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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,