Rain fell over the smoking ruins of Whitehall.
Sirens wailed in the distance, echoing between crumbling stone facades and shattered windows.
Somewhere near the Thames, fire crews struggled in vain to contain another blaze sparked by delayed-action incendiaries.
The orange glow reflected on the rain-slick streets like blood in water.
Britain, or what remained of it, was no longer sovereign. And her government knew it.
In the damp basement of a crumbling safehouse near Highgate Cemetery, the last members of the "Pro-Liberty" coalition huddled in silence.
Once they had spoken in Parliament, given interviews, drafted declarations.
Now they crouched in the mildew-stained dark like fugitives, their power reduced to a few words written on fading escape papers.
These were the liberals, unionists, and moderate conservatives who had resisted capitulation until the last bomb fell.
