Local time – 6:55pm, Sunday 17th June, 2011.
Rawalpindi, Pakistan.
Alex couldn’t believe what Phil had just told them. The US President had been shot. It was incomprehensible. Phil had received a text message just as they entered the final Wifi connection, and this well and truly diverted their attention away from any satisfaction they may have felt. He read the message to himself, and then repeated it to the car, saying only, ‘US President shot on Meet the Press.’
‘Is he still alive?’ Alex asked. Phil shrugged.
‘That’s all it says.’Phil looked surprisingly unconcerned about the news, and much to Alex’s disgust, even commented to Henry that it was probably a good thing.
‘What do you mean it’s a good thing?’ Alex asked, as a sudden stress rose in her limbs.
‘He’s a passive soft cock who’s turning America into a nanny state. He’s the one letting the Bilderbergers do this. We’re better off without him.’
‘How can you say that? He’s a brilliant leader, and he’s pulling America out of the worst… ’ Alex stopped when Henry put his hand on her shoulder and shook his head. His face told her this wasn’t the time or place for a political debate. Alex was outraged by Phil’s callousness, and looked at Henry, waiting for him to complain. But he didn’t.
‘Whether you like him or not, this is a major problem,’ Alex continued. ‘Could it possibly have something to do with the Bilderbergers? It seems like far too much of a coincidence, considering what they are planning.’
‘Maybe he decided he didn’t want to go along with them after all,’ Josh suggested. Alex opened a web browser on the iPad and brought up The Wall Street Journal webpage, which was blazoned with news, and images, of the shooting. She skim read the first paragraph.
‘He’s not been pronounced dead, he’s in intensive care.’
‘It could be anything. It might have nothing to do with the Bilderbergers’ plans.’ Henry sounded unconvinced.
‘Look, he was announcing a weapons buy back scheme. Maybe some gun nut shot him for taking away their precious second amendment rights… ’ Phil glared at this comment too, making Alex feel like the traitor in a car full of patriots.
‘Why might he be trying to reduce the number of guns in America?’ Phil’s tone bit with sarcasm.
‘To reduce gun deaths obviously. And it seemed to be some sort of stimulus package too.’
‘Or does he want to disarm the country, in readiness for martial law? When the world government has started their nuclear war, there will be plenty of Americans ready to fight back. But the fewer armed citizens, the easier the takeover will be. Santos is in bed with the Bilderbergers.’
‘Then why was he shot? If they’re so powerful, why didn’t the Bilderbergers protect him?’
‘You can’t protect a President from his people when he’s doing something criminal. It might have been a rogue NRA enthusiast. Or it might be someone like us. Someone willing to get in the way of their plans.’
‘We’re not like that. We’re not assassinating a President.’
‘No, but we’re not exactly playing along either! Are we?’
Alex again looked at Henry, hoping he might save her from this line of questioning. But she could tell by the look on his face that he agreed with everything Phil was saying. She stared down at the iPad, feeling her face blush. She suddenly felt incredibly protective of Bernie’s map. The last Wifi connection was easy to find once they circled the block. The map of London showed them where Canary Wharf would have been in Rawalpindi if you followed directions from Whitechapel station. Alex had been sure Canary Wharf was correct, as if you knew Bernie, the designation ‘Sylvester’ could mean nothing else. Bernie used to refer to the fat-cat executives who worked at London’s financial district – the Canary Warf – as Sylvesters because they reminded him of the lisping, lip licking, greedy cartoon cat. Especially since their home was Canary Warf, representing Sylvester’s prey – Tweety Bird.
But now that they had solved the final clue, and were sitting in the Wifi range, there was no obvious building where one might hide a secret nuclear weapon. The streets looked like all the others they had been driving around. Small groups of pedestrians walked down the side of the road, possibly on their way home. Some of the buildings were boarded up, as if they were permanently closed, and others looked to be just shut for the night.
Phil pulled the car over and seemed ready to drop the subject of the attempted assassination.
‘We’re here. So what do you think? Should we get out and have a look around?’ Henry asked Alex gently, aware she was still feeling sensitive to Phil’s antagonism.
‘No. I don’t think we’re in the right place. Why would Bernie lead us somewhere so, so, nondescript?’
The notepad was still open next to the map, and Alex added the last two letters that had appeared when the Canary Wharf connection pinged on the screen. VC. Put together in order, the pairs of letters made a jumbled word. KHUDADADVC.
‘It’s got to be around here somewhere.’ Phil stepped out of the car and shut the door. Josh also opened his door, but not wide enough to get out. He was hesitating, waiting to see where Phil was headed. They watched him walk purposely towards the first building, which was obviously uninhabited, and then pause. He looked like a hound sniffing a tree. After standing still for a few seconds, he moved on to the next house and did the same thing.
‘What’s he going to do? Knock on every door and ask if they’re hiding something they shouldn’t be?’ Alex asked. Henry scratched his arm nervously.
‘Can I have a look at the map of London again?’ he asked. ‘There’s something that’s occurred to me that’s a bit strange. Bernie’s given us five points. Some of them were easier than others. Regardless, it has taken us correctly to five points on the map of Rawalpindi, where Wifi connections have been prearranged.’ Alex nodded.
‘But the five points could have been two,’ Josh interrupted.
‘Exactly,’ Henry replied. Alex watched Henry trace the map with his finger, and she quickly understood what they meant.
‘So, even though the first connection lead to the second, and the second lead to the third and so on, if we could only work out one and five, we would still be sitting where we are now. The others were redundant?’ Alex asked. Josh and Henry nodded. Alex felt a disappointment surge in her chest.‘The only thing we gained from going to each of the five points was these letters. I don’t know what they mean, but it might have something to do with the location of the weapon.’ She opened the notepad for Henry and he looked at it, shaking his head slightly.
‘What does it mean? It’s a jumble of letters.’ Henry held it out for Josh to read.
‘It’s definitely not English. But the letters are common in Pakistani names. K and H, A and D.’
‘Oh my god! Give me the iPad!’ Alex exclaimed. The mention of a Pakistani name jolted a memory of something she had skim read on the plane. She opened Bernie’s Conspiracy Bible and typed in the word ‘KHUDADADVC’ in the search. No results appeared. But before she could lose faith in her idea, she deleted half the letters, searching instead for ‘KHUDAD’. One result appeared. She read it out to Henry and Josh.
‘Although pan-Indian relations were damaged during the Annie Larsen affair, the awarding of the Victoria Cross to Khuhadad Khan went some way to mending pan-Indian dealings within the armed forces.’ The sentence meant nothing to them. But the word Khuhadad did.
‘This makes sense!’ Alex exclaimed. ‘The Victoria Cross. VC. So it’s the name of the person who received the Cross, Khuhadad, and then VC on the end.’
‘So who on earth is Khuhadad Khan?’ Josh asked. Alex was already working to find out. She brought up a Wiki page about the World War One solider who was the first South Asian recipient of the Victoria Cross.
‘He’s a war hero. But this says he was Indian… ’ Alex opened Google and typed in the name again.
‘But Pakistan was still part of India during World War One,’ said Josh.
‘Could there be some historic place, here in Rawalpindi, which relates to Khuhadad Khan?’ Henry suggested.
‘Better than that!’ Alex replied. ‘There’s a military museum 200 meters from where we are now. And it’s got a statue of Khuhadad Khan in the entrance.’ Henry opened his window and yelled out to Phil, who was still gazing at the surrounding properties.
‘We’ve got it Phil! Let’s go!’