December 3, 1996, 21:50.
The air in the room carried the distinctive ozone scent of electronic equipment.
Twelve surveillance screens formed an arc-shaped wall, reflecting Admiral Kitchener's face illuminated by blue light.
He held a laser pointer in his hand, the red dot roaming across the map of Europe.
"The British problem isn't the army, it's the people's hearts."
The red dot stopped at the Scottish Highlands, "In the past three years, London has cut funding to Scotland by 37%. Eighty percent of North Sea oil and gas revenue has gone to the Treasury Department, Edinburgh is left with crumbs. Last year, the Glasgow shipyard closed down, 3000 unemployed, London doesn't care."
Victor sat at the end of the long table, spinning a New Mexican Coin in his hand: "So?"
"So the Scottish National Party (SNP)'s support rate has risen from 34% before the Diana incident to 51%."
