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MEMORANDUM
From: Office of the Director of the Joint Intelligence Committee
Subject: Revised classifications of the British Governmental departments
Security: TOP SECRET
DEPARTMENT 1 Office of the Prime Minister
DEPARTMENT 2 Cabinet Office
DEPARTMENT 3 Home Office
DEPARTMENT 4 Foreign and Commonwealth Office
DEPARTMENT 5 Ministry of Defence
DEPARTMENT 6 British Army
DEPARTMENT 7 Royal Navy
DEPARTMENT 8 Her Majesty’s Diplomatic Service
DEPARTMENT 9 Her Majesty’s Treasury
DEPARTMENT 10 Department for Transport
DEPARTMENT 11 Attorney General’s Office
DEPARTMENT 12 Ministry of Justice
DEPARTMENT 13 Military Intelligence, Section 5 (MI5)
DEPARTMENT 14 Secret Intelligence Service (SIS)
DEPARTMENT 15 Royal Air Force
DEPARTMENT 16 Northern Ireland Office
DEPARTMENT 17 Scotland Office
DEPARTMENT 18 Wales Office
DEPARTMENT 19 CLASSIFIED
DEPARTMENT 20 Territorial Police Forces
DEPARTMENT 21 Department of Health
DEPARTMENT 22 Government Communication Headquarters (GCHQ)
DEPARTMENT 23 Joint Intelligence Committee (JIC)
PROLOGUE
BRENCHLEY, KENT 3RD NOVEMBER 2007
Jamie Carpenter was watching TV in the living room when he heard the tyres of his dad’s car crunch across the gravel drive much, much earlier than usual. Jamie looked at the clock on the wall above the TV and frowned. It was quarter past five. Julian Carpenter had never, to the best of Jamie’s memory, arrived home from work before seven o’clock, and even that was only on special occasions like his mum’s birthday or when Arsenal were playing in the Champions League.
He hauled himself off the sofa, a tall, slightly awkward fourteen-year-old with a skinny frame and unruly brown hair, and went to the window. His dad’s silver Mercedes was parked where it always was, in front of the garage that stood apart from their house. Jamie could see his father in the glow of the car’s brake lights, pulling something out of the boot.
Maybe he’s sick, Jamie thought. But as he looked closely at his dad, he didn’t think he looked ill; his eyes were bright and wide in the red light and he was moving quickly, putting things from the boot into his pockets. And Jamie noticed something else; he kept looking over his shoulder towards the road, as if he thought—
Something moved in the corner of Jamie’s eye, near the oak tree at the bottom of the garden. He turned his head, gooseflesh breaking out suddenly along his arms and back, and he realised he was scared. Something is wrong here, he thought. Very wrong.
The tree looked the same as it always did, its gnarled trunk tilted to the left, its huge roots rippling the lawn and bending the garden wall out towards the road.
Whatever Jamie had seen, his father had seen it too. He was standing very still behind the car, staring up into the branches of the tree. Jamie looked closely at the tree and the long black shadows the moonlight cast across the grass. Whatever had moved wasn’t moving any more. But as he stared, he realised that there was something different.
There were more shadows than there should be.
The tree’s leaves were gone for the winter and the shadows should have been the straight lines of empty branches. But the dark patterns covering the lawn were thick and bulky, as though the branches were full of—
What? Full of what?
Jamie looked back to his dad. He suddenly wanted him in the house, right now. His father was still staring at the tree, holding something in his hand, something that Jamie couldn’t quite make out.
Movement, again, by the tree.
Fear rose into Jamie’s throat.
Come inside, Dad. Come inside now. There’s something bad out there. The shadows on the lawn began to move.
Jamie stared, too scared to scream, as the dark patterns began to unfold. He looked up into the tree and now he could see the branches shifting as whatever was in there began to move, could hear the rustling of the bark as something – lots of things, it sounds like there’s lots of them – started to move through the boughs of the oak.
He looked desperately at his father who was still staring into the tree, lit by the red lights from the car.
Why are you just standing there? Come inside, please, please.
Jamie turned his head to look at the tree. On the other side of the window a girl’s face, pale, with dark red eyes and lips drawn into a snarl, stared through the glass, and he screamed so loudly he thought he would tear his vocal chords.
The face disappeared into the darkness and now there was movement as Jamie’s father ran up the drive towards the house. The front door slammed open and Julian Carpenter burst into the living room at the same time his wife ran in from the kitchen.
“Get away from the windows, Jamie!” he shouted.
“Dad, what’s—”
“Just do what I tell you and don’t argue! There isn’t time.”
“Time for what, Julian?” asked Jamie’s mum, her voice tight and high-pitched. “What’s going on?”
Julian ignored her, taking out a mobile phone that Jamie didn’t recognise. He punched numbers into the handset, and held it to his ear. “Frank? Yeah, I know. I know. What’s the ETA? And that’s accurate? OK. Take care of yourself.”
He hung up the phone and grabbed Jamie’s mum’s hand. “Julian, you’re scaring me,” she said, softly. “Please tell me what’s happening.”
He looked into his wife’s pale, confused face. “I can’t,” he replied. “I’m sorry.”
Jamie
