The Third Leader: No stone unturned
Your support helps us to tell the story
From reproductive rights to climate change to Big Tech, The Independent is on the ground when the story is developing. Whether it's investigating the financials of Elon Musk's pro-Trump PAC or producing our latest documentary, 'The A Word', which shines a light on the American women fighting for reproductive rights, we know how important it is to parse out the facts from the messaging.
At such a critical moment in US history, we need reporters on the ground. Your donation allows us to keep sending journalists to speak to both sides of the story.
The Independent is trusted by Americans across the entire political spectrum. And unlike many other quality news outlets, we choose not to lock Americans out of our reporting and analysis with paywalls. We believe quality journalism should be available to everyone, paid for by those who can afford it.
Your support makes all the difference.S stared out of the rain-flecked window. Below him a grey London went about its January business without enthusiasm. He sighed. Usual stuff in the papers: Lib Dem leadership candidate with a penchant for football-shirted gay sex; England's Swedish football coach revealing all to a man pretending to be a sheikh; a whale in the Thames. Where was the excitement? This wasn't what he'd joined the Circus for.
There was a loud knock at the door, followed by four rapid, softer ones. "Come in, P," called S. "You're supposed to knock twice, sir," came P's voice, sounding slightly disappointed. S sighed again, and rapped the window sill, twice. P came in, walked to the window and stared out, too. "Bit of a flap on in Moscow, sir," he said, after a few minutes. "They've got the rock."
"The rock?" said S. "What on earth is the rock?" "Random Operating Clandestine, er, Kommunicator," said P. "One of Q's wheezes, an electronic dead letter box cleverly constructed to resemble a rock."
So something had gone wrong, thought S, wearily. Something always went wrong. "What went wrong?" he asked. "One of our chaps was spotted carrying the rock and Ivan didn't buy his cover story," said P. "Which was?" "Landscape gardener taking work home."
S had a feeling this would get worse. "I'm afraid it gets worse," said P. "We've also lost contact with two bus stops and a water feature. And then there's Beijing." "Beijing?" "Yes, sir. A slight mix-up has left us with 300 woks that can get the World Service."
S suddenly felt a pang of nostalgia for Iraq. At least you knew where you were with a dossier.
Join our commenting forum
Join thought-provoking conversations, follow other Independent readers and see their replies
Comments