She paused as the audience began to clap. The applause began at the back of the hall and quickly spread to the dignitaries at the front. The Marati ambassador stood and walked out, as did the Zimbabwean ambassador. Victoria let them go in silence before she continued.

“Africans throughout the continent are ambitious. They have glorious aspirations. They want to be seen as equals to the developed world. We do not want to be third world or second world; we want to be first world, as many of you know. With our peoples, our lands, our hard work, we can survive on our own but only if you stop our leaders from abusing their power, stealing our money and smothering our hope.”

Victoria paused whilst the applause died down, and then removed her headscarf to reveal a close cropped hairstyle.

“Ladies and gentlemen.” Suddenly the voice, the accent and the intonation was very English. “I notice that the Marati delegation has left us. I wonder why? I am not Victoria Hokobu. I am, however, her sister at arms. I admire Victoria and her relentless efforts on behalf of her people tremendously, but it is with deep sadness and regret that I announce her assassination yesterday.”

There was an audible intake of breath as the shocked audience came to the realisation that their speaker was dead. A picture of the Hokobus, smiling and happy in front of the London Eye, faded to a picture of them lying dead in the back of the Mercedes.

“I have presented Victoria’s speech exactly as she prepared it. I believe that we have all honoured her memory by listening to her words today. I further believe that if we genuinely want to honour her memory we will say that today was the day when we started to change the way we give aid. Today was the day we started to end slavery. Today was the day we restored hope to the poor.”

Angela Barry left the podium to return to her acting role in the Lion King, and the audience were left looking at a picture of the Hokobus enjoying the interior of Westminster Abbey. The caption read:

“Victoria Hokobu, Stateswoman; 1975 to 2011.

Chapter 21

The Strand, London, Thursday 9:30am.

Gillian Davis walked briskly past the entrance to the old tube station. Passers by rarely noticed the red brick-coloured tile facade, the locked security gate or the signs boldly proclaiming ‘Piccadilly Rly’ and ‘Strand Station’. Hardly surprising, perhaps, as the station had been closed since 1994, after a somewhat inglorious history.

Built in the Victorian era, the station was home to a branch line which had the advantage of giving access to three different underground lines. The area around the station was thriving when the work began, but even before the station was completed, retailers, commercial offices and home owners moved further away from Aldwych and into the up and coming commercial areas of the City and the West End.

Initially two double platforms were built, but one was abandoned and bricked up after just a few years’ use, in 1917. As a result, the work on the remaining passenger tunnels and the final lift shaft were never completed.

The Strand Station also lost its name when the more popular station at nearby Charing Cross was opened and was initially named the Strand Station, leaving the old Strand Station to be renamed as The Aldwych Station.

By the Second World War the station was little used, and so it was closed as a functioning station to permit its dual use as an air raid shelter and a secure underground storage facility for works of art from the National Gallery, including the Elgin Marbles. The platform which had been sealed in 1917 served as an impenetrable vault for the duration of hostilities, before being resealed in 1946.

The Aldwych platforms at the station stumbled on after the war and managed to remain in use for another forty eight years, thanks largely to the reopening of the theatres in the area. The Strand Station finally closed its doors to the public in 1994. The old station experienced a new lease of life in 2001, when terrorism became a real threat to Londoners. It was assumed, almost prophetically, that the most obvious threat to the city was an attack on the Tube system. Thus the Special Air Services, the Secret Intelligence Services and the Metropolitan Police secretly used the Strand Station, its platforms and tunnels, for anti-terrorist exercises and emergency training purposes.

By 2006 MI5 had adopted The Strand Station as its own. Their operatives created offices by partitioning platform areas and they continued to manage the facility for the other users. This cooperation continued until 2008, when the police and MOD moved their offices and security drills to another unused Tube station in a less busy area in North London. By the time Gil returned to the Strand Station, it had stood silent and empty for two years and was gathering dust.

Gil knew, from passing the station entrance on the way to the City, that it was embedded into the buildings which now house Kings College London, and that it was protected by nothing more than a painted plywood hoarding and a security shutter. Nonetheless, whilst Gil could have been inside within a minute, the Strand was always busy and, even on a freezing morning like this, inquisitive students were hurrying past on their way to class.

Gil walked past the station entrance without slowing, and turned right into Surrey Street. She walked down the deserted, steeply banked street until she arrived at a loading bay. Two large shutter doors faced her, labelled ‘Exit’ and ‘Entrance’. Faced in the same shiny red coloured tile as the station front, this had once been the side entrance to the Strand Underground Station.

To the extreme left of the tiling stood a single white door which looked as though it had not been maintained for years. The sign on the door bore the simple message, “Keep Clear, Fire Exit”.

Despite its dilapidated appearance, Gil knew that the door was steel reinforced and regularly used, mostly at night. Ensuring that she was alone, Gil approached the door, setting down her briefcase as she withdrew her key. The lock was a simple one, old but sturdy. This would have to be opened the old fashioned way; her electronic lock pick would not be strong enough to turn the old tumblers.

Gil chalked the large uncut key and inserted it into the lock and turned it until she felt resistance. She then withdrew the key and looked at the marks made in the chalk by the levers. She quickly selected the master key that most closely matched the lever marks and inserted it, and then, with a small amount of jiggling supported by brute force, she turned the key and the levers clicked over. The door was now unlocked. She stepped inside and pulled the door closed but she did not lock it. A good operative always maintains access to a quick exit route.

Almost immediately inside the passageway she found the ornate public entrance, secured by a trellis shutter and a modern Yale type lock. This time her electronic lock pick would be fine.

Gil pulled what looked like a torch from her pocket and slid a switch on the tubular body of the object forward two positions. Three titanium prongs sprang out of the end, all so closely grouped that they were almost touching. The young woman carefully pushed the three prongs into the lock until they each hit resistance. She then slid the button back one notch, and there was a whirring sound as the prongs moved back and forth into position. The red diode on the handle turned green, and the end of the electronic pick rotated like an electric screwdriver, unlocking the shutter.

***

Gil had deliberately arrived early so that she could scout the area. Her MI5 trainers had impressed upon her that accessing premises through locked doors and securing the area were among the basic tenets of ‘spy craft’. As Gil had never considered herself a spy, she preferred the term ‘tradecraft’.