Chapter 23
War of the Words
As it turned out, apart from having 'a few prawns in his golden hair' as Harry so delicately put it, the American President was absolutely fine, and so Harry grimly informed his team as they settled themselves around the large rectangular table in the meeting room.
"Still not quite sure how I feel about that one..." Ros said, drily, seeing her sentiments reflected in the faces of her colleagues.
"No..." harry replied, darkly, "Particularly considering the fact that our latest intelligence from inside his majesty's suite shows exactly how the American's feel about this latest little 'disaster' in a mercifully private, agreement."
He irritably pressed play on a remote which, by the force its poor buttons were pressed, may well have been personally responsible for the calamity at the Kieran estate, and one of the bugs that had been placed in Crowe's suite alarmingly reported,
"These talks are going to have to be put on the back-burner, our first priority has to be getting the President safely back to Washington and figuring out who the bastards that are responsible for this are."
"Officious prick..." Harry muttered, looking nauseated as he turned off the tape, abruptly cutting off the loud noises of agreement coming from the other diplomats in the room, "
"Wonderful, so after everything the bloody idiots are just going to go scampering back to Washington and start pointing fingers in order to make an inordinate scandal of this and see how much oil and how many votes we can extort before the next election when we point fingers at some unsuspecting bugger who had nothing to do with this because it will make us look better but obliterate the peace talks in the meantime, oops, silly us." Ruth fumed, sharing Harry's feelings towards the 'cousins' at this moment in time.
"Unfortunately Ruth, I think the world will miss the fact that the dictionary definition of 'politician' is something along the lines of cowardly, narcissistic, media grabbing, idiotic twats." Harry snarled, through gritted teeth.
"I'm sure you've missed 'pretentious two-faced bastards' from that list..." Ros commented, icily,
"Look, this isn't helping, "Tariq broke in, diplomatically, "Whatever the exact words are in the Politicians Handbook under 'international arsehole' they're sticking to it, and we need to figure out where we go from here."
All in all, they had performed something that, under slightly different circumstances, would have constituted a miracle, by preventing any casualties, none of them felt particularly proud of themselves.
Fortunately, none of them had been seriously injured, either during the attack or in the chaos that ensued. Lucas' knife wound had neither been deep nor wide and had only done what Ros teasingly called, 'vanity damage' to the rib it had struck. Ruth's hands and forearms had been peppered with small cuts from the shower of broken glass that had covered her when the window she had been crouched beneath had shattered. Ros had badly bruised several of her ribs as a result of her rugby tackling one of the assassins from half-way across the room to stop him from killing Russell Crowe, overall they had been extraordinarily lucky but where they would usually have welcomed such injuries, and more, in payment for preventing the assassination of a US President on their soil, the attitude by the American's that had followed had left several of them feeling sour and wishing that they had let them get on with it...
Almost before special forces had arrived at the building to secure their very non-responsive suspects, the American's had been booking flights back to Washington and playing 'rock paper scissors' to decide which country it would be in their best interests to blame for the crisis, in doing so, launching a wrecking ball, as only the American's could, into the tentative peace that had been building over the past few days, and simultaneously proving that they had led common sense than an extremist group that believed nuclear war was the best place for this world to be headed.
"Indeed..." Harry said, shortly, gazing around at his melancholy team, evidently hoping for inspiration to strike him in the form of a neat, quick, simple solution that would appease the government, volunteered by one of them.
Inspiration however, was not high on their current priority lists, landing somewhere between 'reading' and visiting the London Eye, behind sleeping, eating, overdosing on coffee and then going back to bed, in that order.
"You know he's asked to meet me, before they leave." Sofia said, quietly, making her first contribution to the conversation.
"Really?" Ros asked, curiously,
"I think there's a slim chance that he may suspect that I am not just an aide for the British government, credit where credit is due, it only took the foiling of an assassination attempt..."
"What are you proposing?" Ros asked,
"That you allow me to go, meet him, tell him the truth, show him the big picture, what his assassination attempt means in the real world-"
"You want to attempt to make a politician see a bigger picture that himself, one in which he is not the sole focus?" Harry scoffed, "I name thee Saint Sofia..."
"Does have a nice ring to it, doesn't it..." she smirked, "Failing that we ground all planes and offer him a cosy retirement home in East London if he doesn't agree to go ahead with these talks..."
"Every politician should be entitled to those happy pension benefits after all of the wonderful work they do...In the meantime; do you genuinely think you can change his mind?"
"If he's as stupid as he looks I can definitely try...Politicians are always out for number one, I'll appeal to that, I'm not lying to him, it's better for everyone involved if he agrees to continue with these talks."
"I don't see any harm in it...She can't exactly make matters worse." Lucas said, huskily. He had been avoiding speaking, something Ros had mercilessly used to her advantage on the way back from the estate.
After the sniper had attempted to knock his throat into the back of his skull, he had been reluctant to strain his voice, but now continued,
"It might stall them if nothing else and I wouldn't put it past her, she can sell religion to the Devil..."
"Just in case she can't, I don't suppose you happen to have proof that Crowe was conveniently a prostitute of some description in his youth?" Ros enquired airily,
He laughed throatily, causing himself to choke before manage to spit out; "Unfortunately not...He's your Snow White..."
"Bullshit." Harry snorted derisively,
"I agree, a politician with no dirty skeletons hanging from the closet is like snow in Hell, it doesn't happen, but to all intents and purposes he's innocent...Whether he's just careful or someone else has been careful for him, we can't touch him...We'll just have to hope he buys the charm Sofia's selling him."
"No pressure then Sofia." Ruth said with a weak smile,
"No, meet him; see what happens...When has he asked for you?" Harry asked,
"Tomorrow at two." She replied quietly,
"Right, good, everyone go home, sleep, all of you, including you Ms Myers, I'll see you all tomorrow..."
...
"Ah, Miss Connor isn't it?" the President enquired, as a seedy looking diplomat opened the door to reveal Sofia standing at it.
"Yes sir, it is, Connor, Kate Connor." She said, sweetly, knowing full well that after three days of waiting on him hand and foot, as well as saving his ungrateful life, he knew exactly what her name was and that the question was loaded with the intention of making a point.
"Well, please Miss Connor, Kate, come in, take a seat, make yourself comfortable."
She did as he asked, perching on the edge of the couch, her eyes flickering from person to person, taking in their positions basic features and weapons, if any, before returning her attention to the blonde man mountain sitting sipping a cappuccino opposite her, and found that his piercing blue gaze was attempting to read her.
"Why are you here Miss Connor?" he asked, after realising that he could learn nothing from her body language and would have to resort to the verbal variety.
"You asked me to be here Sir." She replied instantly, concealing a smirk with difficulty,
"Indeed...Still, why did you come?"
She considered him for a moment, trying to decide what he was attempting to deduce from this before saying enigmatically, "Frankly Sir, that chandelier cost a fortune, I'll be paying it off for the next fifty years...I wanted to know if it was worth it..."
He chuckled emptily and finished too quickly to enquire, with twinkling eyes, "And?"
"We'll see..." she replied daringly,
He gave her a small fleeting smile in response to this and sat back in his chair, considering her over the rim of his pretentious coffee cup.
"I think we both know that you're a little more than a waitress Kate." He said, suddenly changing the subject.
She had been expecting this and replied, "Indeed Sir, I am an aide for the British government-"
He cut her off with a short bark of laughter before saying, "And what does that mean exactly?"
"...I make more money."
He laughed again and she watched him, wondering where this interview was headed, because at the minute she could not decide whether he wanted to her or ship her off to Cuba...
"Why am I here?"
"I thought you'd already answered that..." he replied, genially, his gaze becoming tangibly more calculating for all his causal comments.
"Indeed...I told you why I came; I want to know why I was asked."
"I was testing a theory..." he said, equally vague, with the ghost of a smile,
"You're a fool." She said, quietly, taking charge of the situation tired of his dithering
"What did you say?" he blustered, jumping and sending coffee over his plump hand,
"What you think I said."
"And you're basing this observation on-"he began before being interrupted by one of his apoplectic, self-important advisors,
"M'am, do you understand who you are speaking to?" he demanded, looking at Sofia as though she were three years old and had enquired whether the fat man was Santa Claus, "This is one of the most influential men in the world and you have to nerve to call him a fool?" he demanded, shocked,
"Makes you wonder what I have the nerve to call you then doesn't it?" she smirked at the insufferable politician.
The President stifled a chuckle as his advisors bristled before saying, "Let her be...Why don't you take a walk Charlie? I'm sure she'll have thought of a decent adjective for you by the time you get back...All of you, go on now, go."
"Mr. President, I don't think I-"the greasy Charlie began before being interrupted by a gleeful Sofia,
"Come now Charlie, don't you know who this is? One of the most influential men on this planet, just have you an order...Jump to it..." she smirked,
The disgruntled diplomats made their way from the room, leaving Sofia alone with Crowe.
"I like you." The President told her, surveying her over the tips of his pudgy fingers, "You've got balls, which is more than I can honestly say about half of them, and spirit if nothing else...And I'd wager that there's a lot more 'nothing' to you than meets the eye Kate."
Never one to take compliments well she retorted immediately with, "I'd wager there's a lot more 'nothing' to this meeting than meets the eye too..."
"Well, I almost died today, changes one's perspective, makes you do all sorts of weird and wonderful things."
"Bullshit." She said, flatly, startling him again, "You're exactly the same today as you were yesterday, if we all changed every time we almost died I'd spend ninety five per cent of my life having an out of body experience trying to gain 'perspective'. Many things happen in our lives that alter our views and change the way we think...Things that 'almost' happen don't change anything."
"A very noble sentiment...But I fail to see the point of it."
"If that's true I fail to see how you got elected." She said curtly, never giving him room time to breathe between remarks.
"Jesus Sofia, easy..." Lucas hissed, while Ros smirked gleefully, Sofia had not been wired and so she could not hear their reactions to her words but the bugs in the suite allowed them to listen in.
"You do need to remember who you are talking to Miss Connor; there is only so much disrespect I will tolerate."
"I am not disrespecting you Mr Crowe, and I know exactly who I'm talking to, a human being, flesh and blood stuck to a skeleton with a brain bobbing about somewhere in your head, exactly the same as every other human being on this planet do you give me one good reason why I should speak to you with any more reverence or respect as any other stranger. As far as I can tell you're exactly the same as them, narcissistic, self-important, with public morals you wouldn't compromise for all of the riches of the Gods and private ones that crumble away if someone breathes upon them too heavily. If you want respect, if you want to be remembered then you have to do something. History does not recognise people who almost do things of note; you won't be remembered as the President that almost saved the peace talks that nearly changed everything, you'll be remembered as the president who got a bit of a fright and slunk back home with his tail between his legs and attempted to save his political and personal dignity by telling the world that someone tried to kill you. And you know what? The funny thing is that the nameless, faceless human being that no-one knows and wouldn't know how to demand respect even if people did know who he was, he will be remembered; he will be remembered not for almost killing the President, but for manipulating eight of the most powerful and stubborn bastards I've ever met into complying with his insane belief because he did something, he did something that no-one expected, he attempted the impossible before he died, and while he may not have succeeded in killing you, he'll have succeeded in his main goal. I'm glad...I'm glad that history will remember him for what he did, when you did nothing. Dying, that would have been something more than this and that would have changed everything, one way or other, almost dying? You change nothing..." she trailed off then, her brain catching up with her mouth as she realised that her words may have overstayed their welcome.
Every word of what she had said had been true and she had meant every word. She had come here fully intending to change his mind and make him sign the treaty they had all but made the day before. She had a feeling however that she could probably have put it with a little more diplomacy and eloquence than telling him he was a brain-dead poster-boy who would be remembered for nothing more than being a cowardly, narcissistic twat. However political delicacy had never been one of her strong points, if eight years in Russia had not dulled her sharp tongue, she doubted tea with the President would...
"I don't think I've ever been spoken to that way by a waitress before..." he said, still looking slightly shell-shocked after her verbal bombardment.
She doubted that he had been spoken to in that way by the Queen of Sheba, however, ignoring the slight misnomer and countered lightly with,
"I don't think I've ever spoken to the American President like that before...A first for us both."
"Indeed...You say that these people, these terrorists, whoever they are they're attempting to change our hearts and minds and succeed or not, we do not negotiate with them, and we do not bow down to their demands. If what these people want is to make a spectacle of my death then that is something we must avoid at all costs..."
She laughed at the bitter irony of this, self-important bastard...She thought, though thankfully managed to avoid her mouth sharing her mind's sentiment.
"Though this may shock you to hear, these particular 'terrorists' did not come into this with their eyes closed wondering how many hits on YouTube your death will get them, difficult as it may be for you to understand, your death is not their primary aim and, as it turns out, is not even necessary for them to be successful."
"Well, what do they want?" he asked, bristling, his over-inflated ego preventing him from seeing past the world's eternal horror and sadness at his death.
"This." She said with an incredulous laugh, "Their aim is to start a nuclear war between the major powers sooner rather than later-"
"But that's insane!" he blustered,
"Quite, but you are actively allowing this to happen, you're not negotiating with terrorists, you're complying with their wishes."
"I would never-"
"If you 'would never' start nuclear war then you should bloody well be pushing for the only thing that can be put in place to stop it and that means completing these peace talks with a successful agreement."
"Well, yes." He blustered, "But I must think whether it should be my first choice, I mean, it's not as simple as that or it would have been signed months ago, I must consider other things about this situation, the world expects me to-"
"Yes it expects you to hide behind the skirts of the CIA in Washington, and what happens when the world expects answers? When your loyal voting subjects want to know why their beloved President was almost funned down? What are you going to tell them I wonder? The truth. That the man who came the closest to killing you was a married man with three children, an American man from California, born and raised in a little town outside Sacramento? Or will you tell them the glorified version known to you as 'necessary' known to the rest of the world as lies and start pointing the finger of blame at another nation? I know what my money's on...And where do you think that will eventually lead? Even if you all come to your senses that you can't play God with people's lives for the sake of appearances, do you think the world will ever come within a thousand miles of this chance for peace again? The ball's in your court, if you say we go ahead then we go ahead, the other nations can't back out now, not if you say yes, can't you see? You do what the world expects and that world will not last long. You do what no-one expects? And this world and the next will remember you, and respect you because you deserve it, because you did something."
"That's really what these people are expecting?" he breathed, latching on to the idea of nuclear war and not listening to much else beyond that.
"Yes and it damn near might. If you had died there would have been no off-switch. You need to make a decision, or this will make the Cuban Missile Crisis will look like the Teddy Bear's picnic."
She stood and walked to the door, he stopped her before she left however saying,
"You're security services aren't you? MI-5? And you're name's not really Kate, is it?"
She said nothing but smiled to herself as she placed a hand on the door handle, the ghost of a smile dancing across her lips before saying,
"No...It's short for Catherine."
A/N: I hope you enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing Sofia and Crowe's verbal sparring, it may not have been the most exciting way but I always felt Spooks was best when it focussed on two people talking things out as opposed to the crazy explosions, anyway, I'd like to hear your thoughts on this as always :)