‘I assure you that you will be defended just as we will defend the liberties for which this country stands. If it is true, as it appears to be, that terrorist reinforcements are coming to join those already at our gates, then a grave hour indeed has struck.’ He surveyed the journalists who’d stayed with him and was deeply moved. ‘If, tomorrow morning, it seems we can best secure our safety by returning to London, then to London we will return. But this great newspaper will not be silenced. We will seal the door of this bunker. We will outlast the storm.’

There was a quiet in which the phones rang, the fuzzy screens moved on the back wall and the journalists who’d stayed felt the stirring of a certain kind of grumbling stoicism. Anna looked at her watch and said, ‘If we’re going to get this story, we’d better get on with it.’

Geraldine said, ‘The Beast stands firm.’

There was a murmur of agreement, as if from parliament’s back benches, and several repeated: ‘The Beast stands firm.’ How the Editor loved them then. He had more to say to them, about how this newspaper had never missed an edition even during the Blitz. But instead he briskly put them back in order. ‘Desk editors, get your people moving. We need some copy through to the page. Work out where the gaps in manpower are going to be. We’ll have to drop the Diary spread entirely – so Features, we’ll need more from you. And Geraldine, run this story to ground.’

The newsroom’s enormous toothed wheels creaked, shuddered, and, slowly, stiffly, began to turn.

The Editor spoke so only Geraldine and Anna could hear. ‘Geraldine, tell the deserters that the police will drive them into Thatcham in their vans and that any leak, even to a policeman, is a contravention of the Official Secrets Act, which carries a maximum sentence of imprisonment. Send some reporters to escort them. If the police try to get out of driving, tell them we don’t want a horde of Muslim cabbies on our doorstep. Anna, are you still on the phone with your contact?’

‘Yes.’

‘Get him to look out of the window and read the distances on a fucking road sign. We need to know where they are and how long we’ve got. Also the bus timetables. They’ll have to change somewhere, Oxford maybe, or Birmingham, if they want to take a bus to Thatcham or Newbury. Find that out. And I want you to find out exactly how your contact claims to know that they are terrorists. Then Geraldine, have your people seal the door.’

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