The man walked up to him, at the same time producing a plain white envelope made from the very finest paper.
Later, when the envelope was analysed, it would be found to have come from a supplier in Naples. There would be no fingerprints, even though the man who had delivered it was not wearing gloves. He had no fingerprints: they had been surgically removed.
“Good afternoon,” he said. He had no accent of any kind. His voice was pleasant and polite.
“Good afternoon, sir.”
“I have a letter for the prime minister.”
The policeman had heard it a hundred times. There were cranks and pressure groups, people with grievances, people needing help. Often they came here with letters and petitions, hoping they would reach the prime minister’s desk. The policeman was friendly. As he was trained to be.
“Thank you, sir. If you’d like to leave it with me, I’ll see it goes through.” The policeman took the letter—and his would be the only fingerprints that would show up later. Written on the front of the envelope in neat, flowing handwriting were the words: For the attention of the Prime Minister of Great Britain, First Lord of the Treasury, 10 Downing Street. He carried it into the long, narrow office which is little more than a Portakabin and which all members of the public must pass through before they can enter the famous street. This was as close as the letter would normally get to number ten. It would be re-routed to an office where a secretary—one of many—would open and read it. If necessary, it might be passed on to the appropriate department. More likely, after a few weeks, the sender would receive a standard, word-processed reply.
This letter was different.
When the duty officer received it, he turned it over, and that was when he saw the silver scorpion embossed on the other side. There are many symbols and code words used by criminal and terrorist organizations. They are designed to make themselves instantly identifiable so that the authorities will treat them seriously. The duty officer knew at once that he was holding a communication from Scorpia, and pressed the panic button, alerting half a dozen policemen outside.
“Who delivered this?” he demanded.
“It was just someone…” The policeman was old and approaching the end of his career. After today, that end would be considerably nearer. “He was young. Fair-haired. Wearing a suit.”
“Get out there and see if you can find him.”
But it was too late. Seconds after the man in the suit had delivered the letter, another taxi had drawn up and he had got in. This taxi was not in fact licensed and its number plate was fake. After less than half a mile the man had got out again, disappearing into the crowds pouring out of Charing Cross Station. His hair was now dark brown; he had discarded his jacket and was wearing sunglasses. He would never be seen again.
By five thirty that evening the letter had been photographed, the paper analysed, the envelope checked for any trace of biochemical agents. The prime minister was not in the country. He had gone to Mexico City to join other world leaders at a summit meeting about the environment. He had been in the middle of a photo session but had been called outside and told about the letter. Already he was on his way home.
Meanwhile, two men were sitting in his private office. One was the permanent secretary to the Cabinet Office.
The other was the director of communications. They each had a copy of the letter—three typewritten sheets, unsigned—in front of them.
This was what they had read:
Dear Prime Minister,
It is with regret that we must inform you that we are about to bring terror to your country.
We are acting on the instructions of an overseas client who wishes to make certain adjustments to the balance of world power. He makes four demands:
1. The Americans must withdraw all their troops and secret service personnel from every country around the world. Never again will the Americans act as international policemen.
2. The Americans must announce their intention to destroy their entire nuclear weapons programme as well as their long-range conventional weapons systems. We will allow six months for this process to be put into effect and completed. By the end of that time, the United States must have disarmed.
3. The sum of one billion dollars must be paid to the World Bank, this money to be used to rebuild poor countries and countries damaged by recent wars.
4. The president of the United States must resign immediately.
Prime Minister, you may wonder why this letter is addressed to you when our demands are directed entirely at the American government.
The reason for this is simple. You are the Americans’ best friend. You have always supported their foreign policy. Now it is time to see if they will be as loyal to you as you have been to them.
Should they fail, it is you who will pay the price.
We will wait two days. To be more precise, we are prepared to give you forty-eight hours, starting from the moment this letter was delivered. During this time, we expect to hear the president of the United States agree to our terms.
If he fails to do so, we will inflict a terrible punishment on the people of Britain.
We must inform you, Prime Minister, that we have developed a new weapon which we have called Invisible Sword. This weapon is now primed and operational. If the president of the United States chooses not to respond to all four of our demands in the allotted time, then—at exactly four o’clock on Thursday afternoon—many thousands of schoolchildren in London will die. Let me assure you, most sincerely, that this cannot be avoided. The technology is in place; the targets have been selected. This is not a hollow threat.
Even so, we understand that you may doubt the power of Invisible Sword.
We have therefore arranged a demonstration. This evening the England reserve football squad will be returning to Britain from Nigeria, where they have been playing a number of exhibition games.
