Free A Very British Coup by Chris Mullin Page B

ashtray. A waiter approached and they ordered two black coffees. “Now what are you guys planning to do about Perkins?”
    â€œThe Old Man thinks we ought to take it easy at first. Just feed out a little dirt to the newspapers. Let the civil service and the City do the rest, for the time being.”
    â€œWhat dirt you got on him?”
    â€œThat’s the problem. There’s nothing on our files. We were hoping you might have something.”
    â€œNope. He’s clean at our end too. I had the boys at Langley run him through the computer last night. Clean as a whistle.”
    â€œShould have more to go on when he starts naming ministers and camp followers,” said Fiennes.
    â€œWe’ll run ’em all through the computer and anything we get we’ll pass over to you.”
    â€œBetter be discreet. No point in going through the usual channels or we’ll have DI6 whining to be let in on the act.”
    â€œAnything we get I’ll hand over personally to you.”
    The waiter came with the coffees and the bill. They drank in silence. Fiennes paid the bill with a pound note and some coins and got to his feet. “Keep in touch, Jim.”
    â€œSure will.”
    *
    Perkins took the call from the President on the scrambled line in the Prime Minister’s study.
    â€œHarry.”
    â€œMr President.”
    â€œHarry, I just wanted to congratulate you personally on your magnificent victory.”
    â€œVery generous of you, Mr President,” said Perkins, reflecting that a flair for hypocrisy was going to be one of the specifications of his new job.
    â€œHarry, we ought to get together just as soon as possible to iron out any little points of difference that may arise between your government and mine.”
    â€œEarly days yet, Mr President. I’ve only been in this job three hours so far and as yet I don’t have a government.”
    â€œOf course, of course, Harry. What I had in mind was to send my Secretary of State, Marcus Morgan, over for a chat as soon as possible. Some time next week, perhaps?”
    â€œOkay by me.”
    â€œFine, Harry, fine. I know how much you share my desire for world peace and I reckon we’re going to work together real well. Like you, I have spent my life fighting oppression and exploitation, so you see we got a lot in common.”
    Perkins listened patiently as the President elaborated on his lifelong crusade for freedom. The conversation, or rather monologue, was finally brought to a close with the President saying that he had to go because he was keeping ‘some general from Paraguay’ waiting outside the Oval Office.
    Scarcely had Perkins replaced the receiver when he was interrupted by a call from the private office to say that the Governor of the Bank of England was at hand.
    This was Perkins’ second conversation with the Governor that day. The first had taken place in the small hours of the morning – minutes after the outgoing government conceded defeat. Perkins had been in Sheffield town hall when he heard the news and immediately went in search of a telephone. Since the Mayor’s parlour was locked up and the Mayor nowhere to be found, Perkins had had to telephone the Bankof England from a coinbox next to the porter’s lodge. Having obtained the Governor’s home telephone number from an astonished night duty officer Perkins had proceeded to rouse the Governor from his bed and order him to reimpose exchange control instantly. By moving so swiftly he had hoped to mitigate the impact of his election on the delicate constitution of the foreign exchanges, but it was not to be.
    The Governor did not waste time on pleasantries. “Prime Minister, I have bad news.”
    â€œSurprise me, Governor.” Perkins was given to mild bouts of irony.
    â€œThe pound has fallen four cents in as many hours. If it carries on like this, we’ll have a slide of catastrophic proportions on our