London
10-30 a.m.
April 19th
Tarquin Robinson looked over the assembled press. BBC news, ITN news, CNN and various journalists from the newspapers who were all gathered in the press briefing room. He was sat behind the table with the head of the Met Police beside him, who was answering questions.
“We’re not sure what the intention of the men is in detail. All the men killed are not people we have been watching, not have they been under surveillance from Special Branch.” The head of the met said slowly and deliberately as if reading.
“Brian Mayhew CNN. Is this a new tactic for Al Qaeda, employing paid assassins to plant bombs and carry out killings?”
“We have no information to either confirm or deny such a theory. That these men don’t appear to have links to any terrorist group is not a reason to preclude that being true. In the meantime we can only assume that the device found indicates their intention to target someone or something in London.”
“Minister, what is your view?”
Tarquin Robinson gathered his thoughts.
“There is no doubt that these men have a target in mind. Who or what that is has not so far been revealed. We have no leads and government security agencies are doing their upmost to find this last man and get him alive so that we can get to the bottom of this. We can’t rule out terrorism nor the fact that the use of paid assassins might be a new terrorist tactic.” Robinson said relishing the attention he was getting.
“Can you reveal how the men first came to the attention of security services?” A BBC reporter asked.
“I’m afraid I cannot. Needless to say our methods of observation must be kept secret in order to make the effective.” Robinson replied stonewalling with skill.
The questions continued with the back and forth verbal tennis of government press conferences. Robinson excused himself after having made a final statement and left the room listening to the head of the met assure the press that security measures in London had been stepped up to maximum level.
Robinson got into his car, surrounded by security. He put up the security glass between himself and the driver and pulled the orange coloured cell phone from inside his jacket.
He dialled the only number in its memory.
“How much longer?” He asked.
“Today. We’re certain. It’ll either happen or the ‘product’ won’t get through.”
“I need to ask questions… important information… this line…”
“Be careful what you say.”
“I want to meet. I need answers and I can’t ask on this line. If the time is close I’d like to decide whether we go ahead or not. We must meet.”
“No out of the question.”
“Can you send B… your man again?”
“Again out of the question, ‘you know who’ will be watching closely now.”
“What if I send someone to meet you, someone we can both trust?”
“You’ve told someone?”
“My wife knows. I talked to her.”
There was silence on the other end of the line.
“Hello.”
“Well it’s good you’ve got such a trusting marriage." Sternway said in an exasperated tone of voice thinking to himself, ‘why couldn’t the man just see it through?’
“My wife has always supported all my ambitions.”
“I’ll be watched, this is out of the question.” Sternway said tersely.
“Then you can call a halt now. Stop the process.”
Sternway grimaced at the other end of the line. The conversation was taking a long time. He didn’t want to stop, they were so close.
“La Rueda, Byward Street, three thirty. Tell her to come alone and bring your questions in writing. I’ll write the answers over lunch.” Sternway said rapidly.
The line went dead.
Robinson felt pleased. His wife had said that he should exert some control. He didn’t really have any important questions. His wife had said he shouldn’t let Sternway take the lead. She’d also said they should tape Sternway as a form of evidence to help them keep control. She would know a way to get Sternway talking too, questions on paper or not. Melinda was a strong woman and had as many ambitions for him as he had for himself.
Across the city Sternway sat at his desk staring intently at the disposable mobile in his hand. He picked up the phone, gave a harsh instruction and two minutes later Joe came into office.
“Problem Sir?”
“Yes. Book me a table at Rueda, for two at three thirty?”
“Mrs Sternway sir?”
“No Joe Lady Macbeth by looks of it.”