She paused. “He didn’t even know that the Russians were planning to invade Europe until he heard the radio reports,” she continued. “Imagine; thousands of them, still running around the country, striking like they did at the tanker. What happens if a few of them take up position near a RAF base and launch more missiles?”
“We have to find them,” Langford said. “How did they get here anyway?”
“Russian workers hired by a shell company,” Erica said. “The Security Service was trying to look into the paper trail; guess what happened to the people in charge of the company?”
Langford took a wild guess. “Trapped in Russia by the war?”
“And their records destroyed,” Erica said. “There were hundreds of thousands of Russians coming to Britain to work; if even a tenth of them were agents, we have an entire underground invasion army on our hands.”
“Have them all rounded up and moved into the detention centres,” Langford said, hating himself. He had always thought that detaining people without trial was un-British, even if it had been the only way to handle international terrorism. The unfortunates who had already been detained had either been offered a chance to make up for their crimes by serving in the army, or had been told that they would remain there until they could be sent to America to face charges there. The known terrorist
Mustapha had been caught, much to everyone’s surprise, and he would be out of the country in a week. “We can sort them all out later.”
“Most of them will have gone underground by now,” Erica said. She scowled. “Someone very well placed must have been organising this for years.”
“I don’t think that the last government needed the help,” Langford said bitterly. He ran a hand through his hair. On its own resources, Britain couldn’t rebuild its army before it was too late, not the vital equipment, at least. Many of the factories for constructing smaller weapons, such as rifles and pistols, had been hit, although those were fairly easy to build, given time. The aircraft and tanks… it could take months before any new aircraft came off the assembly line; once they ran out of spares, the entire RAF would be grounded pretty quickly. “How many soldiers can we assemble here?”
“Around thirty thousand, at most, counting the TA,” Erica said. “The initial losses were very heavy, particularly in units that were in their barracks at the time; we have to get what we do have left into a coordinated force and replace the equipment — I think we also have to call back the Falklands force now, without further delay.”
Langford nodded bitterly. “See to it,” he said. A sonic boom split the air; everyone knew that it wouldn’t be long before the Russians started air attacks in earnest, securing command over the sea and as much of southern England as they could. He wondered what had caused the boom; a RAF fighter on patrol, or a Russian fighter preparing to enter the UKADR and thumb its nose at the British. With stockpiles of advanced weapons so low, the British could not afford to engage every probe unless it came over the mainland… and by the time the two AWACS tracked the probe as coming in over the mainland, it might be too late to respond. “I think that we also need to draw up a plan for resisting an invasion.”
He looked along the beach to one of the other men standing there. “I think we also need to do something we should have done a long time ago,” he said. “I think we have to ask for help.”
Erica nodded. “I’ll return to the headquarters and start making the preparations,” she said. “If nothing else, we need to evacuate this whole area; I don’t think that the Russians would dare land anywhere else. Too many variables.”
Langford watched her go, and then sped up his own walk. He had asked the two men ahead of him to come to see the return of British forces; it was the easiest way he could think of to stress how serious the situation had become, at least in British eyes. The older man turned as Langford approached; Ambassador Andrew Luong looked almost as tired as Langford felt. Colonel Seth Fanaroff had been briefing him on what had happened in Brussels; the United States had already lost over four hundred lives to the war, many of them in the first day of the fighting. The Americans who had made themselves known to Russian forces had been sent back to America; Langford ground his teeth at the thought. A few atrocities would have made his task much easier.
“Ambassador,” he said, as he took in the two men. Fanaroff had brought back his assistant and ten women, nine of whom were prostitutes who had devoted themselves to ministering to the soldiers. The civilian population had done what they could as well, but many of them had just stayed inside, keeping themselves to themselves, seeing to their families first. “May we have a word?”
Luong nodded once. “It doesn’t look good,” he said, before Langford could say anything. “I don’t understand; why did no one ever see this coming?”
“Water under the bridge,” Langford said. It hardly mattered now. “Ambassador; Britain needs help.”
“I thought you might ask that,” Luong admitted. There was a long pause. “It may be politically impossible to provide more than limited support.”
Langford closed his eyes for a moment. “Give us the weapons and we can win,” he said. He had never been a diplomat; perhaps “Ambassador, have you considered what the Russian conquest means for America?”
Fanaroff nodded before Luong could speak. “The Russians intended nothing less than conquest, and now that the remainder of France is being brought under Russian authority, it won’t be long before they come here,” he said. “Once that happens, they will be almost impossible to remove without a war that will make World War Two look like a child’s tea party.”
“The American public is generally not inclined to take the long view,” Luong said, more to Langford than to Fanaroff. “The President may agree with you, but you must know that the American Army is heavily engaged in both Korea and the Middle East. The supplies that used to be based here are gone; even if we were prepared to send troops, they wouldn’t be capable of being more than… speed bumps for the Russians.”
He paused. “There is also a good chance that political opinion would be so strongly against intervention that the President would be able to do nothing,” he continued. “You know, you must know, exactly what Brussels has said about America…”
Langford shrugged. “And Washington has said what about Brussels?”
“Washington isn’t the place that needs help,” Luong pointed out dryly.
Langford felt real despair for the first time.
The American shrugged. “I want to help, I want America to help, but it may be impossible both politically and practically. The average Joe Six-pack in the US is probably cheering on the Russians and wondering what the Russians will do to all the terrorists who have managed to make themselves into media darlings in Europe, so that they could never be sent out of the country to face trial. The Russians in control of Europe may end the flood of poison money; informed opinion may want to wait and see if the Russians improve the situation…”
“Which won’t happen if the Algerians get control over the south of France,” Langford said. “I was under the impression that the Algerians were on your list of states to knock over and repair.”
“It was, but not for a few years,” Luong said, grimly. He met Langford’s eyes. “I will go to Washington to plead your case.” He held up a hand. “I would not, however, advise hope; the most I think that Washington will be able to give you is supplies and some additional support, maybe even a few additional tankers and aircraft if they are available.”