Downing Street London
Lat = 51 degrees, 30.2 minutes North
Long = 0 degrees, 7.7 minutes West
Twenty-four hours later.
Mick Strayker turned right into Downing Street and pulled up outside No 10; he stepped out of the car and the police officer at the door saluted him as he opened probably the most famous front door in the world.
The front entrance, with its black door, lion’s head knocker, brass numbers, lamp and letterbox inscribed “First Lord of the Treasury”, dates from 1760.
Strayker went straight to the cabinet room where the Prime Minister was seated.
She looked up at Strayker and beckoned him to sit down next to her. She had just returned from an overseas visit and had yet to congratulate him on the rescue mission.
“How bad is it Ma’am”?
This arrived Twenty-four hours ago, Strayker read the note.
“I presume this has been checked for authenticity”?
“There is a thumb print alongside the signature it’s been identified by Interpol as one Mohammed Mustapha”.
“So the Islamic Army Faction wants a billion pounds sterling in uncut diamonds not to detonate a Bio-chemical weapon on British soil”.
“What do we know about this fanatic Strayker and should we take this threat seriously?”
“Well Ma’am; he is one bad apple; a mercenary and has been in all the shit holes around the world, he set up the Islamic Army Faction about twelve months ago and dropped off the radar; whether his capable of producing a Bio-chemical weapon is not known.
“I want your department to do a full analysis on Mustapha and his group”.
“Ma’am I see the deadline is tomorrow that’s not much time to do anything do you want me to instigate a level red one code”?
“Hold on to that until after the Everest meeting at lunch time today.”
Strayker nodded turned to exit the room.
“Oh by the way I would like to congratulate you on the rescue mission earlier this week.”
“Thank you Ma’am, we suffered our first casualty as a result.”
“Yes; I have sent a letter of condolence to his widow I’m sure it will not be the last.”
“No Ma’am; it’s the price of freedom.”