How the hell do they know we are headed to Switzerland? I just don't understand. The thought screamed though Solomon's mind, again and again. What do we do, where do we go from here? Solomon could hardly think straight, she had to remain calm she knew, panic either got you caught or killed. We have come this far, I'm not going to let us fail now, not when we are so close. She took out her map of Europe, its pages dog-eared, stained and somewhat crumpled in places. If they know we are headed to Switzerland, it is fair to suppose that we can safely go north as far as Milan. When we get there, I can decide how to proceed. There seems little point in crossing into France and then into Switzerland, as that border will almost certainly be on alert as well. Yes, we will head to Milan and go from there.
They finished their lunch and with time left before the Milan train was due to depart, Solomon had an idea. She led her daughter to the lost luggage office.
'Excuse me,' she began in her best English. 'Have you my husband's case?'
'That depends' the man replied, he had many lost cases, she had not yet given him much to go on, 'What is his name?'
'That's the thing, I have been on at him for ages to get it labelled, but he never did. It’s a small black case. I'll know it when I see it.' Solomon looked at the man, smiling gently as she did so. He looked back at her, then at Natasha.
'OK I'll see if we have it.'
He returned a short while later with a small, mainly black case more the size of hand luggage than a suitcase. He raised it up so she could see it.
'Is this it?' He asked, not really expecting a positive reply.
'Yes, yes that's it. Thank you. Thank you so much!' Solomon shrieked.
Ordinarily he would have questioned her about its contents, opening it to check. Then make her fill in a form claiming it, giving her name, address and other contact details. However, it was nearly his lunch; the case had not been officially registered yet, so as far as anyone was concerned it was never there. He handed it over.
'Here you go miss. Have a nice day.'
'Thank you. You too.' Solomon smiled again as she left and gave him a little wave. Solomon had no idea what would be in the case. She didn't even know whether she would be able to get hold of one. However, at the very least they could transfer their belongings in to it and ditch their now very tatty looking holdalls. Solomon led them to the train for Milan, which was now in the station. On board they found a quiet space and Solomon took out her Swiss Army knife, the irony not lost on her. She didn't want to damage the catch, but needed to force open the locks.
'Is it locked mummy?' Natasha asked innocently.
I wonder, Solomon thought to herself as she tried the catches. Click, Click. The case opened. Solomon returned the knife to her holdall. It was a child's suitcase, a boy's. By the look of the clothes, the boy who was missing his suitcase had been headed for boarding school. There was not much of real use however, except for a camera, hidden protectively between the layers. Solomon closed the case, clicking the catches shut again and placing it on the overhead luggage shelf. I really don't know why I did that, she thought to herself. However, part of her mind was now working on the border crossing issue and the answer, it insisted, lay in that suitcase.
17:49 12 December [14:49 12 December GMT]
Southern Siberia, Russia.
Sam followed the American Colonel to the US communications building. He returned the salutes of the two sentries on duty and took off his cap as he entered the room. Protocol dictated that no salutes be exchanged when undercover but as he passed his men, they all stiffened to attention, only relaxing once he had passed. He entered the sensitive communications room pausing whilst his and the Colonel's IDs were checked. The signals specialist handed him a headset, and then gave him a thumbs up to indicate that he could talk.
'This is General Colt.'
'Please hold for the President'
The line switched, and then he heard the Presidents voice.
'Hey Sam, you're not thinking of switching sides are you?' The President inquired.
'What, err, no. Of course not sir.'
'Good, didn't think so. Anyway, this plan of yours. Do you think it would work, assuming the Russians and Brits go for it?' The President asked.
'The plan, I believe would work, if all parties agreed to it.' Sam was being very careful with his words. He hadn't lied to the Joint Chiefs nor the President and he wanted to keep it that way. He had just found the right words from which they had inferred that it was his plan.
'OK you have your Presidents backing, go ask them.'
Sam paused, not wanting to say anything, hoping the President would correct his own mistake. He heard some muffled discussion in the background.
'Shit, sorry Sam. I meant to say you have the backing of your Commander-in-Chief.'
'Thank you sir.' Sam gently exhaled.
'Good luck. Out.' The President ended the conversation and the line went silent. That's one for my memoirs, Sam thought to himself, not that they would ever be allowed to be published. Sam headed back outside to inform Charlie that the Brits would be the last to agree to the revised exercise. Charlie was waiting outside the communications building.
'I see by your face,' Charlie began, 'that you too have approval to proceed.' Charlie positively beamed at Sam, especially as he could see the look of shock on his face.
'How did you...' Sam stammered uncharacteristically.
'How did I manage to get a positive response so quickly? Trade secret I'm afraid.' Charlie winked at Sam to show there were no hard feelings. Like the British Government would wait and jump only after the Americans. No, you still don't fully understand us, despite all our similarities. Despite all the shared history.
'Why didn't you come in?'
'Didn't want to spoil your party old chap.’ As a British officer Charlie had no authority to enter the US communications building prior to the official run-up to the exercise. However, he could have shown his NATO identification, with which he would have had access. He didn't however because this was not a NATO exercise and it just wouldn't be cricket. Besides, I really didn't want to steal your thunder.
17:45 13 December [14:45 13 December GMT]
Kremlin, Moscow, Russia.
Bondarenko had made the arrangements. He had told his aide not to disturb him until further notice. If the building caught fire, he knew his aide Sergey would evacuate without altering him. This was the kind of obedience he expected. The general switched on some music, and then he played a recording of a speech he had given previously. There, he thought, that should cover my voice. Her sat back down at his desk, unlocked the top right-hand desk drawer, and removed the Sunarr communications device. He placed it in his ear and spoke.
'This is Bondarenko'
'Report.'
'The pieces are all in place, none of them know anything other than the cover story. None. This will go like clockwork.'
'Clockwork?' The Sunarr did not understand.
'This will go according to plan.'
'Good.'
'How long before you want me to give the go-ahead?'
'We will be ready...in...three...days...' The Sunarr were still struggling with the Earth calendar.
'I am ready when you are and the plan is ready to go when you say. I have covered all of List A, most of List B and some of List C; the rest will come running to us. Especially with the display, we will give in New York. Tell me, have you let your troops know what is coming?'
'No, of course not. Why should I?' The Sunarr seemed genuinely puzzled. 'They are of no matter.'
16 Nightmares
20:45 12 December [19:45 12 December GMT]
Milan Centrale, Milan, Italy.
Another train, another destination, Solomon thought to herself as she and her daughter gathered their belongings, including the suitcase. Milan, Milan, she thought, we are almost there, so close to Switzerland. She was tired, she knew, exhausted. Poor Natasha must be too; this is no life for her, on the run, a fugitive. Sh
e wanted desperately the new life she had promised for her daughter, the safety and security of a home. Nine is no age to be going through all this...nor is twenty-five.
Solomon, lost in thought, didn’t see the poliziotti on the station. The poliziotti, members of the Italian civil police force, the Polizia di Stato, are responsible for patrolling the national rail network amongst other duties. These officers were all holding clipboards.
As she and Natasha stepped off the train, a voice boomed at them.
'You there, stop. You will both come with me.' The poliziotti was just ten feet in front of them.
Solomon's head jerked up, pointing in the direction the voice had come from. Cold fear gripped her body and soul. Natasha's hand tightened in hers.
'What, who, we haven't done anything wrong.' She stammered.
A second poliziotti stepped forward, placing his hand on her shoulder. She walked forward with the officer, Natasha in tow.
'Who are you?' The poliziotti demanded.
'We haven't done anything wrong.' Solomon pleaded again.
'What are your names?' This time in a colder, harsher tone.
'I'm Irina, this is my daughter Georgina. What is the problem?'
'You match the description of wanted criminals. You are under arrest.'
He produced a pair of handcuffs and placed them on Solomon's wrists. He looked down at the daughter, pausing as he did so. She is going nowhere without her mother, he reasoned to himself. The poliziotti lead them away from the train, through the station. They stopped at the kerb to an access road. The officer spoke into his radio.
'This is officer Pisani; I have taken into custody, one female adult and one female child fitting the description of Solomon and Natasha Bondarenko. I request a van to pick them up from Milan Centrale immediately.'
Natasha started to cry. A couple of sniffles first, then sobbing followed by a flood of tears and wailing. She was in full flow now. Solomon instinctively went to put her arms around her daughter to console her, nearly choking her in the process with her handcuffs. She pulled back, and looped her arms over her daughter's head; she still couldn't hug her properly, but managed to squeeze her tightly.
'It's OK dear, don't cry. This is all some terrible mistake. Remember policemen are good people, they are here to help us.' Solomon spoke in English, knowing both the poliziotti would be listening, hoping that in some way this would help.
If it did, neither poliziotti showed any signs. Both were experienced officers, they had seen almost everything in their careers. Even a child's tears would not affect their actions, no matter how much it tugged at their heartstrings. They both had children too. The poliziotti's radio squawked; Solomon listened intently trying to understand any of the Italian being spoken.
'This is headquarters. We have just heard from border control that the fugitives Solomon and Natasha Bondarenko have been apprehended trying to cross into Switzerland. Do you still wish to bring the suspects in?'
The poliziotti looked at Solomon still comforting her daughter. She is about my Sabrina's age.
'What do you think?' He asked his colleague in Italian.
His colleague shrugged. 'If they have them, they have them.' He replied.
The poliziotti motioned for Solomon to stand up. He unlocked her handcuffs.
'I am sorry miss.' He said in English, ‘The fugitives we were looking for have been apprehended. I am so sorry but you both matched the descriptions we had. Is there anything we can do for you both?'
The poliziotti seemed genuinely remorseful. Solomon thought about it briefly, best not to push our luck, she reasoned.
'No. That's OK officer. I am just glad it’s been resolved. May we go now?'
'Of course. Sorry to have troubled you.'
Solomon smiled at them both, took back their belongings from the second poliziotti and with Natasha's hand in hers headed back the way they had come, saying a quiet prayer of thanks and hoping that whomever the Italians had in custody wasn't inconvenienced too much.
They headed to the bus station, Solomon believing it was best to leave Milan behind them.
As she stood there trying to decipher the Italian bus timetable, the weight of everything she had been carrying lay heavily upon her; their arrest, the knowledge that both the Swiss and Italian border guards would be looking for them. She had no illusion that the mistake wouldn't be realised quickly. All of this conspired to push her over the edge. A tear escaped her left eye, gently finding its way down the contours of her face, the saltiness of it an unwelcome stranger on her lips. Another followed, and another. Her shoulders went next, heaving up and down in unison. Two small arms wrapped themselves around her waist, squeezing her tightly. Natasha said nothing; she simply hugged her mother holding one hand in hers. Solomon couldn't hold back now, the tears flowing faster and faster, the little mascara that she wore streaking down her face. Time to get out of here, she decided.
06:40 16 December [01:40 16 December GMT]
Northeast Corner and East 57th Street, New York, USA.
Jayanti awoke with a start. The cold damp sweat that covered her body had leeched into her bedding. The nightmare had come again. It started the same way every time. She was at her desk, in her office. William, her aide enters, he is carrying a tray, on it are two cups.
'Am I expecting anyone?' She asks.
'No,' William replies, 'they are both for you. You won't get a cup of tea were you are going.'
'And where is that?'
'To hell.'
She stands and walks to the door, unable to stop herself, as if she is on a moving platform. She walks down the corridor and into the lift. William is waiting in the lift for her.
'Which floor?' he asks innocently.
Jay looks at the buttons, there are thousands of them, stretching down and down, they are all labelled Hell.
'It looks like I'm going to hell.'
'Hell it is.'
He pushes a button and the doors slide shut. The lift drops fast, and she is falling. The lift jerks to a halt, stuck between two floors. There are only two buttons now, neither of which is lit, one still says Hell, the one above it Heaven.
'Looks like we are stuck here.' William observes.
The doors slide open and a bright light falls into the lift, enveloping them. Jayanti steps into the light; it dims and reveals the floor of the United Nations. She is stood at the lectern reading a speech. As her eyes scan the prompt, the words force their way from her mouth. She comes to the final sentence and reads that too.
‘...and therefore, it gives me great pleasure to welcome and introduce Shiwanevar of the Sunarr.'
Jay could see one of her security detail reach for his weapon, drawing it and taking aim at the same time.
'Free Earth!’ he shouts, firing.
The bullet, propelled by the chemical explosion in the gun's chamber leaves the barrel at over six hundred miles an hour, completing its short journey in a fraction of a second. It enters Jay's left temple, exiting the right side of her head just above the ear. She slumps forward onto the lectern, blood gushing out of the wound, her heart continuing to pump. She hears another shot ring out and sees Shiwanevar shot in the face, falling to the ground where she stood. Several more shots ring out, these from different directions. Jay's other guards have reacted, killing the traitor. Pandemonium grips the room; everyone rushes for the exits, afraid for their own lives. The room dims and Jay can only hear now, the screaming and shouting of people running for their lives. Soon, that too is gone.
Jay's heart pounds as she lies there in bed. The memory of the nightmare still with her but the fear receding, breathing deeply to calm herself. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve dreamt this now. Always the same, ending with my death in front of the world.
She pulled back the covers, but continued to lay there. Thank God I am not due to make a speech today, she comforted herself with this thought as she finally rose and headed for her bathroom.
She was home alone which did
n't help. Her daughter Sameena studying and working for NASA at the Jet Propulsion Laboratory in California. She didn't like her being so far away, but she knew that it was important to Sam and she fully supported her in achieving her ambitions. She ate a little cereal in the kitchen and sipped her morning coffee reading the early editions, the time ticking away to when her driver would arrive.
The driver noticed her sombre mood straight away. Attuned to her needs, he knew she wasn't in the mood for conversation this morning. He concentrated on the traffic, which was heavier than usual.
12:45 16 December [17:45 16 December GMT]
Office of the Secretary-General, United Nations, New York, USA.
The morning had been busy. This meant, for the Secretary-General of the United Nations, a frantic morning of meetings to attend and reports to read. Now it was lunchtime affording her a little time to catch her breath. A knock at the door. William entered, looking worried.
'What is it William?' Jay asked, concerned.
'I'm sorry; I've had to spoil your lunch. Ms. Dexter, the Head of Personnel, has been trying to arrange a meeting with you for a month now. She said, “If I can't see her today then no one in the building will be paid next week”. She really seemed to mean it so I have given her until two o'clock, sorry’ he added again.
'That's OK William, you did the right thing. Truth is I've been avoiding her, she has quite a reputation.' Jay replied.
'Should I show her in?' William inquired.
'She is here now?' William nodded. 'OK show her in.'
The Head of Personnel was an intimidating sight. She was tall, with a stocky body and a handshake like a gorilla. She reminded Jay of her gym mistress at boarding school. That sent a shiver down her spine.
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