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Dog's Day
Author : Jeromy Henry A spacesuit entered the bar. It …
Dead in Dunstable
Author: Julian Miles, Staff Writer
The armoured door slams back and Danny rushes in, leaving the door wedged open against the fire extinguisher.
Sir Colin Masters, acting PM due to the sudden disappearance of PM and Rejuve Party leader Roland Fordham, sighs. Directives mandating discrete drone impact zones are all well and good, but when you’re retrofitting a 200-year-old icon, there just isn’t enough room to do things properly. Back in 1840 the biggest threat was an angry farmer with a pitchfork, not some frothing lefty with a flying IED.
“Daniel. Door?”
He slaps a blue note down on the desk.
Blue notes are made of flash paper. They’re designed for information too sensitive to exist digitally.
Colin reads. Danny closes the door. Keeping his expression neutral, he holds the note over the flash bin and ignites it using an antique lighter.
“Where was the elusive bastard? UAE?”
“Dunstable.”
Colin drops the lighter.
“As in Bedfordshire?”
Danny nods.
“You’re telling me that Zakariya Zakarneh, leader of the Blessed Liberators, instigator of countless acts of terror, has been hiding in the heart of England all this time?”
“Not hiding, sir. Running an estate agency. Real name’s Nelson. Mid-thirties, well spoken, and a paid-up member of Rejuve. Locals tagged him during a routine sweep. A search of his home made their day.”
Colin grins. That’s understating it. But if this goes public, there’ll be a media shitstorm of epic proportions.
“An estate agent running an internationally feared terrorist organisation. Whatever next?”
He’s seen Danny shoot would-be assassins without blinking. Now he looks uncomfortable?
“Nelson has Scarlet Level clearance. I’ve verified it, sir. He’s one of ours. Says he’s been running a black-box for Roland ever since the Folkestone Terminal incident.”
Folkestone? That’s when it all kicked off, sure enough. Colin had always thought the Blessed Liberators suspiciously convenient and even more suspiciously effective. Being an in-house op explains their ‘luck’ in everything.
He looks up at Danny.
“Does he know where Roland is?”
“He does. We had to offer him Level Three immunity to get it, though. The approval request should be in your inbox.”
“I’ll see to it. So, where is our former beloved leader and everybody’s favourite charismatic conman hiding?”
“Maldives. Under the name of Hank Gershwin. Shall we send a snatch team?”
Colin raises a staying hand.
“I presume from this being blue noted, there’s no record anywhere?”
“Apart from a Level Three issued to ‘Name Withheld for Security Reasons’, yes.”
Colin slowly nods. This is the opportunity.
“Here’s how I expect this to play out: Zakariya Zakarneh is still at large. If the media asks about the fuss in Dunstable, we reluctantly admit trying to capture his right-hand man in the UK, but the fanatic poisoned himself soon after capture.
“As for Roland, we’ve received new intelligence. He’s now presumed dead, killed by a foreign power or a criminal organisation. Apparently, he’d been taking bribes from both. All of which we’re terribly shocked to just now be finding out about.
“Swap Roland’s DNA record for some long dead commoner. Then set Zero on ‘Hank’. Accident or heart attack, nothing special. Quiet cremation.”
“What about Nelson? He going to be our ‘one dead in Dunstable’?”
“I’ll decide tomorrow. Need more time to think it through.”
Colin’s betting Nelson’s escaped by now. After all, he gave up Roland to get the time needed to break out while they held him and came to Colin for a decision. Someone like that, trained to be invisible in a tech-infested tacit surveillance state? Without a static identity to trip him up, they’ll never see him again.