Thanks reading and once again extra thanks to my faithful reviewers. We go slightly backwards time wise from the previous chapter.
2 May 2002 (7.35 am) Instruction from the Home Office, this must be suppressed to avoid a mass panic. To be actioned:
a) In the first instance Tom Quinn will be dispatched to Liverpool to liaise with the Manchester office and Special Branch.
b)The press will be issued with a D notice, but due to the explosion already being in the public domain a total news blackout is not an option, necessitating the planting of an alternative explanation. Authorised news release: an unexploded World War Two bomb.
Tom looked really happy when I issued instruction a). I wasn't exactly surprised. Send Tom north of the Watford gap and he immediately starts hunting for his passport. Still we all have to suffer for the greater good. When I told him we need a wet flannel over this for once I wasn't referring to the Home Secretary's political stance. News of this has to be supressed and the exact source of the attack traced quickly, otherwise we'll be faced with a situation that we wouldn't be able to damp down, even if we were gifted with a metaphorical marquee recovering from a cloudburst.
With those thoughts to the forefront of my mind I'm not inclined to waste much sympathy on Tom's few hours endurance of a secondment to the uncivilized regions beyond the metropolis. He has the easy job; he just has to turn up. I'm the one who'll have to deal with the objections of the Manchester branch. They can be guaranteed to take the view that although the only information relating to this incident was provided by our asset since it happened on their patch they should be placed in charge. Not that I intend to mention either the asset or the precise nature of the Intel at this stage. That would just leave Section D wide open to the accusation that we let the explosion happen rather than share. If I can't smooth them over, and I don't intend to spend valuable time arguing the toss, I'll have to pull rank. Normally that wouldn't bother me, but this time I'd rather not as privately I'm prepared to concede that if the positions were reversed I'd feel the same way.
More importantly since, unlike the Manchester mob, the press don't have obey my instructions if the War bomb story doesn't hold we'll need to prepare a fluffy alternative for dissemination to the discerning population. Something about a footballer, or possibly a pop star, caught with their trousers down while snorting drugs ought do it. Distract the public by creating a five days scandal regarding one of their idols and we gain some breathing space. The press who are overly obsessed with their cult of celebrity won't focus on what, in my opinion, is the main disgrace, namely the obscene sums members of these two essential professions get paid for either kicking a ball around or yowling into a microphone. The first lot may have talented feet but - for the most part - possess only a single brain cell, usual location, inside their trousers, while some of these so called pop stars ought to be prosecuted under the Trades Descriptions Act. Whatever they produce it's certainly not music. I'm willing to bet that Roland le Pettour, who was allegedly paid by Henry II to fart tunes, was infinitely more musical. Failing a celb exposure a nice alarming health scare should do the trick. Anything at all in that area of information, providing it doesn't proclaim that whisky is bad for you – oh no it isn't, it's a sanity preserver.
With reference to reality, as experienced in the world beyond the doors of Thames House, I suspect that I don't need to be overly concerned about what we filter into the public domain. It won't really matter, providing it, whatever it is, proves convincing enough to ensure that the journalists employed by the self- righteous 'Daily Mail' and boob orientated 'Sun' fall for it.
Just a note. Roland le Pettour is not an invention of mine. Seemingly he could fart tunes and was employed to provide 'a whistle, a leap and a fart' for which he was rewarded with 30 acres of land. To keep said land his descendants had to turn up every Christmas to perform as described. Other top entertainment for royalty according to Terry Jones in his book 'Medieval Lives' was for a minstrel to spread honey on his member and then a performing bear was brought it. As Mr Jones puts it, 'What happened next isn't exactly explained, but whatever it was probably doesn't figure in 'Winnie - the Pooh'. Now there's a thought with which to enliven the next Royal Variety Performance?
Thanks for reading and if you have a moment feel free to review.