The Prime Minister, Sir Neville and Mrs. Collier were tensely viewing the live footage on the laptop. The plainclothes special forces squad sprinting along The Mall had just reached the corner of the park and were now fanning out.
‘They are keeping their weapons concealed, aren’t they?’
‘Yes, Prime Minister.’
The camera feed from the commander abruptly switched to a fixed image of branches and part of a narrow tree trunk; a bizarre colourless object extruded from it.
‘Agh, damn it! We’ve lost the feed! Contact the commander!’ shouted Sir Neville to Mrs. Collier.
‘What is that?’ asked the PM, but before anyone could answer, the object promptly vanished. The view then descended down the tree towards what looked like one of Sir Neville’s manila folders, propped up against the trunk. The view closed in to reveal the word Majestic on the front cover.
‘I recognize that from the Vauxhall Cross office footage. That’s one of the files the woman stole from the secret room!’ said Sir Neville.
‘Are you sure?’ asked the PM.
‘Certain. “Majestic” is an obsolete secret classification, the highest classification.’
The image remained fixed on the report.
‘Where is that? Is that in St James’s?’ asked the PM.
‘There is a serial number in the bottom left corner,’ remarked Mrs. Collier, ‘ds3-k514’.
‘Yes, that’s one of the St James’s cameras,’ replied Sir Neville, as he grabbed his phone: ‘Check again the status of the St James’s Park cameras... Good God! … Where is ds3-k514’s exact position? … Copied!’ Sir Neville terminated his call: ‘All of London’s cameras are now down, save for that one! … Is the commander standing by?’
‘Yes, sir,’ replied Mrs. Collier.
Sir Neville ordered the squad commander to collect the file and return it to 10 Downing Street immediately.
‘I’ve got the commander’s feed,’ stated Mrs. Collier.
Images from the commander’s discreet spectacle-mounted camera fed through to the laptop in apparent real-time and the group watched as he quickly found and collected the file; they continued to watch as he raced back to Downing Street.
‘I’d better meet him,’ said Sir Neville, standing.
‘Yes,’ agreed the PM, ‘the less time he has to take a sneaky peek the better. We’ll keep a close eye on his camera feed.’
After about ten minutes Sir Neville returned to the Prime Minister’s office with the Majestic file grasped firmly in his hand.
‘Good work, Sir Neville,’ said the PM smiling. ‘There have been no indications from the squad of any incongruities at St. James’s Park.’
‘No, sir,’ said Sir Neville, breathing hard, ‘I doubt they will notice anything, but I’ve instructed the commander to examine the park thoroughly. He’ll be back at the park any moment; then we may notice something via his camera.’
‘Indeed!’ replied the PM... ‘In the meantime, what’s in it?’ he added, nodding at the file:
‘No-can-do, sir. The file has been freshly sealed with wax and marked: “Prime Minister’s Eyes Only”.’ Sir Neville handed over the secret file to a slightly startled Prime Minister. The PM examined the outside of the file: It was musty, ancient.
‘Thanks! … wait a minute! What’s this?’
The laptop showed that the commander was moving in on some kind of disturbance. One of his men appeared to be jostling with a group of winos.
‘What’s going on there!?’ barked Sir Neville to his squad commander.
‘A homeless guy is giving one of our men some static. Garbled nonsense about a gigantic spider running around the park. I’ll move on, let the lieutenant handle that one.’
‘Negative, commander!’ ordered Sir Neville, ‘pull that man in – but softly softly.’
‘Sir?’
‘That’s an order!’
Sir Neville turned to Mrs. Collier: ‘Find out that man’s story!’