sThe Quiet Wart (3 page)

The small country pub chosen by Allsop for the interview sat beside a large medieval church in the quaint village of Mobberley, in North Cheshire. Inside, Allsop had sectioned off an area for privacy, and judging by his familiarity with the staff, he was a regular. This was a tactic Sean had seen from many of his interviewees: their press relations staff would arrange to get him onto ‘their turf' and create some kind of perceived home advantage. It never worked, and Sean was always dying to tell them that an interview wasn't like a football match. But he let it go.

Following Clive's warnings, Sean wondered whether any of the bulky security detail that greeted him were members of some secret neo-Nazi society. They certainly looked menacing, dressed from head to toe in black suits, which did nothing to disguise the rippling muscles beneath the shiny fabric. Something still told him that it was highly unlikely though.

Allsop kept Sean waiting for a few minutes, while he made a point of chatting with the portly landlord. When he finally came over to the table carrying a freshly pulled pint of bitter, he extended his arm and smiled broadly.

‘Nick Allsop,' he said as their hands met. He looked exactly as Sean had seen him on the news: middle-aged; grey hair, neatly parted; and dressed like the country gentleman he almost certainly wasn't.

As Sean started to introduce himself, he was quickly stopped and told that he needed no introduction, that he'd followed his BW story intently. Then he congratulated Sean on a great piece of journalism and upon the important results it had created. ‘You actually stopped a war. Well done you,' Allsop said, before taking a huge gulp of beer.

The thinly veiled attempt at flattery didn't distract Sean from his mission and he started with his first question. ‘What made you want to become an MEP, given your anti-European stance, that is?' It was an easy question, designed to get the ball rolling and put Allsop at ease. Sean knew that he'd been asked the same question often, and he knew what to expect from the response.

‘I thought it was better to fight what I saw as a growing European federalism from the inside, where I hoped that I'd at least be heard.'

‘And did that work?' Sean asked immediately.

‘No. I think the people in Britain are starting to listen now, but that's taken me ten years, and as for being heard in the European Parliament, that'll never happen. They aren't interested in my views, or the views of anybody from the UK for that matter.'

‘Why do you think that is? Do you think they're offended by your comments?'

Allsop pulled the type of cheeky smirk that a schoolboy caught telling a dirty joke would. ‘Look, some of my comments have been a little edgy, I know. But when you only get sixty seconds to speak, you have to make your point memorable. And when I first started, I tried to be diplomatic and they ignored me just as much then as they do now. The truth is, they don't want to listen to anybody that sees Europe differently than they do.'

‘And how do they see Europe?'

‘As a single federal state, similar to the US.'

The straightforwardness of Allsop's answers surprised Sean. He'd been conditioned to politicians doing anything not to answer a question, but Allsop seemed different somehow.

‘And you?' Sean asked.

‘As a group of sovereign nations, cooperating on important issues.'

‘That's quite a gap. How do you think the British public sees Europe?' Sean asked.

‘Frankly, I think most people still think of it as the EEC, with free trade being its primary goal.' Allsop shook his head, making an inverted curve with his mouth.

‘Why do you think that is?' Sean prodded.

‘Because it morphed by stealth and they've never been told what the real agenda is, nor have they been consulted on their agreement to participate in it.'

‘What makes you think that a federal state is their goal, versus your goal of cooperating nations?'

Allsop chuckled. ‘Cooperating nations only need a forum to discuss common issues. A meeting four times a year between heads of state and ministers would do it. We already have that relationship with other countries, such as the US. It's not as if it's an alien concept.'

‘I guess,' Sean said, already beginning to think that his pre-held view of Allsop as the court jester may be somewhat ill-conceived.

‘So, what do you think the defining attributes of a federal nation are?' Allsop suddenly turned questioner.

Sean thought briefly; it was best not to answer questions an interviewee posed, but he'd let it go for now. ‘A separate government; currency; system of law.' Even as he was speaking, Sean realised that he'd walked straight into Allsop's trap.

Now grinning broadly, Allsop continued. ‘So, using your definition, the EU is already a federal state. It has a government, the European Parliament, of which I'm sadly a member. It has its own currency, the euro, and a central bank to manage it. It has its own laws, backed up by the European Court of Justice.' He clapped his hands together to emphasise the point.

‘How about an army or a police force? I think they could also be classified as defining characteristics of a federal state?' Sean said, quickly trying to regain lost ground.

‘What makes you think the EU doesn't have an army?'

The question made Sean feel uncomfortable. He'd prepared for the interview assuming that Allsop would be an extremist buffoon. He'd done a little research on the structure of the EU, but in reality, his knowledge was little better than that of the average man on the street. ‘Do they? Have an army I mean?' he asked.

‘Would you consider 66,000 soldiers, ready to go at the drop of a hat an army?' Allsop grinned again, knowing that he had Sean on the back foot.

‘What?' Sean said, genuinely surprised at the comment.
Is this just bull? Is he playing me?
Although it was a possibility, Sean's instincts told him that he wasn't; that at least Allsop believed it to be true. ‘Why haven't you been shouting this from the rooftops? I really don't think anybody but the political elite would know about that,' Sean questioned.

‘Would you like to read the full transcripts of my last 100 interviews? I rarely talk about anything else?'

‘Then why hasn't it been reported?'

‘It gets through to some political rags, but the mainstream media and the political heavyweights like to portray me as a racist idiot, and most of my arguments don't suit that image, so they don't get published.'

‘Are you a racist?' Sean asked, taking the opportunity Allsop had opened for him and trying to get back on the front foot.

When Allsop just laughed, he realised that it hadn't worked. ‘That old chestnut! I'd hoped
you'd
be a little more imaginative. If you mean do I dislike people for the colour of their skin or the land of their birth, then no, I don't.'

‘Then why are you so often branded one?'

‘Because it's a very easy way to discredit me. The EU debate in this country is purposely steered towards immigration, so that they can label any dissenting voices as racists. It's a simple thing to say and a hard thing to deny, as it fundamentally questions a person's character. Meanwhile, the real debate that we should be having is about sovereignty and the fact that it's been given away without even telling the British people that it's happened.'

It was a reasoned response, which took Sean by surprise. Allsop had always come across on the TV as a bit loutish and ill-considered. Now he was speaking intelligently and freely, without hesitation. ‘What do you mean by that?'

‘I mean exactly that. We have a group of faceless grey men in Brussels, creating laws that we don't want, but we have to follow. Isn't that a surrendering of sovereignty? Isn't sovereignty precisely that: the right to set our own laws and govern ourselves?'

‘I guess so, yes,' Sean reluctantly conceded another point and was starting to lose any hope that he could ever get the interview back under control.
I underestimated my opponent; a mistake I won't make again.

‘Did anybody knock on your door and ask you, as a British citizen, whether you were okay with being governed by a group of unelected officials, who hold a completely different ideology from you?' Allsop continued.

‘No,' Sean shrugged, ‘but politicians make decisions all the time without consulting the electorate.'

‘Never ones that important. In fact, there's never been a decision so important for the British people: whether to give up being British and accept that we're European; or to back out gracefully, now, before it's too late.'

‘You mean the referendum that you're pushing?'

‘Precisely.'

‘But the government have promised that it'll happen in a few years' time, haven't they?'

‘False promises designed to delay. This government doesn't think the people are fit to decide whether the UK should stay in the EU.'

‘Really? Why do you say that?' Sean asked.

‘Because if they did, they'd have the referendum now. Why wait?'

‘Isn't this all a bit paranoid?' Sean asked.

Allsop paused for the first time in the conversation. ‘Perhaps I have good reason to be paranoid.'

‘Go on,' Sean encouraged.

‘Off the record?'

‘Okay,' Sean agreed, even though they both knew that there was no such thing.

‘Since I became an MEP I've been under constant surveillance. First it was the police, then MI6. The reason I do interviews like this in pubs is because they can't bug every pub in Britain, and my guys can make sure they don't come in. But they'll be out there, waiting for me to leave.'

In normal circumstances this would have been confirmation to Sean that his subject was indeed suffering from acute paranoia, but Clive had said that the police files had been passed to the security services. He decided to take a chance and go against the agreement he had with Liz not to mention the neo-Nazi links. ‘Isn't that because you're suspected of involvement with neo-Nazis?' he asked, holding his stare, looking for the tell-tale signs of a lie: a twitch, or looking down.

Allsop did neither. He held Sean's stare and didn't flinch, but his jovial demeanour was gone. ‘Where did you hear that?'

‘Just a rumour,' Sean said, lifting his shoulders.

‘No, it isn't. I know all the rumours about me. I pay a lot of money to very good people to find them out. Where did you hear it?'

Suddenly, Sean was regretting the question, and he instinctively started to scan the room for quick exits, but there was no way past Allsop's bodyguards. ‘I just picked it up when I was doing research for this interview,' Sean bluffed.

‘Detective Superintendent Clive Miller. I know he worked with you on the BW investigation. He was in charge of the police detail following me before they switched to the spooks. I guess he's a likely candidate?' Allsop didn't break his stare.

A painful pang hit Sean's stomach, something he hadn't felt since his encounter with Brigadier Findlow. ‘It wasn't actually. I've not seen Clive since I was in hospital.'

The tension was palpable as Allsop scanned Sean's face, obviously weighing him up, before he finally looked away to order another pint of beer. ‘Look, you can tell Mr Miller and whoever your readership will be, that I'm not, never have been, and never will be a Nazi.'

‘Why should they believe you?' Sean countered.

Taking a long slurp of his drink, Allsop eyed Sean up and down again. ‘Can I trust you?' he asked.

‘To do what?' Sean replied.

‘To do your job and write a completely unbiased story, based on the facts as you see them?'

‘Yes,' Sean answered honestly.

‘Then meet me in Strasbourg next week and I'll give you the scoop of a lifetime.'

Sean hesitated. Seconds earlier, Allsop had looked like he was about to kill him. Was he just luring him out of the country after he'd mentioned the Nazi ties? Studying his face, there was no way to tell; he'd just have to go along with it. ‘Okay,' he said cautiously.

‘Good.'

They quickly agreed a place and time, shook hands, and Sean left the small pub, as Allsop ordered yet another beer.

Outside, Sean looked around for the people Allsop had said would definitely be there, but he couldn't see anybody.

*

Following the two-hour train journey to Euston from Wilmslow, Sean made his way down to Lincoln's Inn, where Liz had been meeting with the QC recommended by Clive.

‘How did it go?' he asked quietly, noting that Liz seemed upset.

‘Not great, but there's a chance. She thinks that the easiest way through is for Praew to gain the right to study in the UK until she's eighteen. Then, as an adult, she can apply for a residence visa.'

‘That sounds promising. So adoption is definitely out?'

‘Yes, and there are some conditions with the education visa and our suitability as carers.'

‘What conditions?'

‘Praew will need to maintain a high grade standard at school to remain eligible, and we're going to have to meet a suitability test as carers for her.'

‘That's a lot of pressure for her, given she's only just gone to school,' Sean commented.

‘Yes, but the lawyer was more concerned about us, and the fact that we've only been together for six months. There's a requirement for a
stable relationship
between the carers.' Liz squeezed Sean's hand tightly.

‘What does that mean?'

‘It's subjective, and down to the view of a Home Office assessor.'

‘What if we fail the test?'

‘Praew will be taken into care briefly, then deported back to Thailand to her family.'

‘Is there any alternative?' Sean queried.

Breaking her stare, Liz looked into the distance before turning back to face him. ‘She said that it would be more certain if I were alone, because there's no relationship to test, only personal suitability, which I would more than qualify for.'