A. Zander - Moscow City

“How did you escape?” said Russell.

“I had a guardian angel. Looks like they stepped on the wrong toes somewhere along the line.”

“Whose?”

“I’ll explain everything.” Harper picked up the newspaper and put his finger on Alpha’s face. “But first things first. We have to take this guy down before he gets the crown on his head. Or we’re finished.”

“What do you suggest?”

“There’s a way. But we need to move fast.”

The noise of the crowd bounced off the high buildings on either side of the Strand and washed over Alpha as he stood and waited by side of the stage. The sea of people stretched back to Trafalgar Square. They were his people now. All of them. He turned to see Worthing’s ministerial car sweep round the corner and park up next to a metal barrier. The Foreign Secretary exited the vehicle and walked towards him with a cabal of aides following behind.

“Foreign Secretary.”

Worthing broke off from his entourage and lowered his voice as he shook Alpha’s hand. “This is a big day for the country John. There have been too many setbacks under your predecessors. Too much complacency. I want today to signal a new dawn for everyone. Let’s make sure we get some good headlines out of this. Show the public we mean business.”

“Foreign Secretary, we are in complete agreement.”

“Excellent.”

They walked up the steps to the back of the stage. Television cameras pointed towards them and around 30 journalists lined the rows at the front. Alpha spotted Varndon nearby, watching over the melee. Giant widescreens to the side of the stage introduced Worthing to the crowd.

The Right Honourable Francis Worthing, Secretary of State for Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs.

He waved as he walked towards the microphone. An enthusiastic roar came from the party faithful that made up the front half of the crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen, apologies if we kept you waiting. We are here today to introduce you to the first head of a newly created domestic and foreign security service.”

Alpha watched as the cameras flashed on Worthing.

“The national security threat is constantly evolving. To get stuck in an outdated mindset is to give our enemies the upper hand. Our appointment is a man that understands the world we live in. It is this kind of modern thinking that we need to employ if this country is to thrive and move forward. We need to anticipate all the dangers to our democracy and show that these security services we so value are still the best in the world. Now without further ado, I’d like to hand the stage over to John Tremaine.”

Alpha posed for a few seconds as more cameras flashed at the stage.

“Thank you Foreign Secretary. My….”

The sound of his voice trailed off as the speakers died overhead. Alpha tapped his microphone, but there was no sound. “Can someone…” He looked towards the technical area at the back of the stage. The crowd put their hands over their ears as the speakers emitted a loud crackle and the widescreen flicked onto plain white. The white faded, replaced by the image of two men sitting on a distant balcony. The ornate brickwork of the National Liberal Club was recognisable above them. Worthing’s face went pale as he heard his voice booming out of the speakers and saw the reporters reaching frantically for their pens.

“ I think I’ll have the lemon chicken. I’m famished .”

“What ‘s going on?” shouted Alpha. “Turn it off.”

Members of Worthing’s entourage ran towards the technical area and started shouting at the operators.

“ The Chinese are never happy .”

“ Well, all the same, they didn’t particularly appreciate us starting a small war on their patch .”

The technicians pushed and flicked switches, but the film kept playing. Alpha and Worthing stood frozen to the spot, watching their faces in horror.

“ The PM is particularly pleased that we did this without the Americans. Giving the cousins a reminder that we are still around is never a bad thing .”

“ And where is the Vitsin boy now ?”

“ We have him here in London. He’s perfectly secure .”

“ Secure is the least I expected. Is he onside ?”

“ We don’t know at the moment. He’s not saying anything .”

“ Not saying anything? What’s your read ?”

“ Honestly? I don’t think he is on our team. I don’t think he is on anybody’s team. He’s somewhat of an oddity .”

“ The priority here John is not to utilize what he has. The British government is not some casino banking operation. The priority here is to make sure it cannot be utilized by others.”

Worthing grabbed one of his aides by the scruff of the neck. “TURN THAT FUCKING THING OFF!” The crowd fell silent as Alpha paused on the screen, contemplating his answer.

“ We have certain options to achieve that .”

“ I imagine we do. I’ll leave it to your discretion, but let’s just make sure we are back to square one on this. The square when the boy did not exist .”

“ I’ll take care of it myself. You can rely on me. ”

The screen crackled and cut to Alpha walking alongside Varndon by the East London canal. The scene looked idyllic as the two men strolled side-by-side next to the water.

“ Terrorists are not the only ones that find bombs useful. We’ll hit a major city. Probably something chemical. The sight of thousands of British citizens reduced to vegetables should be enough to persuade the less enthusiastic .”

The first sentence looped over and over as the camera focused in on Alpha’s gnarled and angry face.

“ Terrorists are not the only ones that find bombs useful. Terrorists are not the only ones that find bombs useful. Terrorists are not the only ones that find bombs useful. Terrorists are not the only ones that find bombs useful….”

The journalists erupted into a barrage of shouting and questions. Alpha couldn’t take his eyes off the screen as the sound faded out and the picture disappeared. As he looked back at Worthing, the Foreign Secretary darted towards his car and away from the crowds. He searched the crowd for Varndon’s face, but he was gone. He stepped back as the angry faces in the crowd hurled abuse in his direction. A soft drink bottle landed next to his foot and the liquid exploded over his trouser leg.

“You fucking people. You fucking scum.”

He picked the bottle up and threw it back towards the crowd before turning and running back down the stairs. “Where’s my bloody car?”

“It’s over Tremaine,” said Cohen, walking down the steps after him. “You’re finished.” Alpha looked up to see Morton and Russell advancing on him from the side of the road. A line of police officers watched nervously, unsure of the right move. The noise of the crowd rose from the other side of the stage and crashed over them.

“Detain these men,” shouted Alpha. “They’re suspended police officers.”

“Stay where you are,” said Morton.

The officers looked at each other and didn’t move. Alpha backed away and looked for an escape route. Another roar erupted from the crowd and he lunged at the nearest woman police officer, wrapping his arm around her throat and pulling her gun from its holster.

“Get back, all of you,” he said, pointing the barrel at her head.

They all moved back as he dragged her towards a side road and disappeared from view. Russell went to move forwards and Cohen stopped him. “Stay where you are, we can’t risk it.”

“I’m going to try to head him off,” said Morton, heading towards the crowd.