Seven Day Hero

by J. T. Brannan

  Sarah’s memories of her own childhood were not so positive, Cole knew. Her mother had died when she was very young, and she had been raised by her father. He was disinterested in the extreme, however – as well as being inordinately busy – and she had really been raised by the housekeeper, Mrs Dyson. Her father had obviously favoured her brother, always keeping him by his side when he was home, whilst he all but ignored Sarah.

  She tried to get him to like her – when he took her brother out shooting game birds, she would tag along too. She would even shoot better than her brother, but was never rewarded, and barely even acknowledged.

  But whereas she was completely disinteresting to him on a personal level, her father also insisted on interfering in every aspect of her life – education, career, friends, boyfriends – in order to make her the perfect society daughter for him to impress his friends and colleagues with.

  She had eventually got so fed up with him – his disdain and his interference – that she had left home and changed her name, wanting to have no more to do with him. And true to her word, she had not spoken to him for the past decade. Like her husband, her old family knew nothing about her new life.

  The telephone rang then, from inside the house. ‘I’ll get it,’ said Cole, and he jogged back along the sand, going in through a large set of open French doors.

  He picked up the landline handset, and an automatic message clicked on. It lasted just five seconds, and he hung up.

  What could have happened since yesterday?

  10

  Danko’s fist slammed down on the table in front of him. ‘Unacceptable!’ he announced clearly to everyone in the virtual conference room. ‘All the evidence points to China! Even after the personal guarantees given to me by Feng!’ And I’ll see to it that he pays for those lies personally, he thought to himself. He was not a man that looked easily on treachery. Indeed, he had built his political career by successfully avoiding, and sometimes directly combating, the massed hordes of backstabbers endemic in Russian politics.

  Gathering himself, he continued on apace. ‘And now this insulting rebuke, as if we ourselves are at fault! I needn’t remind you all that what we have here, just hours after its inception, is a test of our new partnership’s resolve. We simply cannot afford to be anything less than positive – assertive. Have you all so soon forgotten our aims, our long-term goals? If we are to accede the United States as the world’s greatest power, we must make a show of strength. China must be punished. We must act. Now!’ Danko once more slammed his fist down to punctuate his last word.

  His agitation was apparent to everyone seated at the virtual conference, which was being held simultaneously at thirty-one locations across Europe, over the secure Euronet satellite system.

  The Chinese rebuke of which he spoke had been released mainly due to the earlier remarks of Danko himself. Although having agreed to keep individual opinions to themselves, within minutes of the first reporters asking him questions upon his return to Moscow, Danko had declared the People’s Republic of China to be an ‘enemy of democracy’ and, when pushed further, confirmed that he would ‘do everything’ within his power to see that China was ‘suitably punished.’

  This sort of talk soon had the majority of European leaders calling for an immediate emergency session of ERA, in an attempt to tone down the rhetoric before things started to get out of hand.

  China was quicker to respond, however, and very shortly after Danko’s comments, President Tsang Feng released his own statement from the PRC Politburo, broadcast live to the whole world.

  ‘I would first of all like to offer my condolences to those killed and hurt in yesterday’s nefarious attacks,’ he began with measured authority. ‘The People’s Republic of China absolutely condemns this atrocity, as we condemn all such actions. But equally,’ he continued with increasing fervour, ‘we condemn the provocative, reactionary and ultimately racist response from the new Euro Russian Alliance. We are to blame because the attackers had yellow skin? This is the evidence that ERA seems to have used exclusively in its deductions. And we are to be punished for this?

  ‘What does this new alliance think it is? Does it think it can bully us into submission with racist arguments and empty threats? I would urge restraint, for let us not forget that we have an army of over one million faithful soldiers, not to mention other – assets – that we, unlike many, actually have the will to use, should it prove necessary. But I am sure that things will never get to this stage. I am sure that, even right now, the heads of ERA are convening to find a better solution. And if they are not, then I would certainly urge them to do so.’

  Tsang Feng’s televised statement was released around the globe at 9am GMT on Christmas morning, and came as a nasty surprise to the new leaders of ERA. Other assets? they had all thought as one. The game was increasing in danger a lot more rapidly than was expected.

  After Danko’s aggressive remarks to the other members of the conference, it was Adam Gregory who spoke next, from his position in the electronic operations centre at Downing Street. ‘Look, I agree that Feng appears antagonistic. And it is also clear that this is our first test. As such, I think that it would be foolhardy in the extreme if we were to jump into a conflict with China straight off the bat. Feng was, to some extent, laying down a challenge of sorts, but we cannot respond like children in a playground. There is a lot at stake here and we should, at the very least, wait for concrete proof before we say anything that could exacerbate the situation. As Vasilev rightly says, this is a test of our new partnership’s resolve; but I hope that we can resolve to display to the world our maturity and diplomacy in this matter, rather than our juvenile machismo.’

  There was a pause as Gregory’s peers pondered the situation. ERA could not afford to appear weak, but China’s military forces were powerful, and her government unpredictable. And it was true that there was not, as yet, any real evidence that could point directly to the involvement of the PRC.

  ‘What evidence have we managed to get so far?’ asked the Polish President, Tomasz Kandinski.

  Jan Hanneskog, the Swedish Prime Minister, picked up the bat for that one. ‘Our intelligence services have identified the origin of the attackers as Han Chinese, from the various remains. We’ve also found remnants of Chinese-manufactured assault rifles and radio equipment, and the guided missile launcher is of a type used by both China and North Korea. Although it appears that the guidance systems on both launchers were mercifully faulty.’

  ‘We know all that,’ interjected Danko impatiently. ‘Do we know anything else? Adam?’ He directed his enquiry to Gregory, as the UK was taking the lead in uniting the intelligence services across Europe. An initiative of Hansard’s, it was proposed that the EU intelligence community be run along the same lines as the British Joint Intelligence Committee. Each country was to retain its own independent services, but a European JIC was in the process of being established that would act as a ‘clearing house’ for information. There was always going to be the problem of important issues going unreported, with none of the participating nations willing to divulge everything they had, but procedures were being put in place to minimize this; all of the separate intelligence services were to be opened up to the external oversight of an EU JIC investigative body.

  Still, the world of spies and espionage was by its very nature a secret one, and nobody expected it to work perfectly. But it would certainly be better than the current situation, where countries would rarely discuss secret intelligence issues and cooperation was grudging at best. Hansard had got Gregory to argue, quite effectively, that if true European security was to be possible, then the existing system would have to change.

  And so the process had started; but it was far from complete, and in the meantime the British JIC had been expanded to take on the task temporarily. Many countries were unhappy with this, especially as her ties to the US were still regarded with suspicion in some quarters, but it was universally agreed that the UK had the most experie
nce in this field, as well as the best staff. As an example of best practice, the JIC was a fine example to follow. And to assuage the fears of other countries, each EU intelligence service had their own representative sequestered at the JIC Headquarters at Whitehall.

  Hansard, as the Chairman of the JIC and the instigator of the European JIC programme, had therefore become the de facto chief of European intelligence; if not in name, then certainly in deed. As such, Danko expected Gregory to be the EU leader with the most direct access to any new information.

  Gregory cleared his throat before speaking. ‘The international team at the Joint Intelligence Committee here in London have disseminated a full report this morning, detailing all that is presently known. All of you have a copy.’ He took a sip of water from the glass on the table in front of him, seeming to consider matters for a few short moments. ‘In essence, what we have is a group of people who happen to be from a specific Chinese ethnic group, utilising weapons and equipment known to be used by China and her allies. It certainly points a finger in the direction of the People’s Republic, but the evidence is circumstantial at best. Han Chinese are the largest ethnic group in China, and are also found all over the globe. And the weapons are available anywhere, from Afghanistan to America, to Europe itself. Thus far, we have no direct link between the PRC and the attackers. We’re working hard to identify the suspects and trace their movements prior to the attack, as well as tracing the origin of their equipment. But this sort of work takes time, as we all know.’

  ‘We do not have time!’ Danko bellowed. ‘They have already tried to kill me, and now they threaten us with nuclear weapons! I say again, we need to act, and act now!’ Once more, the giant fist slammed into the table.

  Behind Gregory in the ECR, unseen by the projected images of the other leaders, Hansard leant forwards and whispered ‘Be strong on this, Adam. Keep to the script. Remember the plan.’

  Leaning back, Hansard checked his watch. 11.05am. He would have to leave; he had a plane to catch.

  As he reached for the keypad lock on the door, Hansard once again considered his hatred of those conferences; how could decisions be reached when there were thirty-one different opinions? It was a recipe for disaster, and Hansard believed European security could never be achieved by committee. The Alliance and, later, the Confederation of the United States of Europe and Russia, needed a single, strong leader. And they would soon have one, thought Hansard as he slipped silently out of the room.

  He wasn’t worried about leaving Gregory at the conference by himself. He knew the man would deliver. After all, that was why Hansard had picked him.

  11

  Just half an hour later, Cole was in his study, facing a wall of books that lined the solid mahogany shelves stretched from one side of the room to the other. The study was curiously unlike the rest of his home. It was finished in a regal, rather old-fashioned Edwardian style, complete with large leather-faced desk, sumptuous leather wing-back armchairs and a classic chaise longue. Where the kitchen was Sarah’s preserve, the study was Cole’s own private retreat; it reminded him to some extent of the officer’s messes in which he had lived for so long. The luxury and finery were not an entirely natural part of his character, but served as a reminder of ‘Englishness’; at least insofar as he perceived it, which was itself rather old-fashioned.

  After receiving his telephone call, a recorded had voice simply announced ‘Please call your answer phone to retrieve your messages.’ The call forced Cole to immediately switch mindset. Although it was Christmas Day, dinner would just have to wait. He was being given a mission after all.

  The recorded message had told him that he had an encrypted cipher to pick up, and the only time that ever happened was when his services were being called upon by his controller in London. But before he picked up the message, he had wanted to get some quick background information on what had happened since yesterday, and so had quickly checked the BBC News website. What he found out had been more than a little disturbing.

  The belligerence he had seen in Danko during the big man’s first speech had apparently resurfaced even more vehemently, causing something of a stand-off between ERA and China. After China’s riposte, cooler heads had presumably prevailed, at least for now, and the latest statement from the Euro Russian Alliance was somewhat toned down.

  It was not entirely placatory, however; indeed, it couldn’t afford to be if the new Alliance was to retain face. And so, Cole saw, this talk of ‘other assets’, although being downplayed by ERA, was starting something of a continental panic across Europe. It was a good job, Cole reflected, that most people were too busy enjoying Christmas to be watching the news. But if the situation wasn’t nipped in the bud immediately, a real panic would soon ensue, followed by – well, who knew?

  And so, instead of sitting down to a roast dinner with his family, Cole found himself reaching for Volume IV of Churchill’s ‘The Second World War’ on the shelf directly in front of him. As he tilted the book off the shelf, a soft mechanical whirr emanated across the room as a section of the huge, solid bookcase retreated back into the wall before sliding away smoothly behind the rest. As the narrow stairway which wound its way down to the hidden basement was revealed, Cole found it hard to suppress a grin. It was terribly clichéd, he knew, but he loved it anyway. A lifetime of military training and secret intelligence work had still not jaded the excitement; inside, he was still the little boy reading his Action Force comic books and James Bond novels, dreaming of one day living that same peculiar lifestyle. It was an enthusiasm that had seen him through mission after mission, and that had allowed him to survive situations that would certainly have broken other men. He loved spending time with his family, of course; but only when the calls came from London did he once again realize that he needed the mission.

  As he quickly descended the stairs, the bookcase slid shut behind him. At the bottom of the stairwell was a rather more stringent security measure than the cantilevered book – a ten-inch thick reinforced steel door. ‘Cole,’ he said as he approached it, the voice recognition software responding to his unique vocal pattern and sending an electronic message to the control panel to the side of the door, which popped open immediately. He entered an eight digit code into the keypad, using each finger of both hands, one for each digit. The computer system accepted the code, whilst simultaneously checking Cole’s fingerprints against its files. Were Cole to be compromised, for anybody to gain access to the hidden room they would need both of Cole’s hands and know in which order each finger pressed each key; all elements were needed for validation. A retina scan onto Cole’s moving eyeball completed the checks. Overcautious perhaps, but Cole knew better than most the inherent dangers of his profession.

  The British-based team from the technical branch of SIS that had installed Cole’s basement had been subjected to drug-based memory erasure after they had completed the work. Upon their return to the workrooms at Vauxhaul Cross in London, they couldn’t even remember where they had been for the previous month.

  For the hidden room was a room of secrets.

  12

  Cole seated himself at the cipher station in the small, armoured, underground room and started the process of retrieving his message. There were quicker methods, of course, but the old-fashioned cipher was still the most secure. They had proved themselves throughout history time and again, from the famous Enigma machine used by the Germans in World War II, to the incredible complexity of the NH67 ‘Swordfish’, used by both the American NSA and the British GCHQ. This was a modified example of just that system, which was now in its eighteenth generation. The original was nigh-on unbreakable, and the new NH67 was perhaps the most secure form of communication in the world; not totally secure, as anything made by man can be broken by man; but it was near as damn it.

  After the normal, tortuous wait, the message finally came through, in plain text after the painstaking decoding:

  START PREPARATIONS FOR MISSION TYPE A STOP FULL DETAILS TO BE PROVI
DED BY C STOP C IS ENROUTE TO YOUR LOCATION NOW STOP MAKE NECESSARY ARRANGEMENTS TO RECEIVE HIM IN PRIVATE STOP SEND DETAILS BACK VIA THIS CHANNEL ONLY STOP END OF TRANSMISSION

  Cole read, then re-read the message. ‘C’ was his immediate controller, the agent handler who gave Cole his missions. It was previously accepted that after Cole’s relocation, he would have no further physical contact with his controller. And now he was coming directly to the Caymans?

  Cole turned the idea over in his mind. It was highly irregular, and Cole felt no comfort in knowing the task that the man was travelling half way across the world to discuss with him. For ‘Mission Type A’ was the coded designation for an assassination.

  13

  On board his private Gulfstream Jet, cruising at the speed of sound 38,000 feet above the Atlantic, Sir Noel Hansard struck a match and put it to the bowl of his hand-crafted wooden pipe; a genuine Meerschaum, it had been a gift from the Commandant General of Austria’s Gendarmerieensatz-kommando counter-terrorist team, better known as the ‘Cobra’ force.

  He had the cabin all to himself. Will Stern, his personal bodyguard, was also acting as pilot on this particular trip, and was ensconced in the cockpit. It was a shame they couldn’t sit together, Hansard reflected, as he enjoyed the man’s company. Indeed, the two men had been lovers for the past two years, a fact known by the two men, and them alone. Hansard’s sexual leanings had always been a matter of speculation, even though he had been married and had fathered two children. But it had always been speculation only, and Hansard had made sure it stayed that way. Although unfortunate, his lofty place in the establishment meant that it wasn’t something he wanted to make public.