Backlash

FRIDAY
Twenty-Four

He watched all the faces around the table very carefully, judging their reactions as the voices on the tape recorder spoke. Only he and Andrea Makin had heard the tape fully before and knew what to expect. Makin was sitting impassively, deep dark rings around her eyes, probably wishing she had never ventured north of Watford. Karl Donaldson was another at the table. He had a good idea of what the tape contained, so was not surprised.

The other two men had not heard the tape and it would be a shock to them. They were ACC Fanshaw-Bayley and the British Prime Minister.

They were in the main restaurant of the Imperial Hotel. The only other people in the room were the PM’s two protection officers lounging by the doors, out of earshot, preventing any unauthorised entry.

The first tape they listened to was an edited version of the interview between Makin and Martin Franklands. It began with criminal matters concerning the murder of an undercover police officer on Blackpool promenade. Franklands named the two men who had beaten the cop to death. The interview progressed to the planting of a bomb in the Pink Ladies’ Club, a bomb which had been sourced from an American terrorist whom Franklands claimed he could not identify. Franklands went on to freely implicate Vincent Bellamy, leader of the right-wing organisation called Hellfire Dawn, in the murder and the planting of the bomb, saying that both had been carried out on his instructions.

Makin stopped the tape. ‘He’s singing like a demented budgie,’ she said, ‘telling us everything about Hellfire Dawn. Bombs in Soho, Birmingham and Brighton, not American sourced, but all planted and planned by Bellamy. Also the murder of two Pakistani youths in Tooting and the firebombing of a Jewish family in York, which killed two little kids. All Bellamy’s work.’

The prime minister fidgeted. ‘All very interesting, but purely police matters as far as I can tell. Where is this leading?’ he asked frostily. ‘I deliver my end of conference speech in under an hour.’ He looked pointedly at his Rolex.

Andrea Makin was unfazed. Having managed to pull this meeting together by getting the Chief Constable of Lancashire to intervene directly with the prime minister and request it as a matter of urgency, she was not going to be hurried. ‘Please bear with me, sir,’ she said, equally frostily.

The timbre of her voice made him sit back.

‘I’ll fast forward it a little.’ She pressed the button, watching the counter click by, stopped it and pressed ‘play’.

Franklands was speaking again. He was in full flow and had a lot to get off his chest. This time the PM leaned forwards, elbows on the table, listening hard. His face dropped in shock.

FB’s face changed dramatically, too.

After ten minutes more, Makin stopped the tape, ejected the cassette and slotted it into its plastic box.

‘These are very serious allegations,’ the prime minister said gravely.

‘Which is why I wanted you to hear them, and no one else, for obvious reasons,’ Makin said.

‘Can they be substantiated in any way?’

Makin nodded. ‘As a result of what Franklands said to me, I arrested Vincent Bellamy and the other two implicated in the murder early this morning.’

Makin had taken a well-tooled-up arrest squad and raided the Berlin Hotel just after six that morning. Using a diagram of the hotel provided by Franklands, she and her teams quickly found the rooms of the suspects. She had gone for Bellamy. There had been no knocking — they had burst in unannounced, finding Bellamy, dressed as Adolf Hitler still, being fellated by the hotel receptionist with the tattoos on her breasts. Makin found that there were swastikas tattooed on her buttocks, too. The whole thing had been a sight to behold. .

She rid her mind of the montage and continued, ‘Once Bellamy realised he was being dropped in it big style, it didn’t take long for him to start running scared at first, and then to start boasting about his achievements for the people of Britain.’

‘And this is leading where?’ the PM cut in again.

Makin apologised. She was tired and rambling a bit. ‘I put to him the facts that Franklands had told me about Hellfire Dawn and its backers.’ She paused. ‘Incidentally there are two financial analysts already beginning to unravel accounts. . however, this is what Bellamy said.’ She dropped a new tape into the machine and pressed ‘play’.

‘We have been bank-rolled one hundred percent.’ Bellamy cackled on the tape. ‘A government minister has provided us with funds to finance our activities from his own resources — he is a multi-millionaire in his own right and believes in the work of Hellfire Dawn. He intends to change the face of British politics in response to the backlash across the country against the favouritism shown to blacks and ethnics. He intends to stamp out immigration and the ridiculous employment practices which ensure niggers and Pakis get jobs which rightfully belong to white folk. Where necessary we will drive them out of their homes, destroy their businesses. We will be his army. Hellfire Dawn will rule the streets — ’

Bellamy started ranting. Makin fast-forwarded the tape, commenting, ‘The guy is barking mad, of course, but very believable.’ She pressed play again. Bellamy now sounded proud. He was boasting.

‘Mastermind? Yes, I suppose so. I see the big picture. It was necessary to start a war of subtle attrition to support the overt war on the streets.’

‘Is that where David Gill came in?’ Makin asked on the tape.

‘A one-man killing machine, wound up, pointed in the right direction and set off. I gave him the targets and he struck — people who are part of the corrupt system which supports the injustice, people who had to be picked off one by one, anyone who helped the blacks, the women, whoever, anyone who had a hand in taking away the God-given rights of white men — ’

‘At which point my blood was boiling,’ Makin said

‘The piece de resistance was to dispose of the black wife of the prime minister, but Gill obviously got careless, got caught, killed himself — a pity.’

‘How did he intend to kill her?’

‘He had access to the Imperial Hotel. He was going to enter their bedroom suite and kill her — simple as that.’

‘And did this politician of yours know about this?’

‘And approved. Saw it as a way to step into the breach.’

‘Shit,’ said the prime minister.

Everyone looked quickly at him.

‘What is the name of this man again?’ Makin asked on tape.

There was a pause on tape long enough for Henry to zoom in on the prime minister’s reaction.

Vincent Bellamy named a name.

‘And this man,’ Makin cut in quickly, switching the tape off, ‘was one of the few who knew that there was an undercover police officer working in Hellfire Dawn. He knew because of his position in government, because he’s informed of all undercover police operations in the country. He must have passed that information on to Bellamy.’

The PM rose from the table. ‘It is apparent that I have been betrayed. Excuse me,’ he said. He ran across the restaurant, pushing his security men out of the way and dashed into the nearest male toilet where he was violently sick. He returned a few minutes later, after washing his face, and said to one of his guards, ‘I want to see Basil Kramer now.’