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Less than a minute later Urquhart was smiling his way through an apology to his Ministerial colleague, who was still in high spirits as he left, having thanked Urquhart for - as he put it - 'an exceptionally stimulating evening'.
As soon as Woolton had stepped outside, Urquhart's mood changed. His brow furrowed with concern as he locked the door from the inside, testing the handle to make absolutely certain it was closed. He wasted no time in pulling the blinds down over the windows, and only when he was certain that he could not be observed did he place the red box gingerly on the desk.
He examined the box carefully for any signs of tampering, and then selected a key from the large bunch which he produced from his pocket, sliding it carefully into the lock. As the lid came up, it exposed a thick slab of polystyrene packing which entirely filled the box. He extracted the polystyrene and laid it to one side before turning the box on its end. Delicately he eased up the corner of a strip of four-inch surgical tape which had been stuck across most of the side wall of the box, gently peeling it back until it revealed a small recess carved right through the wooden wall until only the rough red leather covering stood between the recess and the outside world.
Externally there was no sign that the leather covered anything other than a solid piece of wood, and he complimented himself that he had not forgotten the art of using a wood chisel which he had learned at school nearly fifty years before. The recess measured no more than two inches square, and snuggling neatly in its middle was a radio transmitter complete with its own miniaturised mercury power pack, compliments of its Japanese manufacturer.
The manager of the security shop just off the Tottenham Court Road which he had visited two weeks earlier had displayed a carefully practised mask of indifference as Urquhart had explained his need to check up on a dishonest employee, yet had shown great enthusiasm in describing the full capabilities of the equipment he could supply. This was one of the simplest yet most sensitive transmitters on the market, he had explained, which was guaranteed to pick up almost any unobstructed sound within a distance of fifty metres and relay it back to the custom-built receiver and voice-activated tape recorder, which he also highly recommended.
'Just make sure the microphone is pointing generally towards the source of the sound, sir, and I guarantee it will sound like a Mahler Symphony'
Urquhart went over to his wardrobe and from the back pulled out another Ministerial red box. Like all such boxes, this one was secured with a precision-made, high-security tungsten lock for which he alone had the keys. Inside, nestling in another protective wrapping of polystyrene, sat a modified FM portable radio with inbuilt cassette recorder which was tuned to the wavelength of the transmitter. Urquhart noticed with satisfaction that the long-playing tape he had installed was all but exhausted. He had left the radio transmitter in Woolton's room pointing towards the bed.
'I hope it's not simply because he snores,' Urquhart joked with himself. As he did so, the equipment clicked once more into action, ran for ten seconds, and stopped.
He pressed the rewind button and was watching the twin reels spin round when the telephone rang, summoning him to the Prime Minister for yet another 'plumbing lesson', as he called it.
'Never mind, you'll wait,' he whispered, and relocked both boxes before concealing them in the back of his wardrobe. He was reliving the explosion of excitement he had felt when he had set his first rabbit trap on his father's estate with the help of the gillie. They had gone out into the warm evening air to lay the trap together, but Urquhart could not contain his impatience and had returned alone before dawn the following morning, to find the creature swinging helplessly from the snare.
'Got you!' he exclaimed in triumph.
SATURDAY 16th OCTOBER
It was not just the Telegraph which, the day after the Prime Minister's speech, declared it to be a disaster. It was joined in varying degrees by all the other newspapers, several Government backbenchers, and the Leader of the Opposition. Particularly the Leader of the Opposition, whose animated braying appeared for all the world like a hound which had just scented the first sign of real vulnerability in its prey.
The loss of the Dorset East by-election, when the news had burst on the conference in the early hours of Friday morning, had at first numbed the party faithful. It had taken them until breakfast time before they began to vent their frustration and disillusionment, and there had been only one target - Henry Collingridge.
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