Chapter 68

The first people to see the newspaper were those in the labour zone. They were the ones whose jobs started early in the morning. They were also the ones who were responsible for delivering the copies around the world. Once they saw what was on the cover, they made sure that the papers were spread far and wide.

Gossip started and phone calls were placed. Gleeful servants passed copies to their employers to enjoy with their breakfasts. The leadership towns slowly became aware of what those in the countryside already knew. The shock was no less for them than for their lowly fellow humans.

Members of the government were seeing the pictures on the front page of The Military Times. Some of them were jubilant that this might be the end for Salter, some were terrified at what it meant. Civil servants were running up and down the corridors of what had been Reading Town hall trying to decide what to do.

Nicholas Salter headed to the dining room for his breakfast thinking that it was just another ordinary day. He wanted to get into his office so that he could make further plans for his presidency. The nomination would be made at the next full cabinet meeting and the some of the plans could finally be put into practise.

He lived in a huge house and had many servants. None of them liked him very much. On a good day he was cold and indifferent. On a bad day they saw his spite. The paper had been placed on the table ready for him. The staff were gathered together outside the dining room door waiting to hear his reaction.

Where was his breakfast. He had punished his staff often enough for them to know what was coming if they were disobedient. Lateness and laziness were two of his pet hates. He opened his mouth and took a deep breath. Salter would need to bellow his displeasure to get those stupid servants running around.

He glanced down at the paper an instant before he emitted any sound. It was not his own face that he recognised first. It was the boy from the hotel who he had slept with. Once he had seen him, he was fairly sure what he would see when he looked at the rest of the picture. Then there were more photographs. Some with him in and some with other members of his inner cabinet.

Now the voice kicked in. He screamed for his car and heard the tap dance of footsteps outside the room as his servants fled. The paper had been left beside his place setting. Usually, it would be folded but it was open. All the better for him to see the pictures and the headline. He wanted to lash out, but he just did not have the time. He needed to get to his office.

He walked to the front door. The maid was looking at him. She knew. The butler passed him his hat and briefcase. He knew. The driver opened the car door for him. He knew too. The large car had dark windows, but Salter still shrank into his seat in an effort to be less conspicuous.

Alastair Barton had his copy of the paper presented to him by his wife. She had ensured that two servants were in the room at the time in case he decided to lash out at her. His face went through several shades from pink to puce before he managed to speak. As he shrieked for his car, Annabelle Barton was smiling.

Many ministers were heading for their offices. If this didn't warrant an extraordinary meeting, they didn't know what did. A cavalcade of large black cars swept through the streets of District 31 bringing members of the OWG to their place of work. They hoped that they would be in time to see Nicholas Salter take his walk of shame through the building.

Howard Cavendish, retired minister, looked at the pictures and punched the air. These were the real thing. No one had put their heads onto someone else's body. He could look closely, but he would not find the join. He was not surprised that Salter and the others were inclined to partake in this type of thing.

All of them were now wondering who had pulled this off. This was an epic undertaking which had been carefully planned. Calls had come in from around the world which confirmed how thorough the perpetrators had been. Appreciation of their endeavours turned to worry as people wondered what the repercussions would be.

Salter was met at the door of the government building by his private secretary.

"Get the others to my office. No one else is allowed in."

He stood in the vast room and surveyed the scene. Open on the table were the blue prints of his palace. He froze as he considered his fate. Should he destroy the plans and other paperwork? Could he weather this storm? Was there a way back after the publication of these pictures?

He finally read the editorial and then turned to the article written by a doctor from the hospital in District 31. The death of his wife was mentioned and the hair stood up on his arms. There was no proof that he had done anything wrong. It was just speculation. Alistair Barton arrived in a tornado of fury.

Five of the inner cabinet were gathered in his office. Salter, Barton, Rutherford and Parisi had been featured in the newspaper. They were joined by Sven Helland who had been at the party but had not been caught on camera.

"Where is Charles Davies?"

"I can't find him anywhere sir. I don't think he is in the building."

"He wasn't in the paper. He must think that he can jump ship and save himself. Bloody coward. When we have sorted this mess, he is out."

Salter stood hands on hips berating the absent Davies. The others looked at each other. No one said a word. Did he really think that they would be able to carry on after the revelations in The Military Times?

"Who is responsible for this?" Barton asked.

"Colonel Ryan produces The Military Times. This Doctor Frobisher. Daniel Ellis who wrote the editorial. There was someone at the party who took photographs. I strongly suspect that it was Eric McBride. I will find everyone involved and they will pay."

Nicholas Salter sat at his desk. He took a piece of paper and a pen and began to make notes. Alistair Barton paced whilst the other three lurked at the end of the room.

"There will be a meeting. We will be called to the cabinet room imminently. I will address the assembly and explain the many, very good, reasons why this should not affect our positions. Leave me now so that I can prepare."

"Right." He spoke to his secretary after they had left. "Get Morris, I have work for him and his thugs."

The leader of his protection squad would be sent to track down and either capture or murder those who had been behind the newspaper articles. If Salter retained his position their punishment would be covered up. If he went down at least they would go with him. He left the office when he was called to the meeting. Members of his staff followed in his wake. He would give a speech and sort this whole thing out.

Ministers were slipping in and out of each other's offices as they discussed the next move. This was the chance that a lot of them had been waiting for. They would call for Nicholas Salter and the others to resign.

The ministers who had backed Salter were now having a rapid change of heart. They could see which way this was going and they were abandoning ship. They wanted to be on the winning side once more. At the inevitable meeting they would wait to hear what was going to happen and they would then commit to whoever looked likeliest to prevail.

The cabinet was assembling and they were calling for him. Salter got the news from a terrified clerk who had been sent with the message. He looked at the blue print for his palace which was spread on a table. No. He would not resign. He would try to hang on although he would have to put his grander plans on hold.

Bristling with misplaced indignation he headed for the cabinet room. His retinue streamed after him wondering if he could perform a miracle and stay at the head of the OWG. As he strode along the corridor he was informed that a large crowd was gathering outside of the building. He issued an instruction for Markov and the garrison to be summoned to protect them.

"Gentlemen. I know that you have all seen the scandalous pictures in The Military Times. One must ask oneself why they printed these dubious images. What is the greater plan? Despite the considerable embarrassment to me I feel that it is my duty not to abandon the OWG at this time of great turmoil."