The doors closed with a whine of servos and that heavy clunk particular to armour plate. My visitor was a man of medium height with a friendly, open face, seemingly devoid of guile. He smiled. “Good evening Mister Ghent. My name is Peter Anders. I’m the designated hostage negotiator, and my only interest is in achieving a peaceful resolution.”
Around us the server farm blinked and flickered. The room was otherwise empty apart from a table and two chairs. I sat down and motioned Anders forward. “Given the little army you have outside I’m surprised you feel the need to negotiate. Doubly so as I’m unaware of anyone being held hostage.”
“What you have in here, Charles – may I call you Charles? – is more valuable than flesh and blood, but just as vulnerable. And, please, call me Peter.” I inclined my head. Anders leaned forward, adopting a conspiratorial tone. “Very well, cards on the table. The information you’ve amassed over the years would make earlier revelations by Bradley, Snowden and Hardcote look like idle gossip over tea at the vicarage.”
“So you apparently believe.”
“A Finnish hacker managed to retrieve a partial master file index, but that was enough to bring the sky down on your head. To put it simply, you could ruin the careers of numerous prominent politicians and put the cause of international diplomacy back decades. That isn’t going to happen.”
