June 18th
With two hours until the arrival of the president I found that the events of the last few months had finally caught up with me. Ever since that day when I read Adam's obituary warning I'd barely had time to stop and think. But today for some reason a curious lull had descended on the whole building. I found an empty room and stretched out as best I could on two chairs. I suddenly felt exhausted in a way I had never experienced. I needed a week in bed and some mindless television to wind down but that wasn't currently an option. I made a mental note to take some time off as soon as I possibly could.
Who knows how different things could have been if I'd taken that day more seriously? But all we had to do was escort the president from his plane into our trusty prime ministerial limo. It was a journey of a few dozen yards at a major airport which already had a high level of security.
Naturally, being American there was lots of stupid bunting and cameras in attendance but maybe that's just me trying to retrospectively shift the blame.
It seemed to happen very slowly now that I look back on it. I wasn't paying attention, I know that, because normally I would have seen him moving through the group of photographers long before he reached the front and started firing.
It may well have been as long as two seconds after he got off the first shot that I came to and reacted. I was some distance away from the president and his entourage, a position I'd chosen because I wanted an easy ride. There, I've said it.
The first shot hit one of the bodyguards in the chest, but he was wearing a bullet proof vest. The second hit an assistant press secretary in the arm - he was fine after some minor surgery.
In a situation like this, the president's people gather around him and cover him, rather than trying to deal with the threat. I've always thought that was a stupid policy, even before this happened.
Their policy meant that it was up to us to neutralise the threat. The nearest of our people was John. Maybe he, like me, was coasting that day, not taking the assignment seriously enough.
Before he could fire, the third bullet hit him squarely in the throat. It tore through the top of his spinal column. At his age, and with all the squillions of fags he'd smoked, the trauma was too much for him and he was DOA at the hospital.
I didn't realise John had been hit when I started firing. In the panic, and because we had no proper plans worked out, four of us all fired at once. Luckily all our shots hit the intended target and there was no collateral damage - with so many people clustered together it could have been a disaster.
I put two bullets into the assailants torso before I came to full alertness, realised others were also firing, and turned my attention to the rest of the crowd. Luckily they were all cowering for cover and no further threat presented itself.
White's duty was to get the president into the car and away as quickly as possible. Luckily the PM had decided to stay away from the media circus so we didn't have him to worry about.
In all the confusion it was about five minutes before I found out that John had been shot. He was clearly already dead but Adam was still trying CPR. Hannah fixed me with a look that threatened tears.
Unbelievably, as we were being driven back to HQ, I fell asleep for ten minutes. I suppose it was a defence mechanism, a better alternative than thinking about how royally we had fucked up.
I'd lost colleagues before, but none I'd known for so many years, and never had I before felt any culpability in their deaths.
That evening Hannah and I found ourselves at Adam's flat getting rapidly pissed and trying to find consolation in each others company.
We didn't talk much and passed three hours in relative silence.
I groaned as my phone rang.
"Shit. It's the boss, I'd better answer. Hello?"
"Are you with 37 and 61?"
"Yes, at 37's flat."
"You all need to come in immediately."
"We've all had a lot to drink."
"I imagine so; I've had a couple myself. I'll send a car for you."
"We're not fit for..."
"That doesn't matter. Tonight I just need your ears and brains. Be downstairs in fifteen minutes."
"Okay."
I put my phone down and tried to focus.
"We'd better have a quick coffee, we're being picked up."
"What's going on?" asked Hannah. "We're not up to working now."
"I told him that, I think it's just a briefing. He needs us to listen to something."
"It must be massively important," said Adam, making his way to the kitchen.
"I wonder why he couldn't tell us over the phone?" said Hannah.
I shrugged and went to look for something quick to eat.
The agent who took us in had thoughtfully bought us coffee and donuts, so by the time we got to the conference room we were all suitably awake.
The PM and FS were there, along with Arthur and around three dozen other agents, and a man I didn't recognise.
White cleared his throat and the room quickly descended into silence.
"It goes without saying that we all deeply regret the loss of our colleague John but tonight I need you all to get your heads together because we are faced with our biggest challenge yet. I'm going to hand you over to the vice president."
Oh, I thought, that's who he is. I suppose in my line of work I should watch the news more often. Though not today.
"We have identified the man who tried to assassinate the president and killed your agent. He was a CIA agent."
He paused for the room to absorb this and emit general exclamations of confusion and disbelief.
"We have also found clear evidence that they were intending to blame the bomb they hoped would kill your prime minister directly on the Oval Office. Earlier today we found... evidence of that plot. It seems that the CIA have gone entirely feral and have been trying to depose the president. When this failed, they tried to assassinate him this afternoon."
"This obviously gives us a huge problem domestically, but the one that concerns you folks is what we charge Mr Winters with and who gets to prosecute him. Mr White."
"Thank you. Well, now you know as much as I do. Tomorrow we are going to hold extensive talks between the president, vice president and other White House staff and the prime minister, foreign secretary and myself. The CIA, as of an hour ago, no longer exists and all available agents are under arrest. However, we believe that there could still be a small number of them in this country. For that reason the talks will be held in an underground nuclear bunker facility. All personnel will be ferried to the location in stages throughout the night and early morning.
"We also have the added problem of publicity. All sorts of things, some true some not, are now flying around the internet. From a T14 perspective we now have to face the real possibility of either Iranian, IRA or CIA loyalists trying to liberate our prisoners. That means we need to considerably up our guard on this building as well as securing Downing Street and the bunker. All other assignments are suspended until this situation is resolved."
When our building was converted in 2014 no expense had been spared. The basement area, where our cells were located, had been vastly expanded and almost qualified as a bunker in its own right. Almost as if they had foreseen a situation like this arising, it could be sealed from within in a manner which would take days to break through.
After hopefully a decent nights sleep, our job would be to remain sealed in that basement until the fate of the prisoners was decided. Knowing how slowly the wheels of international diplomacy could turn, I wasn't expecting a speedy solution.
The rest of the building would be almost deserted, save for a dozen agents securing the one and only entrance and conducting routine, hopefully fruitless, patrols of the twelve floors.
From the basement we could monitor the street outside and stay in touch with proceedings at the bunker. All we had to do was feed and water the sixteen prisoners: the former CIA director, the sole survivor from the initial encounter with the surveillance trio in the woods, and the six Iranians and eight CIA from the Cambridge raid. There would be two dozen of us in the basement. It should be a routine assignment but then we'd thought that about the airport and the magistrates.