Quite a few had been out of the country – either on holiday or government business – when the storm struck. Of course, he had the pick of two hundred or so Ambassadors, Consuls and Governors to choose from, but they would be needed in the countries to which they had been appointed. Desperate British refugees were now beginning to overwhelm local resources – so ‘stealing’ the resident leadership was not the wisest move at present. It may be necessary to ‘borrow’ a few selected individuals in the future – but not yet.
Events were beginning to overtake him a little. It had been a full day now since the snow had stopped. Limited helicopter flights had been authorised by Brussels, but as yet no-one had been picked up. These flights were mainly for reconnaissance and data gathering. Extensive photography was taking place and analysts were beginning to form a picture of the actual situation on the ground. However, this was all being collated in Brussels, so Sir Ian felt that he was really out on a limb. The move over the Channel would certainly be sooner rather than later, and if it had been up to him, he'd go today. However, the advice was to stay put as foreign media pressure was mounting, and it was felt that he could prepare his strategy more efficiently if left in relative peace.
One other development was the deployment of shipping around the UK coastline. The senior naval officer in Brussels, one Rear-Admiral Sir Courtney Brushwood-Smythe, had concluded, probably correctly, that the only way the majority of British citizens could be rescued would be by helicopter. Most helicopters had limited range, so they needed a base for flying operations. Consequently, any ship or boat with a heli-pad was detached to a section of coastline from which to launch rescue ops as soon as ordered. It was hoped that by 0001 hours tomorrow night – the eighth of January – ships with a heli-pad would be stationed at fifty mile intervals around the British and Irish coastlines. Although, there were nearly eight thousand miles of British shoreline, shipping was strategically placed to cover the Scottish Highlands and Islands from one central location. Helicopters were being sourced and allocated to individual ships. Rescue operations could begin in earnest by the morning of the eighth of January - Day 25. Ice breakers from all over Northern Europe and North America were now working round the clock – probing the ice which encircled the UK – looking for potential footholds from which to make a landing and establish a beach head.
Sir Ian was immensely impressed and pleased that the Admiral had used his initiative and deployed the shipping – and had rung him in Brussels to commend his pro-active posture. He was also given a promotion to full four-star Admiral, and appointed as an official Defence Minister, to further assist him during any dealings with other European military bureaucrats.
Therefore, Sir Ian waited on Dame Ann and her briefcase, which should help his planning process immensely.
He was unaware of her private agenda.
Day 23
Monday 6th January
Tamworth, West Midlands
Jeff and Lindsey Hyne had spent the majority of the previous day preparing to ‘walk out’ of their self-imposed prison. Their home, in a small village just off the M42, was about ten miles distant – but Jeff had calculated that it was more like eight and a half as the crow flies.
Jeff had tried to persuade and convince and cajole Lyndsey into staying put for a few more days – but she would have none of it! He even took her out and showed her the roof of their building – which had miraculously survived intact – and tried to demonstrate how the depth of snow would apply to their house ten miles away.
‘Look, love, we are about twenty-five feet up and the snow is about the same. How high do you think our house is at the bedroom window?’
‘Ooh, I dunno, about ten feet,’ she replied.
Jeff tried to be patient.
‘No, darling, it's at least twenty feet – well below the level of the snow here.’
‘Maybe it didn’t snow as much there,’ she came back hopefully.
Jeff didn’t see the point in continuing the discussion, as he could see that Lyndsey was never going to concede that delaying the departure was the wiser option.
As a result Jeff just got on with his preparations to the best of his abilities. He assembled suitable clothing from the relevant unit they had been plundering – leaving yet another IOU. He must owe thousands of pounds by now – but frankly he'd given up caring. As far as he could determine money would have little value for some while to come!
They had two sets of skis on the top of their 4x4 sitting in the car park – but that was lying beneath twenty-five feet of snow and he wasn’t even sure of its exact location. He cursed himself for not rescuing them on Day 1. The sporting goods unit had no skis, but they did have tennis rackets and an idea popped into Jeff’s head. Snowshoes!
He knew modern snowshoes were like mini-skis – as he'd seen them used in Switzerland whilst on holidays in the Alps. However, he'd also seen old black and white films where roughy-toughy bear-hunters in the Yukon wore footwear resembling a pair of tennis rackets. This would be his starting point. He selected the four largest, most expensive rackets he could find and two pairs of tough walking boots. He taped the boots to the face of the rackets so that the heels were just at the shoulder.
After trying them on, he experimented by walking round the room. He discovered that the length of handle behind the boot was hindering the walking stride, catching on the ground as he moved forward. So, he removed the boots, sawed off the portion of handle behind the boot and tried again. Perfect. However, the boot was coming loose – so a lot more taping was required and he'd have to take spare rolls for regular running repairs. However, he would try running cord through the face of the rackets and over the boots as well.
The final task was to find two backpacks and stock them with food, water and cooking gas for three days – for that's how long he reckoned it would take to get there and back. If he could avoid a night-stop he would, but he doubted if Lyndsey could keep up such a pace.
He spent the remainder of the day planning the route. He had a compass, but only a basic road map which he kept in the office. Although he searched all of the other units, he couldn’t find a better option. He knew the two approximate locations and measured the bearing from work to home. He didn’t know much about navigation, so variation and deviation didn’t mean anything to him at all. Unfortunately, when added to his rough bearing – he didn’t realise that he was in error by more than fifteen degrees. Over a distance of the ten miles to his house, he was going to be three miles out – at least – and that was if they walked in a straight line. So ever finding the exact location of his home – which was likely to be buried under thirty feet of snow, was highly unlikely. They would require a great deal of good fortune.
He tried once again to persuade Lyndsey of the difficulties, but to no avail. This re-affirmed his decision to take supplies for two night stops – just in case they needed to return here. At least they should be able to relocate the factory unit – as a tall mobile phone mast was actually still standing some two hundred metres away. Pinpoint that again and they should be able to find the safety of their temporary shelter.
However, when they retired for the night, Jeff was still unconvinced; but short of physically restraining Lyndsey, they were committed to the journey.
He feared the worst.
Day 23
Monday 6th January
RNeth Air Force Volkel
Brady and Ann Fletcher stood in her office on the Dutch Air Force base. Their reunion after some twenty-three years was to be a short one, as Ann was ordered to Sandringham for an appointment with the new PM the following morning, and Brady was destined for a mission he could not have envisaged only one hour before.
‘Andy, I know someone has to get her out, but there are probably hundreds of thousands of others in a similar predicament – so how can I possibly jump her to the front of the line? There are enormous moral and logistic questions to be addressed before I act.’
Brady was perplexed.
‘Come on, Annie, you are chief-in-charge of the chaos out here, so surely you could arrange for one of the recce heli-flights to drop me off near London, and I'll do the rest. Come to think of it, there are a couple of SAS bods sitting in your gymnasium right now – give me one of them and I’ll find our girl and get her out!
Ann now put on her Civil Service hat and explored the difficulties.
‘What if we get caught Andy; first we’ll be lynched and then I’ll get the sack and probably be imprisoned – as you will.’
Andy smiled at her confused metaphor, but he was now really up for this mission:
‘Annie, look at the situation around you. It is chaos - absolute bedlam out there. Quite frankly, I don’t give a damn if we get caught – my daughter’s life is now my number one priority – I’ve already lost one family through my negligence. It's not going to happen again.’
Ann, getting the response she wanted, having already anticipated the options, announced her ‘decision.’
‘OK, select your SAS man, that man Ross looked fit enough - if he’s willing - if not, you are on your own. Then I’ll fix your authorisation to kit up for a rescue mission – but we tell no-one who the real target is – that would be disastrous. I'm going to Sandringham in the morning to brief the new PM, and I know him very well indeed. He’s asked for me by name to assist with the strategic planning. I will discuss this with him and seek his tacit permission for the job. If he does not openly object, and I’ll phrase my request very carefully, I’ll get word to you via my PA. In fact, clear everything through Eleanor, she’s completely trustworthy and has been with me for fifteen years – and she knows Chloé very well. For everyone else, there will be a cover story that Townsend is an important scientist essential to the recovery. Let’s think of an innocuous message – ah, yes, I know – ‘Townsend wants to see you’ can be the go ahead. Unless you receive that message, it’s a no go, Andy – do you bloody well understand?’ she emphasised in dramatic tones.
Andy wasn’t happy but gave Ann his assurance. However, unknown to Brady, Ann had already laid the keystone for this job – it was definitely going ahead – permission or no permission from the PM!
‘Right, we haven’t got any more time to waste. You have to find your SAS man – Bryant, I think his name is - and I must prepare for my summit with the new PM.’
She walked over to Brady and kissed him lightly on the cheek.
‘Please get my little girl back, Andy.’
Brady replied with unqualified determination in his voice:
‘Freudian slip, Annie? No, I’m going to save our little girl.’
With that he marched out of the office as Ann Fletcher summoned the car to take him back to the gymnasium.
Day 22
Sunday 5th January
Selby, Yorkshire
Like most two-storey buildings in the UK, the snow was well above the first floor windows and most chimneys were jammed with frozen snow. It was only because Josh and Josie kept a fire going permanently that their supply of life preserving air was maintained.
However, since the turn of the New Year, their problems had started to increase. The breach in the roof had allowed snow into the property and as it began to melt inside the upstairs bedroom, water started to seep into the room below. It wasn’t a great flood, but enough to soak the carpeting and slosh around when Josh visited the room periodically to inspect the damage.
They had finally run out of propane and so were limited to cooking on the improvised fireplace skillet. However, wood was in short supply and Josh reckoned that they had about one weeks’ supply remaining if they continued to use it at the present rate. There would have to be an enforced rationing plan set in place. He wisely took the opportunity to stack up as much firewood as possible around the fireplace.
Food was also becoming an issue and unless the storm abated during the next week or so, they could be in real trouble.
As it happened, one morning, whilst examining the increasing amounts of snow in the upstairs bedroom through the makeshift viewing hatch, they discovered that it had indeed stopped snowing, and that bright sunshine was streaming into the cavity.
Their initial euphoria was blunted by two events.
Firstly, the flow of melting snow increased markedly, rapidly swelling the depth in the sitting room up to six inches of slush by the end of the day. This caused snowmelt to bleed under the entrance door and into the main hall, where its watery tentacles spread throughout the ground floor as the carpets acted as superb wicks. There was no short term solution to this increasingly troublesome problem, as all they could do was block the gap under the door to their living area with blankets and curtains from other rooms, in a vain attempt to stem the tide.
The second problem was more serious. The roof to the garage collapsed inwards on that very lunchtime – the fifth of January, crashing down onto their cars, freezers full of food and most importantly onto their remaining store of logs. They couldn’t even access the garage from the internal door, as detritus was blocking it completely.
This was nothing short of a disaster. No more logs and no more food from the freezers.
Accordingly, they retired to the now increasingly damp dining room and considered their options. They completed a quick stock take and worked out that if they applied strict rationing – they could last another five days. After that, if the external weather allowed, they would have to break out of the house via the roof opening and set off in search of rescue. There would be sufficient supplies for a couple of days in the wild – but after that……..
Day 22
Sunday 5th January
Nr Boston, Lincolnshire
Mike and his four able assistants set about the task of clearing the snow with gusto whilst his father took station on the roof as look out. He had taken up a seat cushion from an armchair and propped it against one of the chimney breasts. It gave him a clear view of the countryside to the west, north and south. Every half hour or so he would stand and stretch his legs, scanning the area to the east. The lookout shift was to be four hours during the day and two hours at night – with all seven of the capable adults taking their share of the duty. Only the elderly women were exempt – but they now had extra duties inside the pub to occupy their time.
Mike soon realised the enormity of the task to clear the snow from around the building, and had to rethink his plan fairly promptly. The major problem was where to stack the snow that they cleared from one particular location. The only solution was to pile it on top of existing snowdrifts which created its own problems.
In any case, Mike wanted to clear the roofs first and so they merely shovelled it, layer by layer, section by section onto the fallen snow lying after twenty days of blizzards. His son, the roofer, had kept parts of the roof clear during less violent periods of snowfall, but this action had only created extra high drifts directly adjacent to the house.
In the end, Mike decided that clearing the roof would be the only task for the day, and by 4pm the job was just about complete. There were huge piles of additional shovelled snow lying on top of the original layers, but at least the roof was secure – which ensured their protection from further bad weather if it came.
One of the boys was assigned to relieve Bill at 4pm and as he took control of the rifle, peered out to the east.
‘What’s that, Grandad?’ he queried.
Bill turned and looked towards Boston. To his dismay there were two skiers standing not two hundred metres from the building, staring up at them.
‘Get down inside, Grandad – quickly – and get dad up here!’
Day 22
Sunday 5th January
Walthamstow, East London
By the turn of the century in 2000, Les had constructed a reasonably secure, basic and airtight panic room – but there-in lay the problem – ventilation!
He’d scoured magazines, and to a limited extent for those days, the internet, but could find little information regarding NBC filtration sys
tems. There were certainly none available in the UK, and any for sale in the USA were prohibitively expensive. So, Les compromised and decided to fit the pipework for ventilation, and would only go the whole hog and purchase a pukka anti-NBC system if and when the international situation reached a boiling point. Of course it might be too late then, but he wasn’t prepared to fork out thousands of pounds to install the appropriate filtration system just yet. He didn’t think Sue would approve the additional expenditure anyway – and of course he was absolutely correct!
Therefore, he set about installing the pipework, a fan to pull in fresh air and an extractor system to take out all the nasty carbon dioxide expelled in human breath. Naturally, this involved two sets of pipes and a great deal of work.
Three years later - the job was done. By 2004 he’d affixed six inch diameter industrial grade metal piping from the cellar, up the side of the house and protruding four feet into the London atmosphere. The pipe work was meticulously fitted, through spaces carefully chiselled away by Les using his rapidly growing tool kit!
There were weather caps, grills and cowls to prevent anything blocking the vents, and he reinforced the fixings to prevent destruction even in the strongest nuclear blast! Or so he mistakenly reckoned!
The pipes led down into the cellar via an external wall, across the top of the staircase and through the actual basement wall to connect up to an extractor and an air inductor. Both of these he picked up second hand and modified them to work on 12v batteries for when the mains power inevitably failed.
He had a separate cabinet filled with twenty-four Heavy Duty car batteries, which he estimated would last one month – which should be enough for peace to have broken out – or for the world to have been completely obliterated. It probably didn’t matter either way. He'd purchased these on a monthly basis in 2011 from a second hand car dealer of his acquaintance and had negotiated a really good deal.
Snow! The Series [Books 1-4] Page 51
