Adams was already in a bad mood. He had a splitting headache, he couldn"t think straight, and he hadn"t had a decent cup of coffee all day. Then his phone rang. Not the department"s phone, but one reserved for officials and important people who felt they needed a man like him at their constant disposal. When it rang, both he and Mark jumped. He stared at the screen and let it ring again before he picked it up. Mark tried to make himself look busy, not that Adams cared about confidentiality.
The person on the other line was nameless. They normally were. He said simply, “London is under attack.”
There was no more to the phone call, no details about how to proceed or what Adams would need to do, all of which would be impossible anyway if the city really was in trouble. Adams hung up, and th
