Kompromat

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Craig had reached Barnard by phone earlier in the week. ‘Come over for my speech in Fort Lauderdale,’ Craig had urged him. ‘I’m sure you need a break and I could use your help.’

Barnard had checked it out with Harriet Marshall. Nowadays, he didn’t move without Harriet’s say-so. He, Barnard, was officially chairman of the Leave campaign but Barnard was under no illusions as to where the power truly lay. It lay with Harriet. No doubt about that. Sometimes he murmured ‘Take back control’ when Marshall laid down the law – who was to do what and when – but he never kicked up a fuss. When you had a political genius on your side, you didn’t quibble.

Harriet Marshall had been totally enthusiastic about the proposed trip to Florida.

‘Genius!’ she exclaimed. ‘Just what we need. A bit of international exposure just at the right time. Make sure Craig mentions Brexit in his speech.’

Barnard needn’t have had any worries on that score.

Less than three hours after landing in Florida he watched Ronald Craig, the presumptive Republican presidential candidate, come to the podium in front of the cheering, flag-waving, trumpet-parping crowds in the Fort Lauderdale stadium.

Craig’s rhetorical style, consisting of short, declaratory sentences, was precisely what his audience was looking for.

‘Thank you. I am so thrilled to be in Fort Lauderdale today,’ Craig began. ‘Florida is my second home. This is such an amazing state, and filled with so many incredible people.

‘We are all going to have to work hard together to win the White House on November 8th. Our victory on November 8th will be a victory for the people.

‘It won’t be a victory for the pundits, the special interests, the failed politicians. It will be a victory for YOU – for your family, for your country.

‘It will be a victory for jobs. For security. For prosperity. It will be a victory for American Independence.

‘We will reject the failures of the past and create a New American Future where every child – African-American, Hispanic, and all children – can live out their dreams.

‘We will bring back our jobs.

‘Rebuild our depleted military.

‘Take care of our veterans.

‘Unleash American energy.

‘Restore law and order.

‘And we will make government honest once again.’

Towards the end of his speech, Craig turned to Barnard, sitting on the dais behind the lectern:

‘Come up here, Ed,’ Craig commanded. Then, lowering his voice as though imparting some confidential information, he added, ‘This is the man who’s helping to set Britain free. He has started this incredible movement. You’re all part of this movement. This movement that we talk about so much. That’s been written about on the cover of every magazine all over the world. It’s a movement that is just sweeping. It’s sweeping across our country. It’s sweeping frankly across the globe.’

Craig strode over and hoisted Barnard’s arm into the air.

For the moment the two of them stood there, arms held high, like the golden arches of McDonalds, as the crowd went wild.

‘Let’s hear it for Britain!’ Craig trumpeted. ‘Let’s hear it for Ed Barnard and all who are working with him! They’re doing it over there. We can do it over here! Look at Brexit! Much smaller example, but it’s still something you can look at. People want to take back control of their countries and they want to take back control of their lives and the lives of their family.’

When Ronald Craig said that Florida was his second home, he hadn’t been exaggerating. He truly loved the enormous jazz-age mansion, set in its own fifteen acres of land on the narrow strip of land between the Atlantic Ocean and Worth Lake. He had owned it for the last thirty years as part of the Craig empire. Most of the property was now part of the Hasta La Vista private club, with 128 luxurious bedrooms, though Ronald Craig and his family still had their exclusive family quarters.

They had a late candlelit supper after the rally, looking out over the ocean. Malvina Craig, Ronald’s wife, sat – suavely beautiful – at one end of the table. Craig himself sat at the other end, with daughter Rosie on his right, and Barnard on his left.

‘So good to see you again, Ed!’ Craig gushed. ‘That expedition to Russia’s Far East was some trip, wasn’t it? We got to see a tiger too. You know my backside’s still sore. Godammit, I thought Popov was meant to be a crack shot and he ends up by shooting me in the ass! How’s the Brexit campaign going, Ed? Are you on course for victory?’

Barnard saw no point in pretending things were better than they were. ‘We’re not there yet,’ he confessed. ‘The government’s committed itself to Project Fear. The prime minister and the chancellor of the exchequer are stressing the downside if we leave. And we’re not getting the groundswell of support we need. Not yet anyway. I think we’ve got to raise our game, otherwise we’re going to be crushed on June 23rd – that’s our Referendum day.’

‘Don’t for a moment think we’ve got it in the bag either on this side of the ocean,’ Craig countered ‘We’ve got a long way to go too. I may win the nomination, but I still need to win the election. Never underestimate Caroline Mann. She’s tricky as hell. Did you know the FBI has 30,000 of her unauthorized emails? God knows what she was up to. But are they releasing them? Are they hell? They’re terrified that releasing the emails will damage her chances. And the press! Vipers, turncoats, hypocrites. Fake news, that’s all they’re good for. Lock them up, I say. Lock them all up!’

As Ronald Craig worked himself up into a lather of righteous indignation, a uniformed butler entered the room. ‘Please forgive me interrupting, Mr Craig. There’s a posse of federal marshals here.’

‘What the devil’s going on?’ Ronald Craig tossed his napkin onto the table and strode to the door.

The two federal marshals waiting outside the door greeted him politely.

Craig recognized both of them at once. If you were a politician, you made a point of getting to know the local gendarmerie. ‘Pedro, Jimmy,’ he said. ‘For God’s sake, what’s all this about?’

Pedro Gonzales was more than a little anxious. He’d had a run-in or two with Ronald Craig in the past and had not come off best. He certainly didn’t want to piss the man off. He might be president one day. He turned to the man at his side, Jimmy Redmond.

‘Jimmy, you read it out,’ he said. ‘You read better than me. Unless it’s in Spanish. I’m probably better than Jimmy is at reading Spanish.’

‘Just get on with it,’ Craig snarled.

‘Here we go.’ Jimmy put on his spectacles.

In the brief time at their disposal, President Brandon Matlock and Attorney General Joe Silcock had done a tremendous job. The Executive Order signed by the president looked good and sounded good. It smelt good too, being printed on heavy, crisp parchment. The marshal began to read:

As Jimmy Redmond rolled the parchment up, Craig protested, ‘I’m not coming. I’ll call my lawyers. I’ll take you to court. Executive Orders can be challenged in the courts. A federal judge can grant a stay of execution. I know quite a few federal judges and believe me they listen to me.’

Jimmy Redmond shook his head. ‘Don’t go there, sir. That’s not a good line to take. You had better come along with us. In the state of Florida, resisting arrest is a pretty serious crime. You wouldn’t want that on your record. Not when you’re running for the highest office in the land. Besides, it’s not all bad news. I didn’t read you the PS, the postscript as I believe it’s called.’

‘I didn’t think executive orders had PSs.’

‘This one does. It says. PS: I am hereby making available Air Force One to the federal marshals for the discharge of the aforementioned task.’

‘You better go, Dad,’ Rosie Craig said. ‘No point in fighting this one.’

Ron Craig looked at his daughter. He respected her judgement. She was one of the few people he trusted.

‘You think so?’

‘Yes, I think so.’

‘Who’s going to look after Ed Barnard? I wanted to take him to the Everglades tomorrow. Show him some alligators.’

‘I’ll do that, Dad. I haven’t been to the Everglades for months. You go to Washington. There are plenty of alligators there! They just want to give you a check-up. You’ll probably be back by tomorrow.’

Pedro Gonzales looked at his watch. ‘Take-off is in forty-five minutes. We had better get going.’

‘Okay, I’m coming. Just put the handcuffs way.’

Air Force One? Craig rather liked the sound of that anyway. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to check the plane out ahead of time. And besides, deep down, he knew it didn’t pay to quarrel with Uncle Sam. Not seriously. If you did, you could find yourself in trouble. Of course, once he made it to the top, the very top, it might be a different matter.