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doubt about it – she’d been trained by some of the top martial arts instructors in Japan, many of whom normal members of the public would never have had access to – but Cole had done this his entire life, for real. Michiko had been trained, but Cole was trained and experienced, which made all the difference.
    ‘Next time, try not to leave yourself exposed,’ he told her. ‘You didn’t need to use both hands to stop that kick. You could have just slipped it, moved your head out of the way and left both hands free.’
    Michiko nodded her head. ‘You’re right,’ she said, grabbing a towel and wiping the sweat from her brow. ‘So what now?’
    Cole checked the time, saw that it was just after six in the morning. ‘I say we stretch off a bit, shower, then grab a bite to eat before work. How does that sound?’
    ‘Sounds good, if you’re buying breakfast,’ Michiko said.
    Cole laughed, starting to stretch out on the mats. ‘Don’t I always?’
     
    Cole stepped out of the shower a new man, refreshed and ready to face the day ahead. He started to towel himself off as he walked back to his locker, wondering where they should go for breakfast; there were a couple of good cafés nearby, but the gym also had a fairly decent place of its own.
    He’d ask Michiko what she’d prefer, he decided; he could eat anything at any time, and was happy to go along with whatever she wanted. Food was fuel after all, and anything would be good after a hard workout.
    The changing room was starting to fill up now, Cole noted as he reached his locker; when he’d arrived at five, he and Michiko had been the first ones there.
    ‘Hey man,’ the guy next to him said in greeting.
    ‘Hey,’ Cole said.
    ‘Hell of a thing in London, ain’t it?’ the man said next, and Cole felt his heart jump ever so slightly.
    ‘London?’ Cole said, opening his locker and reaching inside for his phone. ‘Must have missed it, what’s happening?’
    ‘Terror attack,’ the guy said, ‘really bad this time, sons of bitches went for a school full of kids. Real fuckin’ mess, man.’
    Cole’s blood turned to ice in his veins, and he looked down at the phone in his hand – seven missed calls from the Paradigm Group, five from the White House.
    Shit.
    Breakfast was just going to have to wait.

2
    It was still early, but President Ellen Abrams was already at work, ensconced within her private study with some of her key aides, in preparation for the emergency meeting of the National Security Council which had been scheduled for nine that morning.
    She wasn’t concerned that anyone would miss it; every single person on her staff would have seen the incident in London on the breakfast news and would already be on their way in to work. The attack might not have happened on American soil, but the United Kingdom was a key ally and – what was more – what could happen there could just as easily happen in the United States, and if school attacks were the new thing, then a very real threat to national security had just emerged.
    Abrams had just finished speaking on the phone to the British Prime Minister, Adam Gregory, and – as well as expressing her condolences – had made sure she’d found out as much up-to-date information as possible.
    ‘Okay,’ she said to the people in the small room, ‘it seems to be just what’s been reported on the news so far. Lone wolf attack, three British men, no known links to terrorist groups, apparently self-radicalized via the internet. All three dead, and the Met haven’t managed to locate anyone else involved, as yet. Witness testimony and CCTV show just the three of them, and apparently they all lived together in one apartment, rarely hung out with anyone else.’
    ‘What are the latest figures?’ asked Clark Mason.
    ‘Forty-one children confirmed dead so far,’ Abrams replied, a pained expression across her face, ‘with more probably to be added – there are over two hundred casualties, many of them