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“You told me it would be undetectable.”
“Undetectable by Rutledge or his girlfriend. I said nobody but a pro could find it. The guy was a pro.”
“Damn.”
“You want me to break in again and re-bug the place?”
“I’d better speak to somebody before I can tell you to do that. Don’t hurt me too bad on the equipment.”
“I’ll bill you the replacement cost. Tell your guy if you want me to go back in there, I’m going to have to do a different kind of job with different equipment, and it’s going to be expensive. You got the low-cost option the first time.” He hung up the phone and began typing out a bill.
Felicity Devonshire took her seat at the conference table in the room adjoining the offices of the newly appointed Foreign Minister, who pointedly did not sit next to her but across the table. Also present were Sir Trevor Peel-Jones, the head of MI-5, the intelligence service charged with domestic counterespionage and counterterrorism, and the cabinet member to whom he reported, the Home Secretary; Sir Robert Bacon, chief of the Metropolitan Police; and Chief Inspector Sir Evelyn Throckmorton, head of New Scotland Yard’s Special Branch, which dealt with serious crimes.
“Now,” the FM said, opening a file on the table before him, “we are here to discuss the actions of MI-6 in London yesterday. Six members of that service are dead, with an aggregate of five widows and nine children left to grieve their loss, and an estate agent, Susan Bell, who was present in a house across the street from the one in which the explosion took place. That house no longer exists, having been razed on the order of the local council.”
He looked across the table at Felicity. “Architect,” he said in an even tone, “what happened?”
Felicity took a breath and in her beautiful RADA/Oxonian accent, in measured cadences and without referring to notes, gave a detailed
account of her orders to her people on the previous day and how they had been carried out. Her tone changed, becoming regretful only when she recited the names of the agents who had died. Finally, she said, “I have reviewed all of my actions and those of the people who acted on my orders, and I have determined that each of them acted in accordance with established procedures in such cases, and that the deaths occurred only because the suspect, Jasmine Shazaz, had left the house no more than five minutes earlier, leaving the bomb behind her. We believe that she set off the device by cell phone.”
“Established procedures?” Sir Trevor practically spat. “There are no established procedures for MI-6 to conduct an armed raid on a house in the United Kingdom. Architect is aware that hers is a foreign intelligence service, is she not?”
“Now, Trevor,” the Home Secretary said, “let’s give Architect an opportunity to address that issue before we go any further.”
“Thank you, Home Secretary,” Felicity replied coolly, “for pointing out the only point of this meeting. I took the actions I did because we had traced the recent arrival of this suspect from a foreign location and had advised the Home Office of her presence in the country. We did not establish any surveillance of the subject, nor did we advise MI-5 to do so, because we were not aware of her location. When we became aware, I had only minutes to react, and I took the decision to delay calling in MI-5 and Special Branch only because it would have taken them, based on past experience, some hours to react in a useful fashion. We had an opportunity to apprehend the al Qaeda operative responsible for the recent death of a foreign minister, and I placed the importance of that opportunity above bureaucratic cooperation.”
Sir Trevor’s voice became shriller. “I deeply resent the insinuation that involving the properly authorized organizations would have caused the opportunity to be missed.”
“Sir Trevor,” the FO said patiently, “I would point out that it would have been impossible for you to react in the time available, and if you had done so, it is your people who would be dead now, instead of those belonging to your sister service. It would seem that you have much for which to be grateful.”
Sir Trevor took a breath but was stayed by the hand of the Home Secretary on his arm. “Trevor, Foreign Minister, I must say that, after Architect’s very succinct and comprehensive presentation of the facts, I believe her actions to have been proper … in the circumstances. I know very well from her past cooperation with the Home Office and MI-5 that she is aware of the duties, obligations, and limitations placed upon her service by the government, and I believe that she had no intent to violate any of them. As far as the Home Office is concerned, this matter is closed.”
“Thank you, Home Secretary,” the foreign minister said. “In that case, this meeting is closed, and any notes or minutes taken are to be destroyed. All questions from the press or media are to be referred to the Public Information Officer of the Foreign Office.” He closed the file before him, stood up, bowed briefly, and left the room. Before he turned down the hallway he looked back at Felicity and made a motion with his head, indicating that she should follow him.
Felicity gave the Home Secretary and Sir Trevor a polite nod, then headed down the hallway to the foreign minister’s office.
He motioned her to a chair. “Do you need a drink?” he asked.
“Thank you, no, Foreign Minister,” Felicity replied.
“Well, I do,” he replied, swiveling his chair to a cupboard and pouring himself a glass of sherry. He swiveled back to face her. “I consider that, with the help of the Home Secretary, to whom I will now be indebted for eons to come, we have dodged a bullet. I assure you, Architect, that should any other such bullets come this way, you will take them.”
“Of course, Foreign Minister. Is it your wish that I should henceforth defer to MI-5 in the matter of Jasmine Shazaz?”
“It is my wish that you should appear to defer to MI-5 in this matter, while pursuing Ms. Shazaz with all the resources at your disposal. It is this ministry that has been wounded, and I will not restrict the efforts of any member of it to put things right. I would suggest, however, that the next time a SWAT team is called for that it be provided by Special Branch, and that also extends to any bomb disposal work necessary.”
“I understand, Foreign Minister.”
“I wish you to know that I have already authorized that the full death benefit available be immediately provided to the families of the fallen officers, and I have instructed an official of this ministry to offer a generous gratuity to the surviving husband of the estate agent.”
“Thank you most kindly, Foreign Minister.”
“Please let me know if there is anything else I can do for your people.” He stood and offered her his hand. “Good day.”
She shook it. “Good day, Foreign Minister.” She left his office and took the lift down to the garage, where her car and driver awaited. She got in, rested her head on the back of her seat, and breathed slowly and deeply all the way back to the Circus. Then she got out of the car and went back to work.
—
