The Gulf Conspiracy by Ken McClure

lab coat. ‘The MOD has agreed to look at the position again and come back to us with a new report before the end of the year.’
    ‘ Well done. I’ll say this for you guys, you certainly don’t give up easily,’ said Drummond.
    ‘ Damn right we don’t,’ said Maclean with a conviction that even Drummond, who had known Maclean for over twenty years, found chilling. He saw in his friend and colleague the same obsession he’d seen in certain relatives of those who had died in the Lockerbie air disaster. It was as if their lives had been frozen at a moment in time.
    ‘ We even managed to get a commitment from them to make enquiries as to what was going on at Porton just before the war started,’ said Maclean.
    ‘ Good,’ said Drummond, not at all sure that he meant it. He would much rather his friend had gotten over the tragedy that had struck at his life with the death of his wife and daughter and returned to being something more like the man he had known when they were younger, the man he had gone climbing with every weekend in the Highlands, the bloke who had played the dame with side-splitting success in the hospital pantomime, the bloke he had got drunk with on his stag night and ended up explaining to the police why he happened to be tied to a lamppost wearing a nurse’s uniform at four in the morning. But that Gus had gone. They were still friends but there was no place in Gus’s life for fun any more. The Gulf War had put an end to that. The veterans’ association that Gus led was now his sole reason for being.
    ‘ It looks as if George W is determined to have another go at Saddam,’ said Drummond.
    ‘ So I see,’ said Maclean, without giving anything away.
    ‘ And taking us in with him if the papers are to be believed.’
    ‘ Where the master goes the poodle must follow,’ said Maclean.
    ‘ That’s pretty much what the papers are saying too,’ said Drummond.
    ‘ They’ve probably got teams of writers working on condolence letters as we speak,’ said Maclean bitterly. ‘Rest assured your boy did not die in vain, Mr and Mrs Smith. He died fighting for democracy, freedom, human rights and any other high-sounding crap they can come up with. Bastards. These buggers have no idea what war is really like. They pretend they do but they haven’t. And what’s more, they haven’t even begun to deal with the thousands of guys they maimed in their last little expedition to the desert sands.’
    Drummond nodded. ‘Well, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,’ he said, anxious to steer the conversation away from Maclean’s favourite hobby-horse. ‘There seems to be quite a strong body of opinion that says nothing should be done without the agreement of the United Nations.
    ‘ Aye, right,’ said Maclean, making clear his lack of any high regard for the UN organisation.
    ‘ Mary has called in sick,’ said Drummond. ‘Maybe you could cover for her in serology this morning? Make sure her juniors know what they’re doing.’
    ‘ Will do,’ said Maclean.
    ‘ Oh, and Ward Seven phoned earlier. They’d like confirmation of the menigococcus that you reported finding in patient, Robin Chester’s CSF last night as soon as possible. I take it you were called out?’
    ‘ At three this morning,’ said Maclean. ‘Just when I was getting into a deep sleep.’
    ‘ Always the way,’ said Drummond.

 
     
    Channing House
    Kent
    26 th April 2002
     
    There was silence round the table as Sir James Gardiner sat down after telling of his intention to disband the group.
    Peter Warner said, ‘I can see everyone here is as stunned as I was when Sir James told me last week. Believe me, I’ve tried persuading him to change his mind, but without success.’
    ‘ We simply must be pragmatic, gentlemen,’ said Gardiner. ‘We are sitting here on the eve of an election that’s going to see Labour in power for another five years. With our own party still in disarray and unlikely to be even able to mount a