Bill White cracked his knuckles.
Now that the prime minister was no longer his concern he could dispense with the diplomatic niceties. He took his gun and pressed it to the director's head.
"I confiscated a firearm from you," he said, "and you invited me and the prime minister into an office where you knew there to be a small explosive device. You obviously planned to find an excuse to pop out and then blame the explosion on terrorists who were after you. You've broken all the rules and therefore I am no longer bound to play by them. If I say that you pulled a gun on the PM and I had to shoot you he will give me his full support. Nobody knows where you are. I strongly recommend you talk quickly and accurately."
Hannah switched on the video camera on her phone and held it up to capture the exchange.
Winters swallowed hard and finally began to cooperate.
"We learned of the middle eastern attacks and decided that it would suit us to join in and destroy as many of these laboratories as possible for economic reasons. We're lagging sadly behind most of the world in this brain computer stuff and we don't have the money to invest in research so we needed to even the score. Initially we just gave the Iranians money and weapons but they were too amateurish for my liking and they kept taking days off to pray. So we teamed up with them but it was still far from ideal, lots of infighting and no discipline. Some of their ideas rubbed off on some of my more gullible men and the whole thing turned to chaos."
"There," said White, "that wasn't so difficult, was it? Now I need some more details from you. Your sixty four thousand dollar question is this - no conferring, no passing: why did you try to blow up the British Prime Minister?"
Winters hung his head in defeat. The rest of his statement was delivered in patches of hesitant speech while he continued looking disconsolately at his feet.
"I'm being blackmailed. A few weeks after we teamed up with the Iranians I had a visit from their intelligence people. They'd been digging for dirt on me and struck lucky... I had an affair with a young girl."
"How young?" asked Hannah.
"Fifteen."
Hannah cringed and Arthur looked away in disgust.
"Mormon, are you?" asked White.
"No."
"Never mind, carry on."
"They extorted money out of me, my personal money, to fund weapons and travel."
"That's why the attacks became more violent," said Hannah, "going from a stoning to machine guns and grenades. I assume you also gave them access to CIA resources?"
"What choice did I have?"
"Choice?" laughed Hannah. "You chose to fuck a teenage girl, you repulsive shit."
Winters didn't respond to that point.
The car tore onto the main road and the experienced driver made good progress. They had diplomatic plates but nevertheless picked up a police tail.
"Shall I ignore them?" asked the driver.
"Yes," shouted White, then realised he hadn't used the intercom, so he had to press it and repeat himself. He turned his attention back to Winters.
"So why did Iranian intelligence want the prime minister dead?"
"I didn't ask."
"You spineless bastard," said Arthur.
White's phone rang. He was going to ignore it, but then saw that it was the prime minister calling.
"Is there a problem?" he asked, dispensing with formalities.
He listened in silence for almost a minute.
"We're on our way."
He leaned forward and pressed the intercom.
"Get back to the airport as quickly as possible, the CIA have surrounded the plane. Don't stop for red lights just fucking get us there."
The driver nodded and accelerated rapidly.
"They think Winters is on the jet," said Hannah.
"Almost certainly," said White.
"So what are we going to do?" said Arthur. "Give up and hand him over?"
"No," said White, glancing at Winters who was now looking at them, trying to guess his fate, "that is not going to happen."
"Isn't he guilty of some kind of major international crime?" asked Hannah. "Can we arrest him?"
"I believe technically that trying to assassinate the British PM means he can be tried in Britain. If we get him back to the jet we can take him home. I don't believe even the CIA would storm the prime ministerial plane, it's far too public. Okay, we have to decide what we're going to do when we reach the airport."
Arthur had scanned the news networks and discovered that their situation was now a global story. Switching on the television screen in the car they all watched CNN as various people shouted, literally, about a plot to assassinate the British Prime Minister.
"Bollocks," said White angrily, "that's all we need."
"There must be six camera crews at least, how did they get there so quickly?"
"Some bastard back at CIA headquarters," said Arthur, looking once again at Winters with disgust.
"At least they won't try anything now," said Hannah, "but even so. It won't be good if Arthur and I become word wide TV stars, will it?"
"Certainly not," said White, "it wouldn't help me either."
"Hang on," said Hannah, "this car goes in the hold in the back of the plane, doesn't it?"
"Yes," said White.
"How about we just drive in to the hold and take off? You can't reach the inside of the plane from there but the air-conditioning in here should be enough to get us home in one piece."
"I don't like the sound of that?" said Arthur.
"Any better suggestions?" asked White.
"No," he admitted.
"Right, I'll phone the PM."
Half an hour later, to the frenzied bemusement of onlookers, CIA included, the prime ministerial car drove quietly onto the runway and approached the rear of the vehicle. The hold opened and the car drove up the ramp.
Two over-enthusiastic CIA agents ran after the car and stayed on the ramp as it was raised from the ground.
"Bloody idiots," said White, "what do they think they're doing?"
A dull thud indicated that they had begun firing hopelessly at the rear window. With totally blacked out windows they couldn't even see who or how many were in the car.
"Shall we deal with them?" asked Hannah.
White considered for a moment.
"Get ready, wait til the hold is nearly shut so nobody can get any footage."
She nodded and her and Arthur prepared to open the door either side of the car.
White took out his gun and pointed it at the CIA directors head. He was handcuffed to a sturdy rail so couldn't move but he may have tried to shout a warning.
Arthur switched off the lights inside the car.
As the last few feet of daylight began to disappear White gave the signal.
Arthur and Hannah, having pinpointed the position of their respective targets, quietly nudged the doors open, leaned out and fired three shots. Both doors were slammed shut and locked and the lights came back on.
"They're probably dead already, but they definitely will be by the time we land."
The driver came onto the intercom.
"The cockpit has tuned into our wavelength," he said, "I'll patch it through now."
A few seconds later, the PM's voice came through.
"White - everything alright back there?"
"Yes, sir, no problems. Two probable dead CIA in the hold, they won't last long without air con anyway."
"We've identified an airfield twenty minutes away," said the pilot, "we're heading for that so you lot can get out. I wouldn't fancy going all the way back to London in the hold, even in a luxury limousine."
"That's great, thanks," said White, releasing the intercom button.
"There you are, Arthur, only twenty minutes."
Arthur smiled.
Half an hour later, after checking that the two stowaways in the hold were no further threat and that they had no unwanted onlookers, A1, 4, 61, the PM's driver and Winters made a dash for the boarding steps.
Inside the plane they met up with the politicians and Close Protection.
White re-handcuffed Winters to an even sturdier handrail and left the PM's people to look after him. He went to the front of the plane to discuss their next move with the PM and FS.
"Now that we're here," said White, "I'm not sure what to do next. I did intend to go the Oval Office at the first opportunity but now I don't fancy leaving Winters here with a minimal guard. Also, considering what's happened, maybe going to see the president isn't the wisest move. If the CIA wanted you dead, who knows how high up it goes?"
"I think my people would be very happy if we went straight home," said the PM.
"I don't like any of our options," said Hannah. "Do you believe him? His explanation for why he planted the bomb?"
"I'm not sure yet," said White, "You could tell from his reactions that he knew it was there all along and he's openly admitted it but... I don't know. Maybe the president can shed some light on this whole bizarre set of events."
Hannah giggled.
"That idiot? You're being optimistic."
"Probably, but either the CIA director has gone totally rogue and taken half his agents with him or someone in the White House knows what's going on and has collaborated in, or at least given their tacit consent to, the assassination of the PM."
"None of this bears thinking about at all," said Arthur, "but I vote we get Winters back to HQ and put him under the heaviest possible guard."
"So," said the pilot, "Heathrow?"
White nodded.