The Hour of Camelot

by Alan Fenton

  ‘You are, Mr. President.’

  ‘What do you mean by that, for chrissake!’

  ‘The last time we spoke, I gave you some indication of Camelot’s power,’ said Arthur. ‘You didn’t believe me. So I gave you a sample of what Excalibur can do. You left me no alternative.’

  ‘I warn you, Arthur, don’t mess with me.’

  ‘You are in no position to make threats,’ said Arthur. ‘Any more of them, and I shall cut off all communication until you are ready to talk sensibly.’

  Lancelot and Gawain grinned. They were enjoying themselves.

  The President was an old campaigner. What’s more, he knew whom he was dealing with. He gritted his teeth. ‘What is it you want?’

  ‘Respect,’ said Arthur.

  ‘That you have,’ said Winslow Marsden, grudgingly.

  ‘And I want you, Mr. President, to confirm unequivocally to your fellow world leaders your conviction that Camelot is fighting for the future of every man, woman and child on the planet who value peace – nothing more than that.’ Arthur looked his old friend and adversary in the eye. ‘Will you do that, Winslow? For all our sakes?’

  ‘I will,’ said Winslow Marsden, who knew he had little choice. ‘Assuming of course that you . . . ’

  ‘All will be as before,’ said Arthur.

  In less than an hour, the Statue of Liberty stood on its pedestal once more, Lenin was back home in Moscow, the Eiffel Tower in Paris, the Milad Tower in Tehran, Winston Churchill presided over Parliament Square, and the breach in the Great Wall of China had been filled.

  That same day, billions of people witnessed a remarkable phenomenon. In the sky above them a great sword appeared, its blade glowing so brightly that no one dared look at it longer than a split second. When the sun stood high in the heavens, the sword shone at its brightest. In the afternoon its light began to dim, and at the day’s end when it sank below the horizon, the sword glowed blood red, fading at last with the dying light.

  Ten

  The Sea Lords

  Barely two weeks later the world was shocked by three major disasters at sea; the first, the mysterious disappearance of Ulysses Two, an American-owned container vessel, in mid- Atlantic. A brief distress call was received, a garbled message, not repeated. A search of the area revealed nothing, neither oil slick nor wreckage. No terror group claimed responsibility. An insurance fraud was suspected.

  Three weeks after that, the Elysian Fields, a three-hundred- thousand ton American-owned tanker transporting crude oil from the Persian Gulf exploded in a ball of fire as it docked at an oil terminal in the Caribbean, with the loss of her entire crew and over fifty port workers. This second tragedy was believed to have been caused by a spark igniting a fuel tank, and was not thought to be linked to the disappearance of the Ulysses Two.

  The third disaster occurred on the morning of July 31stwhen the Four Winds, a British passenger ferry, blew up in the English channel killing over two hundred people, including women and children. This time there could be no doubt. The explosion was no accident.

  Within hours a message was posted on the internet.

  We, the Sea Lords, acting in the name of Allah, have eliminated The Ulysses Two, the Elysian Fields and the Four Winds in response to the persecution of our brothers and sisters around the world. This time we have chosen the United States and Britain as our targets, but there will be others. In the name of hundreds of millions of our brethren, the victims of persecution by Kafers and their allies in the Middle East, Asia, Africa, Europe, North and South America and South East Asia, we call on the imperialist powers to change their policies, or be prepared to suffer the consequences. Allahu Akbar!

  Mujahid

  The Sea Lords

  The killing of so many innocents created worldwide revulsion. Though people had become accustomed to brutal acts of terror carried out by various groups of malcontents – Islamists, nationalists, neo-fascists and dissidents of all shades and convictions – the fact that there was another, as yet unknown, terror group, capable of such well-planned and co-ordinated murderous acts was deeply worrying. Who was Mujahid? The name was Arabic for fighter, and had obvious associations with the mujahedin in Afghanistan and elsewhere. The implication was clear – the Sea Lords were in some way associated with Al Qaeda.

  With the usual exceptions, world leaders condemned the atrocities, vowing that the perpetrators would be hunted down and punished. Mossad believed that the group had links with Sadiq el Shaeb (the people’s friend), the virulently anti-Western ruler of the Kingdom of the Euphrates, formerly Iraq; MI5 were convinced that Colombian drug cartels were involved; the KGB claimed to have evidence that the Sea Lords were one of many terrorist groups financed and armed by Muslim fundamentalists in three countries bordering on Russia; the CIA blamed the Iranians; the Iranians blamed Mossad and the CIA. The truth was that no one knew. The world’s intelligence services were chasing shadows.

  There was one question on everyone’s mind; where and when would Mujahid strike next? The answer came all too soon. One week later Arthur was summoned urgently to Command Control.

  At the heart of Command Control was Galaxy, a dimly lit room, stacked to the ceiling with wall monitors, every terminal manned by aides of Techforce Ten, the ten supreme masters of cyberspace. Working in close harmony with these human wizards, the most sophisticated neural network of computers ever conceived, analysed a vast volume of data gathered round the clock by Camelot’s eyes and ears: heat, light, sound and movement sensors in space, on land and sea, cameras circling the globe on static and orbiting satellites and UAV’s.

  In the centre of the room was a large semi-circular table, its computer monitor watched over by the presiding genius of Command Control, a plump, pasty-faced young man with shaven head and pink-tinted glasses.

  ‘Welcome to the kingdom of the nerds,’ said Agravaine, his face lighting up at the sight of his hero.

  ‘What’s up, Agro?’

  ‘Someone has hijacked the US Liberty. It’s one of the biggest ocean liners afloat.’

  Arthur laid an affectionate hand on his nephew’s shoulder and waited patiently as Agravaine’s stubby, nail-bitten fingers, calloused by years of use and abuse, worried restlessly at the keyboard, searching for a lost image, challenging and harassing Techforce Ten: ‘How can you lose an ocean liner for godsake!’ Then, with a cry of triumph, ‘Gotcha!’ A bright light pulsed on the table screen as Techforce confirmed over Galaxy’s speakers: US Liberty relocated. Fourth largest liner afloat. Hundred and eighty thousand tons. Approximate number of passengers three thousand five hundred, crew approximately one thousand, seven hundred. Liner rounded Cape Horn August 1st. Present location – Indian Ocean. Destination – Sydney, Australia.

  He bounced excitedly on his stool. ‘Listen to this, nuncle. We recorded it seven minutes ago.’

  Over the control room’s speakers a soft voice spoke in accented English.

  ‘This is Mujahid. The US Liberty, its passengers and crew, are

  in the hands of the Sea Lords. The governments of the United States of America and the European Commission are instructed to co-ordinate the payment of fifty billion United States dollars to accounts designated by us. In addition, three hundred and twelve heroes listed on our website, unjustly imprisoned for acts of so-called terrorism, are to be released immediately and flown by chartered aircraft to the destinations specified. Payment of the ransom and repatriation of the heroes is to be completed within forty-eight hours. I have set an exclusion zone of twenty kilometres around the US Liberty. Be sure that any breach of this zone, any rescue attempt or interference of any kind, will result in the immediate destruction of the US Liberty and everyone on board. Allahu Akbar!’

  ‘That’s it,’ said Agravaine.

  ‘I presume you have run a voice analysis?’

  Agravaine nodded. ‘It doesn’t match any of our records. All we can say for sure is that the man is Middle-Eastern, possibly a native of Iran or the Kingdom of Euphrat
es.’

  ‘Is this Mujahid on board the US Liberty?’

  ‘No way of telling,’ said Agravaine. ‘In any case, the message was pre-recorded.’

  ‘Can you trace the transmission?’

  ‘We’re working on it.’ He did not sound hopeful. Arthur prowled Galaxy. ‘Any clues at all?’

  ‘There is one thing,’ said Agravaine. ‘In the last two years the CIA have traced a number of multi-million dollar transfers to offshore banks they suspect of being fronts for the Sea Lords. When the companies making the transfers were questioned about it, they clammed up. Worse still, there’s evidence that several governments are also paying off the Sea Lords.’ He wiped doughnut icing sugar from his mouth and slurped a mouthful of coffee.

  ‘Extortion,’ said Arthur thoughtfully.

  ‘Looks like it. But if it’s just about money, why are they sinking ships? It doesn’t make sense.’

  ‘Terrorism is never just about money,’ said Arthur. ‘Money is a means to an end.’

  ‘Then what do they want?’ asked Agravaine.

  ‘World domination – assuming they are Islamists. They see all Muslims as victims of persecution by all non-Muslims. Their goal is a return of the Caliphate, the overthrow of secular Western democracies, and the establishment of Sharia law and the rule of mullahs on a global basis. For them and their converts – an increasing number of Muslims – this is a war to the death.’

  ‘So you think this lot are Islamists?’

  ‘Almost certainly,’ said Arthur. ‘And if they are, then we are fighting a merciless and cunning enemy. Their modus operandi is brutal but never random, their targets carefully selected, their message directed not just at America and Britain but at all those countries engaged in fighting Islamic terrorism. No one on the planet is safe. They have long term objectives and a plan of campaign, and that makes them very dangerous.’

  The Great Hall’s massive doors were closed by eight guardian robots, two to each double door, eight pairs of bulbous eyes winked, eight electronic voices confirmed in turn: Doors shut and secured. Doors shut and secured. Doors shut and secured . . .

  On the table in front of Arthur lay the ceremonial sword, Excalibur, symbol of Camelot’s power, signifying that the Round Table had been summoned to a council of war.

  As Arthur signalled for silence, Mujahid’s chilling message was played back over speakers installed at intervals around the hall.

  Lancelot raised his hand. ‘I propose we launch Operation Sea Lord without delay,’ he urged.

  Arthur consulted his nephew, Agravaine. ‘Based on our intelligence, what are the chances of rescuing the hostages by force?’

  ‘There are over five thousand passengers and crew on the US Liberty,’ said Agravaine, ‘most of them imprisoned on two lower decks. Obviously they are closely guarded by the terrorists, some of whom will be suicide bombers.’

  ‘How many terrorists are there?’ said Gawain. ‘We estimate about fifty.’

  ‘Can we use Excalibur to take them out?’

  ‘Techforce Ten’s analysis is that using Excalibur would be inappropriate – either in Demat and Remat, or in Elimat,’ said Agravaine. ‘There are simply too many targets, and the good guys and the bad guys are too close to each other.’

  ‘Conventional weapons?’

  ‘Same problem. We can’t get near the ship without risking the hostages’ lives. Techforce are picking up some chatter, and their reading is that the Sea Lords will blow it up if they are attacked. Some, if not all of them, are willing to die in the process.’

  ‘Camelot cannot stand aside and do nothing,’ said Lancelot. ‘We have to rescue those people, whatever the risk.’

  His words were greeted by stamping of feet and applause. Clearly he had the support of the Round Table. Arthur waited for members to calm down. ‘The US and the other countries involved are hopeful they can persuade the Sea Lords to release the hostages,’ he said. ‘In the circumstances I suggest we await the outcome of their negotiations.’

  Lancelot’s frustration was shared by the majority of the Round Table. Was this not exactly the kind of crisis Camelot was created to deal with? Such was their respect for Arthur, however, that no one questioned his judgement, and it was agreed that no action would be taken until negotiations with the Sea Lords had either succeeded or broken down.

  With so many passengers and crew, more than a dozen countries were involved, all of them participating in the negotiations. Every few hours Mujahid made and reneged on agreements, seeming to derive sadistic pleasure from tormenting the negotiators. When the deadline had expired and no agreement had been reached, five male and five female passengers were bound hand and foot and forced to kneel. One by one, in sight of the other hostages, they were slaughtered by a man thought to be Mujahid, who cut the women’s throats, and beheaded the men slowly so that they died in agony, screaming to the end. These brutal executions were transmitted live across the globe by satellite cameras.

  Within minutes Mujahid announced that he was extending the deadline by a further twelve hours, at the same time warning yet again that if his terms were not met in full, or if any attack were launched, the US Liberty would be destroyed, together with its passengers and crew. For the next few hours he continued to toy with the negotiators. Three hours before the expiration of the extended deadline the US President ordered his joint Chiefs of Staff to launch a rescue operation. It was the action of a desperate man, and it had tragic consequences.

  Before a single ship, submarine or aircraft could get anywhere near the US Liberty, satellite cameras picked up a massive explosion in the Pacific. Minutes later, Mujahid’s chillingly flat voice confirmed the horrifying news; the US Liberty had been blown up together with its passengers and crew. The blame, he said, rested entirely with the President of the United States who had, in bad faith, launched a military operation whilst negotiations were in progress.

  Satellites and unmanned aircraft spotted wreckage floating in the sea; ships, submarines and aircraft rushed to the spot, and about two hundred survivors were picked up, many of them badly burned. The rest, passengers and crew, had perished – more than five thousand men, women and children – about half of them citizens of the United States, the rest from countries around the globe, amongst them, members of the European Union, Russia, South America, Japan, Korea, India, Pakistan and China. World leaders were unanimous in their condemnation of this cruel and senseless act, vowing to co-operate in hunting down and destroying whoever was responsible.

  The world’s leading military powers – China, Korea, the United States of America, the European Union, Russia, India and Pakistan – undertook to co-operate, their armed forces and intelligence services exchanging information on a round-the- clock basis. Satellites, ships, aircraft and unmanned vehicles scoured land and sea with one common goal – to find the terrorists, and either kill them or bring them to justice. Yet with all the sophisticated surveillance technology at their disposal, no one could find the Sea Lords. They had disappeared without trace.

  Eleven

  The Sea Lords

  Arthur was about to leave for Command Control when the observatory door monitor crackled to life.

  Name?

  ‘Guinevere.’

  In a nano-second her voice and iris were checked and approved.

  Enter, Guinevere.

  She put her arms round Arthur’s neck and kissed him affectionately. ‘Forgive me, darling, I know I shouldn’t be disturbing you, but I’ve been hearing rumours. Is it true?’

  ‘Camelot is at code red,’ acknowledged Arthur. ‘It’s a party.’

  Party. A macho word masking the truth, as if war really were a party, a night out with the boys.

  ‘This one looks like being the biggest yet,’ he said, an undertow of excitement in his voice.

  ‘You won’t be leading the actives, will you?’ she asked anxiously.

  ‘Afraid not.’

  How like a man, she thought. How especially like Arthur.
>
  Not afraid to go to war, but afraid not to.

  ‘Only wish I could. At thirty-four years old the Round Table tell me I’m too old to play soldiers,’ said Arthur. ‘Nonsense of course, but there’d be a palace revolution if I defied them, so I’m forced to leave the dangerous work to the youngsters.’

  ‘I should think so too,’ said Guinevere. ‘You are Camelot.

  What if something were to happen to you?’ She fiddled with her wedding ring. ‘So, who . . . ?’

  ‘Lancelot will be operational commander.’

  ‘Lancelot?’ Like a cloud passing the sun, a look of concern shadowed her face and was gone.

  ‘No need to worry,’ said Arthur, who had not missed that fleeting reaction, ‘Lance can take care of himself.’

  A toss of her long black hair. ‘I assure you he’s the last person I worry about.’

  ‘All the same, darling, you might want to wish him luck. I’m sure he’d appreciate it if you called him.’ Arthur cradled her hands in his and kissed them tenderly. ‘I know I would.’

  ‘If you wish it,’ she said without enthusiasm.

  ‘He’ll be piloting Eclipse,’ said Arthur. ‘Great responsibility, and perhaps great danger too.’

  Danger. For the first time in her life she was afraid. Almost everyone in the world lived with the threat of danger every day of their lives, especially in these demented times. Somehow, this was different though. With no thought of the consequences, she had exchanged the relative security of life in London for a life of danger, not just for the actives, but for Arthur, for her, for all of them. No longer could she take tranquillity and peace of mind for granted. Like a child she snuggled up to her husband for comfort, and he held her close.

  Lancelot’s A.D.C. buzzed him in his office in Command Control. ‘The governor’s wife would like a word with you, sir.’

  Guinevere? What could she want? ‘Put her on.’