Page 19 of End Game (William Warwick #8)
He quickly looked up a number and dialled it. He prayed it wasn’t engaged, or worse, just went on ringing, remembering the one man he needed was sitting somewhere out there in the stadium and, like everyone else, was waiting for the curtain to go up on the greatest show on earth.
It was some time before a voice came on the line. ‘This had better be good, Commander,’ said General Norton, ‘because my wife and I are looking forward to the start of the opening ceremony.’
‘Without your help, General, there won’t be an opening ceremony to look forward to,’ said William, and hurriedly explained what had just happened.
‘I’ll get in touch with Woolwich barracks immediately and speak to their Commanding Officer,’ said the General. ‘His outfit are the only ones who’ll have a spare distribution box available at this time of night. You’d better hold on, Commander, while I make the call.’
‘What happens if we can’t get a replacement in time and the circuit breakers are triggered?’ asked Ross.
‘If that happens,’ replied William, ‘the only people smiling will be the countless journalists and broadcasters from around the world who will all be claiming an exclusive on their front pages in the morning, and what’s more they will have enough copy to last them for the next month, by which time the Games will have ground to a halt.
‘On top of that,’ William continued, trying to sound calm, ‘if the cyberattacks are successful and the National Grid goes down, even if we did manage to evacuate the stadium safely, there would be no power for tubes, trains or even streetlights. It doesn’t bear thinking about.
But what about those responsible? Did you manage to catch either of them? ’
‘Paul arrested one of them, but he didn’t open his mouth except to swear at us, I think in Russian. I’ll question him later, but I suspect he won’t say a word.’
‘Where is he now?’ demanded William.
‘Paul took him off to the Olympic police cell – the one no one’s meant to know about – where he will no doubt claim diplomatic immunity.’
‘And the one you went after?’ asked William.
‘He got clean away, but not before I pulled off his mask,’ Ross admitted, rubbing his jaw.
‘I recognized him. He was the man who joined Faulkner at the Oval and who I later drove to the Russian Embassy. It turns out there were three of them, the two in the generator room and a third who came out of nowhere and felled me. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was the third one who caused our CCTV screens to go blank so the others could get into the generator room without being spotted.
I expect the two who got away are now safely holed up in the Russian Embassy. ’
‘So at least we know who we’re up against,’ said William, as the General came back on the line.
‘I’ve managed to locate a spare distribution box,’ he announced, ‘along with a couple of technicians to install it. I won’t repeat their sentiments when they were dragged away from their televisions at a moment’s notice, but be assured they are already on their way.
The good news,’ added the General, ‘is that the streets are almost empty. It would seem that over half the nation is tuned in waiting for the opening ceremony to begin.’
‘And they’ll go on waiting if we don’t get the new distribution box in place and quickly,’ William responded.
‘With the help of your police escort, the new kit should be with you in about twenty minutes,’ said the General. ‘I’ll head for the generator room to meet them.’
‘Do you know how long it will take to install it?’ asked William.
‘I haven’t a clue,’ replied the General.
William looked at the ticking clock. ‘Either way, I’ve only got another nineteen minutes. In your view, General, what’s the worst-case scenario?’
‘If there is a power failure and you have no back up generator, the stadium will be left in total darkness, and the least of your problems will be cancelling the opening ceremony. You’ll have eighty thousand panicking spectators inside the stadium who won’t know whether they’re experiencing a technical malfunction or a terrorist attack.
Not to mention countless heads of state, ambassadors and other VIPs who will assume the worst.
‘Her Majesty will be left stranded in the Royal Box like a sitting duck, while one hundred and twenty-one VIPs, including several heads of state, will begin to panic and, once the news spreads, they will all be joined by eighty thousand spectators asking questions in one hundred and forty-seven different languages.’
‘And the best-case scenario?’ asked William.
‘The cyberattack will fail, the rogue circuit breakers will be removed and the generator will be fixed in time for you to get through the next two hours without any loss of power, in which case no one will be any the wiser.’
‘Given the circumstances, General, what would you recommend I should do?’
‘I’m a soldier and trained to always assume the worst-case scenario, Commander, so I don’t envy you your choice.’
‘Thank you,’ said William, suddenly aware where the buck stopped. He put the phone down and switched back to the radio. ‘Ross, stay put in the generator room with the engineer, while I prepare for the worst-case scenario.’
···
The Chinese Ambassador looked at his watch. ‘Sixteen minutes left before the lights go out.’
‘And by now my team should have eliminated any possibility of the power being restored,’ said Mikailov.
‘What do you plan to do when we are finally cast in darkness?’ asked Wei Ming, as he poured himself another glass of champagne.
‘Sit still and enjoy every moment,’ replied his Russian counterpart, ‘while watching panic set in all around me. I’ve even brought along a torch for the occasion, so a boy scout couldn’t accuse me of being unprepared.’
They both smiled.
‘Should I assume your press release has already been written?’
‘Yes, but embargoed until midnight,’ said Mikailov.
‘However, President Putin plans to address the nation first thing in the morning. He will open by offering his sincere condolences for the unfortunate disaster.’ He paused.
‘I spent some time considering the words calamity , failure and disaster, but finally settled on disaster , as it’s a word that’s easy to translate into any language. ’
Wei Ming gave his colleague a slight bow, before he said, ‘My President will also be sending his heartfelt condolences, before going on to remind the world’s press that our own Beijing Games went without a hitch and our opening cere mony was hailed as one of the most memorable in Olympic history.
Another carefully chosen word,’ said Wei Ming, ‘as I feel sure the same will be said about the London opening, with memorable having a completely different meaning.’ Wei Ming paused before he said, ‘How long before …?’
‘Twelve minutes,’ said the Russian Ambassador, as he checked his watch and uncorked a second bottle of champagne.
···
A message came through on William’s radio. ‘The police escort is pulling up outside the main entrance, along with two army technicians and a distribution box,’ confirmed Rebecca. ‘I’ll escort them to the generator room,’ she said. ‘We should be there shortly.’
‘How long do you think it will take them to get the generator back up and running?’ asked William.
‘Ten minutes at the most, sir,’ said a voice William didn’t recognize.
He watched the CCTV screen in front of him as two men transported the distribution box as quickly as they could towards the generator room at what seemed like a snail’s pace to William.
William checked his watch once again. ‘I’m down to seven minutes,’ he said, but they didn’t need to be reminded.
···
A billion eyes looked up into the sky as a single beam of light tracked a helicopter that was heading towards the stadium.
On the vast screens, they all saw the door of the helicopter open.
The Queen appeared, with Daniel Craig standing by her side.
The crowd gasped when James Bond stood back to allow the Queen to jump out of the helicopter.
When her parachute opened moments later, most of the crowd clapped and cheered, while three spectators fainted. The cheering grew even louder as the parachute continued to make its way slowly down towards the centre of the stadium.
William had been among the few people who had known about the secret for weeks. He now nursed another secret the public weren’t aware of. But for how much longer?
Five minutes left.
A lightbulb in the Gold suite blew, and William’s heart missed a beat, but when he looked back at the screen, the stage remained bathed in light.
He could see the audience looking on in admiration as the performance began to unfold. William could only wonder if the exuberant crowd would ever see the eternal flame lit to officially declare the opening of the Thirtieth Olympiad.
Four minutes left.
As a precaution, he began to set in motion preparations for a worst-case scenario. He first radioed the protection team in the Royal Box.
‘Be ready to get HM out at a moment’s notice. Have her car up front, engine running. Understood?’
‘Understood, Commander,’ said a voice, not asking why.
Three minutes left.
William’s gaze rarely left the screen. He assumed that at any moment the stadium would be cast into darkness.
His heart was pounding as he tried to decide what would be the best course of action.
The Queen would have to be moved first, then the Prime Minister, followed by Michelle Obama and Francois Hollande, and the presidents of Germany and Italy, and finally the Mayor of London.
Two minutes left.
‘The distribution box is installed,’ said the General, ‘and all that’s left to do is attach the cables, which Sergeant Johnston tells me should only take a minute, possibly two.’
William wanted to say there’s a big difference between one minute and two, but simply held his breath.
Moments later, his heartrate doubled when Ross and the Sergeant disappeared from the screen and the stadium was thrown into total darkness for a second time.
His worst fears realized.
···
The Chinese Ambassador switched on his torch, refilled the two champagne glasses and raised his hand in a mock salute. ‘To the British Empire, on whom the sun never sets.’
‘God Save the Queen,’ said the Russian Ambassador, as their two glasses touched.
Around them, the audience sat quietly, patiently waiting, assuming the blackout was all part of the build-up before the main event.
‘How long before panic sets in,’ mused Wei Ling.
‘Not too long,’ suggested Mikailov. ‘In fact …’ but before he could finish his sentence, the lights came back on. The cheers that followed were deafening. The crowd clearly thought the temporary blackout was all part of the spectacle that was about to unfold.
···
‘Thank you,’ said William, but the General had already turned off his phone and left to rejoin his wife in the stand to enjoy the opening ceremony.
‘Such a clever idea to turn all the lights off and leave us in suspense,’ she said, as her husband sat back down beside her.
‘Very clever,’ agreed the General.
‘You nearly missed it.’
‘The queue for the lavatory was very long.’
···
In the hours that followed, over a billion people enjoyed Danny Boyle’s memorable production.
The crowds, both in the stadium and at home, delighted to see Mr Bean accompanying the London Symphony Orchestra on the keyboard, laughed and cried at the heartfelt tribute to the NHS, and raised the roof when the eternal flame was lit by a group of seven young athletes.
When the curtain finally came down, and the Queen had departed, unaware of any problems, the dignitaries were escorted back to their coaches, while the boisterous, exuberant crowd made their way out of the stadium, some singing, others dancing all the way back home.
···
Once again, the two ambassadors sat next to each other on the coach as it made its way back into central London. The noisy chatter all around them rather suggested that the opening ceremony had been awarded a gold medal. It was some time before either of them spoke.
‘What do you think went wrong, Anatoly?’ the Chinese Ambassador eventually managed.
‘I have no idea,’ admitted Mikailov, ‘but I will have sent a report to my President long before he wakes in the morning. I will leave Mr Putin in no doubt that the failed Chinese cyberattack was to blame, while we carried out our part of the plan to the letter.’
‘I’m not sure he’ll be convinced about that, after Hu Jintao has read my report,’ said Wei Ming, annoyed by his colleague trying to pass on the blame.
‘Possibly not,’ admitted Mikailov. ‘However, I will also remind my President we still have a foolproof plan to switch the urine samples and ensure the Games will only be remembered for one thing.’
‘And should that fail, comrade,’ said Wei Ming disdainfully, ‘be assured when our pocket Exocet takes over, she will be more than a match for Warwick, or Faulkner for that matter.’
···
When no one was left in the stands and the lights in the stadium were finally switched off, William’s phone rang once again. He picked it up to hear General Norton on the other end of the line.
‘Well done, Commander. But if I may be allowed to offer you one piece of advice?’
‘Please do, sir,’ said William.
‘Don’t tell anyone in authority what actually happened tonight.’