The Long Hard Road

Chapter Seven: Affairs of Public Interest

BBC Headquarters

London, United Kingdom

30^th March 1942

Baron Edmund enjoyed his work, most of the time. Even before the Transition, a series of careful and forward-looking decisions by the BBC staff had placed the Corporation firmly at the forefront of British television – defeating Sky and the other American news services – by developing pay-per-view technology to allow immediate access to almost any program. A viewer who had paid the proper fee could access any program at once from a BBC satellite or Internet server.

He smiled to himself as he read through the briefing papers. The entire world network of reporters had – naturally – vanished after the Transition, but the BBC was recovering, moving neatly into competition with the American newspapers and radio stations. The sudden proliferation of Internet-capable computers across America, combined with the sudden development of newer systems, had threatened the BBC, but the Corporation still had what it took.

The Americans never had the imagination to see what we could do, Edmund thought, not without pride. Collecting TV licensing fees was difficult, but if you made it necessary for people to pay to watch without heavy-handedness, it made the cost of collecting the fees unnecessary. CNN had complained about hackers hacking into their systems; the BBC had simply made it easy for people to do it without committing a crime.

“And, of course, it protects Kristy,” he said aloud, and smiled. Kristy Stewart remained in Germany, sending back footage that was both approved and not approved by the Nazi elite. She’d broken the news of Hitler’s death, coming hard on the heels of Roosevelt’s death, and that of Himmler taking control. As long as the Germans didn’t pay their subscription fees – which of course they didn’t do – the fact that there was more material than the Germans knew about would remain a secret.

He glanced down at his schedule for the day. He had a board meeting later, arranging materials so that the Corporation could continue to send embedded reporters into combat alongside the British troops, and then a meeting with the American ambassador, seeking permission for reporters to be attached to the American troops. If MacArthur had remained alive, he was certain that they would have been allowed, but Patton was different.

He scowled. Patton, in one of his rare press conferences, had spoken of the need for winning the war, not of open government or his commitment to America. Eisenhower was more newsworthy, but he just didn’t have the glamour attached to Patton, who was famous for real reasons.

His speakerphone buzzed. “Sir, Jack Roberson just called and asked if you could check your email,” his secretary said. Edmund sighed; Roberson was a great presenter, but his grasp of the modern world was slight, at best. He opened the email and skimmed though; it was a proposal for a new television show, one researching the effects of future knowledge on people.

“Wasn’t it bad enough with the future criminals?” He asked. Mary McManus was doing several years in an Irish jail cell, although with all the civil unrest in Ireland she might be sent to Britain for the rest of her sentence. Women’s rights groups were already protesting, along with groups that wanted to shoot paedophiles on sight, on the grounds that all she’d done was kill a known child molester.

Still, it might be interesting, he decided, after reading through the entire notes. Not only were there criminals, like Nixon, but ordinary people who’d had affairs, or saved money their wives didn’t know about… the ripples of the Transition were spreading across the world.

Approved for further development, he noted on the email, and returned it, before looking through some of the other emails. One in particular caught his attention; a request for an interview from Bruce Coville, the Director of Overseas Reporters. Puzzled – Coville wasn’t fond of accounting for his department to anyone, the Board least of all – Edmund sent an offer of an immediate meeting. Coville accepted at once, alarming Edmund more than he had expected.

“We have something of a… situation,” Coville said, without preamble. “We may be about to be at ground zero of a major scandal.”

Edmund blinked. “As bad as the David Kelly affair?”

“Worse,” Coville said bluntly. He picked out a CD and inserted it into Edmund’s displayer without bothering to ask permission. “Observe.”

Edmund swore. The images were indistinct; most homemade pornographic movies were. A woman and a man were having sex; the woman straddling the man and moving with considerable enthusiasm. Her face was slack with pleasure and with a shock he recognised her.

“That’s Kristy Stewart,” he said, remembering. “Oddly enough, Bruce; I already know all of this.”

“No, you don’t,” Coville said grimly, as the happy couple made love with a depressing vigour, concluding together. Edmund refrained from looking at the man’s unmentionables; it would only depress him. “Sir, that video was on the web.”

Edmund flicked off the display and stared at him. “Say again,” he said. “This was on the World Wide Web?”

“Yes,” Coville said. “As you know, everything that… Miss Stewart does while on assignment is recorded.”

Edmund nodded. The MOD and several unnamed agencies had provided the equipment; cameras and data transmitters that were supposed to hide information from anyone that didn’t have the correct access codes. He hadn’t pointed it out to Stewart, but he’d thought that she knew; everything she did was recorded. Everything.

“And this is on the web,” he said. “I suppose it could be a mistake?”

“Almost every one of her… little affairs is on the web,” Coville said. “Sir, someone has done this to us.”

Edmund blinked at being called ‘sir,’ before realising that Coville wanted to pass the buck. “She’s clearly not being raped,” he said grimly. “Shit.”

Coville pressed his point. “Sir, this will destroy any suggestion that we are impartial,” he said. “You know how strong anti-German feeling is right now.”

“I know,” Edmund said. He made a grim face; Germans who had been living in Britain for years were facing discrimination on a grand scale. It was amazing how much damage an ongoing war did to tolerance and many Germans had fled to America. “Who did this to us?”

“I don’t know,” Coville admitted. “Someone could have picked the main signal off the satellite transmission, seeing that the signalling doesn’t involve pinpoint lasers any more. Alternatively, someone could have given them the recordings from within the building, one of her enemies perhaps.”

“I’m going to have to think about this,” Edmund said. “Has anyone else picked up on it?”

“Other news companies?” Coville asked. “Not so far, but it won’t be long. Some porn lover will notice that this set is real, rather than the actors who fuck for money, claiming to be someone famous.” Edmund, who remembered the Princess Diana scandal, nodded. “And, of course, Nazi chic is quite popular in some circles.”

“As are rape movies,” Edmund muttered, with genuine disgust. The imported Japanese and Chinese porn movies had even provoked questions in Parliament. Personally, he thought that the male – and female – actors who acted in them should have been shot or flogged, even if they’d claimed that everyone in the movies was paid for their… services.

“This could rebound badly on the Corporation,” Coville said. “However, I leave it all in your hands.”

“Thanks a fucking lot,” Edmund said, as Coville got up to leave. He thought rapidly; could someone in MI6 or PJHQ have released the records? Coming to think of it, might they have appeared on the intranet in those organisations and migrated onto the greater web?

He made his decision. “Sandra,” he said, calling his secretary. “Sandra, could you arrange me a meeting with the Press Secretary?”

Sandra, a short and stocky oriental woman, entered his office and bowed. “Yes, sir,” she said. Her bow exposed a great deal of cleavage and leg. “Might I ask what the meeting will be about?”

“Unfortunate affairs,” Edmund said, and smiled at his pun. Sandra, puzzled, bowed and left, leaving Edmund alone with his thoughts.

Charlene Molesworth was a bright and bubbly teenager, at least in appearance. Her long blonde hair fell over an ample bust, which she dressed to enhance, and a very tight short dress. Her contrast to Anna Hathaway, the current Home Secretary, could hardly be greater; Hathaway was a stern prim woman with grey hair pulled tightly into a bun. Everyone was expecting fireworks; the audience had been laying bets all morning.

“Good afternoon and welcome to Spotlight,” Charlene said. She’d been hosting the show for six months, mainly because of her open sex appeal. “We have here today the Home Secretary, Mrs Anna Hathaway, for a one-to-one interview.” Her tone was designed to excite men; her nude photographs sold for a fortune. “Thank you for joining us, Anna – I may call you Anna, mightn’t I?”

Hathaway gave her a sharp look. Charlene was reminded of the picture of Granny Weatherwax from the Discworld movies. “Naturally, we were more than happy to grant you an interview,” Hathaway said, without answering the question.

Someone less enthusiastic might have been daunted. “Thank you for coming again,” Charlene said. “The first question is simple; seeing we’re waging war against the Germans, what the next step going to be?”

Hathaway gave her a long calculating look. “You must be aware that we do not discuss matters of operational security on open channels,” she said. “All I can tell you is that the Government remains committed to defeating Nazi Germany and Soviet Russia as quickly as possible.”

“But not including the use of nuclear weapons?” Charlene asked quickly. “Open reports from the first time this war was fought suggest that the Germans actually managed to detonate a nuclear weapon, just before the war ended.”

“Such reports were never proven and indeed relied upon very insubstantial evidence indeed,” Hathaway said.

Charlene gave her a dazzling smile. “But would you agree that a German nuclear threat exists?”

“I would not,” Hathaway said primly. “The Germans would have to build the bomb and then transport it here. They don’t have stealth technology and they can’t build a bomb small enough to be transported on a rocket. Ergo, we are in no danger from a German atomic attack.”

Charlene nodded. “Ah, but what about biological weapons?” She asked. “Reports suggest that the Axis are in fact using such weapons in Central Asia.”

“We are confident that any German biological agent would not be ultra-nasty, like some of the creations from our own time,” Hathaway informed her. “We are also confident that we could handle anything that got loose over here – and we have warned the Germans that any use of biological weapons will result in a nuclear response.”

Charlene seized on the last point. “So there are circumstances under which a nuclear weapon would be used?”

“In retaliation for the use of weapons of mass destruction,” Hathaway said. “We will not slaughter thousands of German citizens for no cause.”

Charlene, prompted by her producer, changed the subject. “As you are aware, the preparation of bases for the United States Air Force…”

“United States Army Air Force,” Hathaway corrected.

“United States Army Air Force, then,” Charlene said. She blinked, trying to regain her train of thought. “There are bases being built for the United States Army Air Force and the United States Army,” she said. “What guarantees are there that Americans will not act in a manner like they did last year?”

Hathaway’s face flickered. “The… incidents last year resulted from a mixture of culture shock and improperness,” she said. “No one was quite prepared for what happened, including the local police.” Charlene grimaced; a SAS unit and several Army detachments had been required during one riot. “This year, several precautions have been taken, mainly intended to prevent repeats of those incidents.”

Charlene nodded. “Tell me, what about the reports that some American servicemen caught AIDS?”

“That was unfortunately true,” Hathaway said. “They slept with prostitutes and got AIDS – along with a handful of other diseases. Most of them are responding well to treatment.”

“And those who aren’t?” Charlene asked. “Do they understand the problem?”

“We have attempted to explain it to them, yes,” Hathaway said. “That, however, is a matter for the American authorities.”

Charlene nodded. “Thank you for your frank responses,” she said. “Now… Travis Mortimer, the new MP from Edinburgh, has been questioning the value of the war. What do you say to that?”

“Mr Mortimer, with all due respect, clearly isn’t aware of the scope of Hitler’s crimes,” Hathaway said. “He is an evil that has to be stopped – now!”

“He does, however, feel that a policy of isolation would keep us safe from him,” Charlene said. “Is that true?”

“Every week, a handful of V1’s makes it way past the RAF and crashes onto British soil,” Hathaway said. “Himmler isn’t going to say… ok, peace now man. They know that the only way to win is to knock us out of the war and take our technology for themselves.”

“An interesting point,” Charlene said. “On a different note, given that India agreed to accept independence very quickly, why are we still involved there? Mortimer charges that you are attempting to create a new empire.”

“They agreed on that issue very quickly,” Hathaway said flatly. “Unfortunately, the entire process is stalled because of the Princes; they want some guarantees of their position and personal power before they step down, and may of them have private armies of their own. The Nationalists, however, find this intolerable. Our involvement is the only thing preventing all-out civil war.”

“And what about the charge that British agents took part in the American coup attempt?” Charlene pressed.

If she had hoped to rattle Hathaway, she didn’t succeed. “I can categorically state that no British agents, troops, aircraft or trained animals took part in the events in America,” she said. “That was an all-American affair.”

Charlene smiled and crossed her legs, exposing her panties to some lucky viewers. “When will we launch the invasion of Europe?”

Hathaway gave her a sharp look. “I already told you that we do not discuss operational matters,” she said. “Are there any other questions?”

Charlene felt deeply-buried instincts pushing at her. She forced them down ruthlessly. “Thank you for coming on my show,” she said. She didn’t quite dare to ask for audience questions. “One final matter; what will happen to the Jews after the war?”

Hathaway blinked at the question. “That will be up to the Palestinian Government, or the Republic of Arabia, depending on how the borders end up being defined. Thanks to the Germans, a lot of Jews have fled or joined the military forces in Palestine.”

“Talk about a mess,” Charlene said. “Thank you for joining us, again.”

The audience rose and clapped as Charlene bowed to them, then the curtain came down, covering the stage and hiding both of them. Hathaway nodded once to Charlene and then left, heading off to her car and home to rest. It wasn’t that late, Charlene knew, but being on stage took it out of you.

“Coffee?” Her Producer, Brian Bruin, said. She felt comfortable around him; he had the warm body of a bear. Brian Bruin and her had been lovers for two years.

“Yes, please,” she said, giving him a hug. Enough BBC staff believed that he was gay for no one to notice the conflict of interest. She sipped the hot coffee with a sigh of relief. “What next?”

“Nothing much,” Bruin said. She quirked an eyebrow; she knew that tone of voice. “Only… how would you like a private interview with Travis Mortimer?”

Charlene grinned. “That bitch Stewart never did anything that good,” she said. “An interview with Adolf Hitler… pah!”

Bruin grinned back. “You’ll never guess what that woman has done now,” he said. “Come on; I’ll tell you about it in my office.”

Baron Edmund had never been certain what to make of Noreen Adam, who was currently serving as the poster child for strange bedfellows as a member of the Hanover Government. As a moderate Muslim, it was of course necessary to stay on her good side… except the Hanover government had more balls when confronting Asian riots than any of its predecessors.

He scowled to himself. The BBC had gotten good coverage of two riots being crushed just after the Transition. The Government had banned broadcast of the footage and he’d compiled, not wanting to make the situation worse.

“I confess, this is an interesting problem,” Noreen said. Her scarred face twisted unpleasantly; he remembered that rumour said she’d been raped badly. “It would hardly do to have the reputation of the BBC called into disrepute.”

“Indeed,” Edmund said, not altogether certain what to make of the last statement. “However, she is in Germany and recovering her might be… problematical.”

“The understatement of the century,” Noreen said. “I have been ordered to remind you that she was allowed to go on the understanding that there would be no attempt to save her if she got into trouble.”

Edmund thought rapidly. Who had ordered her? Hanover himself? One of his lackeys? “We are considering recalling her,” he said. “Under the circumstances, would the government be willing to put a helicopter at our disposal for the task?”

Noreen hesitated. “If prior arrangements are made with the German government, then yes,” she said finally. “However, as noted before… we will not risk lives to save hers. If she gets into trouble with the SS, it’s not our problem.”

“She’s going to get in trouble with the rest of the world when they see those videos,” Edmund said. “Can you pass a Press Advisory Notice on them?”

Noreen grinned at him. “They’re on the Internet,” she said. “I suppose you could sue whoever’s got them hosted on their servers, but the Government can’t control servers in America, or even the rest of the Commonwealth. Besides… why should we care?”

Edmund glared at her. “This could ruin the reputation of the BBC,” he said. “Now what do we do?”

Noreen considered. “You could always sack her,” she suggested. “Look, it’s not really within our purview to legislate on such issues. If you feel that she’s disgracing the BBC, fire her or discipline her. If not… then what harm does it cause?”