Third World War by Unknown Read Free Book Online Page B

who took it?' asked Nolan calmly.
    'Officially we don't know,' said Colchester, constantly ensuring that he and Campbell were speaking with one voice. Nolan was familiar with Colchester's ability to transform his character like a chameleon and he detected a change now of Colchester using the refuge of civil service anonymity to push forward a political position. He was a Whitehall civil servant with enormous power and flair who skilfully projected an image of a man of absolute ordinariness.
    'Officially,' began Nolan. 'What the hell does that mean?'
    Campbell had his eyes down, sorting the photographs.
    'Tell the Prime Minister,' said Colchester.
    'North Korea,' said Campbell, looking up, then leaving the photographs and springing to his feet. 'I do not have the evidence, sir, but my contacts are good, and I would forfeit my job on it.'
    'The source of Lazaro's information is highly, highly classified, Prime Minister,' said Colchester calmly.
    Nolan turned to Campbell. 'What is your source?' he demanded.
    Campbell gripped his hands together, powerfully enough to show the whites of his knuckles, suddenly showing the emotions of his part-Latin heritage. 'I said I would forfeit my job. My job is my life, sir. I would not be here if I did not think that this agent had gone to North Korea.'
    'I asked you what your evidence is?' said Nolan.
    Campbell deferred to Colchester.
    'As I said, the information is--' began Colchester.
    'Damn you, Charles,' exploded Nolan, 'if you want me to look at this stuff and then make an argument to Jim West - because I damn well know this is why you've produced Campbell - I need to know the source. I need to know that it's true. If you feel you can't tell me, then we'll do it through the appropriate channels, and if it gets lost in the bureaucracy, so be it.'
    'It is - or was - President Asif Latif Khan of Pakistan.'
    Nolan stared blankly at Colchester and then in disbelief at Campbell. Outside was the whine of an electric milk float. With each driver personally screened, it was still allowed within the secure area of Downing Street. Nolan got to his feet, walked across to the window, looked down at the clatter of bottles on the doorstep, turned back inside the room, glanced at the photographs laid out on the table, then looked at Campbell. 'Khan?' he asked, showing part irritation and part sarcasm. 'The now dead President of Pakistan?'
    'Khan, as you know, was deputy head of the Inter-Services Intelligence Agency before going into politics,' explained Colchester. 'Lazaro worked closely with him during the War on Terror.'
    'He told you that North Korean agents had walked into a secure Australian laboratory, killed two scientists and stolen this agent?'
    'He told me more than that,' said Campbell, sinking to his knees again by the coffee table, and pulling two photographs from the middle of the pile.
    'Show me, then,' said Nolan, sitting down and putting on his spectacles.
    Campbell handed Nolan a picture, labelled with a caption describing it as an unidentified guest at a cocktail reception in New York. The subject wore a lounge suit, badly cut, with a tie too tightly knotted and creating wrinkles on his shirt collar. He had no drink and was caught with both hands clasped behind his back and a ripple of boredom on his face.
    The second picture was of the same man, but it revealed much more. He was short, but stocky and strong, with truculent features, and dressed in the uniform of a four-star general. He was with a dozen other dignitaries. The date on the caption was 15 April 2003. The setting looked like an official celebration in Pyongyang. It might have been that particular split second with the camera, or the resulting image might have been etched into the subject's character. His arms were stretched out to the edge of the rail of a balcony and his whole presence dwarfed the lost expression on the face of the then North Korean leader, Kim Jong-il, who stood next to him. The general's long fingers