‘That’s something we can let the investigators and lawyers figure out,’ said Crane. ‘The first thing is for you to talk to the ambassador and the President, so you can answer their questions and give your side of the story. After that… it’s up to the President to decide on a response.’
‘That sounds ominous,’ Nina said quietly.
The diplomat gestured down a corridor. ‘Anyway, if you’ll come with me, we’ll get started. Although first…’ His nose wrinkled. ‘Maybe you might like a change of clothes, Mr Chase?’
Eddie shook his head. ‘The President can’t smell me over a conference call, so let’s not waste time. Brice’s business is way dirtier than anything I’ve been swimming in.’
40
One of the first high-level government responses to a terrorist attack on the United Kingdom would normally be for the Prime Minister and high-ranking ministers, security and police officials to convene a COBRA meeting. The menacing acronym had disappointingly mundane origins, standing for Cabinet Office Briefing Room — the ‘A’ had at one time referred to the specific room used, sticking solely because it sounded impressive.
Today, though, the number of people upon whom Quentin Hove could call had been hugely depleted. While there had been survivors from his cabinet, major figures like the Home Secretary and the Minister of Defence were either injured or in a state of shock, in no condition to make — or question — major policy decisions.
To Hove, this was ideal.
‘Gentlemen, welcome,’ said the Prime Minister from the head of the table as the other attendees filed in. ‘I won’t say “good afternoon”, because it’s anything but. Our country — our government, our democracy — suffered a grievous attack less than two hours ago. This meeting is to determine who is responsible, and what action to take against them.’
‘We’re absolutely certain that it was an attack, then?’ asked Sir Michael Orgreave, the Cabinet Secretary and the country’s highest-ranking civil servant.
Timothy Blandford, the Director-General of the Security Service — MI5 — nodded gravely. ‘There was some kind of explosion in the clock tower. Somehow, somebody was able to get explosives through Parliament’s security and detonate them at a time that would cause maximum loss of life.’
‘Have — have we got an estimate of the casualties?’ asked Hove.
The Director-General checked a tablet computer. ‘The most recent figure is… out of the five hundred and seventy-three MPs known to be in the Commons chamber, three hundred and forty-seven are alive and accounted for.’
The number brought gasps from around the long table. ‘So over two hundred dead?’ said Tom Kingston, head of the Met’s counter-terrorism operations.
‘At least. A lot of the survivors are injured, some critically — and we haven’t yet been able to compile a full tally of the Parliamentary staff who would have been in the north wing or around the Commons. HMRC was also hit. We estimate over a hundred dead there.’
It took Hove a moment to find his voice. ‘So. Who’s responsible?’
C, sitting by himself at the opposite end of the table, spoke. ‘As you know, Prime Minister, we were discussing intelligence received by SIS concerning a new terrorist threat when this atrocity took place. I’ve since had further information. It would appear that African Caliphate, a splinter group of ISIS operating primarily out of Libya but with activities in other African states, is indeed responsible.’
The Director-General regarded his foreign intelligence counterpart in surprise. ‘Who? I’ve never heard of them.’
‘You’ll have all pertinent information by the end of the day,’ C replied. ‘But to summarise: they’re a relatively new offshoot, and it seemed unlikely they yet had the ability to carry out attacks outside their sphere of influence. It would appear that was… incorrect.’
‘Incorrect!’ spluttered Kingston. ‘They’ve brought down Big Ben! That’s a bit more than just “incorrect”.’
Hove raised his hand. ‘Please. Please. C, do continue.’
‘Thank you, Prime Minister,’ said Armitage. ‘The information we received suggested they had obtained a new type of Russian plastic explosive, undetectable by normal chemical sensors, on the black market.’
‘The possibility of Russian involvement is extremely worrying,’ said Hove. Even though he knew C’s story was just that, a fiction, he was still feeling a certain strange enthusiasm at discovering its twists. ‘Is there any chance that Moscow might be using African Caliphate as a proxy?’
‘Anything is possible with our Russian friends,’ Armitage replied. ‘The links to other African countries might also spread the net wider. African Caliphate has been connected to secessionist militias in the eastern Democratic Republic of Congo, for instance, and both Russia and China have been expanding their influence there.’
‘You’re investigating these links, of course?’
C nodded. ‘Of course, Prime Minister.’
‘Good. Then the next question is: how to reassure the public that the government is still intact and in charge, and—’
Everyone turned at a frantic knock at the door. COBRA meetings would only be interrupted if there was urgent news about the matter under discussion — or if something else of equal importance had happened. ‘Yes?’ Hove called.
A Cabinet Office aide hurried through the door. ‘Sorry to interrupt, sir,’ he said, ‘but it’s the American President.’
‘Probably wants to offer condolences and support,’ said the Prime Minister. ‘Tell him I’ll take his call as soon as this meeting’s concluded.’
‘No, no, sir.’ The official picked up a remote control. ‘He’s not on the phone — he’s making a televised address from the White House.’
‘What?’ Hove was shocked; for a fellow world leader not to speak privately to the head of a nation hit by a terrorist attack before making a public statement was a serious deviation from protocol. ‘What’s he saying?’
‘I, ah… I think you need to hear it for yourself,’ said the official, activating the video wall.
Nina and Eddie stood in the office of Simon Nadel, the US ambassador, watching the President’s speech on television. Less than half an hour earlier they had spoken to him via teleconference, telling him about events in the jungle; now, he was acting upon their information. ‘Just hope he doesn’t retaliate by nuking Britain,’ Eddie whispered to his wife.
‘I don’t think he would,’ she replied just as quietly, aware that Nadel had been appointed personally by the American leader. ‘At least, I hope not…’
President Michael Schilling continued to speak: ‘… the shocking and terrible events that took place in London a short time ago. As President of the United States, I offer our nation’s full and unconditional support to the people of the United Kingdom in their day of crisis, and I know that every American will do the same in support of our friend and closest ally.’
‘We’re still friends, then,’ said Eddie. ‘That’s good.’
‘He hasn’t finished talking yet,’ warned Nina. While she had met several of the previous holders of the office, the current president was known to her only by reputation — which was mercurial, to say the least.
Confirmation that things might change came when Schilling’s attitude visibly altered, barely contained anger entering his voice. ‘However… I have received intelligence that identifies the perpetrators of this horrific and cowardly attack. I am here to tell the world right now that, despite whatever rumours may already be circulating, we are certain that it was not carried out by Islamic extremists. Instead, we believe that the individuals responsible for the attack on the British Parliament are the same ones who caused the crash of Skyblue Airlines Flight 180 a year ago, with the loss of over three hundred lives.’