SEVENTEEN
A few hours later Norman made up his mind to leave the house. His last thought was to leave the gas on and a row of candles lit in one of the rooms. As he left, he could hear the hissing sound of the escaping gas engulfing the building.
By the time he was gone there would be a massive explosion in which all evidence would be buried and lost forever that even the most gifted forensic team would find hard to report on. The mutilated body of the woman would never be found, as would any of the evidence from the rape and attack.
Norman left the large Edwardian building and had soon frogmarched himself across to the local underground station and was quickly safe and away from the danger area.
As he entered the station in the far distance, he heard the sound of the building erupting into flames and the thundering explosion of the building being ripped apart. Glad that his part of the operations had been a success he tapped the memory stick that contained the incriminating evidence and slung his laptop over his shoulder.
As he went down the escalator towards the underground tube, he heard the indicative sound of fire engines rushing past the station towards the Edwardian house.
Back in the London Fire Brigade Headquarters, a call came in that there had been an explosion off Newton Green at 14.20. A few minutes later, the fire station roared into actions as fire fighters left in two vehicles. Half an hour later just less than 100 people were being evacuated from the area and a further four vehicles were extinguishing the fire and preparing to make the area safe once more.
An hour later, the Fire Brigade made a press release in which they said not everyone was accounted for but their colleagues in the police were not aware of any casualties.
That night when all was the activity of the day was finished Norman would switch on the TV and watch a BBC reporter interviewed a witness who reported the smell of gas before the blast.
The news reporter would state that ‘It was so powerful it demolished the whole house and the whole road shook. People were running into the street to see what was going on and they were absolutely terrified'
However, that was in the future. Right now Norman had just boarded a train and was heading west into London.
He sat down on his train seat and began to scan the carriage for danger. He watched a woman deep in concentration as she read an article on page three of the newspaper. A youth was nodding his heads to some muffled techno music that was more annoying than pleasant to listen too.
The journey was short and fast. It gave Norman just enough time to clear his mind. In a matter of a few weeks, he had managed to negotiate a deal with the French and US secret service. He had almost had the operation destroyed by some plant that had infiltrated his mission. Somehow he had managed to get away with it although the kicking he got from Tony had been severe and painful.
Despite this, he had managed to enlist some friends from MI5 to try to track this fugitive down and once Tony had found out whom it was he seemed to accept that Norman was lucky to have got away with the limited damage. His MI5 colleagues had hunted Simon Dunbar down tracking his journey to Scotland before they had lost him. They had then tracked down one of his accomplices and were now holding him in a safe hold somewhere in the North West of Scotland.
He had a very good plan in place now and was focused on getting this mission finished and the Chinese President and his daughter killed in a blood bath that would rival 9/11 or 7/7. His team that were going to do this were dead not matter if they survived the missions that he had laid before them. It was a simple plan. All the best plans were. This is what his training had taught him and experience had now confirmed.
His team were going to stir up a series of incidents across the UK and entice chaos and mayhem over the next few weeks before he struck at the Chinese President killing him in Edinburgh. By the time, all was in place Birmingham, Manchester, Bradford, and London would be reeling from a series of riots and racial attacks. Everyone’s attention would be on the chaos caused between the British Islamic groups and the white English League Groups providing Norman with the right environment to launch his attack on the Chinese President and present obvious links between Abdulla Megahit and the attackers...
He got off the train at the next station. He then stood perfectly still as he waited for the crowds to pass him. Everyone seemed to be getting off and rushing away to somewhere important in too much of a hurry for him. A great tide of people were busy clicking away on their blackberry’s or IPod busy making calls telling them what they were doing or telling the world what they were thinking through the my space or Facebook accounts.
With the crowds, having died down, Norman turned away and began to walk towards a small door. Stamped on it was the words ‘STAFF ONLY’
He thought it is amazing how something so subtle can stop people. He opened the door and thread into a small man size life. A minute later, the lift came to a halt. Norman lifted up the steel cage and began to walk forward onto a dark drenched concrete expanse of a garage. He stepped out, his torch in his hand. He hated this dark and menacing walk through the deserted passes of the London underground. Great smears of oil and gas were everywhere as was the stench of the fumes from the trains running above and below him while the echoes of the trains rattled through the silence of the expansion. He could hear the echo of his footsteps as he made his way across the expanse to another solid metal door.
White and yellow lines were painted in a crosswise pattern along the walls pointing towards the solid door. He banged it several times. A camera swivelled in his direction. A few seconds later the door opened and in walked Norman.
As Norman entered Tony’s control post, he heard his all familiar voice.
‘Bring your laptop and memory stick over to my office’.
It was only then that Norman felt the aches and pains of the last few days spring out along his body. He started to feel a headache come on. Digging into his wool cashmere jacket he pulled out two pills and tossed them down his throat hoping it would take the pain away.
He then looked down at his text message. It said Norman come to room 105 immediately LOL.
Norman realised now that he would have to explain his plan in detail to Tony justifying his decisions and choices that he had made ready for the planned attacks.
He walked down a long corridor that was surrounded by white walls with pictures mounted on the walls at regular intervals. Passing a sea of cubicles clustered together along an open plan office Norman was forced to walk across the rows of PC’s and Laptops towards the three numbers nailed onto the door which read ‘105’ and his meeting with Tony.
He knocked the door and heard Tony’s familiar voice say enter. As he walked into the room, he could see Tony answering another phone call on his blackberry. Tony waved him in.
Norman quickly composing himself. He was annoyed that Tony was paying more attention to his blackberry than him. He took a big deep sign and then walked towards Tony’s large 1950 oak desk.
As he did, a large 72in TV screen switched on and before him was the face of Paul Almond the architect of both Tony and Norman’s plan and overlord to both men. The power was firmly in the Directors hands now.
‘So who was to blame for the mission screwing up in Paris’ shouted the Director
‘Norman what the hell was going on in Paris. You almost destroyed the mission and embarrassed our government and the service’
‘It’s OK we have sorted that early problem’
It was now that Norman wished that Tony had placed him on permanent gardening leave and not given him the chance to redeem himself.
Both Tony and the Paul could see right away that Norman was on the back foot. His shoulders were hunched up around and his red ears were now as bright as a blushing bride. He had started to face away from Tony and towards the Director who showed no sign of compassion or forgiveness.
‘Not a Happy day for you is it?’ he said with anger in his voice and eyes.
‘It seems Director that young Norman here walked into a great steaming pile of searing horse shit in France.’
He then flipped closed his report which was on the oak desk. He sat there looking like one of those old school headmasters from the Victorian era.
‘And no one wants to be contaminated by that stench do they’.
‘Yes Director….’
Nevertheless, Paul Almond did not want to hear it from Norman.
Instead, Tony came back to his rescue at his moment of greatest need.
He went onto explain how the mission had been locked down. All loose ends had now been closed or immobilised. He then went onto explain how Norman had blackmailed a ruthless team of killers into making a few adjustments to the original plan. They were going to attack several mosques in Birmingham, Manchester, Bradford, and London followed up by attacks on Conservative regional offices and known BMP and English League offices. This would create a period of chaos and religious hatred across the UK. This would then be used and painted as the reason for extremist British Muslims attacked and killing the President of China to strike at atrocities conducted by the Chinese and British governments in the Middle East and Central Asia.
‘Excellent’ replied the minister.
Then the TV switched off.
‘Well Norman you have a plan to put in place. Keep me updated.’
Norman stood up and began to walk towards the door and exit. He could feel the tension of the room leave immediately after he left the room.
Tony was right. He did have a plan and this plan would catapult him up amongst the stars. He would do everything he could to deliver. He had already past the point of no return so he had nothing to lose.