The Call of Destiny (The Return of Arthur Book 1) (39 page)

‘How wonderful,’ said Arthur
gratefully. ‘He never forgets me.’

‘He never forgets people he loves.’

Arthur looked every bit as
flattered as he felt. Merlin relaxed in an armchair whilst Virgil settled down
on his master’s shoulder and closed his eyes.

Arthur pulled a face. ‘I’m not
doing very well, am I?’ Merlin stroked Virgil’s chest. ‘Politics is a rough
game.’

‘So it seems,’ said Arthur
ruefully. However rough it was, though, he had to see it through, despite the
damaging rumours, despite being disillusioned with Uther and the government,
despite his frustration with world leaders, despite all his doubts. ‘There has
to be a political solution to the world’s problems,’ he said.

Merlin raised a delicately
dubious eyebrow. ‘Has to be?’ ‘Ought to be, then.’

‘In case there is not, Camelot
is ready for you,’ said Merlin enticingly.

Arthur’s eyes dreamed as he
half remembered. ‘We visited an island, you and I . . . ’

‘Did we?’

‘You spoke of knights riding
out to do battle against the forces of darkness . . . ’ Arthur’s eyes were
clouded with pain.

‘Go on,’ said Merlin.

‘In whose name will they ride?’

‘In the name of every decent
man, woman and child in the world,’ said Merlin quietly. ‘In the name of those
whose only desire is to live in peace. In the name of the meek who will one day
inherit the earth.’

‘In the name of what government,
what international body, what court of law?’

‘If mankind self-destructs,’
said Merlin, ‘where will your governments be then? Or your international
bodies, or your courts of law?’

Even if Merlin was right . . .
’Justice must be done,’ said Arthur. ‘The rule of law is paramount.’

‘The first law of the universe
is order,’ said Merlin. ‘When chaos threatens, order must be restored, if
necessary, imposed.’

Arthur flinched.

‘I know the thought of
fighting fire with fire troubles you,’ said Merlin. ‘It troubles me too,
Arthur. But like that great king of old, you have no choice. Not if mankind is
to be saved.’

‘The wicked take the law into
their own hands,’ said Arthur. ‘If we do the same, are we any better than
they?’

Merlin leaped up. Startled,
Virgil hooh-hooed grouchily and fluttered about the room before settling on the
mantlepiece. As Merlin paced, his white robe brushed the carpet. ‘It’s the
story of Athene and Perseus.’

‘Explain, magus.’

‘Medusa, the Gorgon, turned
her enemies to stone by looking at them. Athene gave Perseus her shield to use
as a mirror so that he could overcome the monster without looking at her
directly.’ Merlin stopped dead in the centre of the room and directed his
penetrating gaze at his beloved protégé. ‘You don’t have to become your enemy,
Arthur. The face of the monster is not your face. It is the monster who is
responsible for his actions, not you. You are good, he is wicked, he uses his
power to achieve his own selfish ends, you use yours for the good of humanity,
he is cruel and immoral, you are merciful and just.’

‘You have such faith in me,’ said Arthur.

Merlin’s eyes glowed tenderly.
‘I know you, Arthur. I know you better than you know yourself.’

Head in hands, Arthur pondered until the storm
in his head subsided. ‘I still believe my way is the right way,’ he said at
last.

‘Your way?’

‘The democratic way. I believe
it is possible to use political power and influence to solve the problems of
the world. I also believe it is possible to convince the leaders of the free
world to unite in the fight against the powers of darkness.’

Merlin began to fade. ‘The
time may come,’ he said, as he and Virgil disappeared, ‘when you will change
your mind. If that should ever happen, I shall be there for you.’

 Arthur knew something was wrong the
moment he saw George Bedivere’s face. George was the most unflappable man he
knew, but for once he looked harassed.

‘Read this,’ he said, laying a
file in front of Arthur. ‘Phone me. I’ll be with Leo and Thomas.’

‘What’s up, George?’

George Bedivere shook his
head. ‘Read it,’ he said, and hurried out.

The file was stamped MOST
SECRET and it made grim reading. For several years Uther Pendragon had been
under the surveillance of MI5, and the evidence they had gathered was damning.
It seemed that when he was Minister of Foreign Affairs he had accepted huge
sums of money from Sadiq el Shaeb of the Kingdom of the Euphrates. It was obviously
no coincidence that during that same period a substantial quantity of light and
heavy arms, tanks, aircraft, missiles and high tech equipment had been secretly
delivered to the K.O.E., even though it was at the time on Britain’s list of
arms-embargoed countries. If that were not shameful enough, there was evidence
of secret arms-for-cash transactions with Colombian drug producers, and with
two rogue states – one in South-East Asia, one in the Middle East – known to
support active terrorist groups.

For a few minutes Arthur sat
staring blankly at the wall, trying to come to terms with what he had read. He
had not believed the rumours about his father, or perhaps he had not wanted to.
To see them now confirmed in black and white was devastating. Swivelling his
chair, he looked out of the window of his sixth floor office. Across the road
was Big Ben and the gothic-revival mass of the Palace of Westminster. Below lay
Parliament Square, flanked by the statues of famous statesmen – Palmerston and
Peel, Canning, Disraeli and Churchill – great men all, men of vision and
foresight, men of courage and initiative. Men of integrity. Around the corner,
Whitehall and Downing Street were out of his line of sight; Arthur presumed his
father would be at his desk in Number 10 attending to affairs of state, unaware
of the deadly danger he was in. He tapped into a secure line. After a brief
pause George Bedivere, once Arthur’s platoon sergeant, now shadow Defence
Secretary, Leo Grant and Thomas Winnington appeared on the wall screen. ‘How
did you get hold of this?’ asked Arthur.

‘A contact in MI5 gave it to
me,’ said Thomas Winnington. ‘He said he would be in deep trouble if his bosses
found out. I’m not so sure about that.’

Arthur nodded. ‘You think it
was an authorised leak?’ ‘I think MI5 are testing the waters,’ said Winnington.

Arthur rocked gently in his
chair. ‘Why would they want to do that?’

‘Speaking as a lawyer,’ said
Leo, ‘I would say a great deal of their evidence might be inadmissible in a
court of law. Some of the surveillance tactics they used were pretty
unorthodox. As you know there are strict legal guidelines about that sort of
thing. My guess is that MI5 decided it would be a waste of time sending the
report to the CPS. But there’s more than one way of skinning a cat.’

George Bedivere grunted. ‘They
want us to do their dirty work for them.’

‘Where do you stand on this,
Arthur?’ They all knew what Thomas Winnington was asking. Blood was thicker
than water, wasn’t it?

‘He has to go,’ said Arthur. ‘One way or another.’

Leo nodded. ‘That’s what we
hoped you’d say. We have to confront him with the evidence and demand his
resignation.’

‘Knowing my father, he might feel he has
nothing to gain by resigning.’

‘We’ve thought of that,’ said
George Bedivere. ‘We suggest offering him immunity from prosecution; only if he
resigns, of course.’

‘I don’t like it,’ said Arthur. ‘It smells of a
cover-up.’

‘What choice do we have?’ said
Leo. ‘In this case the end justifies the means.’

‘Dragging your father through
the courts is not going to help anyone,’ said Winnington. ‘Everyone involved
will be damaged – the security services, politicians on both sides of the
House, above all the country. Let him resign on the grounds of ill health. No
one will ask any questions, and we’ll make sure the report is never published.’

Whilst Arthur pondered, they
watched him anxiously. After a while he nodded his head in agreement and the
three men breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Who is going to wield the knife?’ he
asked.

They were all looking down at him from the
screen.

‘Forget it,’ said Arthur.
‘Don’t ask me to bring down my own father.’

‘It has to be you,’ said
George Bedivere. ‘He knows that if you make a deal, you’ll stick to it. He
trusts you. You are probably the only man in the world he does.’

Arthur took a seat on the
other side of the Prime Minister’s desk.

‘Coffee?’

Arthur shook his head.

‘No?’ Uther sipped his coffee
and sighed contentedly. ‘They make an excellent cup of coffee in Number 10.’ A
grin. ‘One of the perks of the office.’

‘This is not a social call, father.’

‘So I gather. You look like
Banquo’s ghost.’ ‘You read MI5’s report?’

‘I did.’ Uther left a void of silence for
Arthur to fill. ‘Any comments?’

Uther poured himself another
coffee. ‘I found it enormously entertaining. Always did have a weakness for spy
fiction.’

‘So none of it is fact?’

‘Lies from beginning to end,’
Uther assured him. ‘A crude attempt by my enemies to discredit me. They won’t
succeed.’

‘Then,’ said Arthur, ‘you
would not object if the report were made public?’ It was bluff, but worth a
try.

Uther toyed with a lump of
sugar. He nodded his head firmly as if he had reached a decision. ‘No sense in
playing games; it’s all true. Every word of it. For once MI5 have got it right.
So what? So I made deals with some unsavoury characters. You know how it
started? Years ago the Party was heavily in debt, we had been on the opposition
benches for ten years and we looked like being there another ten. I told the PM
I would put the Party in the black within a year, and that’s exactly what I
did. He asked no questions, he was very grateful. Before I knew it I was in the
cabinet.’

Uther had not addressed the
most distasteful accusation in the MI5 dossier. Reluctantly, Arthur wielded the
knife. ‘MI5 say you transferred money to numbered bank accounts in
Switzerland.’

Uther thought for a long time
before replying. To lie or not to lie? That was the question. For him it was
not a moral issue, he told lies every day. Damn it, he would not be Prime
Minister if he didn’t. The real issue was simple: which would serve him best, a
lie or the truth? He decided that the truth would put more pressure on his son.
‘What if I did? I had a wife and children to support. Before you judge me,
Arthur, let me remind you of something. From the day I became an M.P. I devoted
all my time to the Party, and none of it to my property business. The result
was I lost a fortune – in the service of the Party, Arthur, in the service of
the Party. Remember that. What’s more, when I asked my own son to help me
rescue my business, he turned me down. Had you done your filial duty, things
might have been different. There would have been no need for me to take
desperate measures.’

Arthur’s feelings for his
father were complex. The one certain thing was that he loved him, and nothing
Uther had done, or probably ever would do, would change that. He was acutely
and embarrassingly aware of his father’s shortcomings, but he had learned to
live with them, as one lives with the imperfections of an old house, or, for
that matter, of old friends. As for respect . . . ? Had he ever truly respected
his father? How could you respect a man whose natural inclination was to
distort and manipulate the truth, and what’s more, do it so utterly plausibly?
‘Some people would call it a gift,’ said Arthur.

Uther brightened. ‘A gift?’ he echoed
hopefully.

‘This talent you have for
misrepresenting facts and rewriting history. It is ludicrous and cowardly of
you to try to shift the blame for your corruption onto me. If you were so
concerned for your family, you should have quit politics and looked after the
business yourself. The truth is, the only person you ever really cared about is
Uther Pendragon. You wanted to get to the top, and you wanted it at any price.
You and no one else are responsible for your actions. It’s time to go, father.
For God’s sake go with dignity. It’s the very least you can do.’

Uther trembled with anger.
Never had his son, never had anyone spoken to him like this before. How dare
he! He should not have allowed him back into his life. He should not have made
that deal with Merlin. ‘I shall never resign, if that is what you are
suggesting. Never! You don’t fool me, Arthur. You wouldn’t dare publish the MI5
report. You know damn well what would happen. The scandal would destroy the New
Millennium Party. We would be unelectable for years to come. As for United
Labour, do you really think they would walk away from the devastation
unscathed? I don’t think so. And now I come to think of it, let’s talk about
you, Arthur. Is anyone going to believe you knew nothing about my little
peccadillos?

My own son? I don’t think so, my boy, do you?
You would have to kiss goodbye to your political career.’

After this harangue Uther fell
back in his chair panting. He was so short of breath that Arthur feared he was
about to have a heart attack. He waited for his father to calm down. ‘None of
us will look good, that’s true, father,’ he agreed. ‘But that’s a risk we are
ready to take. No one but you took bribes. No one else was involved. The MI5
report makes that clear.’

Uther laughed like a man
enjoying a good joke. That he could laugh at such a time was something Arthur
marvelled at. If his father was a rogue, he was a gutsy one. ‘Who believes
MI5?’ said Uther witheringly. ‘Lying and deception is their business. No,
they’ll believe me. I’ll make sure every member of the cabinet, every spin
doctor, every secretary, every under- secretary, every frontbencher and
backbencher in the Party is tainted. I’ll throw so much mud, some of it is
bound to stick. Go back to your friends, Arthur, and tell them this. They can
cut off Samson’s hair, but if they do, he’ll bring the house down on all of
them, every last one. There’ll be nothing left but dust. Tell them that, will
you.’

Arthur, George Bedivere, Leo
Grantand Thomas Winnington talked into the small hours. Everyone knew what had
to be done but no one knew how to do it. Uther was right: bring him down, and
he would bring the house down with him. Finally Arthur said, ‘If that’s the
price we have to pay, perhaps we should pay it.’

Silence.

Leo shook his head. ‘I’m
sorry, but no. I am not prepared to take the risk, I fear the consequences
would be catastrophic. Uther knows what he’s talking about; it’s not just New
Millennium, it’s the whole works that would be damaged. The people of this
country would be even more disillusioned with politics and politicians than
they are already; it would take years to regain their respect.’

‘I agree,’ said Thomas Winnington. ‘There’s too
much at stake.’

Arthur focused bleary eyes on
Bedivere. ‘George?’ ‘I’m with Leo and Thomas,’ said George bluntly.

Leo was the last to leave.
‘You said it yourself. Your father has to go. The question is, how do we force
him to resign?’

Arthur raised his arms and let
them drop helplessly by his side. ‘I really don’t know. The report is the only
weapon we have, and Uther knows we dare not publish. So what’s the answer?’

Leo shrugged. ‘It’s up to you now.’

Up to him. Was that what it meant
to be a leader? People relied on you to perform miracles. For some reason he
thought of Merlin.