Part 19 - The Rest of the Robots (Monday, 30 December, 1968) The normal cabinet meeting would be on Thursday morning. But this was an emergency. The brutal assassination of Willie Whitelaw meant that affairs of state needed to be discussed urgently. Reginald Maudling, the Home Secretary, presented a sanitised précis of the briefing he had received from Scotland Yard, MI5 and MI6. All fingers of suspicion were pointing to a break-away Irish Nationalist group, the IRA Manqué. Manqué? thought Anthony Barber, the Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster, to himself. I can think of a more suitable name for a gang trying to claim for itself the name of an Irish Civil War revolutionary group. But perhaps a four-syllable word is a bit too much for the Irish. The Prime Minister wanted to make one thing clear. Despite the tragic loss of Whitelaw, there would be no cabinet reshuffle. "I intend to govern for all of the United Kingdom, without geographic fiefdoms..." Barbor exchanged glances with Robert Carr, the Secretary of State for Scotland. Was Enoch going to carry through with the implications of his statement or was it just a rhetorical point? "If Northern Ireland has educational needs, they are matters for the Minister for Education. If Northern Ireland has defence needs, they are matters for the Minister for Defence. And that is why we have decided, with the war in Vietnam all but won, to appoint General Walker as..." Iain Macleod, the defence minister, was thunderstruck. He had had a conversation with Powell prior to the cabinet meeting but they had not discussed this. Still, best not to tackle Enoch head-on in front of their cabinet colleagues. A quiet word after the meeting should sort things out.

Robert Kennedy did not need President Johnson's ugly face so close to his right now. "Goddamnit Lyndon! I gave up a Senate seat for you! You can't take _this_ away from me, too!" It saddened an old man. Johnson was used to more gratitude from his protégés. Not that Kennedy saw himself as a protégé. It was one of many things that made the youngster such a challenging Pygmallion. Officially, Kennedy had just been recalled to Washington for consultations. Privately, Number 10 had made it clear that the involvement of the ambassador and his wife in the civil rights movement, had made him persona non grata. "Bobby, Bobby, that ambassadorship was a _gift_. So you could travel in your Daddy's footsteps." Come to think of it, Kennedy père had not entirely endeared himself to the British, either. "Look, there's something I was going to tell you in the new year. I may as well say it now. Rusk intends to step down shortly. I don't want a nomination fight with the Senate regarding his replacement and, well, you'd be qualified." Kennedy noted that the President hadn't made an actual promise. But the Ambassador simmered down. He thought about how it might feel to be in charge of American foreign policy at such a challenging time. Then he thought about McGeorge Bundy, Johnson's experienced National Security Advisor[1]. Bundy might have expectations on this position. At the very least there could be fearful turf wars. "What about Bundy, sir?" "Bundy's gonna retire too, Bobby. There'll be a clean sweep of foreign relations. Got a real whiz-kid lined up to take over from him. He's coming down from Harvard tomorrow night. In fact, I'd like you and Caroline to meet him. I think you'll get a real buzz out of Henry."

(Saturday, 5 January, 1969) John Mary "Jack" Lynch, the Taoiseach of Eire, was sitting down to the supper prepared by his wife Maureen. Not for him the armies of flunkies that heads of government of more populous polities might have. But he liked the simple pace of running the Republic of Ireland. Those who worked for him he knew by name. For example, Sergeant MacGillicuddy was rostered on to guard the Lynchs' Dublin home that night. Jack thought back to the early days of the Irish Free State. The Taoiseach would have had a veritable army of bodyguards back then. Thank heavens the troubles in the North had not reached down South. Although it appeared the IRAM was attempting to use Eire as a safe haven for operations. The British Lord Chancellor had presented Lynch's Attorney General with strong evidence that two suspects in the Whitelaw outrage had fled to the Republic. The cabinet had examined the evidence and had agreed to a committal hearing for possible extradition. It had been a rough meeting, some Fianna Fail members nursed abiding hostilities against the British and the unhealed wound that was the Partition. Charles Haughey had threatened to walk out and Jack had had to take him aside and personally persuade him to stay on board. There was a ring at the door. "Who can that be on a Saturday night?" asked Maureen. "It must be someone important," reasoned Jack, "otherwise MacGillicuddy would have turned them away." He went down stairs to investigate. Upon opening the door he faced a man of medium height wearing a black balaclava. The stranger spoke in clipped tones, "In hindsight, Mr Prime Minister, it was a mistake to send O'Reilly and Macgrath to trial," before firing his pistol four times. Lynch's body fell only a few feet from MacGillicuddy's. The assassin fled. Standing at the top of the stairs, Maureen Lynch screamed. [If you'll just let me continue.]

[1] In this timeline Bundy is still serving, having not been replaced by Walter Rostow in 1966. Go figure.