Precipice

'Howard!' he roared. 'Get back into your office, close the door and stay there. Get a bloody move on…'

Shocked by the violence of the orders, Howard obeyed, disappeared into his office, slammed the door shut.

'George!' Tweed shouted at the top of his voice to the ex-soldier who guarded the front door. 'Run into the waiting room. Stay there with the door closed until I come down.'

George, looking dazed, staggered into the waiting room, shut the door.

Tweed took a deep breath, adjusted his earplugs. The fiendish shrieking, very high decibels, was reverberating inside his head. He forced himself to run up the stairs. The door to the communications room was open. Once again they had been working late. The emphasis was on had.

Appalled, Tweed entered the large room. The computer screens had gone mad. No longer green, they were flashing at immense velocity, a variety of incredibly brilliant colours, blindingly bright. The colours seemed to recede for a fraction of a second, and then lurch out of the screens again.

The screeching sound emitted from the screens varied in intensity, a deafening blast which he could hear clearly despite his earplugs. But what appalled him most was the state of the three men who had worked there. Reginald was flopped back in his chair, his head hanging over the rest. Tweed checked his pulse. Nothing.

He compelled himself to fight the sense of disorientation which was in danger of overcoming him. The other two men lay sprawled on the floor beside their chairs. When he checked their pulses he found nothing.

He glanced round the room, saw the main cable. Taking a grave risk, he grabbed hold of it, hauled it out of its socket. The screens died quickly, fading away into blanks. The diabolical noise, rising and falling, rising and falling, also faded. Tweed pulled out his earplugs, was struck by the heavy silence, took off his smoked glasses. Leaving the room he ran downstairs, opened the door to his office.

Monica, looking very shaken, had just taken out one earplug. She removed her dark glasses when she saw Tweed was without his.

'What happened?' she croaked.

'I imagine the telephone is out of action.'

Tweed lifted the receiver, was surprised to hear the normal dialling tone. He handed the receiver to her.

'Call an ambulance urgently. Paramedics vital. Three men unconscious, may be dead.'

He left his office as Monica began dialling madly. He had little hope that even paramedics could do anything, but in medicine you never knew. He dashed downstairs to the ground floor, opened the door to the waiting room.

'What was that, sir?' George asked. 'Start of World War Three?'

'Not as bad as that. You can go back to your desk.'

He ran to Howard's room, opened the door. His chief was staring out of the window. He turned round with a bemused expression. Shock.

'What's happening?' he whispered.

'Brazil has started. That's just the first phase. We have to stop him before he launches the second one. You look flaked out. Go home to bed. I'm taking charge…'

He left before Howard could reply but he sensed he would not be protesting. Running back upstairs, he opened the door to the room where the night duty staff worked. Fortunately, there were no computers here or any of the junk which went with them. Four men looked up at him as though emerging from a dream. The fact that their door had been closed had saved them from a dreadful experience.

'What was that, sir?' the senior member asked. 'I opened the door and then slammed it shut.'

'Damned good job you did. You're all right, then – all of you?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Then carry on with what you were doing before it started. It won't happen again. I've immobilized the equipment in the computer room. Don't go down there.'

On his way back to his office, running down more stairs, Tweed called down to the guard.

'George, paramedics will arrive at any moment. Show them up yourself to the Computer Room, then go back to your post. Tell them where I am.'

He went back into his office, closing the door. Monica was on the phone. She gestured madly to his phone.

'Paramedics are coming. I've got a chap at the MoD on the line. Manders. He's scared out of his wits.'

'Hello, Manders. Tweed speaking.'

'There's been a catastrophe. All our computers have gone down. The operators are dead. There were violent flashing lights and….'

'I know what there was.' Tweed interrupted. 'We've had the same thing here. I know what it is.'

'You do!'

'Yes.' Tweed was emphatic. 'So leave it to me.'

'GCHQ is out of action. There are more bodies there. A member of the staff phoned me from outside the building.'

'I said I know what it is. I repeat, leave it to me. I have to go. Goodbye.'

GCHQ. That was the key communications station at Cheltenham. Its staff listened in to signals, conversations on telephones all over the world. Even the Americans respected it.

'I've forgotten something.'

Tweed jumped up, ran to the door, opened it in time to see below a team of paramedics coming up with George leading them. He stopped the first paramedic.

'One thing you should know. There's a live cable on the floor. So watch it.'

'Thank you, sir.' The paramedic called back over his shoulder as his team hurtled up the stairs, disappeared inside the computer room.

Tweed returned to his office, closed the door. He looked at Monica.

'Better get Cord Dillon at Langley on the phone if you can reach him.'

Tweed knew the Deputy Director of the CIA worked all hours, was seldom away from his desk. Monica was reaching for the phone when it began ringing. She listened, told the caller, 'He is here.' and stared at Tweed.

'Cord Dillon – calling you.'

'Hello, Cord, just about to contact you.' Tweed managed to say.

'Tweed, total panic in Washington. The White House is going completely crazy. All my computers have been sabotaged – a lot of dead men in this building.' Dillon added calmly.

'We've been subjected to the same attack. It's Brazil. Leopold Brazil. I warned you not to trust him. This is phase one of a global operation which hinges on Rogue One.'

'Phase one, you said. You mean you anticipate a phase two soon?' Dillon enquired in the same deadpan voice.

'I don't anticipate it, Cord. I expect it. Don't worry. I know what is happening. My team are in Europe hunting his key apparatus.'

'Tell them to kill the bastard.'

'I think they may have the same idea. Everything is under control.'

'The Pentagon is immobilized. Plenty of corpses there. I have to go see the President. You haven't met this one. His predecessor admired you. So what do I tell him? Tweed says the situation is under control? Don't worry? He'll say who the four-letter word is Tweed?'

'Then put in a good word for me.' Tweed suggested amiably.

'I suppose I could. I owe you favours. Keep calling me.'

Tweed suggested a cup of coffee would be welcome as he put down the phone. Monica hurried to the percolator in the corner. He drank two cups straight off. Then the phone rang again.

Monica answered it, then an ecstatic expression appeared on her face as though she was hearing from a long-lost lover. She could hardly get the words out as she called across to Tweed.

'Bob Newman is on the line…'

'Good to hear from you, Bob,' Tweed said. 'Where are you calling from?'

'From a call box in the street. Place called Sion, in the Valais. We've located the ground station – or rather, Paula and Philip, who arrived earlier, tracked it down. They've seen some action.'

'Are they both all right?'