The Fall of Night by Christopher Nuttall

intend to do anything other than abide by the election results,” Guichy said.  He nodded to a young carrot-topped man.  “Major?”
     
    Major Nekropher O'Mans, of EUROFOR Intelligence, shook his head.  “There have been no reports that the Russians have dire intentions towards the Ukraine,” he said.  “They actually played quite an important role in getting the Swedes into position, providing some help with transport and intelligence to prevent some of the factions from starting a civil war.  A civil war is hardly in their interests.”
     
    “I hope you’re right,” Fanaroff said.  He unlocked the chip and passed it over to O'Mans.  It had puzzled him that an Irishman had been appointed to EUROFOR Intelligence; the French or British had much more capable intelligence agencies and far more contacts to draw on.  “That is the information we have been able to gather, Major; I hope that you are able to disprove the conclusion, but…I have a nasty feeling that you’re wrong.”
     
    He saluted them and left the room; Saundra was waiting outside, skilfully deflecting the escort’s attempts to chat her up.  The escort passed her his email and telephone number before escorting them back outside the building, into the warm sun.  Brussels was lovely in spring, apart from the new buildings; they had been built to a standard where taste didn’t apply.
     
    She tossed the note away as soon as she was outside.  “Sir, how was it?”
     
    Fanaroff looked back at the EUROFOR HQ.  “They’re all doomed,” he said.  He ignored her astonished questions.  “Come on, we have to get back to the Embassy; I need a stiff drink.”

Chapter Five: Sleepers
     
    A fifth column is a group of people which clandestinely undermines a larger group to which it is expected to be loyal, such as a nation.
    Emilio Mola
     

Edinburgh, United Kingdom
     
    “Welcome to Edinburgh,” Hazel said, as the new prospective lodgers arrived.  She took a moment to check out their appearance; one man, his eyes hidden behind sunglasses, and one woman, her eyes faintly desperate.  The Scottish Parliament might have issued grandiose proclamations on how it intended to create new housing in the city, but in a fit of typical brilliance, the Parliament had managed to build houses that were too expensive for most buyers.  “I understand that you are living together?”
     
    “Yes, thank you,” the man said, his voice clearly from the Highlands.  He held out a hand.  It felt limp and sweaty to her touch.  “We were recently offered a transfer to Edinburgh and…well, it was the sort of transfer that you take or you leave permanently.”
     
    Hazel nodded in sympathy, reappraising them.  She had assumed that they were lovers, at least, not merely colleagues; they had to be desperate to be sharing a flat.  She had no objections to them sharing a room, but they would definitely be sharing a double bed, unless one of them had a sleeping bag.  Her husband had a spare one if it were to be needed; she would go the extra mile for them if she could.
     
    “The rent is three hundred pounds a month,” she said.  In theory, she could accept Euros instead, but she had no real trust in European money.  It just didn’t look real.  “If you are sharing a room, I assume that you will be sharing the cost?”
     
    “Yes,” the woman said.  “I’m Shelia and this is Grant Murdock.”
     
    “Pleased to meet you both,” Hazel said, leading them up the stairs.  “There are two floors to the building; the flats are all on the second floor.  There are no real restrictions on what you can do here, except smoking; smoking is firmly banned in this building.  If you bring anyone home, you are responsible for any damage they might do, and if you do break one of the rules, your possessions will be seized until you pay up.  How long do you think you’ll be staying?”
     
    Shelia seemed to be doing most of the talking.  “We honestly don’t