by KC McLaren
“You make nice speeches, Prime Minister. Not a lot different from the penthouse. But, think I'll pass,” Jonathan said and raised to get out of his chair.
“Wait, Jonathan,” Egil said. “Yes, It’s a nice speech. Wish I could talk that way. But the Prime Minister is right, Jonathan.”
Jonathan sat back down.
“Whilst I really, really,” Egil continued, “don't like how this has played out, my instincts are screaming out, my gut is saying we need to help. We have to put Strickland down once and for all – not just for us, but for everyone.”
“Egil, you and I don't even know each that well,” Jonathan said.
“Maybe not, but it seems we are cut from the same cloth. After all, we are both mavericks,” Egil said smiling.
“Do you think we could make a difference? Do you trust these people with all of this?” Jonathan said.
“Trust is a two-way thing. I trust what is being said. And we would need to play both sides of the fence. I'll only do this if we are not kept in the dark any longer,” Egil turned and looked at his godfather, the Home Secretary. “On our terms or I’ll walk out of the door with Jonathan now. No more bullshit.”
The Home Secretary looked at the Prime Minister, who looked at the Director General. They all nodded.
“You’ll have whatever is needed," the Prime Minister answered.
“What do you say, Jonathan? Your brains, my gut,” Egil said.
“I would have full oversight of ThornScope?” Jonathan asked.
“Yes, we've outlined everything in the folder in front of you. The finer details can be worked out later. I am not David Strickland, Jonathan,” the Prime Minister replied.
Maybe the Prime Minister was right – it was about time to come in from the cold and take responsibility. And maybe Sara didn’t betray him, after all, those blue eyes were still sparkling.
“OK,” Jonathan said turning to Egil, “you promise not to kidnap me again?”
They all smiled.
“Depends. We don't know each other that well. One thing I know? Sara and I will protect you with our lives. So, gentlemen, what are the next steps?”
The Director General looked down at his folder. “ThornScope has given us a lot of information. We know most of every one that has been involved and taken steps to neutralise them. We also believe Strickland has left the UK and is heading for Russia. Russia will bide time to take control and destabilise Europe. If they have Genesis, there will be no control or hiding for any nation. Those will be your next steps. Stop Strickland, stop Russia, stop Genesis.”
Jonathan looked around the room and decided, trust may be the only thing they had left.
“OK, count me in.”
EPILOGUE
THE SIX TRUCKS MOVED IN A SCATTERED convey keeping two miles apart. Keeping under the radar, avoiding the motorways and traveling northeast from Oxford up to Colchester then to the ferry port of Harwich, a long and slow journey.
The British would be in turmoil with all things pointing in the wrong direction and pointing blame to the East. A masterstroke of genius as he liked to put it. It’ll take them months to realise the true aim. He had outsmarted them, outsmarted the UK Government and outsmarted ThornScope. There will be a Federation of Europe, and he will lead it. It was his rightful destiny. And now he had everything in place to execute the next part of the plan.
Jonathan Beckett, ah yes, he thought to himself – the lynchpin of the main aim so far achieved, directed with precision and manoeuvring. Even the great man Churchill himself would have admired the executed plan. It was a gamble, calculated, but a high-stakes gamble. Bringing Beckett back in from his self-imposed off-the-grid exile paid off, big time. Another master stroke – getting Beckett to turn on the full potential of ThornScope.
Yes, everyone and everything played their part including Genesis, built with one goal in mind. Delightfully executed in the milliseconds ThornScope had tried shutting it down, with it he now had the biggest prize. ThornScope’s core code and protocols.
David Strickland, the former UK Prime Minister, looked out of the window of the lead truck of the convoy and smiled. The convoy was heading for mainland Europe, carrying the precious cargo, carrying Genesis to its next destination.
Yes, Mr Churchill, history may have admired you for writing it, but history will admire me more when I own it. Churchill was not the only one with a third eye he gleefully thought to himself.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Born in 1964, Kevin C McLaren has been in the technology arena for the past twenty-five years. Having had the privilege of travelling and living abroad throughout his life in places such as America, Singapore, Croatia, Russia and most of Europe he has enjoyed experiences most would take two life times to achieve. A passionate techno geek with a keen love of history, espionage and all things' politics, he started serious writing in 2012. This is his first novel and combines all three passions. He works and lives in London with his wife.
The best way to write? Ignore all the rules, sit at a keyboard and type – the real work comes later…
