The Dying Diplomats Club by Matthew Benns

Author:Matthew Benns
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2021-05-05T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 16

The Reckoning

‘What was it?’ La Contessa asked Monaro. ‘What on earth could be worth so much destruction?’

‘Prime Minister, may I caution you that this matter has been buried and forgotten for years,’ warned Sir Aiden. ‘I would counsel you that it may not be in anyone’s best interest to bring it up again. Certainly not now.’

‘I’m sorry, Aiden: two of my dearest friends and colleagues are lying dead because of what happened all those years ago,’ said the Prime Minister. ‘This matter has been hidden for long enough. And now is definitely the right time for it to finally be brought into the open.’

‘No, Robert, you don’t have to do this,’ said Karen, putting her hand on top of his and looking imploringly into his eyes. ‘You have so much to lose.’

At the opposite end of the table, two bright red dots flared on Patricia’s cheeks at the overt display of affection and concern. La Contessa quickly got to her feet, walked around the table and rested a supportive hand on her friend’s shoulder. Patricia briefly laid her cheek on La Contessa’s hand, closing her eyes, before rallying and straightening up to look down the table at her husband again.

‘This has been hanging over my head, our heads, for too long,’ said Monaro. ‘I can see that now. It’s been a mistake to try and hide it all these years. I’m glad finally to get it out in the open and to hell with the consequences. You have already heard what Alex, Charlie and I went through to get to the school. We arrived at dusk and waited for the sun to set and the prayers to finish before reconnoitring the perimeter.’

Monaro paused and took a sip of the wine in front of him before carrying on. His audience sat in rapt anticipation.

‘Charlie went left with the Para Minimi light machine gun and Alex went right. I was primed to go in through the front door once they were in defilade and ready to catch those inside in a crossfire. I managed to get a look through the crack of the door and Armand’s description is right: they were a few men preparing for jihad. We couldn’t tell their ages but there were a couple of instructors who were clearly senior, psyching the others up for their suicide missions the next morning. We had to stop them. Alex and Charlie told me they were in position through the radio headsets and we . . .’

The Prime Minister stopped, looking down at the white linen tablecloth, the scene replaying in his memory, his face a mask of grief and shame. Silence stretched across the room.

‘Even though they were terrorists intent on killing innocent people, we had to be better than them. Otherwise what is the point of it all? I had to give them a chance,’ Monaro said. ‘I stepped into the room and shouted for them to put down their weapons and put their hands up. The last part in Arabic.

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