The Hour of Camelot

by Alan Fenton

  ‘Do me a favour,’ said Winslow Marsden, ‘save your breath. I’m not impressed. I don’t believe you have any fancy weapons. And even if you do, it’s not going to disturb my slumbers. I’ll tell you what is, though. The thought that a bunch of crazy vigilantes think they can run the world.’

  Arthur, bitterly disappointed, had no more to say.

  The President delivered a final warning. ‘So here’s how it’s gonna be, Arthur. You will stay out of it. Understand? If you don’t, me and some good friends of mine will hunt you down.’ And with that, he cut the connection.

  The President of Russia was as unimpressed as his US counterpart. ‘My country is fighting terrorists since fifty years, and no one help us. Why now?’

  ‘Sometime, somewhere, Mr. President,’ said Arthur, ‘someone has to make a stand. The real power is shifting from democratic countries to terror states. The free world is in decline. We are facing a global crisis.’

  The President’s face twisted in a caustic grin. ‘Russia facing global crisis for a hundred years,’ he said. ‘Maybe more. You tell me – what has changed? And even if it has, what can you do about it? I regret, Mr. Arthur, but for me you are no one.’

  ‘I understand your doubts,’ said Arthur. ‘We are, after all, only a small group of dedicated men and women, but I assure you . . . ’

  The President cut in. ‘What means small group?’ Arthur hesitated. ‘You mean soldiers?’

  ‘What else?’

  ‘Our active fighting force consists of a hundred and fifty soldiers,’ said Arthur.

  For a few moments the air waves were silent, then the President of Russia exploded into laughter. ‘Hundred and fifty! Hundred and fifty!’ he repeated incredulously. ‘Very amusing, Mr. Arthur. Good! I like it! You make me laugh. President needs to laugh. You will save the world with hundred and fifty soldiers! Good! Excellent! Hundred and fifty!’ And the Russian President threw back his head and shrieked with laughter until the tears rolled down his cheeks.

  Arthur waited for him to calm down before making one last despairing effort. ‘Believe me, Mr. President, we don’t need huge armed forces. Our technology is much superior to yours. Our land, sea and air craft are many years ahead of their time. And our most powerful weapon . . . ’

  ‘Enough, Mr. Arthur, enough,’ groaned the President. ‘My belly hurts. I cannot laugh any more.’ He wiped the tears from his face, all the time muttering and chuckling to himself in Russian. ‘I think you well-meaning man, ‘he said, hand to mouth, trying to smother mini eruptions of laughter. ‘But serious – no. Not serious.’

  ‘Let me finish.’ ‘Not serious.’

  ‘Mr. President, I . . . ’

  Too late. The screen was blank. The President had gone.

  The reaction of the President of France was just as negative. He, however, raised a different issue. ‘Camelot is not a member of the United Nations. It is not even a recognised country. What right do you have to use military force against anyone?’

  ‘The same right an individual has to defend himself if his life is threatened,’ said Arthur. ‘The same right a nation has. The civilised world must defend itself or die. It’s as simple as that.’

  The French President was not convinced. ‘It is not simple at all. How are you justifying actions which are not sanctioned by the international community?’

  ‘Our struggle is not against you, but against those who threaten the planet with chaos. I ask the free nations to accept that Camelot will only use its power justly.’

  The President’s eyebrows arched. ‘And who, monsieur, decides what is just and what is not just?’

  ‘We believe our cause is just,’ said Arthur, ‘because we are fighting not for ourselves, but for the good people of the world.’ ‘I assume that in this fight of yours you will consult world leaders before taking action?’

  Arthur considered the artful question. ‘Nothing will deter us from doing what has to be done.’

  ‘You would take unilateral action unauthorised by the United Nations?’

  Arthur hesitated. This was not going well. But he was not going to deceive anyone about Camelot’s intentions. ‘Whenever possible we will confer,’ he said. ‘But that will be our choice. The success of an operation and our own security may necessitate our acting without warning. Therefore we reserve the right to decide when to strike, where to strike, and whom to strike.’

  Seeing the hostility in the French President’s eyes, he knew he had lost him.

  The Japanese Premier listened attentively and without interruption as Arthur first outlined Camelot’s aims and ideals, then described its naval and air craft and its weapons. When Arthur had finished he had only one question: ‘Do you believe that only force of arms can rid the world of terrorism?’

  Arthur took his time before responding, and when he did, he spoke from the heart. ‘Force can never be the only answer. It is a last resort when all other means have failed. Sadly, we have to admit that they have. To do nothing would be the very worst option. If we do not act now, it will be the wicked, not the meek, who will inherit the earth.’

  The Japanese Premier nodded and smiled politely. But Arthur read in that smile what he was too courteous to say.

  He had barely spoken when the President of Iran erupted angrily. Clearly he had been briefed about Camelot’s intentions. ‘Terrorists! Always terrorists! A meaningless word invented by the western nations to demonise the persecuted people of the world! The real terrorists are those who make war on nations whose natural resources they covet. Instead of talking nonsense, you should address the actual cause of tension in the world – the bullying of the smaller nations by the United States of America and their satellites.’

  ‘We are dedicated to restoring order and harmony to the planet,’ said Arthur mildly.

  ‘Lies! You are a hypocrite! You are all hypocrites! You speak of order and harmony. I say you will plunge us all into global conflict!’

  The Prime Minister of the United Kingdom had a strong suspicion that the island of Camelot was somewhere in the Atlantic, probably not that far from the UK. The thought made him extremely uneasy for all sorts of reasons, not least because, if he was right, any military action by or against Camelot might well spill over to the UK. ‘The whole world is out there looking for you,’ he said. ‘And I don’t just mean the terrorists. Sooner or later, someone will find you.’

  Arthur explained that Camelot was permanently mantled. ‘Meaning it cannot be seen?’

  ‘More than that,’ said Arthur. ‘It cannot be detected. By mixing two optical beams we achieve electromagnetically induced transparency. A certain amount of heat is generated, but the infra red is dispersed so that the mantled object is undetectable, just as Kraken and all our aircraft are when they are mantled.’

  ‘The island must be recorded on some chart.’

  ‘Many islands have disappeared in volcanic eruptions,’ said Arthur. ‘That’s what Camelot is believed to have done. No one looks for an island that no longer exists.’

  ‘What if a ship ran into it?’

  ‘If a ship were heading in our direction,’ said Arthur, ‘our sensors would pick it up many miles away, and we would manipulate the geo-magnetic fields. Confusing a compass is an excellent way of avoiding collisions.’

  ‘And your communications?’ ‘Are secure.’

  ‘How can you be so sure? No one can hide radio signals.’ ‘We don’t use radio signals,’ said Arthur.

  ‘Some kind of electrical signals, then?’ ‘Not those either.’

  The Prime Minister heaved a sigh of profound irritation. ‘Stop playing games, Arthur. You have to communicate. So how do you do it?’

  ‘We always knew the world would try to locate Camelot,’ said Arthur. ‘Friends and enemies alike. So we had to find a new and totally secure method of communicating. That’s what we did. We use gravitational waves – waves generated by Camelot’s primary energy source – the same that powers our most powerful weapon – Excalibur. And t
o prevent anyone picking up vibrations, our communications, both internal and external, are decoded by Command Control, by Eclipse and Kraken, and by the miniature decoding devices every active carries.’

  ‘You expect me to believe that load of rubbish?’ demanded the UK Prime Minister rudely, cutting the connection and summoning the head of MI5 to Downing Street, confident that he would soon have Arthur where he wanted him.

  ‘Did you trace it?’

  ‘Did I trace what, Prime Minister?’ ‘Arthur’s call, dammit! Did you trace it?’

  The head of MI5 seemed surprised. ‘I’m sorry, sir, I assumed it was cancelled.’

  ‘Why would you assume that?’

  ‘Because, PM, the whole of London was bristling with listening devices and we picked up nothing. We had satellites working on it too. There was no trace of any call.’

  ‘You can be frank with me,’ said the PM, flashing a spurious smile at his intelligence chief. ‘Was there a cock-up?

  ‘We don’t do cock-ups, Prime Minister.’

  Pull the other one, it’s got bells on, the PM was thinking, but decided not to say so. ‘What’s the explanation, then?’

  ‘I’m afraid I don’t have one.’ At the door he turned. ‘I have checked with the Americans, the Russians, the Chinese, the Japanese and the Iranians. They all spoke to Arthur, and none of them were able to trace or record their call.’ A last few words slipped slyly round the door as it closed: ‘If that’s any consolation, sir.’

  The Prime Minister thumped the desk with his fist. ‘No, it bloody isn’t!’ he shouted angrily.

  The last world leader to appear on Arthur’s screen was the President of China. Because his English was limited, he was accompanied on screen by an interpreter.

  ‘His excellency wishes to know how he can assist you.’

  In the second and third decades of the 21st Century China’s economy had grown fast, and the country was now the most prosperous on earth. Moreover, its huge army, navy and airforce, together with an enormous arsenal of nuclear weapons, made it, if not the greatest, then certainly the second greatest military power in the world.

  ‘I ask the President tosupport Camelot in its war on terrorism,’ said Arthur. ‘Not with arms or weapons, but with words. For example, your support may be needed in the Security Council or the General Assembly.’

  The Chinese President delivered a few, short sentences. Neither his expression nor the tone of his voice gave Arthur the slightest clue to his reaction. The interpreter nodded gravely as his master spoke.

  ‘The President says China peaceful nation, and Chinese Government makes decisions in name of world peace.’

  ‘Do you not consider global terrorism a threat to the security of China?’ said Arthur.

  The President’s face remained impassive, but was there in his eyes the glimmer of a smile? The interpreter translated.

  ‘Chinese people secure. We have Great Wall to protect us.’

  ‘They refuse to co-operate because they don’t take us seriously,’ Arthur told Lancelot and Gawain.

  The two young men were angry; they wanted to teach those world leaders a lesson. Lancelot suggested ‘taking punitive action’, as he called it, against the six powers.

  Gawain ranted for a while, his face and the back of his neck bright red.

  Arthur listened patiently, waiting for them to simmer down.

  ‘Out of the question,’ he said. ‘We cannot turn on our friends.’ ‘Some friends,’ said Gawain.

  ‘We have to do something,’ said Lancelot. ‘I agree,’ said Arthur.

  ‘Then what do you suggest?’ said Gawain.

  For almost a minute Arthur stared into space, his eyes dreaming, and then a slow smile illuminated his face. ‘The President of China made a little joke. He said the Chinese people were secure because they had the Great Wall to protect them.’

  Lancelot saw nothing amusing in that. ‘So?’ ‘So here’s what we’re going to do,’ said Arthur.

  Nine

  A Flash of Excalibur

  The early morning mist at the mouth of the Hudson river shrouded the Statue of Liberty. By 11 a.m. the mist was beginning to clear, unveiling first the huge granite pedestal, then slowly moving higher. As it did so, New Yorkers looking to catch their first morning glimpse of the statue itself, stared uncomprehendingly, closed their eyes, opened them, and stared again. As long as traces of mist still clung to the iconic structure, many convinced themselves that their eyes were deceiving them. But by twelve noon there was no longer any room for doubt. Something inexplicable had happened, and first a hundred, then a thousand, then a million, then a hundred million cell phones across the United States relayed the incredible story.

  The Statue of Liberty had disappeared.

  It was, it had to be, an ingenious trick devised by a master illusionist. Why, or how, it had been done, no one could explain. By midday, however, it had become clear that this was no illusion. The granite pedestal was there for everyone to see. The Statue of Liberty that had stood on the pedestal since 1886, was not. The disappearance of the most iconic statue in the United States of America, a symbol precious to a nation of immigrants, was reported by every newspaper, every TV channel , every radio station, not only in the US, but across the world. Who was responsible for this extraordinary theft? There was much speculation, the most popular theory being that the Russians were behind it.

  At 1 p.m., New York time, a TV news channel in Chicago reported that the Statue of Liberty had been found. At first the report was not taken seriously, but in a matter of minutes current images of the statue were circulating on the internet. From the President down to the humblest US citizen the immediate reaction was naturally one of immense relief – shortly to be replaced by astonishment and outrage. For the Statue of Liberty was not in the United States. It was in Red Square, Moscow!

  Within seconds, Winslow Marsden, the US President, was on the secure link to Moscow, ready to hurl abuse at his Russian counterpart. But before he could utter a word, the Secretary of State entered the Oval Office and placed a note on his desk. The President picked up the note, blinked, read it a second and again a third time, and banged down the phone, cutting off the Russian President.

  ‘Will someone tell me what’s going on?’ he demanded.

  ‘The Russian foreign minister has just been on,’ said the Secretary of State. ‘The statue of Lenin in October Square, Moscow, has been stolen.’

  ‘So? Why is he calling us?’ ‘Because it’s in New York.’

  The President’s eyes widened. ‘What did you say?’ ‘It’s in New York.’

  ‘Lenin’s statue?’ ‘Yes.’

  ‘In New York?’ ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Not possible.’ No response.

  The President tried another approach. ‘Let me get this straight.’ He tried to assemble his confused thoughts. ‘You say Lenin’s statue is in New York?’

  ‘That’s correct, Mr. President.’ ‘Where in New York?’

  ‘On the Ellis island pedestal – where the Statue of Liberty was, until it disappeared this morning.’

  The President shielded his eyes with his hand. ‘Tell me this is a joke,’ he said.

  The Secretary of State did not answer directly. Instead he picked up the remote and activated the wallscreen. There on screen was the statue of Lenin, a pigmy figure dwarfed by the pedestal of the Statue of Liberty. But Lenin none the less.

  Billions of people across the world surfed the internet following these and the equally astonishing developments of the next twenty-four hours. First it was rumoured that the 1052 feet tall Eiffel Tower had disappeared, a rumour that was swiftly and categorically denied by an aide to the President at the Elysée Palace. Minutes later, the same aide was compelled to ‘elaborate’ on his denial, insisting that he had not misled anyone, and that it was correct to say that the Eiffel Tower had not actually disappeared. It had merely “changed its location”. No longer in the centre of Paris, it had reappeared in Tehran, Iran. In it
s place now stood the 1427 feet high Milad Tower, the fourth highest tower in the world, which until today had stood in the centre of Tehran. How and why this exchange of monuments had come about was not clear, he admitted, but there was no cause for alarm; urgent investigations were being made, and announcements by both the President of France and the President of Iran were imminent.

  In London, the sudden disruption of traffic in The Mall leading from Admiralty Arch to Buckingham Palace was thought to be some kind of political protest, until the news broke that the statue of Winston Churchill had disappeared from Parliament Square and reappeared in the centre of Tiananmen Square, Beijing. However, a swift forensic investigation of the massive jumble of masonry in The Mall revealed that what at first had appeared to come from a building site or a quarry, was in fact part of the Great Wall of China – a not inconsiderable part either – nearly thirty feet wide and almost as high. The British Government was concerned, but phlegmatic, the Chinese Government incensed, interpreting the spiriting away of a significant fragment of the Great Wall as a ‘despicable act’ in clear breach of international law, and the presence of the statue of the British Second World War leader in Tiananmen Square as a provocation, a crude attempt to promote insurrection against the people’s government.

  Less than twenty-four hours later a request appeared on a secure US website: the President wished to talk to Arthur. The necessary preparations were made, and Arthur, in the presence of Lancelot, Gawain, Leo Grant and senior advisers from the Round Table, opened the channel.

  On screen, it was obvious that the President was angry. He was red-faced and breathing hard. ‘Are you responsible for these idiotic tricks?’

  ‘No,’ said Arthur. ‘Then who is?’