Revolution (43 page)

‘That’s right Alice,’
Mike said sombrely as images of fighter aircraft being blasted from the aircraft carrier’s decks appeared in the top–right corner of the screen.
‘Troop transport aircraft operating from the Gulf region have brought a reported three thousand United States Marines into the Mordanian capital of Thessalia in order to protect the city from the advancing rebel forces of General Rameron, who is keen to cement his grip on the country by taking the government stronghold.
Sources on the ground have reported that the entire city is in panic, with some in the Mordanian Parliament supporting the American presence and others denouncing it as an invasion force.’

Megan watched as the image of launching aircraft and mass troop deployments disappeared, and Alice McKorvak’s studied demeanour changed slightly.

‘In a special report from our associate correspondent in Thessalia, Martin Sigby reveals the extent of the turmoil in the city, both amongst the people and its leaders, who are locked in what is fast becoming a duel to the death.’

Alexei Severov glanced over his shoulder at Megan.

‘Here, Megan, is the collapse of everything that you have tried to achieve.’

The screen flickered briefly and Megan saw Martin Sigby appear, standing on the roof of the Thessalia Hilton. Behind him, the mass deployment of US Marines could be seen in action, along with helicopters and hastily erected artillery platforms. Martin began speaking, raising his voice slightly as a helicopter lifted off somewhere out of shot behind him.

‘I’m standing here on the roof of the Thessalia Hilton, watching as a once proud and defiant city collapses into panic and confusion, as literally thousands of people either flee south or barricade themselves in their homes. Thessalia has ceased to be a thriving trading centre of the Caspian Sea and is now officially a war zone.’

Megan could see Severov begin to smile as she was watching, and beside the commander she saw Sir Wilkins breath a sigh of what appeared to be relief. The image on the television turned to people fleeing the city as marines guarded the roads at checkpoints, helicopter gunships circling in the cold skies above the exodus.

‘With the deployment here of three thousand or more US Marines, the people of Thessalia have finally had to come to terms with the fact that the war that has raged in the north for so long has finally reached their homes. The Americans here have deployed with extraordinary speed, under the cover of air support provided by the aircraft–carrier stationed in the Black Sea, and their orders are nothing if not explicit.’

The image changed to one of a rigidly upright, steel–grey moustachioed four–star general speaking into the camera as a massive American C–17 Galaxy aircraft landed at Khobal International airport behind him.

‘Our forces are being deployed as we speak in a protective screen around the north of the city and on the inshore flank. My men are at their peak, they are equipped with the finest weapons and ordnance that our country can provide and they are highly motivated to take this conflict directly to the enemy.’

A reporter shoved an oversized microphone just beneath the general’s immaculately trimmed moustache.

‘General, what do you make of the accusations from several European countries that this is simply another invasion of a sovereign country by American forces, that it’s just another attempt at colonialism and the forced economic reform of a foreign country to suit American trade ideals?’

The moustache twitched briefly as though it had a life of its own.

‘Sir, the American people and its government have a firm commitment to defending the freedoms and liberties of people the world over. We did not ask for this conflict, it was brought upon us by an act of war against our forces, and we as a nation cannot stand by and see such an act go unanswered. I have no knowledge or interest in economic policies. Democracy is the right of all nations, and America will not shy away from protecting that right.’

The reporter kept the microphone where it was.

‘But Mordania is already a democracy. We’ve seen nothing to say that the rebel forces will not maintain democracy if they seize power.’

The American general smiled stiffly.

‘Is that a chance you’d want to take with your country, son?’

The reporter backed off as four soldiers held back any further questions and the general strode with a dignified bearing to do his duty. Martin Sigby appeared again on the screen, and Megan’s heart began to sink as she listened.

‘There can be no doubt that the Mordanian President, Mukhari Akim, has allied himself and his country to the west and its ideals. His decision to make a stand against the tyranny of General Rameron’s rebel forces here in Thessalia, with the Chief of Police Alexei Severov leading his men side by side with the Americans in valiant defiance of the impending attack, displays a conviction and belief in cooperation with the west that now makes his land strategically and uniquely important in this region.’

Megan saw Severov grinned broadly, his chest swelling as she watched.

‘Pity you’re not actually doing anything valiant,’ Megan muttered.

Severov did not dignify Megan with a reply, simply continuing to smile as he watched the television.

‘With the attempted air attack by Mordanian jets under the control of General Rameron, the cold–blooded massacre of civilian scientists near Talyn and the continuing brutality of the rebel advance upon Thessalia, there can be little doubt that in this conflict at least, western intervention is both required and justified. In the global war against terrorism, if the alliance can prevent General Rameron’s forces from seizing Thessalia during the coming conflict, America and Mordania will have prevented a significant victory by the forces of terror and chaos over democracy and liberty.’

Megan watched as Severov began clapping slowly and loudly as he listened to Sigby’s flag–waving speech. Standing beside the commander, Sir Wilkins was nodding approvingly, his florid features alight with relief.

Megan watched as Martin was speaking, and saw behind him American troops deploying from the rear of a Chinook helicopter. Behind them, she could see the church in the distance with its broad, round clock on the bell–tower. A line from days before flickered through her mind:
Mordanians say that you can set your heart by that clock
. Megan blinked, squinting at the clock as Martin Sigby began to finish off his speech and Severov continued clapping.

‘Mordania and the USA have placed themselves at the forefront of what has often been called the most important conflict of all time, that between the forces of democracy and terror, and may have taken a bold step on the road to ensuring freedom and liberty not just for this tiny yet courageous nation, but for the entire world. Martin Sigby, Thessalia, Mordania.’

As the screen flicked back to Alice McKorvac and Mike Weatherspoon, Megan closed her eyes and slowly lowered her head.

*

GNN (UK) Ltd, London

‘I can’t see anything.’

Seth Cain stared at his screen, the two GNN anchors looking at each other in confusion as the feed from Mordania was lost. Alice McKorvak offered the cameras an apologetic smile.

‘Er, well, sorry about that, there appear to be some technical difficulties with our correspondent’s transmissons from Thessalia. In other news…’

Cain shot bolt–upright out of his chair and hit the button on his speakerphone. ‘What the hell is going on out there?!’

A meek voice replied, sounding thin and reedy through the speakers.
’We’ve lost the feed sir.’

‘I can see that!’

Suddenly, Cain stopped speaking. Through the windows of the office, he realised that he could hear a transmission.

‘Why can I still hear Martin Sigby’s voice if GNN has no signal?!’

‘Because it’s not coming from GNN sir.’

Cain swallowed thickly as a sudden, dense ball of fear landed deep in his belly as he turned to look out of the office windows at the banks of plasma screens in the operations room.

*

Government House, Thessalia

Slowly, Alexei Severov stopped clapping and stared at the television screen with a vacant gaze, his skin slightly paler than before. Sir Wilkins was looking at the commander in confusion.

‘What is it?’

The commander moved closer to the television, and snapped his fingers at a video–recorder set up on a table nearby.

‘It is recording, no? Re–wind the tape.’

Sir Wilkins strolled across to the recorder and rewound the tape by a couple of minutes.

‘There!’ Severov snapped. ‘Play!’

Megan slowly looked up and watched as the screen once again showed Martin Sigby talking, and Severov’s jaw fell open as he pointed at the screen, trying to speak but unable to do so.

‘For God’s sake what is it man?!’ Wilkins snapped impatiently.

‘The clock,’ Severov croaked. ‘On the church tower.’

Wilkins looked at the clock far behind Sigby, and then glanced at his own watch before staring at the screen in sudden shock.

‘It’s thirty minutes behind time!’ he gasped.

Megan, for the first time, allowed a grim smile to curl from one corner of her lips as she spoke softly.

‘No, it’s not. You shouldn’t believe everything that you see on television.’

Wilkins looked at Megan, began to tremble, and then suddenly exploded in uncharacteristic rage as he hurled a fist down onto one of the tables, kicking chairs and screaming incoherently. He recovered himself enough to look at Megan with a furious expression.

‘How? How did you know?’

Megan smiled.

‘Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Your man Bolav, you sent him to die out there and he knew it. Before he passed away he told me that Severov was not in charge, that somebody higher was in control of this deception. I just didn’t know that it would be you.’

Alexei Severov approached Megan slowly, sweat sheening his brow and disbelief making his eyes wobble in their sockets.

‘The people, on the television, they said it was a live feed,’ he whispered.

‘It was,’ Megan said with defiant mirth. ‘Right up to the point where Martin appeared.’

Severov, his fists clenched by his side and his jaw grinding in his skull, raised a finger to point at Megan.

‘Where is Sigby?’ he hissed.

Megan grinned, knowing what was coming to her but terminally delighted none the less.

‘Telling the truth,’ she said. ‘The broadcast you just saw was a fake, seen only here in Thessalia. The real one is being broadcast across the entire globe and there’s nothing that you can do about it.’

Severov clenched and unclenched his hands several times before letting out a wail of fury, like an animal carrying a hideous injury. And then he picked up a chair and swung it hard across the side of Megan’s head, screaming as he did so.

Megan felt the solid side of the chair smack like an exploding bomb beside her ear, saw the room tilt as she was hurled onto her side. Pain bolted through her shoulder as it hit the tiled floor. She saw Severov, the veins in his neck bulging, his teeth gritted and his eyes filled with mindless rage, lift his right boot to bring it down on Megan’s head. Megan closed her eyes.

‘Severov!’

Wilkin’s voice cut through Severov’s rage and the commander, breathing heavily and seething with fury, looked across at Wilkins.

‘Downstairs,’ the attache growled. ‘We don’t want anybody to know what happened here, or hear what she might say.’ Wilkins looked at Megan. ‘Now it’s your turn to disappear forever, but before you do we’ll know where to find all of those people with whom you’ve collaborated.’

‘It doesn’t matter, Wilkins,’ Megan spat. ‘The whole world will know what both of you have done, especially you Severov. Do you remember the dogs, Alexei? The girl on the hill? The cigarette you smoked before setting those animals on her?’

Severov froze, staring at Megan in surprise.

‘That’s right,’ Megan said. ‘She filmed it, all of it, including the massacre of the scientists by your hand.’ Megan looked at Wilkins. ‘Everything was on film, and by now Amy and several copies of that film will be in the hands of the major networks.’

Wilkins stared at Megan in shock, his skin paling as though his heart were failing in his chest.

‘She is alive, here?’

‘Not here,’ Megan said, enjoying her final moment of victory. ‘I didn’t send Callum home injured. It was Amy O’Hara you signed for, authorising her extraction from Thessalia. She had the original copy of the film on her. Yours, Tom, was a copy.’

Wilkin’s shoulders slumped as he stared vacantly at nothing in particular, coming to terms with the depth of Megan’s deception.

‘You’re finished, Wilkins,’ Megan spat as Severov yanked her up from the chair.

Wilkins smiled as Severov pulled Megan away.

‘This is politics Megan,’ he said. ‘Nothing is ever finished.’

The voice that rumbled from the doorway belonged to none of the men already in the room.

‘It is now.’

President Mukhari Akim’s broad shoulders all but blocked the doorway as Severov stopped short of his superior, his dark eyes wide with alarm. Akim’s gaze bore into the Chief of Police’s with a terrifying intensity as he advanced.

‘Release her,’ the president said threateningly.

Severov hesitated, and then suddenly Sir Wilkins called out.
‘Guard!’

The two rebel soldiers guarding the corridor outside dashed into the room, weapons raised.

‘The president is in league with the rebel traitors!’ Wilkins shouted. ‘Arrest him at once!’

The soldiers wavered uncertainly, until Severov snapped at them.

‘Arrest him! He is behind the massacre of our people, with this woman!’

The two soldiers snapped their weapons around to point at the president, who glared at Severov with unrivalled fury.

‘You have given your last command, Alexei.’