A Delicate Truth A Novel

fire-breathing neocons from our fast-dissolving New Labour leadership. And the dividend? The mangled corpses of an innocent Muslim woman and her baby daughter. Watch that play out in the media marketplace! As to gallant little Gibraltar with her long-suffering multi-ethnic population: the cries to give her back to Spain would deafen us for decades to come. If they don’t already.’
    ‘So?’
    ‘I beg your pardon?’
    ‘What d’you want me to do?’
    Suddenly Oakley’s gaze, so often elusive, was fixed on Toby in fiery exhortation:
    ‘Not do , dear man! Cease to do. Desist forthwith and for ever! Before it’s too late.’
    ‘Too late for what ?’
    ‘For your career – what else? Give up this self-righteous pursuit of the unfindable. It will destroy you. Become again what you were before. All will be forgiven.’
    ‘Who says it will?’
    ‘I do.’
    ‘And who else? Jay Crispin? Who?’
    ‘What does it matter who else ? An informal consortium of wise men and women with their country’s interests at heart, will that do you? Don’t be a child , Toby.’
    ‘Who killed Jeb Owens?’
    ‘Killed him? Nobody. He did. He shot himself, the poor man. He was deranged for years. Has nobody told you that? Or is the truth too inconvenient for you?’
    ‘Jeb Owens was murdered.’
    ‘Nonsense. Sensational nonsense. Whatever makes you say that?’ – Oakley’s chin coming up in challenge, but his voice no longer quite so sure of itself.
    ‘Jeb Owens was shot through the head by a gun that wasn’t his own, with the wrong hand, just one day before he was due to join up with Probyn. He was bubbling over with hope. He was so full of hope he rang his estranged wife on the morning of the day he was killed to tell her just how full of hope he was and how they could start their lives all over again. Whoever had him murdered got some B-list actress to pretend she was a doctor – a male doctor, actually, but she didn’t know that, unfortunately – and make a cold call to Probyn’s house after Jeb’s death with the happy message that Jeb was alive and languishing in a mental hospital and didn’t want to talk to anyone.’
    ‘Whoever told you such drivel?’ – but Oakley’s face was a lot less certain than his tone.
    ‘The police investigation was led by diligent plain-clothes officers from Scotland Yard. Thanks to their diligence, not a single clue was followed up. There was no forensic examination, a whole raft of formalities were waived, and the cremation went through with unnatural speed. Case closed.’
    ‘Toby.’
    ‘What?’
    ‘Assuming this is the truth, it’s all news to me. I had no idea of it, I swear. They told me –’
    ‘ They? Who’s they? Who the fuck is they ? They told you what ? That Jeb’s murder had been covered up and everybody could go home?’
    ‘My understanding was and is that Owens shot himself in a fit of depression, or frustration, or whatever the poor man was suffering from – wait ! What are you doing? Wait! ’
    Toby was standing at the door.
    ‘Come back. I insist. Sit down’ – Oakley’s voice close to breaking. ‘Perhaps I’ve been misled. It’s possible. Assume it. Assume you’re right in everything you say. For argument’s sake. Tell me what you know. There are bound to be contrary arguments. There always are. Nothing is set in stone. Not in the real world. It can’t be. Sit down here. We haven’t finished.’
    Under Oakley’s imploring gaze, Toby came away from the door but ignored the invitation to sit.
    ‘Tell it to me again,’ Oakley ordered, for a moment recovering something of his old authority. ‘I need chapter and verse. What are your sources? All hearsay, I’ve no doubt. Never mind. They killed him. The they you are so exercised about. We assume it. And having assumed it, what do we then conclude from that assumption? Allow me to tell you’ – the words coming in breathless gasps – ‘we conclude decisively that the time has come for you to withdraw your cavalry from the charge – a temporary, tactical, orderly, dignified withdrawal while there’s time. A détente.A truce, enabling both sides to consider their positions and let tempers cool. You won’t be walking away from a fight – I know that isn’t your style. You’ll be saving your ammunition for another day – for when you’re stronger and you’ve got more power, more traction. Press your case now, you’ll be a pariah for the rest of your life. You , Toby! Of all people!