the hopes and dreams of our ordinary members for a better nation.’ He handed him a computer disk. ‘This must never fall into the wrong hands.’
‘Once again, I’m deeply honoured.’
‘And so to business. An election looms at home and we must be ready to do our bit for our country. Thirteen long years in the New Labour wilderness has seen it descend into chaos and become a broken wreck of what it once was. Fortunately, change is on the cards.’
‘It’s not going to be easy,’ said one of the group. ‘They’ve turned the place into a land fit for the weak, the ignorant and the deviant, and, as if that wasn’t bad enough, we’re keeping open house for the sweepings of the streets of Europe and beyond. Everybody’s welcome in dear old Blighty and bring your bloody family with you.’
‘More than a decade wasted in the celebration of image over substance.’
‘Which all the polls suggest is about to end,’ interjected the newcomer. ‘And presumably why we’re here?’
‘We’re not home and dry yet,’ the host cautioned. ‘The electorate may be totally disillusioned with Brown and his cronies but they’re still deeply suspicious of the alternatives. We should be all right if we maintain a steady course with no rising to the bait and no silly distractions in the next few months, but there’s little margin for error. On the other hand, the criminal aspect of the expenses scandal seems to be hitting Labour worse than anyone else, and if those in question should get away with a defence of parliamentary privilege… well, they’ll have to dig Brown out with a shovel.’
‘One of ours is involved.’
‘From the other house. Not quite the same as the brown paper bags that did for us last time.’
‘I almost feel sorry for Brown,’ said the woman. ‘Blair left him an impossible mess to clear up and he’s not exactly been helping himself. King Midas in reverse if ever I saw it.’
‘Everything he touches…’ agreed the host. There was a slight lull in the proceedings before he went on, ‘It’s clear that none of us underestimates the magnitude of our task but, as Confucius said, “A journey of ten thousand miles begins with but a single step.” And so to specifics. All of us have now had a chance to study our new colleague’s proposal and I for one would like to express my admiration for the amount of time and ingenuity that has clearly gone into the design of such a project.’
The hear hears from the others were muted.
‘But it’s too risky,’ said one.
‘There was nothing wrong with the original scheme,’ said the woman. ‘It was working perfectly well. It was just bad luck that that damned journalist popped up at the wrong time and ruined everything. We’ll just have to be more careful this time.’
A long and at times heated argument ensued, at the end of which the host said, ‘It’s now decision time, ladies and gentlemen. Do we adopt our new colleague’s bold project or do we make another attempt at going down the road we started on back in the early nineties?’
The newcomer sighed in frustration as the vote went unanimously against him.
‘I’m sorry,’ said the host. ‘Tried and trusted it is.’
‘Democracy in action,’ replied the newcomer with a wry grin.
The host broke open two bottles of Krug champagne and they drank a toast to ‘a better future for our country’.
The last to arrive was the first to leave. He shook the hands of each in turn and kissed the silver-haired woman on both cheeks. He stopped his host from getting up. ‘Really, Charles, I’ll see myself out.’
‘Good chap,’ said one as he heard the outer door close. ‘Took it well, I thought.’
‘Bright too.’
‘Bit forgetful though,’ said the host, suddenly noticing something beside the chair the newcomer had been sitting on. ‘He’s left his briefcase.’
‘Maybe we should be having second thoughts,’ someone joked.
The explosion cut short the laughter.
From the corner of the street, the newcomer watched a sheet of yellow flame erupt through the space where the windows had been as glass showered down on the Rue de Bagneux. He took out his mobile phone and made the call. ‘It’s out with the old,’ he said.
‘And in with the new,’ came the reply.
ONE
Dr Steven Dunbar opened one eye and took in the time on the bedside alarm clock. It was twenty to seven, five minutes before the radio alarm would trigger and the Today programme on Radio Four would start the day.
‘Another day of work and play,’ he sighed, looking up at the ceiling and remembering with something less than enthusiasm that it was Monday.
‘What time is it?’ asked Tally sleepily.
‘Two minutes to lift-off in yet another action-packed day in the life of Steven Dunbar, security consultant extraordinaire.’
‘You go first,’ said Tally. ‘I don’t have to be at the hospital until ten. I was there till eleven last night.’
‘I noticed.’
Tally opened her eyes. ‘What’s up with you this morning?’ she asked. ‘You’re even more ratty than usual.’
‘It’s a gift.’
John Humphrys joined them: he was laying into some hapless politician who seemed determined to avoid his question. ‘Go get him, John boy,’ muttered Steven, swinging his legs over the side and sitting upright. ‘Crooks, the lot of them.’
Tally reached up and put a hand on his bare shoulder. ‘Hey, what’s the matter?’
‘Oh… nothing. You know I’m always grumpy in the morning.’ He turned, leaned back and planted a kiss on her forehead, then paused on the edge of the bed as he heard John Humphrys say, ‘And now a good news story. The BBC has learned that negotiations between a cross-party group of politicians led by Conservative health spokesman Norman Travis and the heads of several international pharmaceutical companies have led to an agreement over vaccine production in the UK. Regardless of which party emerges as winner of the upcoming election, the companies will permit mass production of their products in facilities approved and licensed by the government of the day, leading to greater availability and ease of distribution in time of need. This will effectively put an end to continual squabbling between government and the pharmaceutical industry at a time when the threat of bioterrorist activity is constantly with us. Mr Travis was keen to stress that party politics had played no part in the negotiations and that what had been achieved had been done for the good of the entire nation.’
‘So what are the companies going to get in return?’ murmured Steven.
‘What’s in it for the companies, Mr Travis?’ asked Humphrys.
‘By not having to concentrate on production schedules, they hope to expand their research facilities and to operate in a more… amenable climate. We have to put an end to constant bickering over testing and licensing regulations. The pharmaceutical industry is not the enemy; the terrorists are. We are all in this together and a spirit of compromise should prevail.’
Humphrys turned his attention to a Labour health spokesman. ‘The Tories have been doing your job for you, haven’t they?’
‘I think Norman is quite right: we shouldn’t bring party politics into this. It’s much too serious and, as he’s already said, the new scheme will take effect regardless of who wins the upcoming election. It’s the terrorist threat that should occupy our thinking. To that end we are inviting production tenders before the election so that we get vaccines on stream as soon as possible.’
‘Does that mean you’ve given in to the companies’ demands too?’
‘We’ve looked at their requests in the light of what’s just been said.’
