Майкл Ридпат - Launch Code

But if they both did nothing, they would both die.

Unless Bill could talk their way out of it.

Wait. Listen. Watch for an opportunity. Conquer the fear.

‘I’d like to hear why you did it, Glenn,’ Bill said, his voice calm and encouraging. ‘There must have been a good reason.’

The admiral spoke. ‘OK, I’ll tell you.’ He paused to marshal his thoughts. ‘What I learned in the Pentagon when I was working on Able Archer 83 exercise really shook me up. And then what happened on the Hamilton made it all clearer. By the 1980s the Russians were never about to grab Europe and roll their tanks into West Germany. At that stage, they were way more scared of us than we were of them. We had a stronger economy and we were building a much bigger and better nuclear arsenal. And Reagan was making our nuclear policy much more aggressive.’

‘I remember,’ said Bill. ‘He was talking about winning the Cold War.’

‘Star Wars. Cruise missiles in Europe. All that talk of the Soviet Union being an “evil empire”. It scared them, almost to the point where they were about to strike us first. And I found out later I was right. I worked with the CIA group that investigated the Soviet reaction to the Able Archer 83 exercise. The Russians really did think we were about to launch a decapitation first strike.’

‘I can believe it,’ said Bill.

‘I was really impressed by what you and Lars did on the Hamilton . So when Pat Greenwald approached me after she had spoken with you, I thought maybe I could do my bit to stop a war starting. I couldn’t change US nuclear policy, but I could help the Russians understand what we were really doing. That we were not really planning a pre-emptive strike. And that if we ever did launch missiles it would be by accident rather than design.’

‘It was worth a shot,’ said Bill. ‘That’s exactly what I was thinking. That’s what we discussed at the fort in Groton.’

‘Yes, it was. I spoke with a Russian physicist who claimed she was a peace activist. Irena. Did you ever talk to her?’

‘Yes,’ said Bill. ‘In Paris.’

‘I was pretty sure she was KGB, but I didn’t care. That was better, really. More certainty that my message would get through to the Russian top brass.’

‘I hadn’t thought of that,’ said Bill. ‘I was worried she was KGB.’ Toby was impressed by the way Bill was placing himself on the admiral’s side. In fact, he was doing such a good job of it that Toby wondered whether he really meant it. Which was of course what Bill was trying to achieve.

Toby’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He ignored it.

‘I went further than you. Told them more over a period of years until the wall came down. I wanted them to know what our nuclear strategy really was; that despite what Reagan was saying, we were never about to launch an unprovoked attack.

‘Lars knew what I was doing,’ the admiral went on. ‘He had spoken with Pat Greenwald and then put her on to me. We talked about it over the years, especially after he got out of jail in the Caribbean.’

Toby joined the dots. Bill had told Lars that Sam Bowen was on to Pat Greenwald. Sam Bowen had died. Lars guessed it was Admiral Robinson who killed Sam. So Lars had died.

Toby didn’t know whether Bill was figuring that out. Probably best not to mention it if he was.

‘I think you did the right thing,’ Bill said. ‘I’ll tell you what. If you leave Toby and me alive, I won’t mention any of this. I respect what you did. I respect why you did it. I’ll keep quiet. Like I have for the last twenty-six years. I took a risk back then to preserve peace. I killed my best friend. I understand.’

Bill’s voice was calm and persuasive. It almost persuaded Toby.

‘I didn’t mean to kill the historian,’ said the admiral. ‘I brought a knife with me in case I had to. I would have preferred not to use it, but when I spoke to Sam at the pub, he had so nearly put everything together I had to stop him. Like I had to stop Pat Greenwald before the FBI got to her.’

So it had been the admiral who had murdered Pat Greenwald in 1996, not some random mugger.

‘I get that,’ said Bill. ‘This stuff is bigger than individual lives.’

‘What about him?’ said the admiral.

‘Toby understands too. You’ll keep quiet, won’t you, Toby?’

That was Bill’s mistake. He might have got away with it if he had ditched Toby, said something like: ‘you can’t trust him but you can trust me’.

‘I understand,’ said Toby.

‘No,’ said the admiral. ‘I’m sorry, Bill. I admire what you did all those years ago. And I admired what Lars did. But he had to die. And so do you.’

Alice’s fingers reached up to a handle just above the passenger door, giving her something to cling on to.

With her other hand she pulled out her phone and called Toby.

Voicemail.

‘Toby, it’s me. For God’s sake stay clear of the admiral. We think he killed Sam and Lars and he is probably about to kill Bill. Toby, be careful! Please be careful!’

‘Shouldn’t we call the police?’ said Brooke.

‘Yeah, you’re right,’ said Alice. ‘I’ll do it.’ She dialled 999 and told the operator that she was a suspect in the Sam Bowen murder investigation and that she believed a murder was about to be committed on the cliffs above Old Hunstanton by a man who may be armed. The operator sounded sceptical but promised to send officers to the cliffs.

Megan was driving too fast for safety. Part of Alice wanted her to slow down, but part of her wanted to speed up. Of course, they might be too late. The admiral might have already killed their father. But if there was a chance — the slightest chance — that they might get there in time to warn Toby or their father, they should try to take it, even if they risked their own lives.

Alice had lost her mother. Now she was in danger of losing her father and her husband. That couldn’t happen. She couldn’t let that happen. They had to stop it. Somehow.

Realistically they were going to be too late. Alice felt the panic rise in her chest, but just managed to prevent it erupting in a scream or a sob.

‘Maybe we should wait for the police?’ said Brooke. ‘I mean, the admiral will probably have a gun. Armed police can handle the situation better than us.’

‘No!’ snapped Alice and Megan in unison. What Brooke was suggesting might be the sensible thing, but neither woman was in the mood to do something sensible.

They were on a long stretch of dark road, rapidly approaching a bend. Alice could see the headlights of another car approaching.

Megan was driving too fast.

They reached the bend, and their car drifted a few inches over to the other side of the road. That was enough. They hit the oncoming car a glancing blow, their own vehicle spun three hundred and sixty degrees, and hit a tree.

The hood crumpled. The engine cut out. The airbags didn’t deploy, but Brooke, who wasn’t wearing her seatbelt, catapulted forward into the headrest behind Alice’s head.

Alice glanced across at Megan who seemed to be OK. She was staring groggily at the dashboard. Alice looked over her shoulder and saw the headlights of the other car pointing cockeyed at a hedge. It was in a ditch.

Brooke was slumped back in the seat, her face was covered in something dark. Blood.

‘Brooke! Are you OK?’

She raised a sleeve to her nose and wiped it. ‘I’m OK. It’s my nose. It hurts but I’m OK.’

‘What do we do now?’ Alice said to Megan.

In response, she turned the ignition, which fired, slammed the car into reverse and her thrust her foot down on to the accelerator. There was a painful grinding noise, and then the vehicle pulled back into the road. Megan put the gear in drive. The car crunched forward slowly, and then there was a clatter as something fell off the front, and the car drove free along the road. Only one headlight beam was working.