Placidia told the story of Rome. From a humble village in a country on the western edge of the known world, it grew in size and strength until it challenged the great powers of the day. Just as the US had faced down the Soviets, the Romans defeated the once-mighty empire of Carthage. Just as America emerged from the British Empire, adopted much of their culture and then overtook it, the Romans did the same to ancient Greece. Rome, like America, was proud to be a republic, led by free men and slave-owners. It became the world’s first superpower.
At its height, the Romans controlled the whole of civilisation, since beyond its huge borders lived only primitive tribes and marauders who couldn’t hope to match the quality of life enjoyed within the Empire. A system of roads, laws and taxes brought peace. For many centuries, Roman society was the most prosperous the world had ever known. ‘Just like twentieth-century America,’ explained Placidia.
‘But in the year 376, war in the east drove a group of Goths and Huns from their land, and the refugees sought sanctuary in the Roman Empire. The Romans put them in what today would be called concentration camps, where they froze. They were denied shelter or food,’ she recounted. ‘Some of the Roman soldiers sold dog meat to the starving refugees in exchange for their girls, who became personal slaves.’
Myles nodded. He knew what happened next, and listened to Placidia complete the story. ‘So the Goths and Huns made a mass escape, and started fighting the Romans from inside the Empire’s borders. Within fifty years they had raided Rome itself, and within a century the Empire was gone.’
Dick Roosevelt shook his head. ‘OK, Placidia. Your people have it tough,’ he accepted. ‘But nobody’s demanding they sell their children to get a Green Card.’
Placidia’s voice became firmer as she addressed her captives. ‘Senator Roosevelt, Richard Roosevelt and Myles: you all need to understand why the Roman Empire fell, because otherwise the United States will fall in the same way. But the real reason the Roman Empire collapsed has become a secret. Powerful people have hidden it, and given us the official verdict of history, which is untrue.’
The Senator tried to ridicule her. ‘Well, missy, can you give us a clue why Rome fell?’
‘Yes, here’s a clue, Senator: Emperor Valerian,’ announced Placidia. ‘Valerian went into battle in the Middle East in 260AD but was taken hostage. Rome found a new emperor, and Valerian never returned. He died as a prisoner.’
The Senator guessed what was coming next. ‘So you’re taking me prisoner?’
‘Yes, Senator. You and your son are the closest thing there is to America’s imperial blood.’
The Senator wasn’t fazed. He just asked: ‘And Myles?’
‘Just as Valerian’s advisors were sent back to the Empire with the terrible news,’ said Placidia, ‘Myles will be sent back to America to tell them of our ultimatum.’
Eighteen
Juma poked his gun into Myles’ ribs, forcing him up.
Myles obeyed. He bent down to shake hands with the Senator and his son, unsure whether either would survive. ‘Good luck, Dick,’ he said to Richard Roosevelt, who replied with a thin smile but no words. The young hero of New York had much on his mind.
Myles turned to Sam Roosevelt. ‘Anything you want me to tell people back in the US?’
‘Yeah,’ huffed the Senator. ‘Some of the suits in Langley will try to keep this quiet. Don’t let them: the people of America need to know they’re under attack.’
He said the words looking straight at Placidia. Placidia nodded — she had no plans to keep this secret, either.
Myles was escorted from the room by Juma and two of his militiamen. He caught sight of Placidia as he left. She glanced at him with a confident look, as if to say ‘we’ll meet again soon’. Myles was too stunned and confused to respond.
Outside, the sun was about to set. Myles had to step carefully down the uneven stairs from the building which led to the ground. There Juma punched his thigh, indicating he should get into a bashed-up taxi which was waiting for him.
It was as Myles was climbing in that Juma demanded he take something with him. ‘This is for the people back home…’ laughed the Somali pirate as he handed it over, then turned his back on Myles and swaggered away.
Myles looked down at what he’d been given: a bottle of All-American Steak Sauce. He checked the bottle was normal — it was — then shook his head in bemusement: Juma was clearly mad.
One of the militiamen sat down beside Myles and the taxi driver was waved off. Myles was being driven away.
The swift dusk soon gave way to the full dark of the night. By then, Myles was well on to the open roads and being driven east, back to the safety of Egypt. It was a long journey, but there was no time for sleep. He had too many questions.
Myles still couldn’t understand Placidia. She had always seemed so idealistic, naively so. So how could she threaten to bring down America? It would mean thousands, probably millions of deaths. Where was the idealism in that?
And how had Placidia become married to the psychopath, Juma? Myles tried to separate the question from his own feelings for the woman. It was true: he had liked her very much at university. He had hoped their friendship would become romantic — properly romantic. Physical. He remembered once inviting her for a coffee after their tutorial together. Myles had wanted it to lead somewhere, but she had been too involved in her latest student protest. Despite the obvious, almost electric attraction, they had never been able to engage at an emotional level. Myles wondered if Placidia could relate to anyone in the normal way. She was always too driven, too motivated, too determined to save the world.
Then there was the biggest issue: the threat itself. What would Placidia and Juma do to America? Clearly they thought they didn’t need to carry out much of their threat to make America concede. But, on this, Myles thought they had made a serious misjudgement. America was not the sort of country to be bowed by threats. The opposite was true: the more America was bullied to do something, the less likely it was to do it. Surely Placidia could see that? Myles knew Placidia was astonishingly intelligent. How could she have made such a mistake?
Myles tried to remember his history. What had brought down the Roman Empire? He stared up at the stars as the taxi drove along the desert highway. Vague memories wafted through his mind. Why had Rome collapsed?
He was startled by the door of the taxi slamming shut: the militiaman who had accompanied him had jumped out on a dark corner just before the Egyptian border. This was a different border post to the one Myles had passed through on his way into the country.
The taxi driver already had Myles’ passport, and showed it to the official border guard as they left Libya, and again to the police as they crossed into Egypt. Myles watched the signposts on the road: he was being driven to Alexandria.
Day III
Nineteen
Myles became bleary again, and only woke fully as the sky began to lighten. The bottle of steak sauce given to him by Juma had fallen onto the floor of the vehicle and broken open. The taxi driver saw it too, but didn’t seem to mind. He was opening Myles’ door. ‘Mr Munro, I leave you now,’ said the driver, patting him on the back and handing him his passport. ‘American Embassy — that way.’
The man pointed at a heavily fortified building set back some way from the road. Myles recognised it: the American consulate in Alexandria. It had been strengthened since Al Qaeda had destroyed the US embassies in Kenya and Sudan in 1998.