The Old Enemy, Henry Porter [important of reading books txt] 📗

the grass up ahead of them, but very soon there was silence. ‘We’ll wait for the gas to clear,’ he said, beginning to wipe down the gun and the shells with a newly laundered red-spotted handkerchief.

A few minutes later a breeze shook the leaves above where Gaspar had breathed his last. The Bird went over to the body, with the handkerchief pressed to his face, and laid the rifle near the outstretched hand that held the Saturday-night special. He took the little pistol in the handkerchief and unfastened the ankle holster with one hand. He removed his cap and placed the gun and holster in it, and peered at Gaspar’s face. The same foam was visible on his lips as had appeared on the bear’s muzzle. Having checked the scene once more, he turned to Macy.

‘Spot of lunch, Cuth?’

‘That’d be perfect,’ replied the Bird, and they walked to their vehicle, hidden a little way down the track. He used one of the food store’s bags for the handkerchief, cap and gun and holster and placed it in the trunk for disposal later.

‘Shame about the cap,’ said Macy, ‘I’d become rather fond of it on you.’

‘Had you,’ said the Bird, with his usual untamed pleasure. ‘How nice of you to say so. I saw a rather nice one in the camping store. Thought we might drop in on the way back, if that’s all right with you.’

Epilogue

From Room 2172, Anastasia and Samson were more or less propelled into the lobby, where the media jostled around them. Anastasia let go of Samson’s arm and said, ‘You don’t want your face on every news channel. I’ll see you in a few moments.’ He made his way to the back of the crowd and watched Ulrike gather the German witnesses around Anastasia, who stood looking into the camera lights. When eventually the noise had died down, he heard her say, ‘The dossier speaks for itself. I stand by all the information that my husband and countless others have assembled. It is now for the American and British people to make up their minds about Russian penetration of their governments, and the scandal of the governments’ cover-up.’

Samson was aware of a voice at his side. ‘No doubt you’re proud of what you have done.’ It was Peter Nyman.

‘No,’ said Samson. ‘I’m proud of what Anastasia has done. Very proud.’ He turned to see Nyman’s tight-lipped, drained expression, smiled and shook his head.

‘You don’t give a damn, do you? I mean it’s all out there – everything.’ He swept his hand over the crowd.

Naji had only just told Samson what had happened. When Homeland Security stormed into 2172 and seized Denis’s laptop, Rudi Rosenharte and Zoe Harland had pressed the button and released everything on the Web. By sharing it through a peer-to-peer network they eliminated the need for a vulnerable central server and ensured that Denis Hisami’s dossier couldn’t be taken down or sabotaged. The whole thing was being amped up across social media.

Samson smiled again. ‘I understand perfectly what’s happened, Peter. The entire British establishment, including you and Ott, would prefer to take a few discreet actions then forget the whole affair. But a younger generation are outraged, and it was in their power to make sure nothing was swept under the carpet. That makes you seem, well, a bit obsolete, Peter.’

‘You think you’re going to get away with this? These matters were being dealt with at a level that you cannot even comprehend. Don’t you see? It was all in hand.’

‘That’s bollocks, Peter.’ Samson moved off to listen to what was going on.

Ulrike had spoken. Now a CBS reporter called out a question to Anastasia. ‘Why should anyone believe the evidence of a war criminal?’

‘Because my husband was prepared to give his life for the country that became his home.’

‘Is it hard to mourn someone with that kind of past?’

‘Of course not,’ she fired back angrily. ‘He did more good than most of us. He lived with his own terrible guilt, but also the pain of what had been done to his people for centuries, and to his sister, who was murdered by Islamic State. He was America’s friend. Don’t ever forget that.’

Anastasia had signalled Samson with a look that she was winding up when a woman reporter from Fox News asked, ‘Did you order the destruction of the server and internal networks at GreenState?’

‘I didn’t order anything. I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about. That’s all I have to say.’ Samson moved to her side, and Zillah led them from the building.

‘What was that woman saying about GreenState?’ asked Anastasia.

‘Let’s talk outside,’ said Zillah. She turned to them both once they were through the doors. ‘Naji and his friends hacked the GreenState servers and published all the data in redacted form to show how the organisation has siphoned millions of people’s private information from social media accounts and a bunch of different commercial entities.

‘Actually, it’s kind of funny. They sent an email to everyone in GreenState’s database with an apology, a copy of their data and advice on how they might join a class action against GreenState and its hidden affiliates. Everything is laid out – people’s ethnicity, education, sexual orientation, family members, income, political views and relations with authority, institutions and local communities. Interestingly, it’s precisely the kind of information that was gathered by the Stasi in East Germany. They’ve also provided an account of how each individual was targeted with special ads by parties and campaigns. This is a big deal. It’s likely to get as much attention as what went on in there.’ She jerked her head towards Room 2172.

They went to a large suite in the Jefferson. A conference call was booked with Tulliver, who’d managed to follow the morning’s proceedings from his hospital bed. As pressing for him were the problems set off on the first day of business since Denis’s death. Billions in assets needed to be stabilised and bankers and investors