‘As does some of ours,’ Skinner pointed out. ‘But it’s better that people know where you are.’
‘Do you really think so?’ Frame’s tone made his disagreement plain.
The DCC stared back at him. ‘I don’t say things I don’t mean. Let’s say that a terrorist organisation had the resources to strike against your HQ building, but maybe not the wit to plan it too well. Would you rather that they went to the wrong place, one that wasn’t prepared for such an event, as Vauxhall Cross and Thames House are, and blew up hundreds of innocents?’
‘I don’t like our people being in the front line,’ said the man from across the river, frostily.
‘Or you don’t like being in the front line yourself? Actually, you’re not. Sir Evelyn’s identity might be known, and that of your boss, but the rest of you are still as anonymous as you ever were. You can go home at night to Bromley, or Wimbledon, or wherever the hell you live, to a street where not one of your neighbours, not even the bloke next door, the chap you share the odd amontillado with, has the faintest idea what your day job is. Not very long ago I shot a man, one of a bunch of very nasty people. In the country where he comes from, they live by vendetta. The media didn’t say that I pulled the trigger, but I was identified, thanks to a well-meaning idiot of a police colleague, as the leader of the operation. I’m not anonymous, mate: I’m a public figure and everybody knows where I live and where my kids live. My house has got geophones round it, put there to let me know as soon as an intruder sets foot in my garden. It has movement-activated floodlights and shatterproof film on all the windows. Right now, up in Edinburgh, my daughter is having malicious telephone calls and I cannot be one hundred per cent certain that they are not related to the operation I’ve just mentioned. I can’t dismiss that idea from my mind. What if that cell had a member we didn’t know about and didn’t catch? Try stepping into the real world, Mr Frame. Go public and share the paranoia with the rest of us.’
‘Bob, I didn’t know that,’ Grey exclaimed. ‘Can we do anything to help?’
‘I didn’t know myself until Alex told me on Saturday. It’s long odds against the two events being connected, but I have the matter in hand just in case.’ He smiled, then nodded towards the salver on the table. ‘Are those things just for show?’ he asked.
‘Far from it. Help yourself, sit down and let’s get started.’
The five each chose from the croissants and fruit, poured coffee, and took seats round the table, the police officers on Grey’s right, and his colleagues on his left. When they were all ready he looked at Skinner and Shannon. ‘Let me begin by summarising why we are here. A week ago, a group of what at first we thought were terrorists attempted an outrage in Scotland. It may have been dressed up as a kidnap for ransom, but within this room we are aware that it was an assassination attempt. Happily it was prevented, thanks to some very good work by your force, Bob, and by Amanda’s section, one of whom was killed, while working undercover during the operation.’
Skinner leaned towards Shannon. ‘The body in the van, Inspector,’ he said. ‘The supposed suicide.’ He looked at Grey. ‘Dottie doesn’t know all of this,’ he told him. ‘I thought it best not to brief her until we got here.’
‘I understand, and I agree with that decision. To continue, one thing that the media do not and must never know is that it was, for want of a better term, an inside job, an operation set up by individuals working within the intelligence community, with the idea that what they were proposing was in the national interest. One of them, a senior military intelligence officer, was shot dead at the scene. A second, the man who ran the operation on the ground, was killed by subsequent military action. Two others have been detained: Rudolph Sewell, my own deputy, and Miles Hassett, an SIS operative. Bob, you are here to determine, as far as you can, whether the conspiracy runs any deeper, and to root out anyone else who might be involved. You will then prepare a personal report to be submitted to the Prime Minister, through me, on your findings. When we spoke at the weekend, you asked for the assistance of one of my officers in helping you to open doors, as it were, within this building and as necessary within MI6. Amanda, who has been cleared of any complicity in the plot, is the obvious person to take on that role. Piers is here to. .’ He glanced to his left.
‘To tell you,’ Frame continued, ‘that whatever you need from my department you will get. Any requests for assistance or information should be channelled directly to me, through Mrs Dennis.’
‘That’s fine by me,’ said Skinner. ‘Now let’s get down to it. Where are Sewell and Hassett being detained? In this building, or across the river?’
The director general gave a tiny shudder. ‘Good heavens, no. Even here, there would be whispers. They’re being kept in a safe-house we maintain out in Surrey.’
‘Have you picked up anyone else since last week?’
‘No.’
‘What pressure has been applied to them?’
‘You asked that we didn’t apply any.’
Skinner raised an eyebrow. ‘I know I did, Evelyn, but I don’t imagine you’ve been feeding them full English breakfasts, and châteaubriand and claret for dinner.’
Grey smiled drily. ‘No, they’ve been on rather shorter rations than that. They haven’t been sleeping much either; life in general hasn’t been much to their taste. For example, Rudy Sewell is a devotee of chamber music, and absolutely hates modern stuff. I gather they’ve been playing him Status Quo at full volume for the last week.’
‘That’s cruel and unusual punishment in itself. But you can assure me, can you, that there’s been nothing physical? Because if I find that there has, I will withdraw on the spot.’
‘From what I’ve heard of you,’ Frame chuckled, ‘I didn’t think you’d be so squeamish, Mr Skinner.’
‘In that case it sounds as if you’ve been talking to the wrong people. I’m only interested in information which I know to be correct beyond the reasonable doubt required by the courts. Information gained through torture, or even the threat of torture, is unreliable, simply because when you pass an electric current through someone’s genitals he’s liable to tell you whatever he thinks you’d like to hear. There’s nothing new about that either. Look at Galileo: he announced that the world revolved around the sun, not vice versa, those in power explained to him how the rack worked and what it did to you, and suddenly the sun started revolving again. They didn’t have to torture him: we know that because he was able to write his recantation himself.’
‘You have my word on it, Bob,’ said Grey. ‘Nobody’s laid a finger on either of them. . or plugged them into the national grid.’
‘Good. When can we see them?’
‘As soon as you’re ready: Amanda will drive you there.’
‘Tell me one thing, Mr Skinner,’ asked Frame. ‘Since you’re dead against physical persuasion, what makes you think you’ll be able to get anything out of Sewell or Hassett?’
‘I’ll ask them, simple as that. They may not break down and tell me everything, but if this thing does go further than them, I’ll know. Save me some time here, both of you. I know that both your departments will have been going through both these men’s contacts and movements as carefully as you can. Do you suspect any more of your colleagues of involvement, and if so, who are they? If I can throw specific names at them, it’ll help.’
‘None on my side, Bob,’ Grey told him. ‘We’ve unearthed Sewell’s contacts with the dead military intelligence officer, and with Hassett, but there are no other threads.’
‘Are the three of them linked in any way? One of the things I have to establish is what brought them together to discuss and plan this conspiracy in the first place. Someone triggered it: someone voiced it, someone started the ball rolling.’
‘Northern Ireland: that’s all I can tell you. The military intelligence man and Sewell were together over there. Rudy was in charge of Five activity and he was SAS.’