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Authors: Michael Dobbs
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matter of sitting on the fence but of gathering evidence. We are currently waiting on the results of technical
analysis.’
‘Waiting? Waiting? ’
Galliani hesitated. This was, after all, the Prime Minister. But he was an engineer, not a moose. He had no intention of being stuffed and mounted. Anyway, he was only a couple of years away
from retirement, they couldn’t touch him. It was time to kick back. ‘Sir, our workload this past financial year rose twelve-point-eight per cent. Yet you cut our budget by more than
twenty per cent. Apart from that, it’s Christmas. It’s also Sunday. Which makes tomorrow a Bank Holiday. When the laboratory opens on Tuesday, and as soon as they are able to confirm
any information, I give you my solemn undertaking that you will be the first to know.’
‘But the whole world knows!’ the Prime Minister all but shouted. ‘Didn’t it ever strike you that you should have let someone know?’
‘Someone? You mean someone like the Transport Secretary? We phoned and e-mailed her office on Thursday, but – well, I suppose it’s Christmas, even in Westminster.’
At the other end of the phone, Usher began to realize he might have mishandled this conversation. He tried to back off. ‘Look, I know you understand how important this is. Couldn’t
you . . . just get the laboratory to open, even over the holiday? Get this thing resolved?’
‘I’d be more than happy to do that,’ Galliani replied, ‘if only you would let me.’
‘Me?’
‘It’s a matter of Health & Safety, you see. A wreck is a dangerous environment, carbon-fibre ash, chemical pollution, and always the possibility of blood-borne pathogens.
We’re required to have adequate staffing levels. Not just a couple of mere lab technicians but there’s fire officers, of course, medical support staff, supervisors . . .’
‘Winston would have wept.’
‘Mr Churchill didn’t have to deal with EU Working Place directives, working-time limitations, budget restrictions, statutory employment practices.’ Galliani found he was rather
enjoying himself; above his head, he thought he saw the moose’s glass eye wink. ‘And if I ordered my staff to return to work I expect we’d be in line for all sorts of
claims.’
‘Claims?’
‘For breaching their human rights.’
‘Didn’t those little children have human rights, too?’
‘I entirely agree, Prime Minister. Perhaps that might have been a point to consider before you let all those EU directives through.’
‘But I hate bloody Brussels,’ Usher whispered beneath his breath.
‘And, of course, if we short-circuited our set procedures, it’s probable that as a result any evidence we obtained would be inadmissible in court. Is that what you want?’
‘What I want? What I want?’ He rolled the words around; they left a bitter taste. ‘That doesn’t seem to matter much any more,’ the Prime Minister said
softly, replacing the phone.
CHAPTER FOUR
Parliament was recalled. It was the middle of the recess; the elves and goblins weren’t supposed to be back from their Christmas break until the second week of January,
but this was too important to wait. It caught the system by surprise; there was still scaffolding on one corner of the Commons’ Chamber where one of the ancient leaded windows was being
refurbished, and no amount of huffing and puffing could persuade the mortar to set more quickly. There was huffing and puffing in every corner, for recesses are rare jewels in the battered crowns
of most MPs, and now it had been snatched away. No one could remember anything like it since the House had sat on a Saturday in 1982 during the Falklands War.
But it was necessary. The media speculation had continued to grow, the headlines becoming ever more lurid. Accusations like ‘Muslim Missile’ and ‘Muslim Murder
Squad’ thundered across the front page. Theories were hurled back and forth, often blindly, in the hope that if they kept it up long
analysis.’
‘Waiting? Waiting? ’
Galliani hesitated. This was, after all, the Prime Minister. But he was an engineer, not a moose. He had no intention of being stuffed and mounted. Anyway, he was only a couple of years away
from retirement, they couldn’t touch him. It was time to kick back. ‘Sir, our workload this past financial year rose twelve-point-eight per cent. Yet you cut our budget by more than
twenty per cent. Apart from that, it’s Christmas. It’s also Sunday. Which makes tomorrow a Bank Holiday. When the laboratory opens on Tuesday, and as soon as they are able to confirm
any information, I give you my solemn undertaking that you will be the first to know.’
‘But the whole world knows!’ the Prime Minister all but shouted. ‘Didn’t it ever strike you that you should have let someone know?’
‘Someone? You mean someone like the Transport Secretary? We phoned and e-mailed her office on Thursday, but – well, I suppose it’s Christmas, even in Westminster.’
At the other end of the phone, Usher began to realize he might have mishandled this conversation. He tried to back off. ‘Look, I know you understand how important this is. Couldn’t
you . . . just get the laboratory to open, even over the holiday? Get this thing resolved?’
‘I’d be more than happy to do that,’ Galliani replied, ‘if only you would let me.’
‘Me?’
‘It’s a matter of Health & Safety, you see. A wreck is a dangerous environment, carbon-fibre ash, chemical pollution, and always the possibility of blood-borne pathogens.
We’re required to have adequate staffing levels. Not just a couple of mere lab technicians but there’s fire officers, of course, medical support staff, supervisors . . .’
‘Winston would have wept.’
‘Mr Churchill didn’t have to deal with EU Working Place directives, working-time limitations, budget restrictions, statutory employment practices.’ Galliani found he was rather
enjoying himself; above his head, he thought he saw the moose’s glass eye wink. ‘And if I ordered my staff to return to work I expect we’d be in line for all sorts of
claims.’
‘Claims?’
‘For breaching their human rights.’
‘Didn’t those little children have human rights, too?’
‘I entirely agree, Prime Minister. Perhaps that might have been a point to consider before you let all those EU directives through.’
‘But I hate bloody Brussels,’ Usher whispered beneath his breath.
‘And, of course, if we short-circuited our set procedures, it’s probable that as a result any evidence we obtained would be inadmissible in court. Is that what you want?’
‘What I want? What I want?’ He rolled the words around; they left a bitter taste. ‘That doesn’t seem to matter much any more,’ the Prime Minister said
softly, replacing the phone.
CHAPTER FOUR
Parliament was recalled. It was the middle of the recess; the elves and goblins weren’t supposed to be back from their Christmas break until the second week of January,
but this was too important to wait. It caught the system by surprise; there was still scaffolding on one corner of the Commons’ Chamber where one of the ancient leaded windows was being
refurbished, and no amount of huffing and puffing could persuade the mortar to set more quickly. There was huffing and puffing in every corner, for recesses are rare jewels in the battered crowns
of most MPs, and now it had been snatched away. No one could remember anything like it since the House had sat on a Saturday in 1982 during the Falklands War.
But it was necessary. The media speculation had continued to grow, the headlines becoming ever more lurid. Accusations like ‘Muslim Missile’ and ‘Muslim Murder
Squad’ thundered across the front page. Theories were hurled back and forth, often blindly, in the hope that if they kept it up long
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