population did nothing to stop him.
Sometimes, it seemed like Viggo and Saffron were the only sane people in Britain – at least, the only ones who were fighting for democracy.
Gradually, Jimmy’s attention returned to the TV.
“The new Prime Minister, Ian Coates, is about to land in Washington DC to meet with the American President, Alphonsus Grogan.” The newsreader was a woman with a vacant stare and a half-smile permanently on her lips. “The first item on their agenda will be American support for Britain in any possible military action against France, following French incursion into British airspace yesterday afternoon.”
With every mention of the Prime Minister, Jimmy felt something rumble in his belly. He forced it down and told himself it was hunger.
“Ian Coates will first meet with the President at the White House,” the newsreader went on, “before touring the cities of the East Coast of America. He will address the UN Security Council in New York in four days’ time to present the case for Britain’s legal right to retaliate against France.”
Usually, the last thing Jimmy would have wanted to do was watch the news. But everything had changed. Now it was urgent that they all knew what the Government was doing. This was their enemy.
“I can’t believe that’s our dad,” Georgie muttered.
Jimmy didn’t answer. Not ‘our’ dad, he thought. ‘Your’ dad. He felt a sting in his throat and wiped the back of his hand across his eyes. When he looked up, he saw his own face on the TV screen. It was the same old school photograph that Jimmy had seen on TV the day before.
“…still thought to be behind the murder of Ares Hollingdale,” the reporter was saying, “and still on the run.” The camera zoomed in on Jimmy’s eyes.
“It’s all right,” Felix stated calmly. “You don’t really look like that.”
“It’s all right?” Georgie exclaimed. “How is it ‘all right’ that they’re telling the whole country that Jimmy murdered the last Prime Minister?” Jimmy shrunk into himself. He just wished they didn’t have to talk about it.
In the last few weeks he had learned not to trust what came out of the TV. He could almost see the puppet-strings attached to the limbs of the newsreaders, and Miss Bennett somewhere, just out of shot, dictating every word that was said.
“Anyway,” Georgie piped up again, furious, “NJ7 knows Jimmy didn’t do it – because they did it.”
“What?” Felix asked. “You think Miss Bennett sent someone from NJ7 to kill their own Prime Minister?”
“Maybe. Hollingdale was sadistic and cruel and probably crazy. Maybe they’d had enough and wanted Dad to take over.”
Hardly realising he was speaking, Jimmy cut in. “He had it coming,” he snarled.
All three of them looked at each other, shocked at what Jimmy had said, even if it was true. Was it him or his programming that was spitting out such venomous thoughts? Jimmy couldn’t get any more words out of his mouth. He could feel his lips trembling, but there was nothing more to say.
The only sound was the drone of the television and the incessant ticking of a clock.
CHAPTER FOUR – DIAMOND IN THE ROUGH
The British Prime Minister stepped out of the White House’s Oval Office to rejoin his assistants and his head of security, Paduk. The look on his face was far from optimistic.
“The President is considering our position,” he announced.
“What does that mean?” Paduk asked. “You were in there with him for over an hour. It’s not rocket science. Either he’s on our side or he isn’t.”
Ian Coates’ advisors huddled together in debate. He ignored them and threw himself into a chair of plush red velvet beneath a portrait of Hillary Clinton. He leaned his elbows on his knees and held his head. The quiet of the corridor was stifling and the cream walls seemed to be closing in on him. He felt like he was trapped inside a giant trifle. Somewhere, a clock ticked too loudly. Next to him, Paduk itched at his shirt collar.
“He can’t keep us waiting like this,” he grumbled. “Where’s the respect?”
Ian Coates shook his head. “It’s natural,” he explained, trying to stay calm. “We’re asking for their army to come and fight a war with us against France. That’s not a decision that can be hurried.”
Paduk grunted. “I remember when Americans were grateful to fight alongside us. Now they’ve forgotten everything. Most people in this country don’t even know where France is.”
“Most of them don’t know where Britain is either, Paduk.”
Suddenly, a door opposite them opened. They both shot to their feet and instinctively straightened their jackets. But it wasn’t the President who emerged, merely one of his aides. She was a woman in her early thirties, with brown hair tied back in a tight knot. The shoulders of her business suit were just a little too wide to be stylish and there was too much red lipstick lining her fake smile.
“Current US policy is not to intervene in foreign conflicts,” she announced. Her voice was clipped, with a clean mid-American accent. “But the President places great importance on the historical friendship between our two nations. Therefore, he would like to offer you a package of the finest military hardware the US industry has to offer.”
“Weapons?” Coates spluttered. “You’re offering me weapons?”
“Well, yes,” replied the aide. “As well as hardware of all other types – trucks, planes, missiles—”
“I know what military hardware is,” interrupted the Prime Minister. “So how much will this package cost?”
“Eighty billion dollars.”
Ian Coates let out an incredulous laugh. “I knew it,” he scoffed. “Grogan needed just enough time to phone the bosses at the arms companies, didn’t he?”
“I can’t answer that, sir,” replied the aide blankly.
“Tell Grogan I came to meet a President – not an arms dealer.” Coates spun on his heels and marched away, with Paduk and his own aides following close behind.
As they were escorted out of the White House, Ian Coates tried to contain his anger. He tried to imagine how he’d behave at the press conference that was coming up in a few days. How could he put a brave public face on this and pretend to be friends with the President of the USA? He also had to go through the motions of meeting with the UN in New York. But none of that ruled out the drastic action he could take in secret.
“Call Miss Bennett,” he hissed under his breath. “I’m approving the Reflex Plan.”
“The Reflex Plan?” Paduk gasped. “Are you sure?”
The Prime Minister nodded.
*
