Stanley Johnson - Kompromat

‘No, I’ll go,’ Popov said.

Before Jackson could countermand him, Popov dropped into the sheer chasm. Jackson was bloody right, he thought. There were, literally, only inches to spare at either side and the wind was totally unpredictable. Blowing a blast one minute, and then dropping completely. If the rotor blade clipped the rocks, that would be it. Kaput. Finito. Game over.

Sweating with concentration, Popov landed by a rock pool. He left the rotors turning.

‘Room for one,’ he shouted. ‘The rest will have to hike back.’

Mickey Selkirk tried to put some weight on his leg, but couldn’t manage it, so they manhandled him on board.

‘Thanks, Igor!’ he shouted above the noise of the engine. ‘You’ve saved my bacon.’

Getting out of the gorge was as hard as getting in. Popov gritted his teeth, hand on the joy-stick, eyes gauging the distance between the heli’s blades and the jagged rock face.

‘Great piece of flying,’ Jackson congratulated him over the RT as Popov’s little heli finally emerged from the deep chasm, like Venus rising from the waves.

That evening they switched to Margaret River wines. ‘Western Australia’s finest,’ Selkirk assured his guests.

Melanie Selkirk tactfully took Galina for a post prandial coffee by the pool.

‘Can’t tell you how grateful I am, old boy,’ Selkirk said, when the two men were alone.

He kneaded his bandaged knee. ‘I’m not sure how I would have got out of there. That’s a rugged climb at the best of times, even with two sound legs to walk on. How you managed not to smash into the sides of that gorge, I will never know.’

Selkirk paused. He thought about his father, that great man – yes, that great Australian – who had first sown the seeds of the Selkirk empire. Of course he could pass the whole thing on to his own kids, but did they really have what it took? Selkirk Global had the chance to make a quantum leap into the future. Igor Popov was the man to make that future happen.

‘Did you think about what I said last night?’ Selkirk asked.

Popov took his time. Historians would later describe the moment as one of the most important moments in his life. The moment of decision. So much would turn on it.

‘It’s a very interesting proposition, Mickey,’ he said. ‘Very interesting indeed. And very timely too.’

He pointed to the big TV screen above the bar.

‘Look at that!’ he exclaimed. ‘I do believe the British prime minister is about to call a general election in the UK, three years ahead of time.’

‘Good heavens!’ Selkirk exclaimed. ‘Hasn’t she already got a mandate?’

‘Hardly a working majority,’ Popov said. ‘Just listen to her speech.’

‘You’ve seen it already? You know what she’s going to say?’

Popov laughed. ‘Come on, Mickey! What kind of a show do you think I’m running?’

The two men took their drinks inside to watch the British prime minister, standing on the pavement outside Number 10 Downing Street, at that very moment about to make the most important announcement of her career.

There was obviously a bit of a wind in London that morning. The prime minister’s hair from time to time blew across her forehead but she brushed it back.

‘ I have just chaired a meeting of the Cabinet, ’ the prime minister began , ‘ where we agreed that the government should call a general election, to be held on June 8th.

‘ I want to explain the reasons for that decision. What will happen next, and the choice facing the British people when you come to vote in this election.

‘ Last summer, after the country voted to leave the European Union, Britain needed certainty, stability and strong leadership, and since I became prime minister the government has delivered precisely that.

‘ Britain is leaving the European Union and there can be no turning back ’.

Selkirk noticed that President Popov had been following a script on his mobile phone, all the time the PM was speaking.

Popov nodded, evidently pleased that there were no departures from the CHECK ON DELIVERY text he had in front of him.

Mabel Killick was coming to the end:

‘The Liberal Democrats have said they want to grind the business of government to a standstill.

‘The Scottish National Party says they will vote against the legislation that formally repeals Britain’s membership of the European Union.

‘And unelected members of the House of Lords have vowed to fight us every step of the way.

‘Our opponents believe that because the government’s majority is so small, our resolve will weaken and that they can force us to change course.

‘They are wrong.

‘They underestimate our determination to get the job done and I am not prepared to let them endanger the security of millions of working people across the country.

‘Because what they are doing jeopardises the work we must do to prepare for Brexit at home, and it weakens the government’s negotiating position in Europe.

‘That is why I am calling for a general election on June 8th.’

When the PM had finished, Popov put his phone away, smiling with satisfaction. ‘Word perfect. Couldn’t have put it better myself,’ he said.

President Popov was in a reflective mood. ‘We may have thought Brexit was in the bag last June, Mickey, but we still needed to nail it. And that’s what Mabel Killick has done today. Of course, I will give her all the help she needs. I expect you will too. But frankly, I’d say, that at this point in time, she has it in the bag!’

Ching Ze-Dong was puzzled. His instructions had been very clear. ‘If Popov refuses Selkirk’s offer, use spider. If he accepts offer, leave spider in box.’

Oh dear, Ching thought, what should he do? The instructions might have been precise, but the problem was he couldn’t work out what answer Popov was actually giving in response to Selkirk’s intriguing proposal.

When Selkirk had offered him the job of president and CEO of Selkirk Global, Popov had just said, ‘Interesting. Very interesting indeed.’

But what did that mean? Did it mean ‘yes’, or did it mean ‘no’?

Ching took the little wooden box from the crate in the storeroom and shook it gently. Yes, the spider was still there. Just as well they had given him two, he thought.

Mrs Killick was well pleased by the slant the media put on her decision to call an election. ‘Strong and stable PM seeks personal mandate!’ The Daily News thundered. The London Echo printed a full-page photo of the PM with the caption ‘ The New Iron Lady !’ The Selkirk Press went to town, offering unsubtle suggestions about the priorities she should pursue, apart from clinching Brexit. ‘Slash foreign aid’ and ‘Scrap environmental burdens’ being two of the most prominent.

Fred Malkin, as Conservative Party chairman, had been one of the very small group of people who knew in advance about Mabel Killick’s decision to call for a general election. He and his team would have a crucial job over the next few weeks before the vote on June 8th.

The day after her Downing Street announcement, Mrs Killick visited Conservative Party headquarters in Matthew Parker Street, Westminster, to rally the troops.

Ushered into a first-floor canteen by Fred Malkin, she told a cheering crowd of party workers, ‘We can’t take victory for granted. The Leader of the Opposition – what’s his name? – anyway, that miserable little worm – may dredge up some support somewhere. It will be our job to force him back into the gutter where he belongs.’

Later, she had a quiet word with Malkin in his office.