“Well, no. Of course not, Lynn.” The Prime Minister was squirming now. “But you have to understand. My hands are tied. I really can do nothing with the military without first putting it to Parliament. Besides, we don’t need to worry about Russia and any reductions in our conventional forces, because we’re well covered with our Trident independent nuclear deterrent.”

“Prime Minister,” President Dillon’s voice was withering, “your complacency stuns me. You clearly do not understand the most basic principle of deterrence: that it needs to be matched at every level, whether conventional or nuclear, if it is to be effective. Let me make it crystal clear to you in words of one syllable. If we don’t stop the Russians right now, this means war in Europe . . . and that will escalate into nuclear war, as surely as night follows day. Your generals have explained that much to you?”

The Prime Minister tried to be firmer. “Now come on, Lynn. I’m sure it’s not that bad, yet. Nobody has attacked anybody . . . and,” he sounded almost petulant, “well, my people are telling me that there’s no way we can commit British service personnel to a war in the Baltic states. As you know, we’re in a bit of a transition period here and we don’t have our usual forces equipped and ready to go. My generals assure me it’s only a temporary blip and—”

He got no further as the President interrupted. “Are you telling me that you want to go down in history as the first UK prime minister not prepared to stand by a NATO ally in its hour of need? What happened to a thousand years of history? To Britain’s finest hour? As . . . as far as I am concerned, such a capitulation would be the end of any so-called special relationship.”

Bear imagined he could hear the Prime Minister gulp. “I’ll . . . I’ll see what I can do, Lynn.”

The phone clicked and went silent.

1735 hours, Saturday, May 20, 2017

Lielvārde Air Base, Latvia