Sarah had a sudden thought: Cass was only pretending to be uncomfortable, the old soldier struggling to know how to fit back in polite society. She wondered how many times this act had got him exactly what he wanted.
“A trifle blunt,” Winston murmured.
“Accurate, though,” Cass said, not looking at him. “And you invited me – why? To feel me out. See what I have planned?”
“Call it… reconnaissance,” Sarah said. Cass was smart, but she’d known that already.
“And that’s exactly why I wanted to start with East London,” Cass said. “The natives are getting restless. And a good deal of that restlessness is concentrated here.”
“Yes, because unemployment is spiking. We’re at a hundred-year high. The modern British workplace is almost wholly automated, and human workers are made redundant at a ridiculous rate. Anti-tech protests are becoming common.” Sarah watched his eyes as she spoke. Cass was… bored. “Is it any wonder there’s unrest?”
“I’m not here to debate the causes,” Cass said. “Regardless of the reasons, the populace is restive – aggressively so. And my intelligence tells me that there are those looking to exploit that unrest. DedSec, for instance.”
“DedSec?” Winston said.
Sarah sat back. “Intelligence? Spies, you mean.”
Cass looked at her. “Yes,” he said, bluntly. “Eyes on the ground are integral part of any operation. Both to watch the enemy – and your allies.” He paused, still looking at Sarah. “You don’t seem surprised.”
“Well I bloody am,” Winston said. “I thought DedSec was an American problem.”
“Terrorism has a habit of spilling across national borders.”
Sarah cleared her throat. “Strong word. They were just ‘hacktivists’, last I heard.” Not that she’d heard much. DedSec wasn’t something on her radar, though it was impossible to avoid hearing about them, these days.
“A pretty word hiding an ugly reality. Like ‘freedom fighter’. They’re terrorists, plain and simple.” He sat back. “Like most insurgent organizations, they’re broken into cells. And those cells are broken down into smaller cells, and so on and so forth. I have it on good authority that the London cell is bigger than anyone realizes. They’re as dangerous as any other insurgent element. Maybe more so, given their method of operation.”
“Computers, you mean.” Winston glanced at Sarah, and she knew he was playing the fool. The out-of-touch politico was a mask they’d all donned once or twice in their careers. Cass’s eyes narrowed. Sarah wasn’t sure he’d bought it, but he seemed willing to elaborate.
“Among other things. Instead of bombs, they plant malware.” He paused. “If anything, it’s more dangerous. Bombs kill people. Malware kills systems. And they’re not the only ones using such methods. London is rife with factionalism. Maybe you don’t see it – maybe you’re trying not to see it – but it’s evident to me.”
“And you think Albion has the resources to combat this… problem?”
“Boots on the ground, drones in the air. Give me three months, and I can knock East London into shape. With six, I could bring the whole city to heel.” He spread his hands. “Force is the great leveller. Enough force and even the strongest rock breaks.”
“We’re not talking about rocks, though.”
“No, but the principle is the same. A decade or more of budget cuts have rendered the Metropolitan Police Service toothless. They cannot effectively maintain law and order on a city-wide scale. Albion can, for a fraction of the cost.” Cass gestured. “Tower Hamlets is the first step. With your support, we can get permission to step up patrols and take on investigative duties, thus freeing up the Met to get on with their paperwork.”
“Is that why Faulkner was out at Lister House yesterday?” Sarah asked.
Cass scratched his chin. “He just wanted to lend a hand.”
“He wanted to take over the scene. I was curious as to why.” Sarah tilted her head. “As you said, Albion’s remit does not extend to investigative work.” She paused. “Curious as well that he got there so quickly.”
“We have access to the police frequencies.”
“And drones in the air,” Winston said, drily.
Cass glanced at him. “That is part of Albion standard operational procedure, yes.” He took a sip of coffee, watching them.
“Operational procedure for enemy territory, I believe,” Sarah said, seizing on the opening. “Is Tower Hamlets ‘enemy territory’?”
Cass studied her over the rim of his cup. “You don’t agree?”
“I grew up in Tower Hamlets, Mr Cass.”
He put down his cup and favoured her with a warmer smile. “Nigel, please.”
“Nigel, then. This is my home. I still reside here.”
“I imagine in a nicer house.”
Sarah bared her teeth in a smile of her own. “Oh definitely. Indoor WCs and track lighting. Very posh. The borough has its issues – it always has – but the answer to those problems is not armed patrols. It is money. More money for schools, more money for council housing, a universal basic income…”
Cass chuckled. “That’s your answer for everything isn’t it? You people–”
Sarah fixed him with a look. Cass paused, aware of what he’d just said. He frowned. “I meant politicians,” he explained.
“Of course you did,” Winston said, smoothly. “Though possibly we can be forgiven for thinking otherwise, given your men’s propensity for – ehm – a certain inequality of applied force, shall we say?”
“Say what you want to say,” Cass said, flatly. “Don’t shilly-shally.”
Sarah leaned forward. “I don’t think you’re a bigot, Mr Cass. But it’s not what I think that matters. You haven’t thought things through. You see the borough as foreign territory, to be subdued. I see it as my constituency. The people who elected me to represent them. I’m sure Winston feels the same.”
Winston looked uncomfortable, but nodded.
Sarah tapped the table with an expertly manicured nail. “I speak with their voice, even if you’d rather not hear what they have to say. And what they want me to say is that Albion – in its current form – is unwelcome.”
Cass was silent for long moments. Then he gave a grunt and made as if to rise. “Thank you for lunch. It was… an edifying experience.”
“For us too. Farewell
