by Carl Andrew
“Sure. I understand. I hope we get a chance to meet again Sarah. I’ve really enjoyed meeting you and I appreciate you agreeing to the interview,” Leon said with disappointment but acceptance.
“You too and keep in touch. I hope you write something balanced,” Sarah replied getting up from her seat as she did so.
That was it. Leon had his interview but was left unsatisfied. Not by the comments and material he had to work with as a blogger, but because he felt he finally found someone he really connected with.
He was trying to deny his feelings but he knew that he was absolutely attracted to her and he had the impression she felt the same about him.
It was at that moment he noticed a pair of gloves opposite him, the perfect excuse to go after her. He got his wallet out, paid the bill and scurried out of the café in pursuit.
Looking left and right he saw her out of the corner of his eye just turning right off the main road. He ran along after her…
Sarah couldn’t stop thinking about Leon. He was totally different to how she imagined him. She felt strangely warm and struggled to remove the smile etched on her face.
She even found herself walking with a bounce. It was an alien sensation for her.
She walked past the shops and turned right at the corner. The man followed close enough to maintain a visual on the target but far enough away to avoid detection.
Sarah carried on up the road, crossed over and turned left at the next street. Her shadow did the same…
Leon could see her in the distance crossing the road a few yards ahead of another person. She was a little too far to comfortably call out so he quickened his pace up the road to try and close in on her. He was just about to turn left at the same road she had…
The car was in position by the laneway but hidden by the garages. The engine was on and the rear door was open…
Sarah continued past a row of houses and was near the garages before the end of the road…
The man moved with stealth and speed, he grabbed Sarah in one motion covering her mouth with his hand as he lifted her off her feet. He forced her into the back of the car…
Leon rounded the corner of the road just in time to see a blurred shape disappearing into an alleyway. There was no sign of Sarah as he scanned the street. Suddenly, he heard a car door slam and an engine rev up.
He sprinted along the road and caught a glimpse of a car pulling away from the garaged area just off the road. He saw two figures in the back of the car and he identified one as Sarah.
In a flash, he glanced down at the number plate S14 1PT. He pulled out his phone and typed the number in before calling the police.
Leon reported what he saw but he was in shock. He didn’t know what to do and he had to ask the operator to repeat the questions because he couldn’t concentrate on the conversation.
He couldn’t believe what he’d just witnessed. What the hell was going on?
He provided his contact details to the operator and said he would be happy to answer any further questions before hanging up the phone.
Uncertain what to do next, he let instinct take over. His fingers operated the phone through muscle memory and before he realised what was happening, he was calling Ally.
“Leon, are you ok? Are you coming home?”
“Err… Ally. I don’t know what’s happening?”
“Leon, what’s going on? I told you not to go there. I’m driving down right now. Where are you?”
“No Ally. I’m fine. It’s not me. It’s the girl. It’s Sarah.”
“Who’s Sarah? What happened? You’re sure you’re ok?”
“Sarah was the person I was interviewing. You know, the activist girl. She left her gloves… in the café. So... so I went after her. But she disappeared and then… I saw her, in the back of the car. They took her.”
“Who took her? Why?” Ally was getting increasingly frustrated. He couldn’t understand what was going on.
“I don’t know.”
“How do you know she was taken? She could have just met some friends who gave her a lift home,” Ally was trying to talk reason to Leon.
“No. It was not a friend. I could tell, the sound of the car door slamming, the car driving off at pace, his hand over her mouth. I saw it.”
“Have you called the police Leon?”
“Yes, just before I spoke to you. What should I do?”
“Leon, you need to come home. Do you want me to pick you up?”
“No Ally. I need some time to process this. I still can’t believe what just happened. I’ll get the train. I need to write a blog post about this. Get the news out there. It might help to find her.”
“Leon, I don’t think that’s a good idea. What if it’s the same people who attacked you? They may have taken her because she was speaking to you.”
“It wasn’t. I’m sure of it. I’ve been around enough politicians to know this was a professional job. The people who attacked me were common thugs. It has a completely different M.O.”
“I still don’t think you should write about it but then I know you won’t listen to me. Come home Leon. Let me know what train you’re catching and I’ll collect you from the station.”
“Sure, and thank you Ally.”
Leon walked to the main road. He was much more collected now he had a purpose. He had to write about this. It was the only way he could help.
A short taxi ride to the station gave him ten minutes to get his ticket and some refreshments before he had to board the train.
It was relatively empty which he was happy about. He pulled his laptop out, opened the lid and started a new blog post:
Activist girl snatched from Huntingdon Street
Sarah Jenkins, a member of the activist group accused of breaking into Dr Jennifer Hopwood’s home last week, has been snatched off the street in Huntingdon not more than two hours ago.
Police are looking for two men and a women in a dark coloured BMW 5 series, registration S14 1PT, which was speeding away from the scene north west of the town centre towards the A14.
Sarah is Caucasian, in her mid-twenties, 5’8” tall with dark hair and brown eyes. She was wearing a dark blue hooded top and a pair of light blue jeans.
The reason I was able to get this story up so quickly is because I had just finished an interview with Sarah Jenkins ten minutes before she was taken.
As much as I don’t like to speculate and try to base my articles on fact whenever the facts are available, the closeness of this situation to me makes it very difficult to remain independent.
The situation that I write about today is very new to me and I find myself questioning my role in writing this blog. This post is, therefore, more a plea for help than a news article.
If you have any information on the vehicle or people involved, call the Cambridgeshire Constabulary or email [email protected]
He used her real name. He had to in this instance even though she had asked to be referred to as Emma.
Leon had to wait painstakingly for the network to pick up again as the train traversed its way northwards to Bolton. Two bars appeared on his phone which he was using as a quasi-modem. This signalled that connectivity was restored.
He pressed to publish, uncertain of whether this post would be of any use whatsoever.
Now that he had finished writing, his mind wondered back to Sarah. The emotions he was feeling were different to anything he had felt before.
He wanted to see her again; he needed to see her again. He was seemingly ambling, once more, towards a state of panic. He pulled out his phone, selected the music app and tried to drift away.
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10 Downing Street, London
Vanessa was enjoying her afternoon cup of tea. It was her ritual, her way to unwind from the stresses of the day and prepare herself for the evening.
She checked her inbox and saw a notification showing Leon had posted another article. She clicked the
link in the email, waited for the page to load and started reading.
Her facial expression turned and she immediately felt her calmness begin to rescind. She pulled out her private phone and pressed the speed dial number.
The ring tone clicked to answer and before the receiver could utter a word, Vanessa jumped in:
“How the hell did you fuck this up? There’s a story on ‘The Day Today’ blog all about Sarah Jenkins being taken.”
“What the…” came the response. “But no one saw us, we were careful. I checked. There was no one around.”
“Well you obviously didn’t check well enough. We need to act quickly now. Find out what you can from her and then get rid of her. Whatever you do, this can’t come back to me, ok?” snapped Vanessa.
“I’m sorry. It was a mistake and it won’t happen again. We’ll get your information.”
Vanessa hung up, slumped in her chair and placed her head in her hands.
Chapter 12:
End of November, 10 Downing Street, London
Russell strode purposefully up the corridor towards the Prime Minister’s office. Pausing for a second outside the door in order to collect himself, he took three deep breaths and then knocked.
“Come in Russell,” the response came.
He walked through the door and settled himself on one of the easy chairs near the fireplace.
“How are the plans going Russell,” David asked.
“Good. The press conference has been set up for this afternoon and I’ve been through the notes so I’m comfortable with what we’re going to reveal to the public.”
“Ok, well done. We need this to go off without a hitch. We’ve got to find the right balance between announcing that the Institute of Behavioural Science is advising the Government as opposed to being operated by the Government. It has to be seen as independent as much as possible,” David said.
“I believe we have that balance,” Russell responded.
“So, what’s the next step after we announce?”
“Dr Hopwood has already been working up a few projects. Our sticking point will be putting those research projects into motion,” said Russell before standing up and casually wandering around.
His career in the military had left him uneasy of staying still for too long. A moving target is much more difficult to hit.
With his hands clasped behind his back, Russell began to pace like an Army Major about to tell a story of a past conflict.
“We’ll need live samples to test on David. It’s nothing dangerous, just some people for Jennifer to study, similar to her animal experiments.”
“Aah, I see. I assume you come to me with a solution for this Russell and not just a problem,” David responded, half in jest but with a semi-serious tone.
“Of course, I’ve already identified the ideal candidates. Marginalised from society so if anything ever does get out, public sympathy will be limited. Invisible to people on the street and willing to do anything to re-join life,” Russell was enjoying being the one in control here.
“Go on,” said David, intrigued.
“We’re going to use prisoners David. I’ve already spoken to Governor Voskov in Leicestershire and he’s happy to play ball. We’ve offered a control group of ten minor to mid-range felons a 10% reduction in their sentence. They’re happy to commit to the project.”
“Great idea Russell, how much do the… err… test subjects know about what research is being undertaken?” David enquired.
“Very little, they’ve been told they’ll be engaged in a study of human behaviour and that it will form part of their rehabilitation in order to make them good functioning members of society again,” responded Russell.
“Perfect. It seems as though everything is in place. Is Vanessa happy with the plans?”
“Absolutely, she’s with Dr Hopwood now briefing her on her role in today’s press conference. She’s very comfortable with the idea to use prisoners.”
“And Dr Hopwood, how does she feel about it all?”
“Very much the same David, she was able to select which prisoners she wanted in the program from those who volunteered. Everyone has had a say and we’re all comfortable with the direction we’re heading in,” Russell replied.
“Good, good. Well, best of luck with the press conference and keep me up to date on how the research is going,” David got up and walked back to his desk, turning his back to Russell as he said this.
Russell saw that as a cue to leave. He walked over to the door and reached for the handle.
“Russell,” David said turning as he did so. “Before you go, I just wanted to ask something.”
“Yes David, what would you like to know?”
“Russell, how confident are you that this Institute and this scientist will work? How confident are you that we’ll find the answer we’re looking for with science?”
“David, we have no other option. It has to work and… and I believe it will work. Dr Hopwood is a brilliant scientist. We’re lucky to have her.”
“Good enough for me. Thanks Russell.
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Brampton, Cambridgeshire
The sun was low but still managed to stream in through the large window in the lounge. The house was completely back to normal, at odds with the almost war zone that Vanessa had remembered from the night of the break in a few weeks ago.
Jennifer came into the lounge from the kitchen clutching two cups of tea with a packet of digestives dangling precariously out of her pocket.
“Can I help you with that?” asked Vanessa.
“No, don’t worry. I’m experienced at doing this. When you’re performing experiments on animals you have to be able to achieve the job of four hands when you only have two available,” Jennifer responded with a smile.
“So, how do you feel about the press conference today?”
“I feel good. I’m used to speaking in front of the media. That doesn’t faze me. I’m comfortable with the level of detail we’re revealing and I think the name we’ve chosen for the Institute suits. It’s open enough to include my work with animals as well as humans. It’s all very positive.” Jennifer said.
Vanessa smiled before pulling the cup up to her mouth and took a sip.
“And you’re happy with the speech, the presentation and what Russell will say?”
“Yes, all ok with me. I’m just looking forward to getting on with things. I have to admit, I’m excited about the project. I didn’t think I would be, I mean, it’s working for the Government…” Jennifer realised what she’d said and tried to apologise…
“I don’t mean it like that…”
“Don’t worry Jennifer. I know what you mean. It’s alien for you. Science and politics mix like oil and water. Calling the discipline political science is a complete contradiction. I get it.” Vanessa said, again smiling.
“And you said the car will be here at half past,” Jennifer responded, looking at her watch as she spoke.
“Yep, ten minutes. I’ve arranged for an early dinner for us with Russell to celebrate after the press conference. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Of course, it’s a day to celebrate. I’m glad you organised it. Thank you Vanessa… for… for everything.”
“My pleasure.”
“Ok, let’s go through the speech one last time.”
Jennifer nodded, stood up and delivered the speech with consummate ease. Almost the second she finished, there was a knock at the door signalling the car had arrived.
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Houses of Parliament, London
Wide eyed, Jennifer felt like a celebrity as she strode through the Houses of Parliament with Vanessa. She remembered visiting as a child on a school trip and was amazed by the building.
This time, she was ushered through a much more private area and led into a room filled with seats laid out in a conference style positioned in front o
f a raised platform.
Russell was already waiting in the room and greeted Jennifer with a warm, friendly smile.
“How are you feeling?”
“I’m good thank you Russell. I’m looking forward to getting this out there so we can start the work in earnest.”
“Good to hear. We’ve got about an hour to go through a few rehearsals and then it’s show time ok?”
“Sounds good to me.”
The rehearsals went off without a hitch and they were ready for their moment in the spotlight.
The doors opened and the press started filtering in. The media attendance was very good mainly because this was the first public address from the Department of Social Behaviour, revealing more about what it stood for. Interest was high.
The one obvious person missing was Leon. He had been invited to attend but was still fearful of travelling to London. He gave his excuse for declining the invitation as family reasons.
He was annoyed with himself that he’d miss the press conference but surprisingly, Vanessa offered to provide Leon with the presentation in advance as long as he agreed not to post anything until it had concluded. He had accepted her terms.
Vanessa held Leon and his blog in high regard and was still building a relationship with him.
Providing him with the information under embargo was something she’d agreed to do with David a couple of weeks ago. It was part of the attempt to get Leon onside.
She trusted Leon to keep his word. He wasn’t like some of the more roguish journalists in her opinion.
The room started filling up and the cacophony of noise was like a school bus on the way home on a Friday evening. Incessant chattering was all around, as the press circus started to take shape.
The attendees were seated now and almost attentive, so Russell decided it was the right time to begin.
“Good afternoon ladies and gentleman,” silence descended and all eyes focused on the Minister.
“Thank you for joining us today. I’ll run through the format and as usual, mobile phones on silent please.”
