Quintin Jardine: Skinner's festival

Ballantyne leaned back in his chair. 'That's where you're wrong. Bob,' he said softly.

Skinner's eyebrows rose. The Secretary of State, normally laidback and self-assured, seemed as tense as the mainspring of an over-wound watch.

Ballantyne jumped up and strode across the room to a fine Georgian writing table. He picked up a brown A4 manila envelope and walked back towards Skinner, thrusting it before him.

'There you are. Take a look at this. It was handed in at St Andrews House by a motorcyclist half an hour ago. The security staff checked that I was here, then sent it along to me. Read it, man.'

Skinner took the envelope from Ballantyne, noticing that the man's hand was trembling. A white address label was stuck precisely in the centre.

The words on it were neatly typed:

Alan Ballantyne, MP

St Andrew's House

Edinburgh

To be opened by Addressee only.

In contrast to the neatness of the label, the envelope itself had been ripped open crudely. Skinner prised its sides apart with two Fingers, and saw inside a single sheet of white paper. Taking it by one corner he withdrew it carefully and laid it on the open palm of his left hand. He looked at it for a moment then began to read.

To the so-called Secretary of State for Scotland.

From the Fighters for an Independent Scotland.

By now you will have learned of the demonstration staged earlier today by the true representatives of the people of Scotland, for the benefit and enlightenment of you and your colleagues in the government of the occupying power. Be in no doubt that this was only a small token of the resources which are available to us, and it is no more than a first warning.

Our demands are simple and clear. Your Westminster Parliament will agree at once to take steps to annul the fraudulent Treaty of Union, and to restore full power and authority to the Estates of Scotland, through its properly elected Parliament. We have been compelled to take this stern action by the intransigence of your government, and by the collaboration of the so-called opposition panics, in denying Scotland its birthright.

Today's operation should be interpreted as a declaration of intent. At the moment of writing this communique, we cannot know whether it will be completed without casualties.

But if people have been killed or injured, they should be seen as martyrs to the Scottish cause. The same will be true of those others who will be called upon to sacrifice themselves if you do not yield to our demands.

The Edinburgh International Festival has been chosen as the stage for our drama. We hope that this will be a play in one act only, but unless Scotland's independence is restored at once, there will be further scenes, escalating in their violence until you, the oppressors, are forced to submit.

Scotland deserves that the whole world should see her regain her freedom. With this in mind the contents of this letter are being released simultaneously to the media. Future communiques from us, should they be necessary, will use the code word Arbroath to demonstrate their authenticity.'

Skinner pursed his lips and whistled softly. He glanced up at Ballantyne. 'Wordy bastard this one, is he not. Lovely turn of phrase. Poor Danny'd be chuffed to know he's joined the great honour roll of martyrdom.' He paused and looked at the note again. 'What have you done about the bit on the end?'

Ballantyne looked puzzled. 'What do you mean?'

'Come on, Alan. Get a grip. What have you done about the press?'

'Nothing so far. Do you take this thing seriously?'

Skinner pointed to his right foot. 'See that stain on my shoe?

That's blood. Too effing right I take it seriously.' He took out his mobile telephone and punched in a number. 'Andy? It's Bob.

Listen, I need you to act fast. The Secretary of State's had a letter claiming responsibility for our bomb. They say they've put it out to the press, too, but they don't say how. Chances are they'll issue it by hand or by telephone. I don't think they'd be daft enough to use a fax. Get hold of Alan Royston, our Press Officer, whatever golf course he's on, and tell him to get his arse into the office.

While he's doing that, you put out a holding statement on the explosion via our Mercury distribution network. Don't say much, just that the cause is being investigated. Then tell Royston to field all incoming calls. And while you're at it, tell DCC McGuinness that's the SB party line and that he's to stick to it. Better still, he's to say nothing at all.'

'Will he take that from me?'

'He'll take it from me. Use my name. Once that statement has gone out, I want you to stop all other coverage. Use your duty staff, and get them calling round all the media. If anyone hasn't received the letter yet, then tell them about it. Whatever the case, say that we hope it's a crank, but that we need a complete news blackout on it while we study the contents, run forensic tests, and so on. They can say that they're calling on my behalf, with the full authority of the Security Service, and that D-notice procedures apply. If any editor refuses to co-operate, arrest him, and let me know.';

Skinner heard Martin gasp at the other end of the line.

'That's a bit beyond D-notice procedure, boss. We can't just lift an editor because he won't do what we ask. We don't have the-

Skinner cut him off short. 'Andy, I don't think you'll need to go that far, but if you do, you'll find that the Secretary of State has just given me the authority I need. That covers it. Now don't waste any time. Get on with it. As soon as that's under way, here are a few other things that'll need doing. First locate all the Scottish Office ministers, plus the Lord Advocate and the Solicitor General, and give them all Special Branch armed close protection. Then get round all the police forces in Scotland and advise them that all public buildings, police stations, the lot, should upgrade their alert status to one level short of the maximum.'

He cut the line and turned to Ballantyne. 'Did you hear that, Secretary of State? I need you to sign a piece of paper.'

'Don't I need Downing Street approval?'

'You've got more power than you realise, Alan. You should read the new Act. The Home Secretary in England and you here in Scotland have the right to take certain actions on the advice of the Security Service, and to tell Downing Street afterwards. Well, thanks to you, I'm the Security Service, and I'm giving you that advice now. There's no such thing as an anti-terrorist branch in Scotland. But if we have grown our own proves after all these years, you're going to have to put one together quickly. The faster we move, the better the chance of killing the beast at birth, and it'll be easier if we can control the flow of information.'

Skinner looked Ballantyne straight in the eye, and the Secretary of State returned his gaze. He looked full of doubt, but' slowly nodded his head.

'OK, Bob. You're on. If you take the letter that seriously, I'll back you that far. Set up your anti-terrorist squad. You're in command. You can have your emergency power to control the media. All I ask is that, before you use it, you remember that I'd like to be re-elected in a couple of years time! What else do you need? Tanks?'

Skinner grinned. 'Naw. Air cover'll be enough! I'll pick my own team. Mostly they'll be people I know and trust. I'd like to bring in someone with Irish experience. I'll expect full cooperation from other forces where necessary, but I've got no worries on that score. Have your Private Office call every chief constable to a briefing in St Andrews House tomorrow morning, and I'll tell them what's going on. I have a local problem in that McGuinness is standing in for Jimmy Proud. I'd appreciate it if you would call him yourself and tell him politely to keep out of my hair. I don't want any nonsense from that quarter.'