Katy Louise turned to the first of her two studio guests; and a stout man with a complacent expression, thick moustache and matching eyebrows filled the frame. He leaned back in his chair.
‘David Glass, Government spin doctor, or, to use your official title, Head of Communications, what more do you think you could be doing to win back the public’s trust?’
‘We are doing everything in our power,’ he replied firmly, ‘and I really do think we’re moving in the right direction. Our previous Prime Minister stepped down – despite there being no evidence he had any knowledge of what allegedly had happened – there has since been a complete cabinet reshuffle. And we have set up our own internal task force committed to rooting out any suspected rogue players. We have also halted the manufacture and distribution of Level Five driverless vehicles nationwide until the software can be patched and recalibrated. I believe we’ve gone beyond what has been expected of us by the people. I fail to see what else we could be doing.’
‘A lot more,’ came a voice out of shot. A cameraman moved quickly to capture Glass’s opposition. Sitting next to him was Libby, dressed in a knee-length blue skirt, white sleeveless top, her legs crossed at the ankle and a pair of vintage Jimmy Choos on her feet. Her face was as confident as it was determined.
‘Enlighten me,’ he scoffed. ‘Such as?’
‘The one thing your Government can’t grasp is that all the public wants is your honesty. You can sack as many prime ministers and launch as many internal investigations as you like but it won’t make a blind bit ofdifference until there is a non-partisan, independent inquiry that isn’t made of faces appointed by the Old Boy’s network.’
‘I assure you that is not the case …’
‘Then why do the police leaks reveal they’re being continually fed wrong information by your team and prevented from doing their job?’
‘As you have just heard from the PM, we will not be making any further comment on this until the police investigation is complete. These things take time.’
‘And that is time that’ll allow certain factions in your party to bury evidence and to close ranks even tighter.’
Glass shook his head and rolled his eyes in pantomime disbelief. ‘You already have what you want, Miss Dixon! Employees of the car industry, the technology affiliated with it and hard-working men and women who have created brand-new Smart Towns have all had their livelihoods ripped away from them because you and your mob wanted Level Five cars taken off the roads. Why do you want to keep punishing ordinary people?’
Libby gave a droll smile. ‘Nice try, David, but don’t try and spin this to lay the blame at my feet. Everything that’s happened is as a result of what your colleagues did in the first place. Your Government did not treat its people as equals. I didn’t want to see anyone out of work and you know it.’
‘It’s clear that you had a hidden agenda way before the events of that day. The driverless cars concept has been around since nineteen thirty nine’s New York World’s Fair but people like you refuse to let innovation develop naturally because you are selfish. You think you’ll be forced to alter your lifestyle simply because you can’t be bothered to embrace change. We’ve all seen those clips of you marching in London against the Road Revolution bill.’
‘I have no problem with innovation. And the march was long before we learned Artificial Intelligence wasn’t the enemy, it was the people behind it. You seem to forget that more than five thousand people were killed and seriously injured across the country that day, most of them low-bracket earners, white collar workers, homeless people, the elderly, the sick, the disabled – it was nothing short of genocide thanks toyoursoftware.’
From the corner of her eye, Libby saw Katy Louise place her finger inside her ear. Libby had appeared on enough live television debates to recognise when a director was prompting their presenter with off-script questions. ‘What is it that you want, Libby?’ Katy Louise asked.
‘Independent assurance and proof that new software will make non-biased decisions. It shouldn’t matter how much we earn, how well we’re educated or how we live our lives. We all have a value to society and it’s not for the Government to decide precisely how much. It’s been just over six months since the single biggest terror attack our country has ever suffered. If a foreign country had been to blame, they’d have wasted no time in bombing the hell out of it. But because these attacks came in response to the actions of people within their own ranks, they have been shockingly slow to react.’
‘And in the meantime you are happy to watch our economy go to hell in a handbasket,’ added Glass. ‘You should be ashamed.’
‘You did this yourself. The victims of this atrocity and their families need answers, justice and cast-iron guarantees. When will you be able to offer them that?’
It was in the arrogant way David Glass cocked his head that warned Libby of the direction his argument was to take. Every time she had an official on the ropes, their attacks veered towards the personal. And she was prepared for it.
‘We all saw the pathetic way you fawned over Jude Harrison and we listened to how you tried to talk the world into saving his life; clearly you had feelings for this man. Should a woman who has demonstrated poor judgement with the man who played such a pivotal part in “this atrocity” really be allowed to hold our economy to ransom?’
Libby heard the camera turn to her. Out of shot, her toes curled and her fingers clenched but she would not let Glass goad her.
‘Where do you live, Mr Glass?’
‘I don’t see how that’s relevant to my question.’
‘It’s no less relevant than what you’ve just said to me, so I’ll remind the viewers. It’s Cambridgeshire. Who did you vote for in the last general election?’
‘You are deflecting, Miss Dixon.’
‘You voted for your former MP Jack Larsson; you’ve admitted as much in past interviews. You’ve also been pictured at many social events and functions with him – in fact, didn’t you and your wife enjoy a cruise with him?’
‘How did … I don’t see the relevance …’ he stuttered, flustered as Libby removed a photograph from a pocket inside her jacket and held it up to the camera. ‘This is you and Larsson, drinking from champagne flutes on the deck of a yacht sailing from Malta to the coast of Tunisia before the hacking. Now tell me, who is the poor judge of character?’
Glass’s face reddened and his nostrils flared as he rose to his feet, tore off his microphone and stormed off the set.
Libby noticed the corners of Katy Louise’s mouth rise as she tried to suppress her joy at their head-to-head. Libby knew that within minutes the clip would go viral and Katy Louise’s programme would garner huge publicity. It wouldn’t do Libby’s cause any harm either.
‘Libby, while we are discussing Jude Harrison, what do you feel when you hear his name now?’ Katy Louise asked. Her question was not entirely unexpected.
