Local time – 2:20pm, Sunday 17th June, 2011.
Prague, Czechoslovakia
Douglas had been taken, or more accurately, dragged to a room in the castle by the surely security guard who found him in the stairwell. The room didn’t exactly look like a prison cell, but it was so sparse and the stone walls so old, it may as well have been one. There was no way to get out, as the only window had bars over it and was far too small to fit a grown man anyway. Douglas sat on one of the two chairs in the room, which looked like they were made a hundred years ago, their wooden surface offering as much comfort as the cement stair he sat on for hours that morning. There was also a small desk in the room, which served no purpose other than to lean his elbows on. Apart from these three items, he was the only other thing in the room. And he was starting to feel incredibly anxious.
It wasn’t that he hadn’t realised the seriousness of the threats made to anyone who tried to leave the conference without permission. But even after he was caught, even after he was identified as a dissenter, he still underestimated how much trouble he was in. Perhaps he was naïve to think he could talk his way out of the situation. As soon as he had been brought here, he had asked the security guard to find Leo Freeman. Leo would understand the mix up and would happily take him back to the conference. No harm done. But the security guard had been far from accommodating.
Now Douglas sat with his head in his hands, pondering what Bilderbergers did to traitors. He still had a half hope that Leo might breeze in and explain that everything was OK, he wasn’t going to be harmed, they were just trying to scare him into compliance. But his rational side expected Edelstein and his cronies to arrive and do more than yell. They might even remove him from the castle. To where, he had no idea, but his fears told him this would be the worst outcome. He knew the rumours of how spy agencies removed people who inconvenienced them. Lethal accidents, which were, of course, not accidental. He was trying to force his mind to stop picturing this fate, when the door opened.
A man, younger than him by perhaps ten years, was being man-handled in the same way as he had been that morning. He looked angry with the security guard who shoved him into the room. Surprisingly, Douglas detected a cockiness about him, and only a small hint of fear.
The security guard snapped, ‘We’ll deal with you both later,’ and then slammed the door.
The man plonked himself on the chair opposite Douglas.
‘Who are you?’
‘Douglas Johnson. And you are?’
‘None of your business.’
‘What are you doing here, none of your business?’
‘No comment. Why are you here?’
‘I broke their rules.’ Finally the man stopped glaring. It seemed to dawn on him that if Douglas wasn’t a friend of the Bilderbergers, perhaps they were on the same side. He even managed a small smile.
‘My name’s Ryan. I did more than break their rules. I’ve helped to destroy their plans.’
‘Oh? How’s that?
‘You won’t have seen it, we’ve sent round a video.’
‘I have seen it. You probably are in more trouble than me in that case.’
‘I don’t care.’ The man spoke like a precocious teenager. ‘I’ve got friends in high places. They won’t leave me here for long.’ When Douglas just shrugged, the man seemed irritated that he wasn’t getting a better reaction. ‘I’m working with someone who was at this conference. He knows what these people are up to. He’s not going to let them get away with it.’
‘He hasn’t done too well at stopping them so far. Your video hasn’t worked and you’ve been captured.’
‘Perhaps so. But I wasn’t working alone. There’s five more like me out there, and the video was just the beginning. They’re all in Pakistan now. You’ll find out soon enough. When they get to the weapon, the Bilderbergers are finished.’