The Inquiry. Will Caine

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СКАЧАТЬ floppy fair hair who seemed just out of school.

      ‘Good afternoon, Sir Francis, I’m Andrew Lamb, assistant private secretary.’ The schoolboy stretched out a hand. ‘The PM is in the study if you’d like to follow me. Though of course you must know…’

      ‘No, it’s been many years.’

      Robin Sandford, in charcoal grey suit trousers and a white shirt symmetrically divided by a crimson tie, rose from a stiff-backed armchair along with two other men. The sight of one sank Morahan’s heart. ‘Sir Francis, I don’t think you and I have actually met…’ the Prime Minister began.

      ‘I think not, Prime Minister,’ said Morahan, accepting the handshake.

      Sandford turned to the fleshy figure to his right. ‘But… er…’

      The figure, grinning, stretched out bulbous fingers. ‘Hello, Francis, long time.’

      Morahan forced a smile. ‘Hello, Geoff.’ Feeling the same old revulsion, Morahan took in the drooping jowls, multiple chins, the roll of girth pushing into trousers held by braces, gold cuff-links glinting from a striped pink and white shirt and a purple tie. Steely hair in puffed-up waves and broad spectacles failed to mask the piggy eyes and calculating mind of Geoffrey Atkinson, Home Secretary – the enduring survivor from that distant era when the party had last been in government.

      Sandford turned to the second man. ‘I imagine you two have crossed paths?’

      ‘Oh, I wouldn’t quite put it like that,’ said Sir Kevin Long, the Cabinet Secretary and most powerful civil servant in the land, upbeat in voice, rotund in shape, razor-edged in mind.

      ‘Good,’ said Sandford, waving them to seats. ‘Francis – if I may…’

      ‘Of course,’ agreed Morahan lightly, distrusting the mutual courtesies.

      ‘Some context first,’ continued Sandford. ‘On winning the election, I said this government would be different. We would be open and unafraid to confront ourselves as a nation, both the good and the bad. In my view – forget Europe, forget Russia, forget the economy – there’s one bad that continues a year on to outstrip all others. And, in my time, will go on doing so. Extreme fanatical Islamism.’

      For the second time, Morahan felt a sinking of the heart, a sense that he was being suborned into a morass of political game-playing.

      ‘And yet,’ said Sandford, ‘for nearly twelve years, between 7/7 in July 2005 to Westminster Bridge in March 2017 and all that has followed since, we kept the lid on Islamist terror. I want to know what went right for so long. And what then went wrong.’ He paused, locking eyes with Morahan. ‘And may still be wrong.’ He withdrew his gaze, eyes shifting to address a window. ‘Secondly – and related to this – I want an independent examination of our security policy with regard to the hundreds of young Britons who went abroad to fight for Islamist terror and have now returned – many of whom seem to have disappeared or gone off our radar.’

      ‘Are these not matters purely for the police and intelligence services?’ said Morahan, calculating how to remain at one remove.

      ‘You may think so, Francis,’ replied Sandford. ‘And, in different ways, over the year since we were elected, I’ve tried to ask them. I am not satisfied with their answers. There is no pattern, they say. We can’t watch every sort of “lone wolf”. At times, I have even sensed evasion. As if there’s something they don’t want to talk about. It’s not enough. Therefore, I intend that the Home Secretary,’ he nodded to Atkinson, ‘should establish a public inquiry, deploying a range of expertise, to answer these questions.’ He was edging ever closer to Morahan. ‘I – and he – would like you to chair it.’

      ‘Aren’t you reaching for the unknowable?’ asked Morahan softly. ‘Indeed the impossible.’

      Sandford grimaced. ‘Nothing is ever unknowable. And in politics nothing should be impossible or undoable.’

      ‘Have you consulted the chiefs?’

      ‘You may recall – it was leaked to a newspaper – that the previous government attempted to have a judge inquire into the security services but they lobbied successfully against it. So no, I have not consulted the chiefs. And in anticipation of your next question, neither has this time attempted to stand in the way.’

      ‘I think you’ll find, Francis,’ interjected Atkinson, ‘that the Security Service – Dame Isobel in particular – understands this Prime Minister has a stiffer backbone than his predecessor.’

      ‘And Six?’ asked Morahan, repressing a rush of revulsion.

      ‘Sir Malcolm,’ replied Sandford, ‘assures me of the Secret Intelligence Service’s full co-operation. He is always keen to point out that SIS’s involvement is restricted to its activities with regard to these people while they were, or are, out of the country.’

      ‘You mean Five and Six are still…’ Morahan hesitated, ‘defecating on each other?’

      ‘Not at all,’ said Sir Kevin Long. ‘Communications, I am delighted to report, are better than ever.’ It was the Cabinet Secretary’s first contribution; his beam spread broader than ever as he made it. ‘The Cs meet once a week in my presence to iron out any turf issues. All most amicable.’

      Morahan imagined the politely expressed arguments and precedents the Cabinet Secretary must have used to dissuade his headlong Prime Minister from unnecessarily opening potential cans of worms – and the gracefulness with which the civil servant would have accepted his defeat. Surrounded by these powerful figures and, despite himself, moved by Sandford’s plea, he sensed the noose tightening.

      ‘I can understand why you’ve come to me. I’m a senior judge. We sometimes have our uses, even for politicians. And, however briefly, I was once an MP and Cabinet member, so have an element of political understanding.’

      ‘Precisely,’ said Sandford. ‘You are uniquely well-qualified.’

      ‘There is the issue of my resignation.’

      ‘I see no issue,’ said Long.

      ‘Nor me,’ added Atkinson.

      ‘Really, Geoff?’ Morahan sighed.

      ‘As I recall,’ said Atkinson, ‘Frank Morahan, as you were then generally known, resigned as Attorney General in the summer of 2002 to resume a highly successful career at the Bar and spend more time with his family.’

      ‘Yes, that’s what I said,’ agreed Morahan. ‘You may recall the timing. Six weeks after President George W Bush and Prime Minister Tony Blair agreed in Crawford, Texas to go to war with Iraq and remove Saddam Hussein. Come what may. As the government’s senior law officer, I would be the one who would have to approve its legality. My view was that any such war would be illegal.’

      ‘That’s not what you said at the time,’ said Atkinson. ‘Not even in Cabinet.’

      ‘It was less than a year after 9/11. I had no wish to be disruptive. I also believed the then Prime Minister to be an honourable man.’

      ‘As we all did,’ said Atkinson. ‘As we all did.’

      ‘I’ve never СКАЧАТЬ