Terminal (17 page)

The President was looking intently at Parry now, who briefly bowed his head in response. Then the President knitted his fingers together and leant back in his seat. ‘So what can we do for you, Commander?'

‘Well, as you say, we're in real trouble over here,' Parry began. ‘The UK has effectively been put into isolation by the rest of its NATO partners. Not one of them wants to gets close for fear of the rot spreading. To cut to the chase, sir, I'm reaching out to you for military intervention. I can't see how we can fix things here without a conventional land force taking control and weeding out the Styx.'

The President lowered his gaze as if what he was about to say was difficult, but Parry carried on regardless. ‘Mr President, sir, our two countries have always been united by their special relationship, and this is a dark hour for us – perhaps the darkest in our history. We need your assistance to help pull us through. And how we came to this crisis, well … I want you to hear direct from my friend Chester here about how the situation evolved … about how he and Will Burrows stumbled upon the subterranean city, and how while they were on the run from the Styx they uncovered their plot to deploy the Dominion virus.'

Chester couldn't believe he'd suddenly been pulled into the conversation. He looked in desperation at Parry. He couldn't talk to the President about all this. He wasn't important enough.

‘And because of the intel we obtained from Chester and Will,' Parry continued, ‘we were ahead of the curve on the Phase. I don't think there would still be an England to save
today if these two lads hadn't been on the ground and running recon for us.'

‘Ah, yes, Chester,' the President said, switching his gaze to the boy. Before he spoke again, the President pressed his lips together in an expression of sympathy. Chester had seen him do it on television in the aftermath of floods, bombings and other large-scale disasters in America. ‘I understand that you recently suffered a terrible sacrifice in the pursuit of duty – the death of your mother and father. I am very sorry for your loss.'

When Chester didn't answer immediately because he was so tongue-tied, the President looked uneasy, as if he'd got the facts wrong. ‘I'm sorry … about your mother and father … that is correct, isn't it?' he asked, with a quick glance at Bob.

Chester tried to say ‘Yes', but combined it with a simultaneous ‘Um', so what he actually came out with sounded like ‘Yum'. He wanted to punch himself.
Oh. My. God. The US President just told me he was sorry about my parents' death and I said ‘Yum' to him!

The President made out he was searching for the right page in front of him to mask his discomfort. ‘Right, I've read Bob's briefing about the … the …'

Bob whispered in his ear at this point. ‘About the Colony,' the President went on, ‘and also this Germanic world at the centre of the Earth, and I have to admit I've been finding the whole yarn rather difficult to swallow. I get it that a group of underground – truly
underground
– insurgents have surfaced and are using their kitchen-table bioweapons and technology to bring your country to its knees, but the rest of what's been going down … it sounds like the plot from a bad sci-fi movie. So I'd like to hear your side of things, Chester, because you
were there. You've lived through all this.' He held Bob's briefing note up. ‘Convince me that it's real.'

Chester's mouth gaped open as the cabin seemed to be swaying, although it had nothing to do with the rough sea outside.

Talk about being put on the spot.

The President of the US was asking for his version of events!

How could he, mere Chester Rawls, formerly of Highfield where he attended the High School until he went on the run, even begin to tell the leader of the free world about what had happened?

‘Chester,' Parry prompted the boy when he failed to speak. ‘I know this isn't easy for you, lad, but just take your time.'

‘But … but where do I start?' Chester croaked, finally finding his voice.

‘From the beginning,' the President said. ‘We've got all the time we need.'

Parry placed his hand on Chester's shoulder. ‘From when Dr Burrows went missing, and you and Will found the tunnel under his house.'

‘Okay,' Chester said. He took a deep breath and began to tell his story.

Whenever Chester faltered, Parry was ready to step in and help out. And when Chester began to speak about the run-up to his parents' death in the Complex, he was finding it so painful that Parry took over and finished the account for him.

‘And I don't have to tell you what the situation is today, sir,' Parry said as he came to the end.

‘Thank you, both of you. That's quite a tale,' the President
said, then leant back in his chair. ‘Can you tell me something, Chester? You've been in the thick of this for longer than anyone … these Stikes – I know they're not like us – but what's driving them? What's their ultimate goal? To stamp out all human life?'

‘Well …' Chester began.

‘I suppose what I'm really asking is, can we negotiate with them?' the President added.

‘Uh, negotiate?' Chester said, surprised by the question but considering it. ‘I don't believe they want
all
people dead – they just want to weaken us enough so that we're not a threat, and they can get control of the surface. It's like they think it belongs to them. I suppose you could try to negotiate with them – they're open to deals – but there's no way you can ever trust them. They don't think we're equal to them. They've been messing things up for us with plagues and sabotage for centuries.'

The President was rubbing his chin. ‘So this current act of aggression isn't about money, or a bid to have their own country?'

‘Their own country?' Chester couldn't stifle a chuckle. ‘You could offer them that, but you should know …' Chester was staring straight at the President, ‘you should know that even if they accepted that as an offer, they'll come for you, for America, some day. Nothing gets in their way when they want something, and they want it all.'

‘Okay, that's pretty unequivocal.' The President picked up one of Bob's briefing notes and read a few lines before he looked up again. ‘Commander, let's cut to the chase, shall we? Your European neighbours are refusing to have anything to do with you, but you're asking my country to make a major
military commitment to bail you out. And that's after all the financial support we've been forced to give Europe because its banking system was threatening to drag the US into one doozy of a depression.'

‘Sir, I …' Parry began.

The President held up his hand. ‘Just a minute, Commander, I need to bring another party into the conference for this. Bob, tap them in now, please.'

The display on Chester's far left went black for a second, and when it came back on there was a view of an oval table with a dozen or so people around it, many in uniform.

‘Hi, Dave,' the President said, also looking to his far left. ‘We've got you on visual now. Did you catch all that?' Obama turned back to the camera before he received a response from the new roomful of people. ‘Commander, I wanted your Prime Minister to hear our conversation. We don't have time for Chinese whispers.'

Parry was unfazed by the turn of events. ‘Good evening, sir,' he said to the man in the middle of the scene, who wore an annoyed expression, before scanning the other faces on either side of him. ‘I see you've got the War Cabinet with you.'

Chester's mouth gaped open for a second time – as he'd stumbled through his story the British Prime Minister had been listening, and most likely watching him. He wondered who was going to pop up on the screens next.

The Prime Minister narrowed his eyes with all the arrogance of a disgruntled headmaster. ‘Commander, I don't appreciate you going over my head and speaking to the President direct. Why didn't you use the normal channels and come to my office first?'

Parry was unapologetic. ‘The normal channels? At a time like this? For two reasons. First, because I didn't know who I could trust. I didn't know who the Styx had got at. I believe you yourself had been Dark—'

‘We all had a session with the Purger ages ago,' the Prime Minster cut him short, with a blasé flick of the head. ‘The Cabinet and all the staff at Number 10 have had a clean bill of health for some weeks now.'

Parry appeared sceptical at this response. ‘Not just one Purger session, I trust? You and your colleagues in the Cabinet should be checked at regular intervals throughout the day.'

‘I don't need you to advise me on my security measures,' the Prime Minister said, raising his voice to let Parry know he didn't like to be challenged. ‘And your second reason, Commander?'

‘Because we can't fix this by ourselves. We need outside intervention from a nation that hasn't been contaminated by the Styx.' Parry stopped abruptly, his brow creased by a deepening frown. ‘Can I ask where you are right now? That room looks familiar.'

‘If it's anything to do with you, I summoned everyone here to the inner sanctum at Westminster. I overruled the security bods because I wasn't about to leave London and let these Styx fellows think they had us on the run.'

Without any warning, Parry was out of his chair and shouting. ‘You blithering idiot! Didn't you read the communiqué I submitted months ago?'

‘Commander, please,' the President urged, trying to restore order.

‘Yes, calm down, dear chap,' the Prime Minister said, clearly amused at Parry's distress.

‘No, you listen to me, and this is vitally important. Get out of there now!' Parry was speaking with such fervour, he was actually spitting. ‘Rather than heed my warning, you've gathered everyone together in the Houses of Parliament, where you're sitting ducks. You've played right into the Styx's hands. Chester and my son learnt that the Eternal City – the massive cavern under Westminster – has a weakness in its roof that the Limiters might choose to exploit at any moment. They might blow it!'

‘It's true,' Chester said, but he was drowned out by the Prime Minster who didn't bother to hide his sneer.

‘Oh, sure, like they can do that!' he bellowed. ‘We haven't seen any solid evidence that this mythical lost city you talk of actually exists. I fear that you may have had a wee
dram
too many before beddy-byes, then had a wee
dream
about the whole thing.' As he mimicked Parry's Scottish accent, the Prime Minister was obviously delighted with the pun he'd just made; like a braying donkey he put his head back and unleashed a torrent of laughter, the whole table joining in with him.

All of a sudden, the picture of the Prime Minister and his War Cabinet stuttered, then froze.

What Chester and Parry were left looking at on the screen didn't seem quite right – as if everyone, the Prime Minister included, were suddenly much closer to the camera, as if they'd all been thrown across the table.

And, in that captured instant, none of them appeared to be laughing any longer; however, the delay between picture and sound meant that their raucous laughter still resonated in the cabin for a moment longer.

Then there was nothing but an eerie silence.

The President of the United States swallowed and then cleared his throat as the frozen picture was lost in a snowstorm of static. ‘Bob, can we find out what happened to the feed?'

Parry was back in his chair, his hands tightly clasped together. ‘Oh, no,' he whispered.

Chester had never seen him look so pale. ‘You don't think …?' the boy asked him.

‘I truly, truly hope not,' Parry replied.

‘No signal? None at all?' the President was saying to Bob, who had two phones on the go at the same time. ‘Well, can we get some eyes on the Houses of Parliament? Have we got any drones over the area?'

‘A drone? There?' Parry asked, but his question was ignored as Bob conferred with the President, who was rapidly running out of patience. ‘Well, if we
have
got satellite coverage, get it on-screen right now,' he said, thumping the table.

The left-hand display came back to life with an aerial view of London, the Thames in the centre of the picture glinting with the first light of dawn.

‘Yes, magnify to a quarter quadrant, and amp up the definition with some digital enhancement, will you,' Bob said, now only using a single phone as he issued instructions.

Chester couldn't believe what the spy satellite was capable of, the picture enlarging in successive jumps until the roofs of individual buildings along the banks were visible. And as the enhancement for low light was applied as Bob had requested, the clarity also shot up, the Thames appearing like a silvered snake.

‘Tower Bridge,' Parry said, as he recognised it from the aerial view.

‘Bear with us – we're going to track along the course of the
river,' Bob informed them, and the view sped along the Thames, past the different bridges.

Then the view steadied as the camera on the satellite reached its destination.

‘Oh, God, no,' the President said.

‘What is that?' Chester mumbled, confused by the image.

Parry put a hand to his temple. He was trembling. ‘It's one almighty hole in the ground.'

Chester saw what he meant. Even as he watched, buildings were crumbling and falling in at the edges of the ever-widening fissure, as if in slow motion. There were no Houses of Parliament any more, no Big Ben and no Westminster Bridge – and as the Thames swirled down into the coal-black opening, stretches of the riverbed were exposed.

‘They actually did it,' Chester said breathlessly. ‘They blew the roof of the Eternal City. Just like Drake guessed they might.'

There was silence as everyone tried to deal with what they were seeing.