Angel Manifesto

by Michael Foot

  “I shall play over in my mind the events of yesterday again and again…… If I could go back in time to noon yesterday, I would willingly have exchanged my place with Adrian and let the assassin do his work. But I can’t and we now have, lying in the next room as you can see shortly, the first Angel martyr. I pray that he will remain the only one. I can only draw comfort from the fact that I have known Adrian for years and, long ago, established that his commitment to our cause was as great as mine. What he would say if he were here and what I say to you now is – as John Major might once have put it – ‘don’t let the bastards win’.

  Lift your heads. We must take what we can from this disaster. The Angels have begun a political movement that is intended to reshape and mend our broken country. The next step for that movement is to triumph in the General Election on Thursday. Whatever the police enquiry finally shows – whether this killing was the act of a lone madman or a conspiracy, whether it was from extreme Left or Right – it is our task to move forward and start what will be a long and painful process of regrowth.

  That is enough from me. Indeed, I don’t think I could bear to say more. The media is welcome to view and photograph Adrian’s body, though please respect him. I will then circulate among you so that those of you who know me, which I think will be at least half of you, can reassure themselves that it is indeed me. Between now and Wednesday evening, I will be flying round the country, appearing in as many major towns as I can and where the police can provide adequate security cover; and I will be speaking to reassure people. What has happened is a tragedy, though some of the Angels may think of it quite wrongly as a miracle. This is a tragedy – be in no doubt – in which a really good man gave his life unwittingly. On Thursday and from then on, let us make sure his sacrifice counts for something good.”

  Michael walked from the Stage. The audience, which until then had largely been silent, erupted. Angels were hugging and kissing each other. Chloe, who had been standing near Andrew, quickly found him and hugged him so hard he feared for his ribs. “The best day of my life” she said. “I have Michael again and I have you. I’ll never let either of you go.”

  29

  Andrew and Chloe made their way back to London as quickly as they could, held up only by the fact that the scenes at Higham Hall after Michael had spoken were chaotic. Chloe was transformed. Laughing at anything remotely pleasing and just buzzing again with the life and verve he had come to regard as normal for her.

  Chloe spent much of her time on the way back to London sending messages to her Angel circle. After all, Andrew realised, only about 300 Angels had actually been present at Higham. And, despite the fact that the story would now be going out on every possible news media, he realised that an Angel – who like Chloe – could say ‘I was there, I saw Michael’ would bring great comfort to her friends, now of course his friends too.

  For his own part, Andrew thought long and hard about what to do next. There were two actions that now seemed unavoidable, though the thought of the second filled him with dread. At least, he could comfort himself, the order of these two actions was very clear; and the less threatening one had to be done first.

  Andrew had never used it before. But, on getting back to his flat, Andrew rang the telephone number, the ‘get out of jail card’ which the Colonel had given him. The circumstances were not those for which the number had been designated; but Andrew felt it was vital that he now confronted the Colonel and he knew no other way of getting this done really quickly.

  The voice at the end of the phone listened without comment to Andrew’s message, which was that the Colonel must get in touch with him immediately. And, amazingly, within the hour, Andrew’s mobile rang and the Colonel was on the line.

  “My boy” said the Colonel “I was thinking of giving you a ring. Our favourite Sheik has just given the UK a splendid military order, largely to show his gratitude for what you and we have done for him on the money laundering front. It occurred to me that a small celebration with you would be in order; and I guess, from the briefing I’ve just had about Higham Hall that you wouldn’t object to a celebration either. Now, the FCO won’t pay for it. But if you come to my Club – say around 7 tonight – we could have dinner. It’s one of the few places open in central London on a Sunday night where the food is reasonable. We can have a drink over the deal; and you can tell me whatever it is that you’re bursting to let me know.”

  Andrew established that, as he would have expected, the Club concerned was in Pall Mall and would be littered with tributes to the British military of a former age. “That will suit very well, Colonel. I’ll see you there.”

  Chloe was quite happy to be left to her own devices – indeed, she had been on the phone or internet almost continuously for about three hours now and would probably not have noticed for some time had Andrew just quietly left the flat without telling her. By just after 7, Andrew and the Colonel were seated at the latter’s favourite table at his favourite club. The Colonel was recommending that the roast would be particularly good on a Sunday and promised Andrew a suitably good burgundy to wash it down.

  The orders given, the two sat silently and looked at each other. The dining room – this was a Sunday night after all – was almost deserted, so there was no danger of their being overheard. When the wine came and had been poured, the Colonel broke the silence, raised his glass to Andrew and said “Well, there are several thousand workers up North who will have a job for the next few years thanks to you. The Sheik was particularly grateful for your rapid assistance on the money-laundering front; and, like most of his kind, he worries night and day about how to limit the military threat from Iran just over the horizon. A happy conjunction of circumstances.

  Now, I understand from my contacts that you may have been at Higham Hall this morning so I guess you might anyway be in celebratory mood tonight. What I can’t quite work out is why you are so desperate to see me, so desperate as to misuse that phone number I drummed into you. Do you want to cover that, so that we can then just sit back and enjoy the evening?”

  “Fine by me” replied Andrew, who – over the last hour or so – had been mulling over different lines by which he could approach what was on his mind. “It’s quite simple, really. I just want to know whether you or any of your numerous and shadowy colleagues had anything to do with the attack on Michael. I am now an Angel. And that’s much more important to me than being one of your bagboys. It’s partly because of my girl, Chloe. But I have also, to my slight surprise, found myself buying more and more firmly into the whole Angel story.

  I’m afraid to say that one of the thoughts I had just seconds after the awful events at Hyde Park yesterday was that you or one of yours had decided to intervene. Probably because the Angels are doing ‘too well’ in Election terms; because some of the powers that be are getting concerned that control could suddenly drain from their hands into the almost completely unknown and untried hands of the Angels.

  I should also admit that, later, I wondered if, in fact you and yours had pulled a much more sophisticated trick with quite a different aim. You probably provided the warning to the Angels about the assassination. You would or should have known about the ‘switch’ from Michael to this man Cowley. Perhaps you arranged for Cowley’s death, to make Michael feel obligated to you and dependent on you for information. You, after all, would have been shown to be right, in forecasting an attack. It would certainly have been relatively easy for you to find some nut, arm him and make it possible for him to get in among the photographers.

  I’m sorry to be so untrusting. And, indeed, if I were being fully logical, I wouldn’t be here now asking you what happened, as you would lie your head off – if you had been involved. Maybe I’m just too trusting. But I did feel I had to see you and hear, for myself, whether what you say has the ring of truth about it.”

  The Colonel didn’t seem put out by Andrew’s outburst. “It’s certainly true” he repli
ed “that I have lived most of my life in an environment where truth can be a rare commodity. And I can’t swear to you now that absolutely everything you have said is nonsense. I hold a senior position in the intelligence services; but, as you’ll appreciate, even I won’t get told everything.

  That said, I can confirm that, yes, it was my people who warned the Angels about the possibility of an attack. And, yes, we did know about the likely switch of personnel. But that’s all. We are not accustomed to putting our operatives in a situation like this wretched loner found himself (if that is indeed what he was). We wouldn’t have let one of our operatives undertake a mission where he was bound to be caught. And, if he had been a loner we were using for our own ends, we would certainly have made sure that he didn’t live long enough to be captured and questioned.

  There certainly will be an internal inquiry into why we didn’t do better in seeing things coming. But, believe me, we are in this case – and very appropriately – on the side of the angels. It was our marksmen spread round Higham Hall earlier today, to keep Michael safe. It is us who will be keeping him safe as he hops around the country for the next few days.”

  The Colonel stopped. “Finally, Andrew – and you are the first person to whom I am admitting this – it is the case that from Friday – whatever the result of the Election – I shall be in a new job. As the Head of Security for the Angels, for Michael personally. I too am an Angel at heart, though not yet one openly. I can understand only too well the road you have been travelling, which is one that I have been travelling covertly for a long time. I just hope this is enough to reassure you that your concerns over ‘me and mine’ are without foundation.”

  30

  Andrew left the Colonel’s club in better spirits than when he had arrived. He had felt that The Colonel’s arguments had made sense; and he had been hugely surprised but delighted to find that the Colonel would soon be declaring his support for the Angels by joining them. One of the two weights on his mind had eased. Which just left the second, the one he was really frightened about.

  All the way through life, he had adopted the approach that, if there was some major hurdle to overcome, then it made sense not to wait around but, for better or worse, try and jump it. So, when he got home and found Chloe still up and still bubbling, he decided that there would be no better time than now to level with her. If he did not but tried to keep his secret, he knew that one day somehow it would come out. If Chloe were going to accept what he had to say, there could be no better time than now to say it; and no better person than him to own up.

  He got Chloe to sit down and poured two large glasses of wine for them. “Now, I need to talk to you” he said. “Let me just say what I have to say and then, only then, tell me what you honestly feel.” “Sounds ominous” Chloe replied. “I hope you haven’t been with a girl tonight and want to tell me the bad news now.”

  “No” replied Andrew “It’s much more serious than that, at least it is to me. And, until you know about it and hopefully can forgive me, I shall get no rest. There is a giant shadow over our relationship which I need to disperse once and for all.

  Where to start? Well, you know I came out of the Army about 5 years ago and you know that I’ve been working for a megabank since then. That, of course, is all true. What you don’t know is that, when I left the Army, I stayed in one important sense, by agreeing to be a ‘sleeping asset’ for one of the security services. I have actually only done a couple of jobs for them in the last 5 years and nothing too stressful or dangerous. In return, apart from paying me a bit of money, they have helped boost my career a bit. The arrangement has suited me well.

  To move on, over a year ago now, my handler – who I’ve been to see tonight by the way – asked me to get involved with the Angels. He wanted me to find out what you guys were really up to, I suppose. That was why I turned up at that Oxford Street store where we first met and what, initially, drove me to get involved.

  Cutting a long story short, two things subsequently happened and I can’t really say what order they happened in. One was that the more I came to see of the Angels, the more I felt aligned with their aims. The other was to fall hopelessly and irrevocably in love with you.

  Until the supposed assassination, I guess I’d never thought seriously about what would happen if, for any reason, my attachment to the Angels and my love for you were conflicted. But the hours after Hyde Park, I realised two things. First, faced with the need to make a choice, I would always and without a second thought choose you over the Angels. Though that doesn’t mean I am not a serious believer in what they aim to do. The second realisation was that, until you knew about how our paths had met and understood what had happened to me since, our relationship would always be under a cloud. I would always worry that you’d find out somehow and that you wouldn’t understand.”

  Chloe lifted her wine glass and took a large mouthful. “Is that it? No secret lover, nothing else to tell me?” Andrew just shook his head, not daring to say anything; this was the pivotal moment. “Well, I think – if you had asked me to guess 5 minutes ago what you were about to say – that what you have actually said wouldn’t have been on my guess list. That said, I can’t claim that it gives me any problems at all. I have had plenty of chances recently to see and feel that you love me, that this is not all some show you’ve put on. I believe you whole-heartedly. As for the little subterfuge you’ve been hiding with, I have to think back to my own past – and not just the time when I was drug-dependent and down for the count. I did lots of things then that I’m not proud about; I’ve never told you about them and you’ve been the perfect gentleman and not asked. Perhaps I should have told you, perhaps I should now. But I know that, just like your love for me, the love I have for you ‘now’ is real; and I certainly hope that what you think of me wouldn’t be changed one iota if you did know all my grizzly past.

  In short, I’m glad you told me. It doesn’t make any difference to me. You’ll have to do much more than that to get rid of me!”

  31

  Five days later, Andrew and Chloe lay on the double bed, fully dressed. The adrenaline had kept them going through Election Day and until about 9 a.m. on the Friday. By then, they had seen enough to know that the Angels would narrowly be the single largest party in the new Parliament, though – of course given their patchy contesting of constituencies – not a majority. Once that had become clear and, after hugging it seemed every member of the Campaign Team, they had gone across the road to their hotel and collapsed. For Andrew about four hours sleep had been enough. Now, at about 3.30, he was awake again and had been for some time.

  Chloe was still fast asleep, snoring lightly as she often did. Andrew had always actually enjoyed that noise, provided he wasn’t himself desperate for sleep; and he looked down now, benignly, at her – enjoying this evidence of her vulnerability and marvelling that anyone could look so beautiful while sprawled across a bed.

  The last few days had passed in a dream. After Michael’s seemingly miraculous reappearance, the atmosphere at Higham Hall had been close to euphoric. Michael had urged his supporters to remember that someone special to him (and now to the Angels) had died. But, try as they might, neither Andrew nor Chloe could keep the wonder and joy out of their voices and hearts. Their lives had seemingly been snatched away and then given back. Now, Andrew had faced up to his two demons; the Colonel was innocent and Chloe knew about his past but still loved him.

  Most of Monday was given over to continued communication with their Angel friends – after all, they had been two of only perhaps 300 Angels who had been at Higham. They were asked the same questions over and again: ‘What really happened?’ ‘Are you sure it was Michael?’ And, less often ‘What do we do now?’

  The media of course had had a field day; and there had even been suggestions from some quarters that the Election should be postponed, at least until more was known about the attack and its source. But, when people
realised that might well mean waiting months if not years, that suggestion quickly fell away.

  The pollsters, after the Election, thought that – had the Election been held just 24 or 48 hours earlier, the Angels might have been elected in a landslide. As it was, they still benefitted hugely – from the publicity, from Michael’s apparent amazing good fortune and also by the mature way he handled the events.

  Now, Andrew picked up the TV remote and put one of the main Channels on, very softly. By 3, the TV talking heads had run out of energy and ideas. Andrew guessed that most of them had come onto the programme early that morning. But they would have been up most of the night, to follow events so that they could comment sensibly the next day. They were exhausted, like him.

  Once it had become apparent that no Party was anywhere near being able to form a majority Government, these supposed experts had been able only to speculate without any real knowledge about what the Angels might do with the 200 seats they looked like ending up with. As the Tories and Labour had 160 and 150 seats respectively, either could in theory join with the Angels to form a majority in Parliament. The others – SNP 40, the Liberal Democrats 25, the various Irish 15, the rest (Plaid Cymru, the Greens etc) 10 – were not big enough by themselves to make much odds.

  What had been clear in the run up to the Election was that none of the established parties had ever given a moment’s thought to the Angels as a properly established political force. The common assumption had been that, like UKIP a few years before, the Angels might poll a lot of votes and end up with virtually no seats. Also, mud had been slung at the Angels from both sides; and there would have to be a great deal of humble pie eaten by any party that now intended to go into coalition with them. About the only thing the experts could agree on was now that a Labour-Tory pact was impossible, while, without the Angels, neither Tory nor Labour could create a workable coalition.