had either developed a previously unknown sense of initiative and made contact with someone who could travel freely in the country, or had taken the risk and gone himself. Neither seemed likely to Forbes, and he smiled quietly to himself.
‘Megan.’
*
Principality of Monaco,
Cote D’azure
Sherman Kruger sat in a reclining chair in the main lounge of his yacht, a half eaten meal of lobster discarded before him on a glass–topped table rimmed with gold leaf. The lights from the city twinkled beautifully through the broad glass doors to one side of him, but he did not see them. All of his attention was focused upon the plasma screen before him and the correspondent speaking over the footage being beamed across the entire globe.
‘The aid convoy had only been in the tiny village of Anterik for a few minutes, distributing aid, when the rebels appeared over a hill to the north of the town, heavily armed, merciless and defiant.’
Kruger squinted as he watched the slightly unsteady camera footage, of an aid volunteer advancing toward the rebels.
‘It was only the quick thinking and courage of this unknown volunteer, who exchanged a handful of supply cartons for the safety of the aid convoy, that prevented a fire–fight between the rebels and the convoy’s British escort, or worse.’
The footage vanished to be replaced by Martin Sigby’s live feed and that of the presenter sitting in England, who adopted an expression of vague mirth.
‘For the benefit of the viewers at home, and for that matter the United Nations, what is your assessment of the situation inside Mordania right now?’
One cue, Martin Sigby smiled the presenter’s caustic wit before frowning as though considering a complex mathematical problem.
‘It’s my feeling, Charlotte, that the situation within Mordania is now beyond the control of the government in Thessalia. The sheer suffering of ordinary citizens so close to the capital suggests that they simply cannot maintain order, with the growing size of the refugee camps ample evidence of that. And let me just say that it is a fact that the rebel forces are advancing toward the capital day by day, as proven by recconaisance photographs recently taken by a Royal Air Force Tornado aircraft.’
‘So you’re saying that you think the capital is lost already?’ the presenter asked.
‘I’m saying only that without external assistance beyond the capital city, either in the form of bolstered UN defences or outright military action against the rebel forces ranged against them, the battle is over for the civilians and militia trying to guard their homes, and I have no confidence in the strength of the remaining government forces to effectively defend Thessalia. As you have seen from recent footage of the refugee camps and this footage of towns close to Thessalia, the government is not providing sufficiently for the remaining citizens under its protection, and the aid groups here can hardly be expected to support the population on their own.’
The presenter turned away from the image of the correspondent.
‘Martin Sigby, in Mordania, thank you for that astonishing footage.’
Sigby offered the camera a brief, modest smile.
Kruger shut off his television and smiled, the heavy lines in his face creasing with self–satisfaction.
‘It is time,’ he murmured to himself, ‘for Mordania to come in from the cold.’
***
17
‘That was most impressive, Martin.’
Harrison’s Forbes’s voice lost none of its potency over the laptop computer’s conference speaker in Martin Sigby’s room.
‘Thank you,’ Sigby replied, removing his heavy winter coat. ‘It will certainly spread awareness of the crisis here in Mordania.’
‘The networks are alive. There have been follow–up reports already all across the United States and Europe. Networks are queuing up to buy the rights to the reels you shot. To say that they are sensational would be something of an understatement.’
‘Just
‘Megan.’
*
Principality of Monaco,
Cote D’azure
Sherman Kruger sat in a reclining chair in the main lounge of his yacht, a half eaten meal of lobster discarded before him on a glass–topped table rimmed with gold leaf. The lights from the city twinkled beautifully through the broad glass doors to one side of him, but he did not see them. All of his attention was focused upon the plasma screen before him and the correspondent speaking over the footage being beamed across the entire globe.
‘The aid convoy had only been in the tiny village of Anterik for a few minutes, distributing aid, when the rebels appeared over a hill to the north of the town, heavily armed, merciless and defiant.’
Kruger squinted as he watched the slightly unsteady camera footage, of an aid volunteer advancing toward the rebels.
‘It was only the quick thinking and courage of this unknown volunteer, who exchanged a handful of supply cartons for the safety of the aid convoy, that prevented a fire–fight between the rebels and the convoy’s British escort, or worse.’
The footage vanished to be replaced by Martin Sigby’s live feed and that of the presenter sitting in England, who adopted an expression of vague mirth.
‘For the benefit of the viewers at home, and for that matter the United Nations, what is your assessment of the situation inside Mordania right now?’
One cue, Martin Sigby smiled the presenter’s caustic wit before frowning as though considering a complex mathematical problem.
‘It’s my feeling, Charlotte, that the situation within Mordania is now beyond the control of the government in Thessalia. The sheer suffering of ordinary citizens so close to the capital suggests that they simply cannot maintain order, with the growing size of the refugee camps ample evidence of that. And let me just say that it is a fact that the rebel forces are advancing toward the capital day by day, as proven by recconaisance photographs recently taken by a Royal Air Force Tornado aircraft.’
‘So you’re saying that you think the capital is lost already?’ the presenter asked.
‘I’m saying only that without external assistance beyond the capital city, either in the form of bolstered UN defences or outright military action against the rebel forces ranged against them, the battle is over for the civilians and militia trying to guard their homes, and I have no confidence in the strength of the remaining government forces to effectively defend Thessalia. As you have seen from recent footage of the refugee camps and this footage of towns close to Thessalia, the government is not providing sufficiently for the remaining citizens under its protection, and the aid groups here can hardly be expected to support the population on their own.’
The presenter turned away from the image of the correspondent.
‘Martin Sigby, in Mordania, thank you for that astonishing footage.’
Sigby offered the camera a brief, modest smile.
Kruger shut off his television and smiled, the heavy lines in his face creasing with self–satisfaction.
‘It is time,’ he murmured to himself, ‘for Mordania to come in from the cold.’
***
17
‘That was most impressive, Martin.’
Harrison’s Forbes’s voice lost none of its potency over the laptop computer’s conference speaker in Martin Sigby’s room.
‘Thank you,’ Sigby replied, removing his heavy winter coat. ‘It will certainly spread awareness of the crisis here in Mordania.’
‘The networks are alive. There have been follow–up reports already all across the United States and Europe. Networks are queuing up to buy the rights to the reels you shot. To say that they are sensational would be something of an understatement.’
‘Just
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