Never Apologise, Never Explain - James Craig [55]
Holyrod became an instant celebrity. Within a fortnight, he was offered his own radio talk show, signed up to do a newspaper column, acquired an agent and had received more than a hundred offers of marriage.
Initially, the Ministry of Defence was more than happy to let a stream of journalists beat a path to his door, given their desperation for any kind of ‘good news’ out of a story that had been a complete disaster from day one. For his part, Holyrod quite enjoyed the attention, using this platform to argue that the MoD had seriously underestimated the task in hand, i.e. fighting the enemy. The tone of his interviews became more and more downbeat as he contemplated ‘the big picture’. After telling a very nice girl from the Sunday Express that ‘the whole thing’s gone to rats’, he was hauled back to London ‘for discussions’. His return to the front line was then cut short when he was caught on camera berating the Foreign Secretary, who was in the middle of a four-hour tour of the troops, about the lack of support from politicians back home for ‘his boys’.
Of course, the media had lapped it all up. Opinion polls suggested that Holyrod’s approval ratings were in the high eighties. No politician could live with him. The major’s window of opportunity had arrived. Now he had to decide what to do with it. It was at this point that the leader of the Opposition, Edgar Carlton MP, persuaded his old Cambridge University pal (and brother-in-law, for Christian had married Edgar’s sister, Sophia, some eight years earlier) to run for election as Mayor of London.
So it came to pass that Holyrod resigned from the Army, swapping his fatigues for a selection of very sharp Richard James suits. After six months campaigning under the party slogan Change that keeps changing he won a landslide victory, thus providing a template for Edgar Carlton’s first national government, which duly followed less than two years later.
It was during Edgar’s victorious General Election campaign that Carlyle had first come across both men. It was a nasty case, involving the deaths of several of their friends. With their stellar careers to protect, Carlton and Holyrod did not want the reason for the killings to be made public. All too predictably, the Metropolitan Police was no match for their united front. Although the case itself was nominally solved, the truth – or rather, the underlying facts of the case – never saw the light of day.
Having seen off this particular threat, the two men seemed to have cemented their political relationship. But the alliance was beginning to show signs of wear and tear. In Westminster village, Christian Holyrod was quickly identified as Edgar Carlton’s obvious successor and, therefore, his de facto rival.
Turning all this over in his head, Carlyle felt the familiar stab of anger and frustration that came when he thought about cases with too many loose ends. He remained deeply unhappy about what had happened, and still fretted over whether he could have dealt with it better. Above all, he still felt irritated at his inability to close the case properly, lay all the facts on the table and let all the principals take responsibility for their actions. As the investigation had reached its conclusion, Carlyle had attempted to pressure Holyrod into at least acknowledging what had taken place. But the Mayor was not going to be browbeaten by a lowly policeman, and he stood his ground.
A lowly policeman.
That was what rankled as much as anything. Being treated like the hired help. A gamma male who had stumbled into an alpha world.
One of the little people.
Well, now their paths had crossed again. Maybe belatedly there would be a chance to settle the score.
Frowning, the inspector leaned over the railing and looked down at the small crowd. Holyrod was speaking from notes written on pieces of card: ‘Britain and Chile are two countries sharing a belief in fairness, democracy and freedom . . .’ He paused, waiting for the smattering of polite applause which duly followed.
Carlyle yawned and glanced at his watch.
This evening, however,