Jeffrey Archer - First Among Equals

A legal nicety, thought Simon as he watched the faces of his colleagues round the table. They were obviously impressed that Charles had brought the two super powers together in support of Britain. The Prime Minister’s face remained inscrutable. She called upon Simon to air his views.

He was able to report that Broadsword had, since the last meeting of the Cabinet, been towed into the Bay of Surt and moored; there was no hope of boarding her except by sea. Captain Packard and his crew of 216 remained under close arrest in the engine room on the lower deck of the ship. From confirmed reports Simon had received in the last hour it appeared that the ship’s company were bound, gagged, and that the ventilation systems had been turned off. “Captain Packard,” he informed the House, “had refused to cooperate with the guerillas in any way, and we remain unsure of his fate.” He paused. “I therefore suggest,” Simon continued, “that we have no choice but to mount a rescue operation in order to avoid a protracted negotiation that can only end in grave loss of morale for the entire armed forces. The longer we put off such a decision the harder our task will become. The Joint Chiefs are putting the final touches to a plan code-named ‘Shoplifter’ which they feel must be carried out in the next forty-eight hours, if the men and the ship are to be saved.” Simon added that he hoped diplomatic channels would be kept open while the operation was being worked out, in order that the rescue team could be assured of the greatest element of surprise.

“But what if your plan fails?” interrupted Charles. “We would risk losing not only Broadsword and her crew but also the goodwill of the free world.”

“There is no serving officer in the British Navy who will thank us for leaving Broadsword in Libyan waters while we negotiate a settlement in which, at best, our ship will be returned when it suits the guerillas-to say nothing of the humiliation of our Navy. Gaddafi can laugh at the United Nations while he has captured not only one of our most modern frigates but also the headlines of the world’s press. As Ayatollah Khomeini did, he will want to keep them both for as long as he can. These headlines can only demoralize our countrymen and invite the sort of election defeat Carter suffered at the hands of the American people after the Iranian Embassy debacle.”

“We would be foolish to take such an unnecessary risk while we have world opinion on our side,” protested Charles. “Let us at least wait a few more days.”

“I fear that if we wait,” said Simon, “the crew will be transferred from the ship to a military prison, which would only result in our having two targets to concentrate on, and then Gaddafi can sit around in the desert taking whatever amount of time suits him.”

Simon and Charles weighed argument against counterargument while the Prime Minister listened, taking note of the views of her other colleagues round the table to see if she had a majority for one course or the other. Three hours later, when everyone had given his opinion, she had “fourteen-nine” written on the pad in front of her.

“I think we have exhausted the arguments, gentlemen,” she said, “and having listened to the collective views around this table I feel we must on balance allow the Secretary of State for Defense to proceed with Operation Shoplifter. I therefore propose that the Foreign Secretary, the Defense Secretary, the Attorney General, and myself make up a sub-committee, backed up by a professional staff, to consider the Joint Chiefs’ plan. The utmost secrecy will be required from us at all times, so the subject will not be raised again until the plan is ready for presentation to a full meeting of the Cabinet. Therefore, with the exception of the sub-committee, all ministers will return to their departments and carry on with their normal duties. We must not lose sight of the fact that the country still has to be governed. Thank you, gentlemen.” The Prime Minister asked Charles and Simon to join her in the study.

As soon as the door was closed she said to Charles, “Please let me know the moment you hear the result of the vote in the General Assembly. Now that the Cabinet has favored a military initiative, it is important that you are seen to be pressing for a diplomatic solution.”

“Yes, Prime Minister,” said Charles without emotion.

Mrs. Thatcher then turned to Simon. “When can I have a rundown on the details of the Joint Chiefs’ plan?”

“We anticipate working on the strategy through the night, Prime Minister, and I should be able to make a full presentation to you by ten tomorrow.”

“No later, Simon,” said the Prime Minister. “Now our next problem is tomorrow’s proposed emergency debate. Andrew Fraser will undoubtedly put in a second request for a full debate under standing order number ten and the Speaker gave a clear hint today he will allow it. Anyway, we can’t avoid making a policy statement without an outcry from the Opposition benches — and I suspect our own — so I’ve decided that we will grasp the nettle and no doubt get stung.”

The two men looked at each other, exasperated at the thought of having to waste precious hours in the Commons.

“Charles, you must be prepared to open the debate for the Government, and Simon, you will wind up. At least the debate will be on Thursday afternoon; that way some of our colleagues may have gone home for the weekend, though frankly I doubt it. But with any luck we will have secured a moral victory at the United Nations, and we can keep the Opposition minds concentrating on that. When you sum up, Simon, just answer the questions put during the debate without offering any new initiative.”

She then added, “Report any news you hear direct to me. I shan’t be sleeping tonight.”

Charles walked back to the Foreign Office, at least thankful that Amanda was somewhere in South America.

Simon returned to the Joint Chiefs to find a large map of Libyan territorial waters pinned to a blackboard. Generals, admirals, and air marshals were studying the contours and ocean depths like children preparing for a geography test.

They all stood again when Simon entered the room. They looked at him in anticipation, men of action who were suspicious of talk. When Simon told them the Cabinet’s decision was to back the Ministry of Defense the suggestion of a smile came over the face of Sir John. “Perhaps that battle will turn out to be our hardest,” he said, just loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Take me through the plan again,” said Simon, ignoring Sir John’s comment. “I have to present it to the Prime Minister by ten o’clock tomorrow.”

Sir John placed the tip of a long wooden pointer on a model of HMS Broadsword in the middle of a stretch of water in a well-protected bay.

When Charles reached his office the international telegrams and telexes of support for a diplomatic solution were piled high on his desk. The Permanent Under-Secretary reported that the debate in the United Nations had been so one-sided that he anticipated an overwhelming majority when they came to vote. Charles feared his hands were tied; he had to be seen to go through the motions, even by his own staff, although he had not yet given up hopes of undermining Simon’s plan. He intended the whole episode to end up as a triumph for the Foreign Office and not for “those warmongers” at the Ministry of Defense. After consulting the Permanent Under-Secretary Charles appointed a small Libyan task force consisting of some older Foreign Office mandarins with experience of Gaddafi and four of the department’s most promising high fliers.

Mr. Oliver Miles, the former Ambassador to Libya, had his leave canceled and was deposited in a tiny room in the upper reaches of the Foreign Office so that Charles could call on his local knowledge at any time, day or night, throughout the crisis.