The Constant Rabbit

His physical appearance, I noted, was at odds with his power and influence. He was a small and ineffectual-looking man without height, charisma or any memorable features. The sort of person you’d fail to recognise if you met him out of context, the sort of person who was pushed around a lot at school and who classmates remembered – if they could at all – as ‘the quiet one’. These days he was about as cold and calculating as anyone you would ever meet, and his quiet demeanour and outwardly vanilla presence hid a steely commitment to task. He spent years at UKARP in the policy unit and barely anyone knew his name until he’d wrested control of the party in a surprise coup.

‘So what are the numbers?’ asked Smethwick who was accompanied by a small retinue of staff which included Pandora Pandora,⁴⁰ the Taskforce’s public relations guru. She was tall and thin, habitually dressed in black and with her blond hair pulled aggressively tight into a ponytail. She had the sort of cultured voice that can only be acquired through wise investment in parents, and her assistants – she had many – all looked pretty much the same: blonde, slender, dressed in black. I think they popped them out of a factory somewhere in Shoreditch.

‘We’ve got about three hundred outside right now,’ said Pandora Pandora, consulting an iPad, ‘and with a disgustingly aggressive threat from the Grand Council of Coneys and that loser Finkle to mobilise a thousand of them within twenty-four hours if their demands are not met.’

‘Can they do that?’ asked Smethwick.

‘Almost certainly, Prime Minister,’ said Whizelle. ‘From Colony One via the free movement rule. I think we’ll have to hunker down for a long wait given Fenton DG-6721’s popularity. Of all the rabbits to arrest, Fenton was probably the worst choice of all.’

‘The way in which he was detained might be interpreted by an unsympathetic judge as illegal,’ added the in-house legal representative, ‘and to the left-leaning public at large as extrajudicial overreach. They’re not human, which is legally useful, but they’re cuddly with big eyes, something the otherwise apathetic general public often finds irresistible. We’re keeping a careful eye on the platforms to see what develops.’

‘Social media?’ said Lugless with a sneer. ‘Balls. This morning it was something about a celebrity insulting another celebrity, at lunchtime it was a video of a piglet in gumboots. By this evening it will be someone you’ve never heard of saying something vaguely controversial on a subject that until now you knew nothing about. The hashtag #rabbitinperil barely trends at all these days, and every bunny outside on the street mumbling about standard deviation is one less bunny causing trouble.’

Smethwick had been staring at Lugless, probably because he hated rabbits and here, standing closer than he’d ever been to a rabbit, was a rabbit who also hated rabbits. I think it was kind of confusing for him.

‘Why was he arrested anyway?’ asked Smethwick. ‘Even I’d think twice about having Fenton detained. Justin Bieber and the Dalai Lama follow him on Instagram for Christ’s sake. None of this will play well with the leftie press, who are already winding themselves into a lather over MegaWarren.’

‘It was part of an ongoing investigation into the Rabbit Underground,’ said Flemming, who, like her or loathe her, looked after her team. ‘The threat of a LitterBomb has been raised to Alert Red status, and Labstocks recently came under suspicion.’

‘Whose investigation?’ asked Smethwick.

Lugless put up his paw and Smethwick, who I think was about to hand out a serious bollocking, decided not to. I think it wasn’t so much that he hated rabbits, than he was frightened of them.

‘Oh,’ he said instead, ‘and what evidence do you have Fenton actually is involved?’

‘He was identified by one of our Spotters as a rabbit of interest, Prime Minister. One who might have Underground connections.’

And Lugless turned to face me. All eyes swivelled in my direction and my mouth went dry. I wanted to make a run for it, but I didn’t think I’d get very far. I’d seen how fast Mr Ffoxe could move.

‘What’s your name?’ asked Smethwick. It was the first time he had acknowledged me, even though I had seen him on numerous occasions, and been introduced twice.

‘Peter Knox – Spotter Grade V, fifteen years’ service.’

Pandora Pandora tapped a note into her iPad.

‘Oh yes?’ said Smethwick, unimpressed. ‘And just how sure are you that Fenton DG-6721 was the same rabbit as that involved with the Underground? Give me a figure,’ he added, as he knew how Spotters worked, ‘a percentage likelihood of identification.’

I paused, then:

‘Less than two per cent,’ I said, truthfully enough.

‘Two per cent?’ he echoed. ‘That’s it? We’ve arrested a prominent rabbit rights activist on a lousy two per cent? What other evidence do you have?’

The silence in the room was palpable, and I shivered as a cold sweat seemed to run down my back.