious man with suddenly flaring nostrils told the red-faced Chairman of the Conservative and Unionist Party sitting to his right. “Shut up or I shall have you removed from this room.” he looked slowly around the faces fixed on his. His gaze lingered on the palely stern face of the Cabinet Secretary, Sir Henry Tomlinson, who sat at the end of the table deliberately separate from both the military and political constituents of the meeting. “This meeting of the Emergency War Cabinet is now in session,” he sniffed. “Mr Neave and Mr Thorneycroft have been invited to attend by me because I believe they may have useful insights to offer. The Chairman of the Conservative Party is here by his own invitation. Since he is here he may as well stay as an observer.”
The Deputy Prime Minister viewed the three service chiefs.
Sir Charles Elworthy, Chief of the Air Staff pushed back his chair and stood to attention.
“Sir, with your permission I request your leave to submit my immediate resignation from my current post.” The man choked on the last few words. What had happened in Scotland was tormenting him and he looked as if he was going to be physically sick with shame at any moment.
“Request denied. Please sit down, Air Marshall,” Jim Callaghan said tersely. He frowned at the Army Chief, sitting uncomfortably to the airman’s left. “What about you, General Hull, do you want to throw in the towel, too?”
“No, sir,” the soldier replied gruffly.
Sir Charles Elworthy had collapsed back into his seat, a part of him broken perhaps beyond repair.
“Gentlemen,” Jim Callaghan declared. “Immediately before I came into this room I spoke with Her Majesty the Queen and the Prime Minister over a scrambler link to Scotland. They both made it clear to me that the Service Chiefs retain Her Majesty’s, and the Prime Minister’s absolute faith and confidence. There will be no talk of resignations. There will be no recriminations around this table. We are confronted with two specific crises, and one pressing strategic decision that can no longer be deferred. This meeting will be briefed on the latest developments in Scotland and in Gibraltar before we move on to a general discussion of what to do about Vice-Admiral Staveley-Pope.”
Admiral David Luce’s expression was blandly inscrutable at the mention of the name of the man who was Commander-in-Chief of the Mediterranean Fleet and the Military Governor of the Maltese Archipelago and those areas of Cyprus still under British control. Splitting command of the Mediterranean theatre of operations — effectively a ‘Gibraltar Command Area’ and a ‘Mediterranean Fleet Area’ had been vigorously resisted by the Navy but the Army had enjoyed a lot of sway within the rump of the Conservative Party in the weeks after the cataclysm. Moreover, the First Sea Lord was far too decent and honourable a man to remind his colleagues that ‘he’d told them so’ at a time like this.
“That man is an imbecile!” Ian Macleod declared
The First Sea Lord flicked a mildly exasperated look at the Chairman of the Conservative and Unionist Party.
“Michael Staveley-Pope is a man of impeccable principles and unwavering loyalty to the Service, Mr MacLeod. Whatever else he is and whatever has made him take the decisions he has taken and only belatedly communicated to us here in England, he is not an imbecile and I will thank you to refrain from disparaging any Naval officer in my presence unless you are prepared to repeat those words to that officer’s face.” He spoke with a suave, smooth assurance but there was no doubt that beneath the velvet glove was a knuckleduster. He added after a long pause: “Sir!”
The politician blinked, unconsciously licked his lower lip. Like a lizard tasting the atmosphere in the room for the first time and detecting a disturbing new undercurrent of…hostility and contempt. Things were going badly wrong and the patience of the Chiefs of Staff was nearly exhausted. Elworthy might be in a state of shock but the unquenchable light of battle shone even more brightly in the eyes of Admiral Luce and General Hull.
“I apologise for my intemperate language, Admiral Luce,” Ian MacLeod said soberly. “I’m sure Admiral Staveley-Pope is doing what he thinks is right and necessary. However…”
Jim Callaghan reasserted his chairmanship.
“Sir Richard,” he growled turning to the stony-faced Chief of the General Staff of the Army, “would you be so good as to update us on the latest information from Scotland please?”
“All four aircraft from the 637 Squadron based at RAF Turnhouse near Edinburgh which attacked the Balmoral estate this morning have now been accounted for. All four aircraft were Hawker Hunters configured in a fighter bomber role and were attached to Number 27 Operational Training Unit at Turnhouse. Two of the aircraft were piloted by instructors, and two by students converting from other aircraft types. Both aircraft which attacked Balmoral Castle were destroyed, one by small arms fire or pilot error resulting in it crashing into the building, the other was accounted for by a Bloodhound surface-to-air missile strike. Both pilots were killed. The other aircraft landed at RAF Leuchars and both pilots surrendered themselves to the members of the RAF Regiment. After consultation with the other Chiefs it was agreed that interrogators from Special Branch and the Security Services should travel to Scotland to conduct an exhaustive interrogation of both prisoners. The interrogation team has been authorised to use any or all appropriate measures to ensure the full co-operation of the prisoners. 2nd Battalion Scots Guards has invested RAF Turnhouse and all personnel within the base have been disarmed pending the outcome of the interrogation at Leuchars and any further measures which might be necessary. Elements of 45 Commando has now arrived on Deeside in battalion strength to secure the estate. Thus far there has been no attempt by dissident elements to breach the perimeter around Balmoral Castle established by the Black Watch. I have a number of reports that groups of armed men have been intercepted in the immediate vicinity of several outlying estate buildings. The Marines have given these groups short shrift.”