by Gabriel Kron
I ignored Inspector Reynolds request and looked around at the stand-off. All the while Reynolds tried to talk me down, encouraging me to do the right thing, let justice do its job. But I couldn’t let Rourke just walk out of here, not without answering for his crimes. My finger tightened on the trigger. I wanted to shoot him, wanted so badly for him to suffer, to be punished for his part.
“Do you think I’m acting alone? That I’m at the top?” General Rourke suddenly asked.
“What?”
“I’m just following orders.”
“Since when does that mean killing civilians?”
“There’s always collateral damage in war,” Rourke said.
“War? What war?”
“There are many wars out there, overseas and many more here at home. None are conventional wars. You just happen to have made yourself the centre of attention by walking into the middle of one particular war.”
“B—But you killed my parents! What did they have to do with it?”
“You. You are why, you and the Lockridge device. You should have gone down in Stuttgart, but you didn’t, you just kept on pushing and pushing. Now, are you going to shoot me? — No, I didn’t think so, it takes a certain kind of person to be able to pull the trigger, and you know that if you do, that’s the end of your life as well.” Rourke cocked his head as if waiting for me to answer. “We’re out of here then,” he said and went to step away.
How could this man who had wrecked so many innocent lives be allowed to walk away when we had so much on him?
I was raging. I couldn’t just let this murdering bastard walk away. No! As he went to move I pushed the end of the suppressor into the back of his neck.
“Daniel, no!” Reynolds shouted. “We have to do this later, in the right way and through the right channels. He is not going to get away with this, but at this point we are going to have to let him walk. But we haven’t finished with him or his colleagues yet Daniel. This not over and we haven’t given up. Please.” The Inspector reached out and slowly took the handgun from me. “Let him walk, he can’t go anywhere.”
Rourke laughed and marched off back through the gallery.
“General,” Inspector Reynolds said, “for your information, I think you will find that most of the news feeds are ignoring your D notice. Whatever it is that Mr. Bateman here and his colleagues have discovered, it’s well and truly public knowledge now. I take it it’s your men who are effectively holding half the world’s press hostage?”
As Rourke and his men walked off, it was as if someone had told my body it was time to hurt. My face felt twice as big as it should be, and hurt as I tried to wipe blood and spit from my mouth. My left eye was completely closed and my right wasn’t far behind. Everywhere else ached.
Inspector Reynolds was on his radio giving orders to other members of his team and ordering a paramedic to come and attend to me. I rested against the wall and slid down to the floor. I felt defeated, beaten up and exhausted. But was this really over, was I now in the clear, and had we done enough?
“Where’s Becs?”
In the distance there was a bang that was obviously characteristic enough for the firearms officers and Inspector Reynolds to turn their heads in responsive recognition.
“Where’s Rebecca and the others please!” I said and forced myself to my feet.
Reynolds came over, “There’s no need to worry. You need a doctor right now. Please, just sit here. I should remind you that you are officially still under arrest, although I wouldn’t think for long. We’ve got detectives going through the evidence your legal team gave us this morning.”
“Inspector? Where am I going now?”
“Hospital now. An ambulance is on its way.”
“Can you find Rebecca Taylor, my girlfriend? Can she travel with me please?”
Inspector Reynolds came and sat next to me, “That shouldn’t be a problem. Daniel, for what it’s worth I think a lot of people owe you an apology.”
“For what?”
“For Detective Mueller to start with. He’d been operating through the BKA for a number of years it would appear and no-one noticed. Ah here they are.” Two paramedics pushing a trolley stretcher arrived. “I’ll go and find Miss Taylor then,” Reynolds stood up leaving the paramedics to attend to me.
“Inspector,” I called after him. “Thank you.”
He nodded and walked off using his radio. “Was that a shot we just heard?”
Roof top, Princes Gardens Hotel. Day 60.
Stephen Wang watched the commotion outside the V&A’s loading bay doors from the roof of Princes Gardens Hotel. The 500 yard shot had been simple, hardly a stretch for him, the intel remarkably accurate and detailed for a last minute priority 1.
Target number one, General William Rourke, lay face down next to his SUV, the tell-tale blood splatter on the SUV window indicated the shot had done enough damage to be a confirmed kill. Rourke’s own men frantically scanned the roof tops and windows for signs, but Stephen Wang did not panic and give his position away. Instead he waited for his next target, the first setting the second up.
Even from where he was positioned he heard the sound of combat boots as they rushed across Exhibition Road from the Science Museum and into the V&A’s loading bay’s forecourt where the SUV was parked. He watched the group of men for signs of leadership, the one who would be Rourke’s second-in-command, Agent Cornell.
After seeing three gestures of command by the same person, Wang took his second shot. A splat of blood and brain hit the wall behind where Cornell dropped.
Slowly, Wang crawled back from the roof edge collecting the spent brass. Once out of sight, he used his mobile to phone his controller.
“Zhè shì zuò. Liǎng gè quèrèn,” Wang said. It is done. Two confirms.
Stephen Wang knew Liang Kim and the Committee would be impressed. This one contract had paid for his University fees for the next three years.
~~~
LBC radio presenter James Riley’s chirpy educated voice interrupted Kevin-from-Brixton’s anecdote about the problem with foxes in central London. “...Kevin, thank you, I’m sorry, I know you’ll understand but we have an important update from LBC’s reporter in the field, Mike Smith, outside the Science Museum. Mike?”
“James. Yes, with much relief we have been released and I’m now outside the front entrance to the Science Museum, looking at the Victoria and Albert Museum opposite. Whilst we’ve all been locked up, there have been reports of shooting inside and apparently two fatalities just outside. We have been told that it is related to the press conference here by the Lines Foundation. There are emergency service vehicles all along Exhibition Road including Armed Response vehicles. The road has been cordoned off at either end and as dramatic and exciting as it is, we were reminded in a rare speech by the philanthropist Richard G. Lines at the end of the conference, not to forget the reason for this press conference in the first place...the launch of what he called an Open Source Technology to revolutionise the way we power the world around us. He called this new technology a Radiant Battery.”
“Mike, I don’t think they need to worry about forgetting about it. My twitter, text and email boxes are full of questions and statements about that everlasting battery claim. So, today, after the midday news, I will be asking the good people of Britain, how is it possible, in today’s supposedly transparent society, to suppress such technologies and what purpose does suppressing it serve? Are you an inventor and have you been suppressed? Call me on oh eight four five, sixty sixty nine seven three, and please... no JFK, moon landings, Area 51, or illuminati conspiracy theories. Not today, people have died…”
~~~
Lee watched Clive neatly wrap up his multi-meter leads. “...Oh I reckon they will probably dismiss them at first, thinking they have a stack of button batteries in. It’ll be tomorrow when they will begin to call,” Lee said as Clive continued packing away the various bits and pieces he had used during his part of the conference.
Music started playing causing Lee to start patting his pockets to find his mobile. “I’ve only just turned the bloody thing back on,” Lee said to Clive before answering. “Hiya,” he said as he answered it on speaker phone.
“Lee, what’s going on there? It’s all over the news but not how you said it would be,” Wendy said, concern clearly in her voice.
“What do you mean? The conference went really well. Apart from appearing to be locked in for a—”
“The shootings!” Wendy interrupted, “Someone’s been shot! Two in fact with reports of a gun fight in the V and A. Haven’t you heard? It’s all over the news,” Wendy said in disbelief.
“No. What? When? Becs!” Lee called Becs over from helping Brenda collate the response forms from the conference attendees.
“What’s happened, what’s happened?” Becs said frantically.
Wendy answered Becs directly, “I don’t actually know, that’s why I phoned, the news only mentioned gun shots being heard and two being shot outside.”
Becs started to lose colour. “No, no, no,” she said as she saw Inspector Reynolds walking through the gallery towards them. “Is it Daniel?” was all she could say, her hand over her mouth, her eyes screaming.
Reynolds put both hands up. “No no, he’s all right, he is all right!” he said quickly and then added, “Although he is hurt and needs to go to hospital. An ambulance is waiting and he wants you with him.”
“Yes. Where? Where is he? What happened?” Becs said and started leaving the gallery.
Reynolds led the way through the museum with Becs, Lee, Clive and Brenda following closely behind. Lee was giving Wendy a running commentary of sorts, arriving out on the pavement opposite the Victoria and Albert museum to another frenzy of news teams and reporters recording and commentating on the bustle of emergency services.
Inspector Reynolds and Becs disappeared through the police cordon and into the loading bay courtyard where the ambulance awaited her arrival.
She ran to the back of the ambulance and saw Daniel strapped into the stretcher. “Oh baby,” she said and grabbed his hand.
~~~
“Becs, thank god. Can you tell these guys I don’t need this frigging neck brace on, I can sit up,” I said feeling a whole lot better now Becs was with me.
“No, you can stay right there until the docs say that you can sit up. I’m here if there’s anything you need.” She leant forward and kissed the top of my forehead, probably because the rest of my face was somewhat battered and bloody.
King Edward VII's Hospital Sister Agnes, City of Westminster, London. Day 61.
I woke early the next morning in a private room at the King Edward VII hospital. In the name of security, Richard had insisted I be moved here. It was a private hospital with a history of treating Officers of all the armed services. Now it was famous for being the hospital that treated the Royal Family.
Two armed officers stood outside the room, more for my protection rather than because I was still under arrest and their prisoner.
Becs was curled up asleep on the three seater sofa with blankets and pillows provided by the hospital.
I switched the bedside radio on, but kept the volume down low. I tuned it to my favourite radio station LBC 97.3. I shouldn’t have been surprised by what the leading topics of discussion and news were. I knew what the significance of a working Lockridge Device was and also the implications of Clive’s discovery; a Radiant battery cell.
If all went to plan, the relevant Universities would soon be replicating the devices and verifying the results. Soon after that the first commercial products should start to be developed.
Mike Smith, the LBC reporter who had attended the conference and witnessed some of what had happened was presenting a report on events I wasn’t yet aware of.
“...After yesterday’s dramatic events in Exhibition road involving the country’s two top museums, we witnessed here this morning a statement read out by Daniel Bateman’s Solicitor, Louise Littlewood, where we were told that the charges of terrorism and murder made against him and the International arrest warrants have all been dropped. Mr Bateman apparently was not present at the closed court but was represented by George Barnes QC. The late night court took only forty-five minutes to throw the case out. The Judge has called for an Independent Inquiry into the involvement of the State in the attempts to frame Daniel Bateman.
“The victims of the shootings outside the Victoria and Albert museum yesterday have not been named yet, but are believed to have been MI5 agents...”
I had assumed that because of the events that had gone down in the V&A museum that our plan had stalled.
“Wow, sounds like you’re a free man again. Morning,” Becs said as she sat up and yawned. “Oh, you look sore,” she added when she saw my face.
House of Commons. Day 62.
Inspector Reynolds accompanied Sergeant McCray through the lobby of the House of Commons. They had just spoken at length with the Home Secretary and were about to enter the main Chamber to make the first of a series of arrests related to the Metropolitan Police Lockridge investigation. They were met at the locked doors to the chamber by the Serjeant at Arms who was responsible for the security for the House of Commons.
Reynolds handed the Serjeant the arrest warrant.
“Does this really need to be done now?” the Serjeant asked. “They’re in debate right now.”
“We know and it’s precisely why we must do this before it goes any further,” Reynolds said. “Please either request for Minister Justin Smith-Taylor to leave the Chamber or we will enter ourselves and make the arrest.”
The Serjeant at Arms took the arrest warrant and entered the Chamber.
R&D Lab #3 - TekMet Research Facilities. Day 75
The new Radiant battery cell was exploding across the internet with several Universities already publishing results of equal or greater output than we had disclosed at the Science Museum press conference several weeks previous. Everyone was reporting similar results, especially with the reliability of the control components of the battery cell itself. The circuits just kept burning out.
It was decided that although the new battery technology was the way forward, we would still endeavour to actually make a working Lockridge Device that required little more than a moderately equipped workshop. Most mechanic shops would be able to cope.
It was the intention to start teaching others how to make and tune the device. Teaching four engineers or mechanics at a time to make a device for their own use and then getting those four, by agreement, to teach at least four others under the same agreement. The knowledge of this technology would never be forgotten or suppressed again.
By using this type of pyramid type disclosure, each month the numbers of people with a working device, who also understood how to make them, would quickly become substantial. Each month would see an increasing number of new people learning the technology as each new person taught four more: 4096 after just six months.
In fact within a single year, over twenty two million people would have the knowledge and possibly a working device. Ideally.
I worked closely with Clive in getting the first replica of the Lockridge device completed, following the notebook’s instructions. The only difference was the way the device was started. The original Lockridge devices, like the one I had seen in the Locke’s basement, were hand started with a rip cord. We connected the Lockridge device, via a belt and pulley to a starter motor / generator. In this way, it was possible to start the device using the motor and then switch it to being a generator to act as an additional load to measure the mechanical output from the device, if any. This would also perform as a brake and slow the device down if needed.
“Right, I think we’re ready,” Clive said as he checked the tension on the belt.
“Okay,” I said and pressed the record button on each of three tripod-mounted cameras.
Clive addressed one of the cameras, “This is the first Lockridge start up
test. We will increase the speed of the Lockridge until such time that the input needed has reduced to zero and then switch the starter motor off. So, starting the device now,” Clive switched on the speed controller and started spinning up the Lockridge. The output was connected to a bank of traditional light-bulbs totalling only 300 watts, the precise rating of the original specifications.
As the speed increased, so the light-bulbs started to pulsate. Clive increased the speed a little further, watching the meters on the speed controller and the power supply. Suddenly, just as the speed topped a little over two hundred RPM, Clive smiled. “There she goes,” he said and pointed to the supply meters. “She’s self-running.”
The meters were showing no power being used by the starter motor and the light bulbs were still lit and getting brighter.
The speed was still increasing as well.
“Are you still driving it?” I asked as I watched the tachometer tell us the speed had increased to over seven hundred revs per minute.
“No, it’s free-running. Let’s load it a bit to keep the speed down,” Clive said and turned the dial on a large variable resistive load. As he dialled it to a higher load, the device at first started to slow down, but then the light bulbs grew brighter and the device began to speed up even further.
Clive turned the dial again, increasing the load further.
There was a slight hint of panic in the move. The bulbs got brighter still and despite a brief drop in RPM the device continued to increase in speed.
“Shit, two thousand rpm! Clive, how high can it go?” I shouted over the high pitched whine of the Lockridge device.
“I don’t know, but this isn’t good,” he said as one bulb blew and the bank of lights extinguished.
“Time to go. Get out now! Come on, go go go!” Clive shouted and headed for the Lab doors. A sudden bang and the fan belt between the Lockridge and what was a fully loaded generator, snapped and hit the ceiling with a loud bang, bringing several of the ceiling panels down.
