God's Country

Part Thirty-Six

Small Victories

November 2019 (Continued)

Gavin Williams had two reasons for being in Covent Garden on a cold Tuesday evening in November and he managed to complete his first awkward errand just in time to make his second appointment on schedule. He handed over a brown envelope to a swarthy looking guy in a crumpled, sweaty shirt and received a smaller package in exchange. It was for Brogan, of course. He did far too much for that silly little bitch, he told himself, stuffing the package into his jacket, but she kept going on and he still felt a little guilty about stealing her initial scoop and then shutting her out of the Buckingham interview. Not very guilty to be honest, but it gave him an excuse and he did not have to admit to himself that he had other good reasons to please her. Because mainly he wanted to fuck her.

He had got nowhere with her so far, not even to first base, but he still had high hopes. She was an idealist and he was an optimistic bastard, so it was only a matter of time. Grinning at his own joke, he ducked into the side street bar only a few minutes late. It was rather dark and crowded with tourists, the sort of place any real Londoner would avoid like the plague, even one from the Welsh valleys, but he found a stool at the far end of the long bar, next to a man in a suit, a very good suit, and waved at the barman with a twenty pound note.

"Straight from the office?" Williams murmured as he pointed at the scotch in front of Alistair Forbes and held up two fingers to the approaching bartender.

"I haven't been home since Saturday...we are a small operation still, so it is all hands to the pumps." Forbes grinned, his eyes scanning faces, always aware of his surroundings, looking for danger. But he was not a well known or in any way public face. He would have been safe out in the street with a spotlight on him, and yet he did not take chances. It was a maxim of his. He could not trust anyone else to watch his back, so he watched it for himself, thinking of all the angles.

"Well you guys got off to a good start...a head start even...it's been quite impressive."

"Yes, it's quite sad really...all it takes to put the Labour and Tory boys on the back foot is a new idea...and your interview with Buckingham helped...thank you for that."

"You got me in front of him...but I liked him, as much as I like anyone. He is an interesting guy to be fair."

"He is that rare thing in politics...an honest man who means what he says. Unlike some we could both mention..."

"Oh yes, you said you might have something for me?" Williams leaned closer, well aware that Forbes had something to pass on. It was the way Westminster worked. Forbes cultivated journalists and journalists cultivated him, both sides of the fence using each other, wheeling and dealing until the time was right to use the knife. The time usually came. Williams was much too young to have come across Alistair Campbell in the Blair years, but he had heard all the stories. Forbes was of the same ilk, but he had always played fair with Williams, so there was a certain amount of trust there. Not much trust, because journalists and spin doctors were not really trusting types, but enough to work together on mutually beneficial projects all the same. And enough to accept an invitation to a quiet drink well off the beaten track, so that no one else would see.

"Gavin, my hands can't be seen within a thousand miles of this, you understand?"

"Hacks honour, I never reveal my sources."

"Good," Forbes sighed and took a big mouthful of whisky as if that was a weight off his mind. He had not expected any other answer but he had to stick to the rules. Both men knew how to play the game, but being the youngster, and supposedly the inexperienced new kid on the block, Forbes wanted to show a little mild vulnerability if he could manage it without actually vomiting. "I don't believe it is unethical...but my new employers set a lot of store by integrity...so I have to be whiter than white...but I do think there are certain things that can't be hidden from the public. Not in all conscience."