Chapter 29VauxhallThe cold weather and driving rain had created impossible
queues for taxis at Victoria Station and Gordon had been forced to walk the
length of Vauxhall Bridge Road. Then, crossing the bridge, his umbrella had
imploded in the blustery winds. To cap it all, the new, automated system
refused to recognise his security pass and fingerprints. Entering the
office, he’d barked at his secretary to get him coffee, then sat at his
desk while his wet trousers stuck clammily to his legs and dripped onto the
carpet.
However, twenty minutes later his mood had greatly
improved. He’d received an encrypted call from Sumir Ibn Rashid informing
him that, at an official gathering the previous evening, he’d overheard
the news of a failed attempt by American forces to detain a Kurdis
