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Chapters (45)
  1. The Man With No Face
  2. Also by
  3. Title
  4. Copyright
  5. Dedication
  6. Epigraph
  7. Contents
  8. INTRODUCTION
  9. CHAPTER ONE
  10. CHAPTER TWO
  11. CHAPTER THREE
  12. CHAPTER FOUR
  13. CHAPTER FIVE
  14. CHAPTER SIX
  15. CHAPTER SEVEN
  16. CHAPTER EIGHT
  17. CHAPTER NINE
  18. CHAPTER TEN
  19. CHAPTER ELEVEN
  20. CHAPTER TWELVE
  21. CHAPTER THIRTEEN
  22. CHAPTER FOURTEEN
  23. CHAPTER FIFTEEN
  24. CHAPTER SIXTEEN
  25. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
  26. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
  27. CHAPTER NINETEEN
  28. CHAPTER TWENTY
  29. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
  30. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
  31. CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
  32. CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
  33. CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
  34. CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
  35. CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
  36. CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
  37. CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
  38. CHAPTER THIRTY
  39. CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
  40. CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
  41. CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
  42. CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
  43. CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
  44. CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
  45. CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Kale stared up at a crack in the ceiling of his hotel room. He had one day left before the hit. He would use it well.

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER FIVE

Bannerman looked from the window of this office on the top floor of the IPC building, down into the back courts below. Mean little yards bounded by brick walls that formed geometric patterns between the terraced rows. Beyond them, against the night sky, two cranes rose high above the houses that were being swept away in the redevelopment.

He had spent the afternoon sitting in the press lounge at the Council of Ministers, drinking coffee and watching the curious rituals of the lobby men. These creatures of strange habit sat about in the lounge among the potted plants, drinking, talking, or working behind a smoked-glass screen which hid rows of desks and typewriters and a bank of telephones. From time to time groups of reporters would launch themselves suddenly from their seats as they spotted various officials whom they would follow into small rooms off the lounge, a well-practised choreography that required no apparent communication. In these tiny rooms impromptu press conferences were held. The press relations officials held court. Pens scribbled in sacred silence as the high priests delivered careful words to the scribes. The ceremonies were, without exception, performed in French. Questions were frowned upon, brushed aside. The sermons concluded, the journalists would then drift away, sometimes back to the lounge, sometimes to the press room, dependent upon whether the words were relevant to a particular country or readership. It was a strange protocol, baffling to the outsider. Only those in the inner sanctum, who could read the faces and interpret the words, were privy to its secrets.

In one corner, the Italian Minister for Agriculture, making a rare personal appearance, had delivered a diatribe to a group of excitable Italian journalists whose voices rose and fell, arms waving, frequent laughter. In another, a clutch of British reporters was gathered round a Foreign Office minister; notebooks in pockets, wary eyes on the earnest face of the minister as he spoke. Bannerman had recognised him: Robert Gryffe, Minister of State for Europe, earmarked by the Prime Minister for a senior post if the government won the election – or so it was rumoured.

Gryffe, unusually, had become a popular public figure. He had that quality, rare amongst post-war politicians, of charisma. He was an outspoken moderate, a ‘man of the people’. The tabloids loved him. And the Party had capitalized on his popularity in the run-up to the election by using him frequently in party political broadcasts. Bannerman watched him with distrust. He was gravely suspicious of men of the people.