Page 125 of Ransom

“He usually is.”

“When shall I tell him to expect your call?”

“When our meeting is over, I imagine.”

“I’ll let him know,” said Sloane with a smile, and withdrew. Lancaster looked at Prime Minister Kalla Eriksen, who was seated to his right. “The American president,” he said sotto voce, “would like a word.”

“If it’s about Greenland,” she whispered in reply, “tell him it belongs to Denmark.”

“Don’t worry, I already have.”

“So have I,” she said. “But he doesn’t seem to get the message.”

After reaching broad agreement on the aid package, the leaders turned to the thorny issue of seizing frozen Russian assets. Twenty minutes into the discussion, Geoffrey Sloane once again stole silently into the Pillared Room, note in hand.

“Is it really that serious?” asked Lancaster.

“Apparently so.”

Lancaster rose to his feet and, with apologies to his four counterparts, followed his chief of staff into the White Drawing Room. Graham Seymour and Christopher Keller were waiting for him. The tension in the small chamber was palpable.

“This had better be good,” said Lancaster.

“I’m afraid it isn’t,” replied Graham. “Quite the opposite, in fact.”

53

Number 10

It was Graham Seymour’s practice to provide his customers in the British government with the intelligence they needed to make critical decisions, but rarely did he divulge how that intelligence had been collected, especially when allied foreign services were involved. To that end, he had neglected to tell his primary customer, Prime Minister Jonathan Lancaster, that the Dutch intelligence service had digitally burrowed into what appeared to be a drone control room at GRU headquarters in Moscow. He did so now, as succinctly as possible. Then he informed the prime minister that cyberwarriors from the Dutch intelligence service were at that moment staring at ten drone operators sitting at their control stations.

Lancaster, always cool under fire, was unruffled. “And the Dutch are absolutely certain that they’re drone operators?”

“Few things in the intelligence business are certain,” replied Graham. “But I strongly suggest that we take additional measures to protect you and the other leaders.”

“What more can we do?”

Graham answered without hesitation. “You need to leave, Prime Minister. All of you.”

“Leave?”

“Evacuate,” said Graham carefully.

“To where?”

“The Citadel.” It was a secure underground command center located beneath the Cabinet Office. “You and your colleagues can make your way there through the Downing Street tunnel and continue the meeting in the COBRA room. And when the threat has passed, you can quietly return to Number Ten for the news conference.”

“What do we tell the press?”

“Nothing.”

“And when it leaks?”

“It won’t.”

“Don’t be naive, Graham. It always leaks.” Lancaster shook his head. “I will not go down in history as the prime minister who fled this house out of fear for his life.”

“Now is not the time for heroics, Prime Minister.”