Stop at Nothing

1

When the first hazy rays of sunlight broke through the clouds shortly before noon on that fateful Christmas Eve, Stockholm was bathed in an otherworldly glow. The shafts of light, beaming down like the outstretched fingers of a supernatural being, highlighted the light snow that continued to fall gently across the myriad islands of the famed Swedish capital.

Whilst most of the city’s inhabitants were involving themselves in the traditional seasonal celebrations, at home with their families and loved ones, one of the islands was experiencing rather more than its usual public gathering. For Helgeands-Holmen, situated between the medieval district of Gamla stan and the mainland of the city, is the home of the Riksdagshuset, the seat of the Swedish government. And on this particular Christmas Eve, the imposing Parliament House, and the area immediately surrounding it, was a hive of bustling activity.

From the seemingly endless groups of news broadcasters and reporters gathered directly outside the building itself, to the throngs of armed Swedish police who had cordoned off the entire area from the mainland to the Slottskajen road, to the winter-camouflaged snipers watching intently from the snow-covered rooftops, to the patrol boats that trudged slowly through the near-freezing channels of Stockholm’s vast system of waterways, it was abundantly clear to any observer that something important — possibly world-changing — was going to happen today.

And so it was.

2

The idea had started developing long before the actual event, as is the case with all such monumental initiatives. It had first been suggested by Ellen Abrams, President of the United States of America, to the absolute shock of much of the world. The Mutual Defence Treaty was to be a defensive pact between the United States and her age-old enemy, the Russian Federation. Such a treaty would have been unthinkable even just a few short years before, but President Abrams had changed everything.

Ellen Abrams was not only the first woman to be elected President of the world’s only remaining superpower, she was a woman with a singular vision; a vision of how the world should be. And Ellen Abrams thought that the world should be at peace, not at war.

As a senator she had campaigned tirelessly for the troops to be pulled out of Iraq and Afghanistan, and one of her first actions upon taking office as President was to cancel the plans being drawn up to invade Iran.

Instead of invasions and projections of military force, Abrams believed in diplomacy and partnership development, with countries being brought into line with the American democratic ideal through subtle influence rather than direct coercion. It wasn’t that she was anti-military; on the contrary, as part of the United States Army Reserve, she had herself been stationed in Iraq, and knew only too well the horrors of war.

It was her own direct experience, in fact, that many felt shaped her policy on international affairs. She had seen how the huge might of the US military, wielded bluntly, often caused too much collateral damage and subsequently created a whole new generation of terrorists.

Her stance on such issues made her wildly popular in some areas, and widely hated in others, but after two years into her first term, it seemed to be working. Terrorism was a decreasing trend, countries were turning to democracy — with the added lure of capitalism, of course — of their own accord, and America’s reputation abroad was improving daily.

The Mutual Defence Treaty was another step towards ensuring some level of global security. All too often at meetings of the UN Security Council, US suggestions would be blocked by Russian or Chinese veto. This was just an example of some of the problems faced by the United States when operating with the major players around the globe, but it was one that Abrams hoped she could fix.

Vasilev Danko was the President of the Russian Federation, and an infamous traditional hardliner, graduating from the higher echelons of the FSB, the modern incarnation of the feared KGB. Danko was also a realist, however, and the proposals made by Abrams were too good to refuse.

After the financial crash of 2008, America had gradually rebuilt her economy, until under Abrams it was in the best shape of its life. Russia, meanwhile, had not been so lucky; an explosion at her largest oil refinery had put her progress back several years, and she was again struggling to make ends meet.

The Mutual Defence Treaty was as much a trade deal as anything else — the US promised Russia various economic concessions in return for Danko’s support of US policy abroad. It brought Russia closer into the top players of the global trade community, and also ensured that decades of mistrust and unnecessary defensive outlays would end.

It was thought at one time that Russia would join NATO, but Danko drew the line at this, unwilling to make his country a member of the opposing group to the old Warsaw Pact. The MDT was a good half measure though, and showed the world Russia’s willingness to shed her old ways and become a more modern nation.

It was true, however, that not all the world wanted to see this happen.

3

‘We’re just minutes away now, ma’am,’ announced the driver of the black Mercedes limousine that swept along the deserted E4 expressway. The main conduit between Arlanda Flygplats, the main airport thirty miles to the north of Stockholm, and the city centre, the expressway was usually busy, like most roads serving a capital city. Today it had been entirely cleared of traffic however, secured by the Swedish police solely for the safe passage of the numerous heads of state who were due to attend the treaty signing.

‘Thank you, James,’ came back the velvet smooth voice of President Abrams from the rear compartment. She looked poised and elegant as always; some people thought she looked like that asleep in bed. It was true that she was never off-duty; you simply didn’t become the first female President of the United States of America without an iron will in all areas, a fierce determination, a striving for perfection in all aspects of life, and physical appearance was no different. As America’s leader, people looked to her for guidance and inspiration, and she felt it was her duty to give it to them at all times.

She looked over at the man next to her and smiled. ‘Cheer up, Clyde,’ she said. ‘I know you spent your early years thinking of how to beat ’em, but you’ve got to admit, it’s better this way.’

Clyde Rutherford was her Secretary of Defence, the member of her administration most closely involved with the technicalities of the treaty. He had been in the US Navy for the early part of his career, a sub driver who had trained to get his vehicle as close to the Soviet coast as possible, to launch his missile payload straight onto Moscow if war was ever declared.

Rutherford smiled back at her. She truly was an exceptional woman, that much he was sure about. She had a vision, and she pursued it relentlessly and in that, they were both very much the same. ‘Well, seeing as I’m the front man for it, looks like I’ll have to admit it, doesn’t it?’ he replied jokingly.

‘It’s the right thing to do, Clyde,’ Abrams continued. ‘Believe it.’

‘Oh, I believe all right,’ Rutherford responded. Just not necessarily in the same thing as you, he added silently, smiling as he thought of what lay ahead.

4

Although there was a cordon on the waterways immediately surrounding Helgeands-Holmen and Gamla stan, at a radius of six kilometres beyond the Riksdagshuset there was no visible security presence.

The area was, however, being monitored by satellite. An ultra-sensitive real-time system, it was part of a global US defence system that was unrivalled by any other nation. The DamarSat KH-90 was indeed an awesome technological weapon, with the capability to penetrate dense cloud and, even at night, read the time on a lady’s wristwatch.

The forty-foot Onassis yacht floated steadily on the waters of the Lilla Värtan, seven kilometres from the Riksdagshuset and thirty kilometres below the DamarSat’s near-earth orbit as it passed over the area as scheduled. But the yacht was just one of a large number of vessels which routinely travelled from island to island. The very nature of the Swedish capital, with its numerous small islands, means that the boat is as common there as is the car in most other cities. From fishing trawlers to pleasure boats, and from passenger ferries to the huge luxury yachts of Stockholm’s rich and famous, the city’s busy waterways were its lifeblood.

And so the satellite’s operators, watching real-time footage from their operations room at the headquarters of the National Reconnaissance Office in Chantilly, near Washington Dulles International Airport, saw no need to examine the Onassis yacht more closely. Had they decided to utilize its incredible zoom capability to take a closer look at the apparently innocent vessel, however, their suspicions would have been instantly aroused. Onboard the yacht, there was a flurry of activity as the Oriental crew heaved two large containers out from below decks, whilst lookouts scanned the surrounding canals and islands with high-power military binoculars.

And had the satellite zoomed in further, its technicians might have then alerted the NRO’s onsite specialist intelligence analysts, who would in turn have identified the men onboard as being of Han Chinese origin; the major ethnic group on mainland China, these moved with a certain focus that indicated some degree of military training.

And alarm bells would certainly have started sounding had the satellite stayed over the area long enough to pick up images of just what exactly these Chinese peasant-soldiers had started unloading out of the crates.

5

‘I’m not paranoid,’ Alexei Severin said defensively, and not for the first time.

In the rear of the car, the President of the Russian Federation, Vasilev Danko, and his experienced Foreign Minister Pyotr Vorstetin, just laughed.

‘Of course you are, Alexei,’ Danko teased. ‘But that is of course exactly why you do this job, neh?’

Severin just grunted in response, as he scanned the road ahead with a scrutiny that certainly could be regarded as paranoia. As he constantly told people, however, it wasn’t paranoia; it was his job. And his close attention to detail was a professional necessity, utilizing a natural survival instinct which had been further honed and refined on the battlefields of Dagestan, Chechnya and Abkhazia, as well as on his home streets of Moscow.

A former member of the elite Russian Spetsnaz Alpha team, he had been recruited by the FSB for ‘special’ assignments before becoming Danko’s personal bodyguard. It was a job he was proud to have, but along with the pride he also took on the huge weight of responsibility that came with it.

Looking in the rear-view mirror, Severin saw Danko return to chatting animatedly to Vorstetin. They were both excited about the upcoming treaty signing, apparently nonchalant towards the dangers they could face on their way to the Parliament House.

But, Severin reflected, it was easy to be complacent; President Abrams had already arrived at their destination, the highway on which they were travelling was guarded and secure, and they had well-armed Lynx scout helicopters shadowing their every move.

But the Mutual Defence Treaty was not universally welcomed. Severin was aware of strong opposition to the defensive pact from a wide range of nations. The European Union, although congratulatory on the surface, was in actual fact more than a little fearful of the implications of a more powerful Russian neighbour. Countries throughout the Middle East were more than a little concerned about two such major players coming together, fearing it would lead to increased pressures on their own nations. But it was China that disturbed Severin the most.

Whereas President Sebastian Vermeer, Belgian head of state and current holder of the EU’s rotating presidency, had at least pretended to be happy about ‘increased global security’, the President of the Chinese People’s Republic, Tsang Feng, made no such effort. Just as China was beginning to come into her own as an economic giant, the spectre of a Russian-American alliance made Feng genuinely fear for China’s future. As he saw the world’s previous bastion of socialism embrace the capitalist entreaties of the West finally and irrevocably, the Chinese President was scathing in his denouncements, and had severed all of the country’s ties to the Russian Federation.

Severin truly believed that Feng might actually be feeling threatened enough to make some sort of move, possibly to the extent of trying to disrupt the treaty signing that afternoon. There were even rumours circulating in the intelligence underworld about increased activity in Section Nine, the foreign action arm of China’s secret intelligence service.

Paranoid? Severin asked himself as he continued to stare out of the windows, the dim daylight aided by the 1000 watt bulbs of the helicopters above as they illuminated the road ahead. No, he wasn’t paranoid, he decided. He was just good at his job.

6

Gathered around the front of the Riksdagshuset, and all along Bankkajen, members of the world’s press had gathered to report on the day’s events.

Film crews and photographers were hard at work, trying to record images of the arriving leaders that would perhaps become iconic in later years, or perhaps only memorable; but which would at the very least justify their pay checks.

But with the simple beauty of the hazy sunlight shooting down in magical white shafts, made even more perfect by the glimmer of crystalline snow that still fell lazily over Gamla Stan, combined with the overwhelming importance of today’s treaty signing, the feeling amongst the gathered experts was that there would probably be no better chance for them to make their professional mark.

As news broadcasters read their reports live to audiences around the world, and journalists scribbled down notes in their little books, other groups trained their cameras towards Riksbron, the road connecting Helgeands Holmen to the mainland, awaiting the imminent arrival of President Danko’s limousine. If they were concerned with getting some memorable images, this would be their last chance; once Danko was inside, their colleagues would take over from the main chamber where the actual signing ceremony would take place. And by the time the leaders left, the vagaries of the Swedish winter meant that it would be in darkness.

7

On the main Bankkajen road, just fifty feet from where Danko’s presidential limousine would stop, a CNN camera team was making last-minute preparations.

‘Come on, Paul, get it focused properly,’ cajoled Jess Ireland, the team leader. Paul Churchill sighed, but nodded anyway. The camera was in focus, and had been all day. But Jess was what could be termed ‘highly-strung’, although her team had other words with which they described it, and she was determined to get the best shots possible. After all, they had been granted the prime position out of all the news teams present, and with the sun at its zenith, a single shaft illuminating the pavement at the exact point where Danko was to alight, the young and ambitious team leader could see an award or two coming her — or, she sometimes wondered, should it her team’s? — way.

‘How’s the light, Stevie?’ she asked her exuberant, highly experienced lighting technician.

‘Oh great, just great, Jess. Perfect, in fact. It’s gonna be —’ But Stevie was swiftly cut off by a wave of Jess’s hand, as her other one went to the small earpiece in her left ear.

A few seconds later, she looked up, anxious and excited. ‘Okay guys, here we go!’ she exclaimed. ‘Danko’s pulled onto Stromgatan, and will be here in three minutes! This is our big chance people, don’t let me down!’

And with that last minute encouragement, ‘her people’ made themselves ready. It was their big chance, after all.

8

On the other side of Bankkajen, the news of Danko’s imminent arrival was simultaneously received by Lao Kang, the apparent team leader of Beijing News, China’s state news service. The original team leader, however, was still in his hotel room, along with all of the other genuine members of the news crew, their throats slit from ear to ear.

The fact that the Beijing News studio was receiving live satellite images of an unknown man instead of their regular reporter did not bother Kang, however. As he nodded gravely to his team, he reflected that the deception would soon be obvious to everyone.

9

The rest of the world’s press, meanwhile, were gathered in the central auditorium, along with President Abrams and Clyde Rutherford, as well as a host of visiting dignitaries and their innumerable aides.

The gathered assembly were seated in a semi-circle in front of a stage, where the treaty stood on top of a gilded lectern. There would be several speeches made that afternoon; by Abrams and Rutherford, by Danko and Vorstetin, and also by Rasul bin Ghary, the Secretary-General of the United Nations, which would end with the official recognition of the Mutual Defence Treaty.

Waiting patiently next to Abrams, Clyde Rutherford checked his watch and wondered if Hansard would be watching the events unfold on television back home. He was sure he would be; there would be no way in hell the man would miss it.

12.57 pm. Just one minute left until Danko’s limousine was due to arrive, giving him two minutes to get to the chamber for his scheduled entrance at exactly one o’clock.

Not long now, thought Rutherford. The beginning of a new world was just around the corner.

10

From the front seat of the armoured limousine, Severin started to be able to make out the massed groups of news teams gathered outside the vehicle’s final destination. The windscreen wipers struggled valiantly to keep the window clear, the snow not so heavy now but still showing no sign of abating completely.

Severin was even more alert now that the journey was almost over. The car would soon be slowing, thereby becoming more vulnerable to attack. But, he reasoned, the security around the Riksdagshuset was watertight. Wasn’t it?

As his hand reflexively checked the position of his customized Sig Sauer pistol in the spring-loaded holster on his belt, he answered his own question. Of course not. Security could never be watertight. His years of fighting terrorists and insurgents in their various guises over the world had at least taught him one hard-won lesson.

Where there was a will, there was a way.

11

Outside the Riksdagshuset, all attention was on the black Mercedes approaching along Bankkajen, slowing now as it neared the building’s elegant façade, every camera trained intently upon it.

One such camera was being directed by a member of the ersatz Beijing News team, who trained it firmly towards the rear passenger door. In contrast to the seasoned news professionals around him, however, the hands of Tang Lung were unsteady. He wasn’t used to this kind of pressure; or, indeed, to this kind of work. His mind reflected briefly on what was at stake for the team as Kang placed a reassuring hand on the inexperienced young man’s shoulder, and Lung’s grip tightened and steadied on the camera as he was filled with new resolve.

Ignoring the bead of sweat that defied the December chill and ran into his open eye, he flicked up the cover of a control switch on the side of the camera, depressing the button underneath.

And, unseen by the gathered news people and police guards but monitored closely by Lung through his viewfinder, an infrared laser beam pierced the hazy wall of snow and illuminated the door of Danko’s vehicle perfectly.

12

On board the small vessel anchored off Lilla Värtan, tension was running similarly high. The lookouts scanned the area more carefully, the radio operator scanned his frequencies with greater vigilance, and the two men on the port side widened their stances and shrugged their shoulders, adjusting to the weight of the SA-9 Grail laser-guided missile launchers that they aimed over the guardrail of the ship.

The men waited, tense and unsure. Where was the signal? Their thoughts were synchronous, their concerns over a successful completion to their mission overpowering their feelings of fear for their own safety. They didn’t have the time to consider that both of these things were inextricably linked.

Suddenly, a red light flashed at them from the weapons’ viewfinders. It took a full two seconds for the significance of the light to register. The soldier on the left caught it first. ‘Sir!’ he shouted in his native Cantonese tongue. ‘We have a target lock!’ His opposite number confirmed the lock immediately.

Liu Chia Chang, the Operational Commander for the missile launch, smiled in both relief and anticipation. He opened his mouth to give his commands, when his radioman shouted in panic.

‘Sir! I’ve intercepted an emergency message to the Navy patrol boats! They have our location and have been ordered to intercept us!’

Chang was at a momentary loss. ‘What?’ he cried out, incredulous. ‘How?’

‘I don’t know sir, but they’re incoming!’ replied the radio operator, frantically trying alternative frequencies to get more information.

As Chang calculated his options swiftly, he began to hear the unmistakable sounds of a high-powered motorized vessel approaching at speed. What could he do? As it stood, they had committed no crime. If caught, they could only be charged with weapons possession. They hadn’t really done anything — yet.

But he knew how it would look, and he had heard stories about the treatment of terrorist suspects, guilty or not. And failing in his mission would bring about other, even less tolerable penalties.

In the end, there was no real choice. ‘Plan Bravo!’ he shouted, trying to retain control over his voice so as not to betray his nerves to his team. ‘Go! Go! Go!’

Immediately on his command, the lookouts stowed their binoculars and reached under their blankets, pulling out Chinese-made AK-74 assault rifles and training them on the approaching Navy patrol boat.

The radio operator made his own emergency, coded transmission, then sprang to his feet, grabbing a weapon and joining his comrades.

Chang raced to the stern side of the yacht, from where he could now see the Navy vessel clearly, still advancing at frightening speed.

The only men to remain resolutely immobile were those with the missile launchers, waiting for their red lights to turn green, the signal that Danko was leaving his vehicle and that would make them depress their triggers, sending 20.7kg of high explosive hurtling at 1400mph through the cool afternoon sky towards the Riksdagshuset.

13

Severin’s worst fears for Danko’s safety always occurred during the ‘transition’ phases of a journey, when the Russian President would have to move between vehicles and buildings and therefore be relatively exposed. It was the time of maximum vulnerability, and he hated it.

As the limousine slowed to a halt, his pulse was rising despite his many years of experience. But he had grown accustomed to the unpleasant feelings, and he was ready.

As soon as the vehicle stopped, Severin was out of the door and by the rear cabin, hand on the handle and eyes relentlessly scanning the crowd. There were over a hundred armed police, members of Sweden’s elite DFT unit, in addition to snipers with high-powered rifles on every rooftop in the area. In addition, every member of the press had had their credentials and their equipment thoroughly checked. But it never hurt to double check, and Severin couldn’t help but scan the nearest news crews.

He saw that a CNN team had pride of place, then Fox News, BBC, Moscow News, Russia Today, Sky News, Les Etoiles and Die Welt. Nothing out of the ordinary, except for a small movement from Beijing News on the other side of Bankkajen that caught his eye. An almost imperceptible shaking of the camera. Nerves? Or perhaps just the cold?

He sighed as he wondered if he really was becoming paranoid, then yanked open the passenger door, hand on his pistol, ready.

14

Jess Ireland watched Severin from her position behind the press barricade just fifty yards away.

What’s he waiting for?, she wondered. Just open the bloody door! Some of us have work to do!

Moments later, the door opened. The Foreign Secretary, Pyotr Vorstetin, climbed out of the vehicle, waved at the throngs of onlookers, and was immediately met by a police guard who ushered him towards the parliament house.

Severin slammed the door shut and moved carefully to the other side of the vehicle, eyes continuing to scan; taking in everything and missing nothing.

Severin’s hand touched the door handle. Here we go, Jill told herself. This is it.

‘Keep that camera steady Paul,’ she warned.

Paul grunted in response. The camera was rock steady.

15

Another drop of sweat found its way into Lung’s eye, but he didn’t even notice. Seen only by Lung, the laser beam shone brightly onto Danko’s chest as the man stepped out of his limousine, hands raised in greeting to the world’s press.

Although nervous, Lung nevertheless felt curiously detached as he depressed the switch that would send the signal to his comrades, the electronic impulse that would change the red ‘Stand By’ light to the green ‘Go’ light; a simple change of colour that would result in President Danko, his security detail, and his entire limousine being blown off the face of the earth.

16

Aboard the small yacht, chaos was running rampant. The Navy patrol boat was stationed just fifty metres off the yacht’s stern, and had been quickly joined by two more. Announcements had been made by loudspeaker, in both Swedish and English, demanding the surrender of the vessel.

These demands, on Chang’s order, were met immediately with a hail of defiant, deafening, automatic gunfire.

Fire was returned moments later by the Navy vessels, but being patrol vessels they were only lightly armed. When Chang escalated the situation by firing grenades at the boats, causing fire and explosions on the main decks of two of the craft, they reluctantly pulled back to a safe distance.

A victorious roar went up from the yacht’s crew, but was quickly silenced by Chang. ‘We’ve not won yet. They’re calling for reinforcements. We have to be on our guard.’

Chang’s words were validated only moments later, when the captain of the lead vessel announced that a naval destroyer was en route, and that this was their last chance to surrender before their yacht was blown out of the water.

Chang looked to the men standing motionless with their missile launchers, on the other side of the vessel, out of view of the patrol boats. He was nervous. A destroyer could blow his ship out of the water. Easily. What’s taking the others so long? he frantically wondered. Where’s the green light? What are we going to —

But then he saw the glow of the tortuous red lights at last turn mercifully green, and couldn’t help but smile broadly and victoriously as the two SA-9 missiles streaked majestically into the air, on their way to an exact, laser-designated point just outside the gates of the parliament house.

17

On board the lead Navy patrol boat, Willie Larsson’s eyes went wide as he saw the twin streaks of fire shoot up from the far side of the yacht.

‘What in the name of — !’ He was caught mid-breath as he realized what had happened, a cold vice seeming to wrench suddenly around his heart.

He turned violently to his radio operator. ‘Get me Headquarters! Now!’ he yelled.

18

Danko was finally out of the vehicle now, Severin shadowing him closely. Only a few metres away from the grand entrance, and he would finally be able to relax as Danko’s security was handed over to the Swedish DFT agents within the building. They had offered to escort him from the car, but Severin wanted to escort him as far as he could himself; it wasn’t that he was distrustful, just that he considered himself the best.

It was going to be okay, he told himself. It was going to be just fine. His fingers even relaxed ever so slightly in their position over his concealed weapon.

But then a flurry of activity caused him to reflexively tighten his grip. Swedish security personnel all around the area suddenly all had their hands to their earpieces, their eyes going wide after a few moments of listening. Soon after, they were all leaping into action; some racing towards the press, others towards Danko and Severin. The gestures were universal — get down!

Severin instinctively pushed Danko to the floor, weapon out and levelled, scanning the area from one side to the other.

Chaos began to ensue, but within less than a second all activity stopped, as a huge, horrendous, apocalyptic shriek was heard from above and all eyes turned skyward.

19

Cameras turned skyward too, and Paul Churchill’s was one of the first; his reactions sufficient to operate effectively without any prompting from his team leader, who was staring upwards, mouth agape but, for once, with no sound coming out.

Behind the lens, Paul’s mouth dropped open as well as he saw two jagged streaks of light arcing their way out of the sky, aimed — where?

Realization dawned only an instant before the missiles struck.

20

Covering his president, forcing him back towards the armoured cover of the limousine, Severin didn’t see the impact. He felt it though, and was rocked forcibly as the far side of the vehicle absorbed the shockwave, the inch-thick armoured glass exploding above his head and showering him with shredded particles.

He regained his composure more quickly than most men would, and raised his head to check out the impact zone. Curiously, the missiles had not hit the limousine, or even the Riksdagshuset. Instead they had obliterated, completely and totally, the entire CNN news crew that he had observed earlier behind the press barricade. All that remained was a huge, smoking double crater, whilst bodies from the neighbouring news crews lay strewn everywhere; some dead, some unconscious, some groaning in pain, limbs torn from their bodies.

But Danko was alive. And Severin was going to keep him that way.

21

Kang couldn’t believe his eyes. What had happened? He looked accusingly at Lung, who looked back with equal surprise.

‘It was right on his chest!’ Lung exclaimed defensively.

Kang considered matters. His controller had assured him that there would be no equipment malfunctions; everything was state-of-the-art and had been fully tested. But the reasons were of no consequence now — his mission parameters specifically stipulated that success could only be achieved with the death of Danko. And the rewards promised to him and his team would only be forthcoming if the mission was a success.

As security personnel started to regain their senses and rush to the scene of the explosion, whilst others ran from the Riksdagshuset to protect Danko, and still others continued to reel in confusion, Kang managed to regain his own composure.

He turned to his men. ‘Go!’ he shouted, with an authority that they could not defy.

22

As soon as the missiles had been fired, Chang ordered the yacht’s pilot to fully engage the 1200 horsepower engines and head down the Lilla Värtan at full speed.

Within two minutes they had left the three patrol boats trailing in their wake, speeding through the icy waterway towards their emergency rendezvous.

Chang looked from the stern at the Navy vessels left behind and allowed himself a moment’s relaxation. But as he looked towards the bow, his heart began to race violently once again.

The Shevin with which they had been threatened began to emerge from the white gloom ahead, turning port-side on to block their path through the narrow inlet, its 55mm guns tracking towards the yacht.

A booming command from the captain of the ship telling them to surrender gave Chang only momentary pause. Chang could not surrender. The mission called for no such action.

‘Increase speed,’ he ordered the pilot.

The man behind the wheel looked at his commander incredulously. ‘But’ — a raise of Chang’s hand cut him off immediately.

‘Your family will be looked after. That is all that matters.’

The yacht’s pilot nodded his head in resignation, his hand pulling back on the throttles to engage full power.

Willie Larsson and his crew saw the explosion from over a kilometre away. Looking though his binoculars, he could see the smouldering wreckage of the small yacht, blown apart by the huge guns of the destroyer just a hundred metres before its suicide run would have resulted in a fatal collision.

As he surveyed the ruins, Larsson reflected that it was unfortunate they had lost such a valuable source of intelligence; dead men could not be questioned.

23

Severin watched the five men of Beijing News leap the press barricade on the opposite side of Bankkajen with disbelief.

They discarded their equipment as they sprinted across the road, semi-automatic pistols appearing in their hands like some sort of magician’s parlour trick. Severin pressed Danko down further into the ice and snow, as half a dozen Riksdagshuset security men opened fire at the approaching Chinese team.

Lung was hit straight away and went down only yards from the barricade. The remaining four men started to get closer to the limousine, operating in two-man fire teams and covering the open space in bounds; one pair kneeling to provide covering fire as the other pair advanced a few more yards before themselves kneeling to give covering fire of their own.

The effective tactic kept Severin and the others pinned down, and the smoke from the missile impact that still lingered over the area ensured that the rooftop snipers were rendered completely ineffective.

One of the security men made a lucky shot, catching one of the advancing pair in the chest, but four of his team were down. When he and the other remaining agent started dragging their downed team mates to safety, Severin was left momentarily alone with Danko, the wrecked limousine the only thing separating them from the remaining three assassins.

The odds were improved moments later as the smoke cleared briefly, giving two of the snipers a clear shot at one of the men. The 1000-grain .50in bullets from the massive Barrett rifles arrived simultaneously from two different angles, exploding the Chinese soldier’s head in a vivid scarlet spray. But then the smoke moved across the devastated scene once again, leaving the snipers powerless; and the remaining two Chinese agents continued to close in on the car in a pincer movement, one to each side.

Severin watched them approach from his position under the car, seeing the two pairs of legs getting steadily closer. He knew the snipers were helpless, and the situation too confused and chaotic to expect help from the other security personnel in the scant seconds left before the killers were on top of them.

Knowing instinctively the truism that action always beats reaction, Severin decided to take the initiative.

‘Keep down until I say, then run directly for the entrance,’ he whispered in Danko’s ear. The Russian President simply nodded.

Severin then immediately aimed his pistol underneath the car, firing four times at the legs of the man near the front of the limousine.

Kang cried out in pain as blood spurted from his broken tibias, and the fresh snow was crushed beneath him as he fell. Straining through the pain, he saw Danko sheltered on the ground on the opposite side of the heavy vehicle, and started to raise his pistol shakily towards the target.

Wasting no time after his first volley, Severin sprang up from the floor and aimed directly over the roof of the car. The two rounds he let loose struck the last agent directly in the forehead, a lethal ‘double tap’ that killed the man instantly.

‘Go!’ Severin shouted, and Danko was instantly up on his feet, sprinting for the door just as Kang started to squeeze his trigger.

Snow kicked up behind Danko’s feet as Kang’s bullets barely missed his hard-pumping legs. At the same time, Severin leapt at the limousine, diving across the roof and falling hard off the other side directly onto the prone body of Kang, the barrel of his pistol firm against the assassin’s head, their faces just inches apart.

As Severin felt Kang’s gun-arm twitch, he squeezed his own trigger, blowing the back of Kang’s head out onto the soft white snow in a crimson cloud.

24

It took over an hour until the scene at the Riksdagshuset was finally under some sort of control, although by this time Abrams had been spirited away with Rutherford to a secure location by their Secret Service detail. Danko and Vorstetin were being similarly protected, and the Treaty signing had been regrettably aborted.

But changes to the fragile balance of global security had been made, and it would not be long before the afternoon’s events would cause the entire world to spin frighteningly out of control.