He'd watched politicians refuse to make the right decisions because of popular opinion or misguided notions of political correctness. Politicians like Rice, who backed away from victory even when they held it in the palm of their hand. Politicians who had sacrificed his son for nothing.
Westlake had been immensely proud of his boy. His death had been meaningless. Alan Westlake had died because he'd been ordered into an insurgent stronghold without adequate support. There had been no military or strategic value in the assignment. It had been a political gesture, meant to satisfy the arbitrary whims of a puppet president Washington claimed was an ally.
Westlake's wife had never been the same after that. She had gone into a deep depression. A year after Alan's death, she'd killed herself.
Westlake became known in military circles as an unrelenting hawk, an advocate of massive response with token concern for collateral damage. He'd been on the short list for a seat on the Joint Chiefs but as his views hardened and the political climate changed, he'd been shunted aside. He was given the satellite program, a poor substitute for the command of legions.
It was clear to him that political expediency had placed the security of the nation in danger. Washington's policies of appeasement and negotiation dishonored his son and every American. It was enough to make any patriot weep.
He would change that. America would reclaim her rightful place. At the end of World War II, the stars and stripes had flown in every corner of the globe. There was no reason why it shouldn't again. All that was needed was the right leader.
It was America's destiny.
His destiny.
CHAPTER 29
Nick and the others stood outside the entrance to the O2 arena, waiting for their MI5 escort. They wore earpieces so they could stay in radio contact once they were inside. Streams of people filed past. Wigland had been adamant: wait for him before they did anything.
Posters outside the stadium headlined a singer with long blonde hair, tattooed arms and the look of the streets.
"Guy has a lot of ink," Nick said.
"I wonder if he's any good?" Selena said.
"Must be, to book this joint solid," Ronnie said. "I looked it up on the net. Only the top acts play here."
"I don't like this waiting around for our minder to decide if we can be useful," Nick said.
Lamont coughed. "I don't think he likes us much," he said.
"Speak of the devil," Ronnie said.
Wigland came up to them. He was immaculately dressed. He looked as if he was on his way to the theater instead of hunting someone who planned to trigger a riot. "Well then," he said. "Here we are."
"What's the plan?" Nick asked. "Have your people turned anything up?"
"Not yet, but if something's there we'll find it. Not really your concern."
Nick controlled himself. It was obvious that Wigland had no intention of giving Nick and his team any operational responsibility. He decided to confront Wigland about it.
"I'd like to point out that you and your government would have no idea there was any possibility of an incident if my director hadn't called your boss and given him a heads up. Now you're marginalizing us. It's a mistake."
Wigland's face was closed. "You are only here as a courtesy, Carter. We do things our own way on this side of the pond. We don't need you cowboy types screwing things up, do we?" His voice was dismissive.
He handed Nick tickets. "Enjoy the show and stay out of the way. If you interfere in my operation, I'll have you on a plane back to Washington tonight. This whole exercise is a waste of time. If there does turn out to be anything to it, we'll sort it out."
Nick felt a headache start. He resisted the urge to punch the man.
"Remember," Wigland said. He pointed his finger at Nick. "Stay out of the way." He turned and walked into the arena, leaving them standing there.
"I know where he got his old school tie," Ronnie said. "Asshole University."
Selena laughed.
Nick smiled in spite of himself. His ear itched. He reached up and scratched it. Selena and Ronnie looked at each other.
"I'll never understand why people like him end up in charge of things," Nick said.
Lamont said, "What do you want to do?"
"What we were going to do before. Wigland may think this is all a waste of time, but we know better."
They walked through two huge O symbols and passed into the complex. To the right, a wide hallway curved away between rows of shops and restaurants. Civilian guards dressed in dark slacks and blue jackets with the name of their security service embroidered over the breast pocket stood about, looking bored. They appeared to be unarmed.
"I don't see any metal detectors," Selena said.
"Maybe they're out of sight," Lamont said.
"I don't think so. Anyone could walk in here with something nasty. Look around. People have handbags, camera bags, lots of places to conceal something. Nobody's checking them. "
"MI5 could have brought some in if they'd wanted to. I don't understand why they're not taking this seriously," Nick said.
Ronnie looked around. "This is a perfect setup for a terrorist attack."
The faces of the crowd were expectant, happy, in a mood for something exciting to happen. Nick hoped they didn't get more than they'd paid for.
"We have to assume Wigland is competent enough to lead a reasonable search," he said. "Even if he is, it doesn't mean he'll find anything."
Selena said, "If the attack is like the one in Novosibirsk, it will start with a diversion out in the city. Something to draw away the police and fire services. The Russians told Harker that a bomb went off before the riots started."
Nick said, "What are you thinking?"
"We need to know if something happens out there in the city. It would tell us that the device was about to be activated. Elizabeth can see London on the satellite. She can monitor it for us."
"Good point," Nick said. "I'll call her."
He took out his satellite phone and punched in Harker's number.
"Yes, Nick."
"Director, we're inside the arena. We've been shut out of the search. No one is giving us any help. I need to know if a diversion starts in the city, like the explosion in Novosibirsk. I thought you could keep track and tell us if something happens. We would have some warning that way."
"We have a satellite over the UK right now. I can watch London from here and if I see something, I'll call."
"Roger that." Nick ended the call.
They showed their tickets and walked into the arena.
The place was filling up. Seats rose in tiers on three sides around a central floor full of people milling about. The seating was arranged around the floor like a giant horseshoe. The ends of the horseshoe bordered two aisles angling down on either side of the stage. The stage itself was flat and wide, lit with a huge bank of overhead spotlights.
The edge of the stage was at eye level for the crowd standing on the main floor below. Instruments and microphone stands waited on stage. Someone was adjusting one of the microphones, making a sound check. Someone else was plugging in connections in a wall of amplifiers and speakers at the back.
The show was about to begin.
CHAPTER 30
Half an hour into the concert, the floor in front of the stage was filled with people jammed together, swaying in time to the music. The crowd was like an alien, giant organism with thousands of tentacles, people waving their arms back and forth in time with the music.
The band was all movement and high octane energy as the lead singer strode back and forth across the stage. Nick was in the fourth row at one end of the horseshoe of seats surrounding the arena floor. Higher up, Selena was slowly making her way along the aisles, eyeballing the crowd. Ronnie and Lamont were somewhere on the fringes of the swaying mob.