No one knew for certain what to expect now.
In point of fact the whole thing could have been called off. Peking and Tucker could be waiting for the next opportunity. Peking especially had waited years already for world revolution; there was no need whatever on their part to put haste before discretion now. Shaw was extremely worried, much more so than he had let Kirkham see, as he flew westwards early that morning for Little Canyon after another emergency meeting with the Chiefs of Staff. Cancellation now meant only postponement; the threat remained. Peking would wait only until this lot had blown over and the panic measures had been relaxed, the eyes of the security services that much less vigilant. Then they and some new Tucker — or even Tucker himself if Shaw failed to take the hide-out and Tucker subsequently vanished — would strike; and the chances were that next time no-one would have the least idea of the time-table of events, even of the re-emergence of the threat.
The issue had to be forced now.
It was late afternoon in London as Shaw’s plane circled over Little Canyon.
In London’s Wellington and Chelsea barracks, and elsewhere, troops were standing by for fast movement in armoured vehicles or by helicopter — already waiting, in view of the possible leak and its incalculable potential — to go at a moment’s notice to Westminster and the television studios and Buckingham Palace, or anywhere else that might need them quickly if trouble spread. A reinforced detachment of the Guards — a detachment of near battalion strength — had already taken up quarters inside the Palace itself. All Metropolitan and City Police divisions would be at full strength next day, with the calling out of special constables, and all leave had been cancelled. The R.A.F. was ready for immediate action with its ground-to-air missiles and supersonic fighter aircraft on instant stand-by. Members of the Cabinet and their staffs, and other Ministers together with the area controllers whose duties would start with the opening of hostilities, were ready to go underground in the nuclear-attack-proof Regional Seats of Government scattered throughout the British Isles. The pattern of police and military preparedness was being repeated throughout the country, with special precautions being taken in the Midland towns and the seaports, where the White backlash would be watched for with particular vigilance by Chief Constables and military commanders. The orders, which would be firmly enforced at all levels, had been precise and to the point: in case of rioting, Whites and Blacks were to be treated with strict impartiality.
Everywhere in the meantime life was going on precisely as usual — on the surface. The evening crowds window-shopped in Piccadilly and Regent Street, unworried because there were others to worry for them and shield them from truth; later, the rush-hour mobs fought their way into homeward tubes and buses, the cars began to stream slowly out of the capital for Sutton and Northwood, Wimbledon and Epping and points north, south, east and west. Cursing the delays, cursing pedestrians, cursing the numbers of police they found everywhere, sunk in their little worlds, isolated in their cramped little wheeled boxes, not knowing what was going on across the Atlantic and what was being prepared for them in Red China, concerned only with passing the car in front, and then the car in front of that, as though their very lives depended on it.
After Shaw had been announced — as a Mr Crossley of the Dodge City and District Retail Food Store Operators’ Association — Thorssen of Pan American Associated TV looked at his secretary and said, “Leila, I’m not, repeat not, to be disturbed on any account. Right?”
“Very good, Mr Thorssen.” The girl turned away and clicked on shapely legs out of Thorssen’s room. The television boss, a big, courteous man in the middle forties with a large, completely bald head, looked across at Shaw and said, “As you’ll know, Commander, I’ve had an outline of the situation from Washington. What time do you expect the ball to start rolling this end?”
Shaw said, “As a matter of fact, there’s been a change of plan, but so far as you’re concerned, Mr Thorssen, it’s only slight. Things won’t start moving much before the time of the President’s appearance in front of the White House cameras.” He told Thorssen about the suspected leak and added, “Tucker’s still going to make that broadcast from your studio tomorrow, and he’s still going to cut out the President — only when he does so, it’ll be under orders from me. The reason for that will become perfectly clear when he goes on the air.” He paused. “By the way, you haven’t managed to identify any of your people, White or Black, who’re likely to be part of Tucker’s set-up?”
“No,” Thorssen admitted. “I’m sorry to say I don’t have a line on anyone at all. However, I can promise you I’ll be personally hand-picking the men I feel I can most rely on, to be in the studio at the time of the broadcast.”
Shaw said, “Fine… and don’t worry too much about it — there’ll be enough armament around to deal with any trouble. The special agents from Washington, my supposed food men, will be here as arranged at 1000 hours your time, and I’ll ask you to have them handy for the power switches, master control room for the particular studio Tucker’s using, and so on. You’ll know best where to position them, of course, but they must be in their stations by 1230 hours local time. With your staff standing by to feed Tucker into the system from here, we take over from the President — I’ve arranged back in Washington that he’ll be faded out just as originally planned by Tucker before the leak. When I’m ready, I’ll call the White House and give them the go-ahead on that, and then Tucker goes on the air.” He added, “I assume you have telephones in the studio that can be put through outside lines to the White House and the Pentagon? We’re fixing scrambles for the pretelecast calls but after that open lives’ll do. All right?”
“Sure, that’ll be okay.” Thorssen nodded his bald head vigorously.
“Fine. I’ll put one of Kirkham’s boys on the line to the Pentagon. He’ll keep that open so we can get reports through as to the whereabouts and intentions of the Chinese strike aircraft, which’ll be over the States at the time the President’s due to start speaking. I’ve got to persuade Tucker to send them right back where they came from.”
Thorssen asked, “How do you do that?” He sounded sceptical.
Shaw smiled slightly. “You’ll see! Well now — I make Tucker start his speech and I intercept him when he’s said enough to have got his audience. From there on out — I play it by ear.” He stood up. “I’d like to have a look around the building now, if I may, Mr Thorssen, to get the geography fixed in my mind… you’ll know what I want to see.” He pulled a long-shaped object from his jacket pocket, an object wrapped in brown paper. He said, “In the meantime I’d be grateful if you’d keep this somewhere very safe and don’t handle it more than you have too. It’s an aerosol and it’s lethal and I’d like it back after I get here tomorrow. All right, Mr Thorssen?”
“Sure,” Thorssen said. He took the aerosol gingerly but without comment, put it into his safe, and twirled the combination knob. Then he and Shaw left the room.
By the time Shaw took his leave of Thorssen he had a very clear picture in his mind of the lay-out of the building’s operational sector; and a plan had been agreed in detail for the orders and disposition of the agents from Washington. Shaw didn’t anticipate any trouble, and neither did Thorssen, in taking over all vital positions from any of the staff who might decide that Tucker was worth sticking to after all. Nevertheless Thorssen wasn’t looking too happy and Shaw didn’t blame him for that. It wasn’t every day the boss of a commercial television station was called upon to help prevent a war.…