First Among Equals

“The first Secretary of State not to be piped on board in living memory,” said Sir John as Simon made his way with difficulty, his blackthorn stick tapping up the gangplank. The captain of the Brilliant couldn’t disguise his surprise when he saw his uninvited guests and took them quickly to the bridge. Sir John whispered something in the captain’s ear which Simon missed.

“When is the next raid due?” asked Simon, staring out from the bridge but unable to see more than a few yards in front of him.

“They leave the sub at 0300, sir,” said the captain, “and should reach Brilliant at approximately three-twenty. They hope to have taken command of the ship in eleven minutes and be a mile beyond territorial waters in under the hour.”

Simon checked his watch: it was five to three. He thought of the SBS preparing for their task, unaware that the Secretary of State and the Chief of the Defense Staff were on board Brilliant waiting for them. He pulled his coat collar up.

Suddenly he was thrown to the deck, a black and oily hand clamped over his mouth before he could protest. He felt his arms whipped up and tied behind his back as his eyes were blindfolded and he was gagged. He tried to retaliate and received a sharp elbow in the ribs. Then he was dragged down a narrow staircase and dumped onto a wooden floor. He lay trussed up like a chicken for what he thought was about ten minutes before he heard the ship’s engines revving up and felt the movement of the ship below him. The Secretary of State could not move for another fifteen minutes.

“Release them,” Simon heard a voice say in distinctly Oxford English. The rope around his arms was untied and the blindfold and gag removed. Standing over the Secretary of State was an SBS frogman, black from head to toe, his white teeth gleaming. Simon was still slightly stunned as he turned to see the Services Chief also being untied.

“I must apologize, Minister,” said Sir John, as soon as his gag was removed, “but I told the captain not to inform the submarine commander we were on board. If I am going to risk 217 of my men’s lives I wanted to be sure this rabble from the SBS knew what they were up to.” Simon backed away from the six-foot-two giant who towered over him, still grinning.

“Good thing we didn’t bring the Prime Minister along for the ride,” said Sir John.

“I agree,” said Simon, looking up at the SBS commando. “She would have broken his neck.” Everyone laughed except the frogman who pursed his lips.

“What’s wrong with him?” said Simon.

“If he utters the slightest sound during the first sixty minutes he has no hope of being selected for the final team.”

“The Conservative party could do with some back-bench Members of Parliament like that,” said Simon, “especially when I have to address the House tomorrow and explain why I’m doing nothing.”

By three-forty-nine Brilliant was a mile beyond territorial waters. The newspaper headlines that morning ranged from “Diplomatic Victory” in The Times to “Gaddafi the Pirate” in the Mirror.

At a meeting of the inner Cabinet held at ten in the morning Simon reported his first-hand experience of Shoplifter to the Prime Minister. Charles was quick to follow him. “But after the overwhelming vote in our favor at the UN it must be sensible for us to postpone anything that might be construed as an outright act of aggression.”

“If the SBS don’t go tomorrow morning we will have to wait another month, Prime Minister,” said Simon, interrupting him. All eyes at the meeting of the inner Cabinet turned to Kerslake.

“Why?” asked Mrs. Thatcher.

“Because Ramadan, when Moslems fast and cannot take drink during daylight hours, will be coming to an end tomorrow. Traditionally the heaviest eating and drinking takes place the following day, which means tomorrow night will be our best chance to catch the guerillas off guard. I have been over the entire operation in Rosyth and by now the SBS are well on their way to the submarines and preparing for the assault. It’s all so finely tuned, Prime Minister, that obviously we can’t throw away such a strategic advantage.”

“That’s good reasoning,” she concurred. “With the weekend ahead of us we must pray that this mess will be all over by Monday morning. Let’s put on our negotiating faces for the Commons this afternoon. I expect a very convincing performance from you, Charles.”

When Andrew rose at three-thirty that Thursday afternoon to ask for a second time for an emergency debate under standing order number ten the Speaker granted his request, directing that the urgency of the matter warranted a debate to commence at seven o’clock that evening.

The Chamber emptied quickly as the members scuttled off to prepare their speeches, although they all knew that less than two percent of them could hope to be called. The Speaker departed the Chamber and did not return until five to seven when he took over the chair from his deputy.

By seven o’clock, when Charles and Simon had entered the House, all thirty-seven SBS men were aboard Her Majesty’s submarine Conqueror, lying on the ocean bed about sixty nautical miles off the Libyan coast. A second submarine, Courageous, was ten miles to her rear. Neither had broken radio silence for the past twelve hours.

The Prime Minister had still not heard from Colonel Gaddafi and they were now only eight hours away from Operation Shoplifter. Simon looked around him. The atmosphere resembled Budget Day and an eerie silence fell as the Speaker called Andrew Fraser to address the House.

He began by explaining, under standing order number ten, why the matter he had

raised was specific, important, and needed urgent consideration. He quickly moved on to demand that the Foreign Secretary confirm that if negotiations with Gaddafi failed or dragged on the Secretary of State for Defense would not hesitate to take the necessary action to recover HMS Broadsword. Simon sat on the front bench looking glum and shaking his head.

“Gaddafi’s nothing more than a pirate,” said Andrew. “Why talk of diplomatic solutions?”

The House cheered as each well-rehearsed phrase rolled off Andrew’s tongue. When he sat down the cheers came from all parts of the Chamber and it was several minutes before the Speaker could bring the House back to order. Mr. Kadir sat in the Distinguished Strangers’ Gallery staring impassively down, trying to memorize the salient points that had been made and the House’s reaction to them, so that—if he were ever given the chance—he could pass them on to Colonel Gaddafi.

“The Foreign Secretary,” called the Speaker and Charles rose from his place on the Treasury bench. He placed his speech on the dispatch box in front of him and waited. Once again the House fell silent.

Charles opened his case by emphasizing the significance of the United Nations’ vote as the foundation for a genuine negotiated settlement. He went on to say that his first priority was to secure the lives of the 217 men on board HMS Broadsword and that he intended to work tirelessly to that end. The Secretary General was hoping to contact Gaddafi personally and brief him on the strong feelings of his colleagues in the General Assembly. Charles stressed that taking any other course at the present time could only lose the support and goodwill of the free world. When Charles sat down he realized that the rowdy House was not convinced.

The contribution from the back benches confirmed the Prime Minister’s and Simon’s beliefs that they had gauged the feelings of the nation correctly, but neither of them allowed the slightest show of emotion to cross their faces and give hope to those who were demanding military action.

By the time Simon rose to wind up for the Government at nine-thirty that night he had spent two and a half hours in the Chamber listening to men and women tell him to get on with exactly what he was already doing. Blandly, he backed the Foreign Secretary in his pursuit of a diplomatic solution. The House became restive, and when the clock reached ten Simon sat down to cries of “Resign” from some of his own colleagues and the more right-wing of the Labour benches.