The Watchers by Neil Spring Read Free Book Online

could be, and the UK is utterly dependent on the Americans. The public need to know that Britain could repel an invasion from the Soviet Union.’
    He was right about that, unfortunately. I thought of the leaflets explaining the different emergency sirens, how to protect yourself from radiation, how best to dispose of dead relatives’ bodies, but my patience was shot.
    ‘Their bases are out of control, Paul! They’re putting innocent lives at risk. If we don’t prevent serious violations of international law, who the hell will?’
    I expected him to come back at me, but at that moment there was a rapping at the door. A policeman entered, ushering in our star witness, Lieutenant Colonel Conrad Corso. Bestford stood and extended a welcoming hand to the American officer while I took my seat behind a long table at the side of the committee room, opposite high leaded windows and wood-panelled walls. My notes and files on the inquiry were spread out before me. Every document. Except one.
    I thought of the admiral’s warning with deepening unease.
    All thirteen members of the Defence Select Committee filed into the room, taking their seats around an enormous horseshoe table. John Myers, Labour Member for Lewisham, drummed his fingers impatiently on the table; Joanna Winterton, Conservative MP for Eastleigh, raked her hand through her limp brown hair. Here were my boss’s challengers and colleagues. You could see the mix of emotions on their faces as they exchanged private mutterings. Hope. Uncertainty. Fear. In their own constituencies they were in control. Not here. The shadow of the Cold War and other geopolitical tensions had forced this inquiry on them, and there was no telling the extent of the damage that it would wreak.
    ‘We should make a start,’ said Bestford, watching as journalists and members of the public took their seats on the rows of benches at the back of the room. Then, with relief, I spotted Selina – she had been seated on her own, near the windows. She had made it just in time. I smiled fleetingly but thought she looked nervous. Was it the job interview?
    ‘Welcome, Colonel Corso, to this evidence session on the defence implications of American activities on British soil. You are the deputy base commander of RAF Croughton in Northamptonshire.’
    ‘Correct.’ A thick drawl from one of the southern states of the USA.
    ‘Colonel, this committee has the power to compel any witness to swear an oath. Now, I assume or rather hope I don’t need to remind you that the NATO Status of Forces Agreement requires that US bases on British soil be fully accountable to Parliament and compliant with British law.’
    ‘I am very well aware of the law, sir.’
    ‘Well then, over the last few months we have been examining evidence relating to various United States bases in this country suspected of illegal activity. This has led to a specific allegation against your own base, which, we have heard, was the site of a deeply worrying incident in February 1963, during an anti-nuclear protest. An explosion on the base. And a series of violent arrests outside the perimeter fence.’
    He paused briefly, and I felt a sadness so intense it was equalled only by my hope.
    ‘Civilians were seriously injured. As a result of direct action taken by serving American officers. This is the reason we have asked you to come here today. We need answers. We need accountability. You understand?’
    Corso smiled confidently, fixing his eyes on my employer. And for a long moment said absolutely nothing.
    My hope turned to anxiety. Answer him, answer him!
    ‘Colonel . . . perhaps it would be fitting for you to begin with an apology?’
    ‘An apology?’ Corso squared his shoulders. His face was heavy and lined, the battle scars of a difficult career, but his smooth uniform and polished medals lent him an easy authority. ‘For what, exactly?’
    ‘People died that day – a woman blinded – all British civilians. And you have the