High Wycombe, Buckinghamshire
THE CALL FROM PINDAR came through on the secure line just after 4 a.m. It rang only once before someone reached out and grabbed the handset. Pindar was the Government’s secure Defence Crisis Management Centre, buried deep beneath the Ministry of Defence in Whitehall. In fact, so far underground that it could supposedly withstand a nuclear attack.
‘Crosland.’ Always a light sleeper, Air Chief Marshal Chip Crosland was immediately awake and firing on all cylinders. As Britain’s Chief of Defence Staff and a former head of the RAF, he knew no one would be calling him at this hour unless it was a matter of extreme national security. The last time anyone had done so was when the Russians had kicked off their full-scale invasion of Ukraine.
‘Sir, there’s been a development. I’ve been asked to wake you.’
‘Go on. Who am I speaking to?’
‘Major Bradshaw, sir. I’m the duty SO2 here at Pindar. It’s Russia—’
‘Oh Christ. Not the Baltics?’ The Air Chief Marshal clapped his free hand to his forehead. This was the nightmare scenario he’d long anticipated. ‘Is it Estonia?’
‘No, CDS. It’s Taiwan. Moscow is mobilizing its Pacific Fleet. We think it’s in support of China’s claim to the island. Chief of Defence Intelligence thought you should know.’
Too bloody right he should know. A long pause. This tipped everything upside down. Standing up to the PLA Navy was one thing but Russia and China combined? ‘All right,’ he said calmly. ‘Who else knows?’
‘They’re waking the Secretary of State now, sir. Then we’ll cascade it to Strategic Command at Northwood and Commander in Chief Fleet.’
‘Right. Give me the details.’ Crosland reached across the still sleeping form of his wife to grab a notepad and pen. ‘OK. Tell me.’
‘There’s a full briefing on its way over to you now, sir. But the top line is that Fokino’s moved up to maximum readiness and—’
‘Fokino? Hold on, where’s that?’
‘Formerly Vladivostok. It got renamed.’
‘Yes, of course. What else?’
‘Likewise their fleet based in Petropavlovsk-Kamchatsky. Same with their submarine base at Vilyuchinsk. We’ve picked up two of their latest ballistic missile SSBNs leaving port.’
The Chief of Defence Staff frantically scribbled all this down. He didn’t have time to wait for the full briefing. The Secretary of State was going to want a preliminary assessment right away. Crosland thanked the duty officer and hung up. Then, moving carefully so as not to wake his wife, he grabbed his dressing-gown and went through to the kitchen. There he paused, took a deep breath and dialled the private number of the Defence Secretary. Everything had changed now.
This was going to be a long night.