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Tony Blair seized the initiative by calling a press conference at No. 10 for 2 pm, which would be seen by the citizens of New York just as they were waking. I don’t want to appear cynical but, at the end of the press conference, when the prime minister agreed to take questions, did you notice who he selected from a packed audience of journalists? The BBC (Andrew Marr), ITV (John Sergeant), CNN (Robin Oakley), Channel 4 (Eleanor Goodman), The Times (Philip Webster) and the Sun (Trevor Kavanagh). I sense Alastair Campbell’s skills very much in evidence: only the major television companies and two Murdoch newspapers. However, to be fair, by recalling Parliament, Blair looks like the leading statesman in Europe, and that on the day when the Tory party are planning to announce their new leader.
9.00 am
Life goes on at Wayland, so I report to the art room for my pottery class. Our clandestine accomplice has successfully smuggled in the special materials that Shaun needs to complete his art work for this volume.
11.15 am
I call Alison at the office for an update. She tells me that the pressure has shifted onto KPMG to deliver an interim report, so as not to keep me waiting until they’ve completed the full investigation which apparently now includes some accusations Ms Nicholson has made against the Red Cross which have nothing to do with me. Can’t spare any more units, as I have to speak to James tonight, so I say goodbye.
2.00 pm
Football. Wayland’s match against RAF Marham is, to my surprise, still on. Not that I expect there would have been many fighter pilots in the visitors’ team. We lose 4-3, despite Jimmy’s scoring two goals. Three of our team receive red cards, so Wayland ended up with only eight players on the field, having led 3-2 at half-time. By the way, all three players deserved to be sent off. As soon as I return to my cell, I switch on the TV.
4.00 pm
Most of the Muslim world are swearing allegiance to America, as they must all be fearful of retaliation. Yasser Arafat even gives blood to prove his solidarity with the citizens of New York. The prime minister continues to underline his support for the United States, as he considers the atrocities in New York to be an attack on the democratic world. I suspect he views this as his Falklands. Let’s hope it’s not his Vietnam.
6.00 pm
After supper Sergio convenes a board meeting. Item No. 1, he confirms that the suitcase and contents have been delivered to his friend in north London. Item No. 2. The emerald has arrived in London, with all the correct paperwork completed. Item No. 3. A colleague of his brother’s will be flying into London on Saturday, bringing with him the gold necklace, a catalogue raisonne of Botero and four photos of Botero oils that are for sale. He pauses and waits for my reaction. I smile. It all sounds too good to be true.
8.00 pm
All the news programmes are replaying footage from every angle of the American passenger jets flying into the twin towers of the World Trade Center in New York. All the commentators are in no doubt that the US will seek some form of revenge, once they can identify the culprit. Who can blame them? It’s going to take a very big man to oversee this whole operation. President Kennedy proved to be such a man when he was faced with the Cuban crisis. I only hope that George W. Bush is of the same mettle.
7.00 pm
I phone James. He tells me that he’s tired; he’s just started his new job in the City. Because of the upheaval in the American market they expect him to be at his desk by 7 am, and he doesn’t leave the office until after 7 pm. However, he confirms over the phone that the emerald has arrived, so out of curiosity I ask him what it looks like.
‘It looks magnificient, Dad,’ is his simple reply. ‘But I’ve no idea if it’s worth ten thousand dollars.’
‘When are you hoping to see the expert?’
‘Sometime this weekend.’
I don’t ask any more questions as I wish to save my remaining units for Mary.
Quite a lot seems to be happening this weekend. Mary will visit Wayland on Friday. liana will have news of the Botero paintings on Saturday. Sergio’s friend flies into London on Sunday, by which time James should have a realistic valuation of the emerald. I only wish I could read Monday’s diary now. Don’t even think about it.
DAY 57 -
THURSDAY 13 SEPTEMBER 2001
6.03 am
It was a clear cold night, and for the first time two flimsy blankets were not enough to keep me warm. I had to lie very still if I was not to freeze. It reminded me of being back at boarding school. As two blankets are the regulation issue, I shall have to speak to Darren about the problem. I’m pretty confident he will have a reserve stock.
8.15 am
I watch breakfast television while eating my cornflakes. The news coming out of Washington is that the State Department seems convinced that it was, as has already been widely reported, Osama bin Laden who orchestrated the terrorist attacks. We must now wait and see how George W. Bush plans to retaliate. The president’s description of the terrorists as ‘folks’ hasn’t filled the commentators with confidence. Rudy Giuliani, the Mayor of New York, on the other hand, is looking more like a world statesman every day. When the report switches from Washington to New York, I am surprised to observe a pall of smoke still hanging over the city. It’s only when the cameras pan down onto the rubble that one is made fully aware of just how long it will be before that city’s physical scars can be healed.
9.00 am
We’re banged up for an hour owing to officers’ staff training.
10.00 am
Pottery. I make my way quickly across to the art class as I need to see Shaun, and find out if he now has all the art materials he needs. I’m disappointed to find that he’s not around, so I end up reading a book on the life of Picasso, studying in particular Guernica which he painted in support of his countrymen at the time of the Spanish Civil War. I know it’s a masterpiece, but I desperately need someone like Brian Sewell to explain to me why.
