Chapter 9
The year 2029
There was no question in John’s mind that the attack on Kings Cross and the release of Ted Watson was a turning point in the path he was taking. Although the union man had subsequently died from the injuries he received from his captors, at least the murder squad set up to dispose of him were themselves eliminated. That sent a clear message to Garside and the Police State he controlled and they now knew there was a credible opposition. Garside would be rattled.
Tony Garside had called his Cabinet together and following that meeting, John later met with Graham Johns in the underground tunnel at Waterloo Station. Graham briefed John on the outcome of the Cabinet meeting and warned him that things would get very difficult.
‘Commissioner Reynolds has been assassinated John and it is being blamed on you, or at least your men’s activities. He does not know who you are, yet, but all the stops are being pulled out to get your identity. He is going on TV tonight to make an announcement and hopes that he can turn public opinion against you. The belief is that the attack on Kings Cross was carried out by some renegade Police officers, so, there is a serious witch-hunt going on throughout the force. We are being watched and some of my colleagues have been questioned by a team of people brought in from Henry Mason’s MI5 department.’
John wasn’t surprised; he fully expected a reaction from Garside. ‘How about you Graham, are you ok?’
‘Yes I’m fine, for the moment but I will have to be very careful. Once they can get the Centralised Data up and running, there is a high possibility that I could be linked to you and then it will get interesting.’
‘Then we must stop that from happening; it’s long been on my list of targets and it’s overdue.’
‘Is that wise given the degree of heat that’s out there now?’
‘Graham I’m not going to ease off because Garside is turning up the volume. Every time we back off he wins and that cannot be allowed to happen. We will all soon be forced to operate from underground and that is when our battle will truly begin. When that happens, we will be stronger and better trained, better equipped. We will disrupt his ability to govern and sooner or later he will be confronted by the people.’
‘If I am to continue to be of any use to you John then I have to cut back on these meetings because I will be watched. So, I would appreciate it if we could operate using dead letter boxes and any other covert devices for future communications. I will contact you only when I have absolutely critical information for you. Is that Ok?’
‘Of course Graham, I understand. Terry and I will sort a system out and let you know. We need you where you are but if they start to get too close then get out, come here and wait. You also need to make plans to get your family out as well because as soon as you are exposed they will be vulnerable. The team are already setting up family secure locations in the underground system and you need to be allocated a space. I am hoping that they may not be needed for a year or two yet, but best to be prepared.’
‘Jane knows what is going on, I had to tell her. At first I thought she would hit the roof at the thought of me risking our livelihood and my life but she didn’t. She has been sickened by what is happening and wants an end to the lunatic who’s destroying this country. She will support me come what may.’
‘I’m really glad to hear that Graham. Give her sufficient information for her to get to safety in the event it turns nasty for you. As to business, I need to know whether the Central Information Office has a backup for the data they are compiling. I know enough about the main system and what it consists of so we can take that out without too much bother. But I can’t risk them retrieving the data from a backup when they lose the main system. So, do they have one or more backups and where are they?’
‘I should be able to get that info for you by tomorrow evening. I’ll meet you here for the last time. After that I trust we will have an alternative comms system up and running by then.’
‘Yes Graham, we’ll have something in place. Be careful.’
The two men parted company; Graham went up into the main station and John proceeded south along the tunnel to meet up with Terry at Lambeth North.
24 hours earlier
James Reynolds was enjoying his evening walk as he did each day after work. Being the Police Commissioner tended to involve a full-on round of meetings dinners and paperwork but he found solace in the evening walks; they took his mind away from the pressures of his job. He had a big responsibility and was proud of what he had achieved in his life – up until recently; now he wasn’t so sure. His years of policing gave him a sixth sense, a nose, an ability to read signs that would lead him to a conclusion. That intuition told him he was in danger. He, of course, knew why; Garside was a madman, a complete megalomaniac who was paranoid about any form of opposition. Since the Cabinet had concluded that the rebels were from within the Police Force, James Reynolds was in the firing line. He was sure that he would be forced to resign and take an early retirement package and while he was still relatively young, he secretly looked forward to it. Of course, he had many regrets, the Containment Pens particularly. They were his idea but while they worked at first, instilling order from the mayhem that accompanied the riots, now they were being misused. They were out of control and even law-abiding citizens were being picked up and thrown into them without trial or justifiable cause. Often the only “offence” that had been committed was one that the State had decided was anti-social. Then there were the “specialist” units made up of men selected for their particular skills and character. Reynolds knew exactly what they were about and regretted turning a blind eye to their formation.
It was as this thought crossed his mind that a black car slowly drove past him and stopped some 50 yards in front. The passenger door swung open and a man clad all in black with a ski mask to match stepped out pointing a Glock machine pistol at the Commissioner. Reynolds was bewildered, dumbstruck and tried to speak as the bullets ripped into his body. He was dead before he had come to rest on the ground. The gunman quickly got back into the car, which sped off into the night.
24 hours later
‘We’re ready to roll, First Minister,’ the TV producer announced. Tony Garside had finished being groomed by the make-up people. He was now significantly greyer than when he first appeared before his public and his confident air had been replaced by the arrogance of a man with almost total power at his fingertips. He stood up to his full height, straightened his tie and inspected his hair, slowly smoothing out any single hair that had become a stray and then walked to his office a short distance away.
In his office, the TV lights shone and he took up his position behind the large oak desk with a leather inlay that he had specially imported from America. One final touch up of powder from the make-up girl and he was ready to go.
Garside sat in front of the camera and massaged his face to show his sad and grieving mask, one of the many he now had in his repertoire.
The producer gave him the green light.
“Good evening. It is with deep sadness that I have to inform you that our Police Commissioner, James Reynolds, was assassinated last night. He was taking an evening stroll after a hard day’s work when he was shot several times and died instantly. We believe this heinous crime was carried out by the same terrorists that shot and killed four Police Officers at Kings Cross Police Station. A witness has come forward and confirmed that those that carried out this cowardly act wore the same black clothing and distinctive masks that were previously reported in other incidents. I promise this, my friends, they will not escape justice; they will be caught and will face the full rigours of the law.
I knew Commissioner Reynolds personally and he was a good man, dedicated to helping me make this country a safe place in which to live and work. He was instrumental in helping me clean up our streets from the riots and anti-social behaviour that bedevilled us. It is ironic that he has now fallen victim to the criminals that he worked so hard to eradicate fr
om our communities. His tireless endeavours will not go unrewarded. We cannot allow mindless violence to go unpunished so I urge you to give your local police every assistance in capturing these criminals.
Please inform your local police if you have any information that will help clear our streets of these terrorist gangs. They are a danger to our democracy and all that we hold dear in our society. As long as they remain free, you are not safe.
Thank you, goodnight and God bless you all.”
Garside allowed the TV men to clear up and leave and then poured himself a double measure of his favourite malt Scotch. He waited for Henry Mason to appear. He’d been instructed to get some feedback from the street about how his broadcast had been received. Henry had collated a number of reports and they weren’t good. The bottom line was that Garside now lacked credibility and talk of a safe place to live and work didn’t stand up to scrutiny. ‘All that we hold dear in our society indeed,’ he thought with some sarcasm. People were generally fed up with the broken promises, long working hours and lack of State protection against exploitative bosses. Mason was, however, reluctant to give his boss the truth as he was certain he would go into another of his rages, which were becoming more frequent. He decided to tone down his report and colour it slightly.
Mason walked into Garside’s office and helped himself to a Scotch. ‘Well done Tony, I think you came across very well and from what I am told the speech was very well received. I believe we may well get one or two leads from the general public as a result.’ They chinked glasses and gulped down a mouthful of the Scottish nectar.
‘What about the squad that carried out this little chore for us Henry, are they secure?’
‘Absolutely, one hundred percent. They want to find the people responsible for the murder of their colleagues as much as we do.’ Mason knew it was more likely they were worried that they might be next.
‘Good, good, let’s hope we catch up with them soon. I don’t want any more distractions.’
Henry Mason was not a stupid man, he knew that they had not heard or seen the last of this group, whoever they were.
John Judge Page 22
