"You don't know me very well, RSM. The psych profile in my personnel file isn't all of me. I know how to play that game just like you and him. You will answer all my questions about the Colonel since I have to go into that hell hole with him. Do I have a deal or not?" Alexandra stared off into the distant green valley.
"What do you want to know, Miss?"
"Call me Alexandra, for God's sake!"
BROWNS HOTEL
BOND STREET
ENGLISH TEA ROOM
"William, would you mind explaining to me your byzantine thinking?" Commander Ronan Hawthorne rumbled as the waitress delivered the tea service.
"Ronan, do you remember when we were based in Northern Ireland during the troubles?" Sir William lifted the top of his teapot to check the brew. "When we were facing our own breed of terrorism. Remember the French and the OAS? Italy? Germany? Aden? Mau Mau? Malaysia?"
"William, what are you getting at? Rattling off the various asymmetric wars of the last century merely displays your ability to recall long lost causes. What's the point?" Ronan retrieved the clotting cream and a scone from the three-tiered tray.
"I'm just ruminating about our inability to learn from our misguided mistakes and our ability to continue the carnage because of our inbred ignorance, Ronan."
A delicate nibble of the scone accompanied by a sip of his tea caused Ronan to pause before spouting out his objections. "Now hold on, William. That's a hell of a broad brush you're painting the world with. What do you expect when people feel threatened? They react to the source of the threat."
"And that's precisely what I mean, Ronan. That is a total falsehood. If that were the case, we would have declared war on the United States for funding the IRA in the seventies and eighties. They didn't do a damned thing to stop the flow of funds from New York and Boston into IRA coffers despite our appeals for twenty years. Of course any declaration of war by us would have been ludicrous, but that double standard is why we can't gain any coordinated actions from an international community. We're all so damned hypocritical. Pass me the lemon curd, please."
"William, what are you getting at? What does this have to do with the steam room and Mark Jacobsen?"
The elderly barrister consulted his pocket watch before responding. "Shouldn't you be checking on how your teams are doing ..."
"William, answer me."
A wan smile creased Sir William's face. "When I left the Ministry of Defense, I knew that the missions we were engaged in would fail unless we took extraordinary measures, Ronan. When young Nobriega sent me his missive from Quetta, I place the final pieces in place to end this fiasco. We shall for a brief period eliminate the pressure on the delicate balance of Middle East peace."
"William, what did you do..."
"...let's just relax and enjoy one of the few things we British have contributed to humanity." He gestured at the tea service. "All will be known to you in two days, Ronan."
WEST OF QUETTA
"Ask away." Primo resumed his seat.
"What was the message I sent to Sir William from Quetta for the Colonel?"
"That's a 'need to know' piece of information, Alexandra, and you don't need to know, but I will tell you that it triggered the endgame. In thirty six-hours, this entire mission ends."
Alexandra stared as the RSM continued to re arrange the almonds. "Then perhaps a poor anti-Terrorist Police Inspector can speculate? Just jump in and object if I get any of this wrong." She stood up and leaded against one of the gnarled trees. "Somewhere in 2006 or sooner, you, Sir William and our Colonel over there decided that a political solution was the only solution.
YOU ARE READING
The Shaddad Conspiracy
Adventure“Your murder victim was not an innocent, naive woman. She was on our terrorist watch list. The fact that she escaped from Basra and lived a normal life in London buggers belief, but she was planted here by a foreign government to wreck the Taliban p...
Chapter 35: The Final briefing
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