Secret Service

by Tom Bradby

  Kate strode into her office, slammed the door and called Imogen’s mobile. She answered almost immediately.

  ‘Have you seen the Guardian website?’

  ‘Yes. Christ, I—’

  ‘Please tell me you’re not responsible.’

  ‘Of course I’m bloody not!’

  ‘Imogen, it’s going to save a lot of time and trouble if you’re straight with me. I simply cannot afford to—’

  ‘I haven’t told a soul. I swear it. I mean, I wouldn’t, of course. But I’ve also barely spoken to anyone since you left. My only incoming call was from my mother, and I can assure you this wasn’t at the top of her list of priorities.’

  ‘Okay. Listen. I shouldn’t have told you. I’m now going to have to lie about it to my superiors, which makes me feel deeply uncomfortable. And if anyone knew I had told you, I’d be out.’

  ‘I may have my idiotic moments, Kate, but I’m not a complete fool. I won’t tell anyone. You have my word on it.’

  ‘Are you going to stay in the contest?’

  ‘The first ballot is tonight, so I have only the next hour or two to make up my mind. But I think I have to, don’t I? Meg is a good woman, so she might beat him anyway—’

  ‘She doesn’t have a chance. You have to stay in. Look, I’ve got to go. Good luck.’

  Kate placed her forehead against the cool metal interior as she rode the lift up to C’s floor. She found him standing by the window in his office, but from the set of his shoulders, the view over the Thames was not uppermost in his mind. Ian was already seated, ready for her arrival.

  ‘Close the door, please,’ C said, keeping his back to them. ‘And sit down.’

  She pulled up an armchair next to Ian. Sir Alan still didn’t turn, maintaining his distance from the pair of them. ‘Kate, I’m going to ask you the question I’ve just put to Ian.’

  He swivelled on his heel and his eyes bored into hers, like lasers. ‘Did you tell anyone outside this building that we were investigating the foreign secretary’s links with Russia?’

  ‘No,’ she said.

  ‘Not your husband?’

  ‘He knew about my trips to Istanbul and Athens, but he couldn’t possibly have connected any of that with the foreign secretary.’

  ‘Is it not the case that your husband works with Imogen Conrad, and that she is a family friend?’

  ‘It is.’

  ‘And that Mrs Conrad is the principal beneficiary of this leak, in both its nature and its timing?’

  ‘I think she may pull out anyway, so I’m not sure that’s right.’

  ‘Have you seen her since the sex tape was released?’

  ‘Yes. I went round there last night. She was in a very poor state.’

  ‘And you didn’t mention, even in passing, that we’re investigating her principal opponent, as incredibly useful as that intelligence would have been?’

  ‘No,’ Kate said more tersely. ‘I did not.’

  ‘Very well,’ he said at length. ‘Ian has given me a similar assurance. And I’m right in thinking that the details of what you recorded in Istanbul are restricted to the occupants of this room, plus Rav, Julie, Maddy and Danny?’

  She waited for him to continue.

  ‘That is not a rhetorical question.’

  ‘That’s correct,’ she said. ‘But Maddy wouldn’t have known enough to leak.’

  ‘And the surveillance teams?’

  ‘They’d have been aware of some details about the yacht and possibly about Lena, but no one outside the core group knew of the contents of that recording.’

  ‘What about the people you’ve spoken to in the course of your investigation?’ Ian asked. ‘We’re going to need a list.’

  ‘Of course,’ Kate said. ‘But I’ve conducted or been present at all the interviews to date and, while it was clear in each case that we were asking about the foreign secretary, we gave no hint of the central allegation – and no one could realistically have drawn that inference from any of our questions. We were, of course, punctilious.’ Kate thought about Rav in Switzerland. She had no idea whom he’d spoken to there as he closed in on François Binot and his relationship with the foreign secretary, or what he might have said. Another lie she could snare herself with.

  ‘That will have to do, for the time being,’ Sir Alan said. ‘The foreign secretary wants to see all of us, right now. I then have to see the PM and our colleagues across the river to explain why, if this story is correct, we haven’t called them to look into the matter, as we’re obliged to do.’

  C retrieved his raincoat and homburg from his hat-stand and led them down into the street as commuters continued to pour out of Vauxhall station. Kate was acutely aware of several surprised glances from junior employees among the throng before they turned east against the wind and headed towards Lambeth Bridge.

  C liked to walk around London. He made a point of it. And he walked fast. Kate had almost to run to keep up. ‘We’re going to need to buy some time,’ he said, to no one in particular. ‘Don’t you think?’

  ‘Yes,’ Ian said.

  ‘Any ideas?’

  ‘You know what I think. We’re being played. Why don’t we just say so?’

  C didn’t respond. Apparently deep in thought, he didn’t speak again until they were in the foreign secretary’s palatial office overlooking Horse Guards. Very nearly the size of a tennis court, with leather-bound books and red sofas, it boasted the airy grandeur of the empire builders who had once sat behind its enormous desk. The foreign secretary rose from his seat and strode towards them.

  ‘Old friend,’ he said, offering Sir Alan his hand. ‘Ian, yes, we’ve met.’

  ‘And this is Kate Henderson from our Russia Desk,’ C said.

  James Ryan shook her hand. ‘The woman at the heart of the action! Very pleased to meet you.’ He appeared entirely unfazed by the morning’s controversy. ‘Have a seat.’ He ushered them towards the red leather sofas in the centre of the room and ordered coffee. ‘Well, this is a rum business, and no mistake. And all from my old mate.’

  ‘I’m sorry, James,’ Sir Alan said. ‘We’re not going to pretend the Guardian story is anything but an embarrassment.’

  ‘My comms people tell me social media is ablaze. I’m being torn limb from limb even as we speak.’

  ‘I think it will be a momentary disembowelment.’

  ‘Well, I should hope so. It’s damned uncomfortable. What is going on?’ He smiled at Kate. ‘I suppose you’d expect me to ask that if I really were a Russian spy.’

  Kate tried to smile back. In general – and long before the events of the last week – she did not find him remotely amusing.

  ‘The original intelligence stems from an operation Kate ran in Istanbul,’ Sir Alan said. ‘We managed to bug a meeting between three of the most senior officers in the SVR. They discussed the prime minister’s prostate cancer, before it had been made public. They went on to imply that one of the leading candidates to succeed him was what we would call an agent of influence.’

  ‘And they claimed it was me?’

  ‘It wasn’t clear whom they were talking about. We’ve since been trying to assess the underlying value of the intelligence, and someone has chosen to use this against you.’

  ‘I’m not sure I’m catching your drift.’

  ‘We think, sir,’ Ian said, leaning forward, as if taking command of the meeting, ‘that we’re caught up in a classic Moscow campaign of misinformation – a sophisticated sting – of the kind we know all too well.’

  James Ryan glanced at Sir Alan. ‘In which case, we don’t seem to be learning very much from past mistakes.’

  ‘Early days,’ C said. ‘And we haven’t reached any conclusions yet.’

  ‘Go on,’ the foreign secretary said.

  ‘You might ask,’ Ian went on, ‘how we came to be overhearing this particular conversation – between three of Moscow’s most senior intelligence officials – aboard that yacht at the exact moment the revela
tion was made. In fact, you might ask what they were doing on the yacht in the first place. Does it not strike you as a bit of a coincidence?’

  ‘Now you come to mention it, yes, it does.’

  ‘We were tipped off about that meeting.’

  Ian glanced at Kate, and she felt her face redden. Whatever she had expected from this morning, it was not to find herself humiliated in front of her ministerial superior.

  ‘I see it as a classic attempt to cause us havoc. They obviously found out about the prime minister’s condition and decided to use it to plant a series of devices at the heart of our political system.’

  ‘A series of devices?’

  ‘There was also the suggestion of a mole in Whitehall, who would be able to assist their candidate,’ Sir Alan said.

  ‘What kind of mole?’

  ‘The whole purpose of the operation,’ Ian said, neatly dodging the question, ‘is to have us chasing our tails, and to create chaos at the heart of our government. So far, their plan appears to be working rather well.’

  ‘Indeed – to the point at which I’m being ripped apart on the morning of the first leadership ballot. Not an ideal situation, if you happen to be in my shoes.’

  When he next looked at Sir Alan, the air of geniality had clearly evaporated. ‘And what I would like to know is what the fuck you intend to do about it.’

  ‘If you’re referring to today’s story, nothing.’

  The pair glared at each other. If they were seeking to hide any evidence of their friendship, they were making a good fist of it.

  ‘What do you mean, nothing?’

  ‘I would suggest that the Foreign & Commonwealth Office put out a general statement to the effect that this is, as Ian said, yet another Russian attempt to interfere in the Western democratic process. And you can add your own denials, of course.’

  ‘That’s big of you.’ He leant back. ‘And what about your lot?’

  ‘We don’t comment on ongoing investigations or operations. The fact is that we have intelligence and are looking into it. If we get drawn, we would have to start lying, which we never do. Better to leave us out of it.’

  ‘But your man can brief the press that it’s a load of cobblers, as Ian here suggests, designed to alter the course of the leadership election.’

  ‘I have instructed our press liaison to say nothing.’

  Ryan’s expression lowered the temperature in the room by a further ten degrees. ‘That’s a brave stance, Alan, under the circumstances, if I may say so.’ He shook his head in amazement. ‘Especially given that someone in your neck of the woods obviously leaked it.’

  ‘We don’t believe that was the case.’

  ‘How could it have been anyone else? You just told me no one else knows about it.’

  Kate was watching James Ryan’s face. He was trying hard to control his fury, and not succeeding.

  ‘We think the Russians leaked the information,’ Ian said smoothly. ‘They gave us the intelligence, knowing we’d have to look into it. Then, after a suitable period had elapsed, they leaked that fact, knowing we’d get ourselves into further trouble if we tried to deny it. They’re clever. That’s no secret. And increasingly successful at exploiting the weaknesses of an open democratic system in the internet age.’

  ‘They’re bloody outrageous.’

  ‘It’s what modern espionage looks like, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Did you know about the prime minister’s illness?’ Kate asked.

  He peered at her, as if he was trying to recall who she was. ‘Did I know what about it?’

  ‘Were you aware he had prostate cancer?’

  ‘No. Er, I don’t think I was. No, I was not. Why?’

  ‘We knew nothing of it. We wondered if others in the government or Whitehall might have had some inkling.’

  ‘As far as I’m aware, only his wife and doctors knew until the day he resigned. But you’d probably have to check that. Maybe some of the staff in Downing Street? I don’t know. No, I … No, it was a bolt from the blue for me.’

  Kate thought that, for a very senior politician apparently at the height of his powers, he was making very heavy going of a pretty simple question.

  Shortly afterwards they filed out. Sir Alan waited until they were halfway across the courtyard before he turned to Ian. ‘You’d do us all a favour if you could be a little more adept at hiding your ambition.’

  ‘I was trying to be helpful.’

  ‘Then perhaps you should learn the value of keeping your mouth shut on occasion.’

  Sir Alan peeled away in the direction of Downing Street. ‘I’m going to tell the PM the bare minimum,’ he said. ‘I don’t want to add to his woes, but we may need his support before this is over.’

  Ian and Kate proceeded in silence towards the King Charles Street exit.

  ‘They’re pretty good at hiding their friendship, don’t you think?’ Ian said.

  ‘I don’t think the foreign secretary was faking his anger, if that’s what you mean.’

  Ian wasn’t in a mood to walk back to Vauxhall, so he hailed a taxi on Whitehall. They climbed into it by the Cenotaph. As she settled into the back, Kate said, ‘Has the foreign secretary ever crossed your radar before this?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Have you ever had cause to give him a closer look before now?’

  ‘No,’ Ian said. He was concentrating perhaps unduly hard on Big Ben and the House of Commons through the rain-spattered window. ‘Never heard a whisper of anything amiss until now, which is what makes me more than a tad suspicious of the whole business.’ He smiled. ‘Sorry, not what you wanted to hear in there, I know. But at least it got us out of a jam.’

  ‘This is not a game of Moscow disinformation, Ian, and you know it.’

  ‘That’s what we always think.’

  ‘I don’t care what mistakes were made before. I know what this is. It’s true, real. We have not one but two spies.’

  ‘So you’re infallible? Sometimes, Kate, your arrogance is a little wearing.’

  Kate had been back at her desk for a matter of minutes, and had hardly begun quizzing Julie about giving Lena’s sister Maja safe passage, when her office phone rang.

  ‘Kate. James Ryan here.’

  ‘Yes, Foreign Secretary.’

  ‘James will do just fine. I need to speak to you in private. There’s a coffee shop in the Tate, the one on the other side of the river from you. I’m sure you know it. Could you meet me there in ten minutes?’

  ‘Of course.’

  She hung up, then turned back to Julie. ‘Where were we?’ His call had interrupted her mid-sentence.

  ‘She’s still in hospital and the doc is right on side. They’ll hang on to her until we can sort out her visa.’

  ‘And the stepfather?’

  ‘Keeping his distance.’

  ‘Long may it last,’ Kate said. ‘And if it doesn’t, I’ll kill him myself.’

  23

  Her Majesty’s foreign secretary had stationed himself in the far corner of the Tate’s basement café. Kate spotted his two close-protection officers immediately, though they were discreetly enough positioned not to be broadcasting their presence.

  ‘Thanks for coming,’ James Ryan said. ‘Let me get you a coffee.’

  ‘Actually, I’m okay.’

  ‘Come on, I’m going to have one.’

  ‘Then an espresso would be great.’

  He went to make the order himself. Kate nodded at the protection officers, who had taken a table on the opposite side of the room where they could watch the flow of people coming towards them. She settled into the chair with her back to them as Ryan returned.

  ‘Thanks for coming at such short notice.’

  ‘Did I have a choice?’

  ‘Look, I’ll cut straight to it. Nothing is certain in this day and age – and it might be a whole lot closer than most people expect – but I’ll probably win this leadership election. Imogen is smart, charismatic, and
I wouldn’t climb over her to get to Meg, but she won’t go down well with the rank and file. If I do make it, I’m going to have to form my own Praetorian Guard in Number Ten at the double, because we all know how events lay siege to a leader. So I’ll need to have someone I can trust as head of SIS.’

  Kate glanced over her shoulder, an involuntary tic when she had her back to any door, despite the presence of the protection officers.

  ‘I’m not a perfect candidate,’ he went on. ‘I have a colourful past. There have been too many women, and I cut a few corners in the accumulation of my fortune, the details of which I know are lurking somewhere in your archives. You could have a go at sinking me if you wanted. But I don’t think it would even dent me if the sexual indiscretions became public.’

  ‘I’m not quite sure where all this is leading.’

  ‘The point is, I wouldn’t paint myself as a saint. And neither would anyone who knows me. But I’m no Kim Philby, and this is the second time Sir Alan and Ian Granger have landed me in it. And twice is at least once too often.’

  ‘I know there was a slip-up a few years ago.’

  ‘A slip-up? A calamitous weapons-grade fuck-up, more like, which made Her Majesty’s Government in general and me in particular look like absolute arses. We were beyond lucky that the Germans had their own reasons for keeping it secret.’

  ‘I know it was an unfortunate set of circumstances.’

  He massaged his steel-blue jaw. ‘How do you know? The files were supposed to be locked and all details of the affair scrubbed from the record.’

  ‘It’s hard to erase things in the House of Secrets if you know where to look.’

  ‘And you know where to look?’

  ‘I do. Yes.’

  ‘That’s why I need you,’ he said. ‘The world affects to hate politicians, and sometimes with justification. But I’m not afraid to admit I want the top job badly. There’s so much I feel I could do. I don’t mind being denied it for something that’s my fault, but this Russian-spy nonsense is prize bullshit.’

  He leant forward. He was a handsome man and, against her most fundamental instincts, she could see how the full force of his personality might weaken a woman’s defences. ‘He may have been a close friend of mine, but I no longer trust Alan, or Ian. Neither their loyalty nor their competence. And this is one screw-up too many – unless, of course, they set out to destroy me, and I wouldn’t put that past them. Like I said, if and when I make it into Number Ten, I’ll need to surround myself with extremely competent and loyal people I can trust. And it’s high time a woman was in charge. Stella and Eliza did a great job at Five, but now it’s Six’s turn to enter the twenty-first century.’