14
Don Trenchard left early in the morning to check over the security arrangements. He drove down the M3 motorway until, just past Basingstoke, he veered off on the fast A303 dual carriageway before picking up the old Roman road, the A343, which plunged through the rolling hills of Salisbury Plain to the ancient cathedral city itself.
Trafalgar House was on the southern outskirts. In its own parkland, the magnificent stately home stood on high ground overlooking the finger streams of the Avon where they formed part of the picturesque and famous water meadows.
The location had been chosen for a number of reasons. The building was empty and up’for sale, plans to develop it into an hotel and conference centre having failed to materialise. Therefore the owner was more than pleased to agree a short-term lease to the government’s Property Services Agency. Their experts swept in with lorry loads of furniture, antiques, oil paintings and objets d’art to fill the public rooms and bedrooms, as well as conference tables and chairs, while British Telecom installed the necessary secure communications equipment.
Another attraction of Trafalgar House as venue for the Abe Powers talks was its isolation. To the west it was flanked by the Avon, the few footbridges that spanned it being easy to seal off. Running parallel to the river in the east was a single winding country lane which served only to provide access to the estate itself and a few isolated farms. Closing the road would cause inconvenience only to a few locals who used it as a shortcut between the villages of Downton and Alderbury on the edge of the city.
And so the barriers had gone up, blocked by heavy-duty earth-moving equipment and manned by half-a-dozen burly public-works labourers. Local farmers and their workers were issued with special passes and were mildly surprised that Polaroid photographs were taken of them and heat-sealed into the small plastic ID cards. New EC rules, they were told, and everyone knew that Brussels bureaucracy knew no bounds. For effect, one or two sections of the lane were actually excavated, forming security pinch-points surrounded by discreetly armed labourers and more heavy plant. Only the local poachers were aware of the increased number of game wardens prowling the estate with walkie-talkies and shotguns. No one was aware of the covert observation posts in the surrounding fields manned by members of the SAS in plain clothes.
Trenchard came down the A337, turned off by The Bull at Downton, crossed the river and almost missed the northward turning. When he’d cleared the houses he came across the second Road Closed sign. The grim-faced workman in orange overalls checked his ID and waved to the driver of the mechanical digger to reverse up and let him pass.
Idyllic countryside, Trenchard thought, as he drove along the lane, taking the switchbacks carefully until he reached the second checkpoint and continued climbing towards the gatehouse at Standlynch where he swung into the estate.
The SAS major in charge of security met him at the steps to the house. He was wearing a tweed jacket and twill trousers.
‘Any problems, Larry?’
The soldier shook his head. ‘Sweet as a nut, Don. And I’ll tell you something, I’ve served my time in Ulster over the past fifteen years and I’ve never known anything like it. The delegates in there are falling over themselves to accommodate each other. This idea of an independent Northern Ireland has really caught their imagination.’
Trenchard raised an eyebrow. ‘Really?’
The other man laughed. ‘There was a real sticking point this morning when the principle of some kind of equal power-sharing in the new Stormont parliament came up. The air was electric, I can tell you. Well, the Catholic SDLP guy stood up and suggested his formula for the number of seats. Then Ian Paisley took to his feet with his idea — which offered morel He got a standing ovation.’
‘That’s crazy.’
‘Maybe not. With Dublin and London out of the picture, all parties are shifting position, having to change their manifestoes.
Basically the SDLP is swinging to the left and the Unionists to the right. As Paisley told me privately, it felt like the burden of being British had been lifted from his shoulders. He feels nothing but bitterness at what he sees as Britain’s gradual betrayal over the years.’
‘There’s just one problem,’ Trenchard said.
‘What’s that?’
‘The Provos aren’t part of this and they can’t be wished away. They’re the ones who say whether or not the war is over.’
The soldier smiled. ‘Tough shit. I’ve never seen such optimism — those bastards are well out of it.’
Trenchard said: ‘Unfortunately or otherwise, Larry, Ulster is not like the Isle of Man. It remains rather attached to Ireland, whether anyone likes it or not.’
He turned then and entered the building, leaving the SAS major to ponder his words. Again he showed his pass to the armed policeman on the oak doors that led to the main debating chamber. There was a large circular table at which the delegates sat: he recognised the party advisers who had been responsible for kick starting the agreement: Fern Kelly, Peter Rawlings, Ian Findlay and the others. They were now joined by the more familiar faces of Ulster MPs and their counterparts from Westminster and Dublin.
Only Abe Powers was standing, dominating the proceedings with his impressive bulk, stripped to workmanlike shirtsleeves and braces, a floral tie loose at his throat and a lock of silvered hair curling over his forehead.
‘Before we break for lunch and you return again to your individual working parties,’ he announced, ‘I thought you’d like to know the progress we’ve achieved in the past two days.
‘Firstly, we now have constitutional experts here from both the United Nations and the European Community to discuss the legal implications of independence for Ulster and in exactly which form this might best be achieved. That independence has already been guaranteed by both Ireland and Britain, and both have offered a defence treaty in terms of protection against external threat.
‘A date of six months hence from the final document signing has been agreed for independence, prior to which certain security measures — agreed elsewhere — will be put into effect…’
Trenchard, watching from the door, understood exactly to what the American referred. The secret protocol. For the first time ever, there would be selective internment of known terrorists on both sides of the border. They would be held for three years by which time, it was believed, their support would have withered and died. A prosperous new country with everything to look forward to would have no time for the men of violence. So ran the theory.
‘A newly structured police force will be in train,’ Powers continued, ‘with the aim of creating a fully representative Catholic-Protestant law-enforcement agency within five years.
‘There is to be a new Right to March Act enshrining the right of the people to hold both an Orange Day and a St Patrick’s Day march — but only on specified days and in an agreed public place. Mini practice parades, which create most resentment, will not be allowed and traditional rituals that cause sectarian offence, such as effigy burning, will be actively discouraged by political leaders. A new Independent Ulster Day, a public holiday, will be fixed at a date somewhere between the 17th March and the 12th July and will be supported by public funds.
‘Discussions are in progress with the Roman Catholic Church with a view to further integrating the education system and adopting a less didactic religious bias which will be acceptable to both sides of the sectarian divide.’
Don’t hold your breath, Trenchard thought to himself, and backed towards the doors.