by Mark Radford
CHAPTER SEVEN
The sound of a bolt being pulled on the door of her darkened prison made Selena jump in terror. The door started to open; light from the corridor invaded the bare, windowless room. She squinted in the glare and put a hand to her forehead to shield her eyes, allowing her vision to acclimatize to the light. From where she sat on the concrete floor, she could just make out the imposing figure of General Skara in the doorway and became more fearful.
‘Please don’t hurt me,’ Selena sobbed meekly.
‘Why would I want to do that?’ Skara softly answered her pitiful plea and walked to her side. ‘I have enormous faith in Mr Treyer’s ability to save you by doing the right thing. Is his love for you strong?’
‘Yes, it is.’ She replied.
‘You have nothing to fear then, my dear,’ his hand gently stroked the back of her hair. She flinched at the contact. Skara chuckled. ‘Get up, woman,’ he demanded the pleasantries over. Selena acted on Skara’s order and got up in a tremble. Two soldiers entered the small room and stood on either side of her as Skara made his way to the door. They pushed her forward to follow the General out of the room.
It was Selena’s first glimpse into her temporary habitat, as when she had arrived she was blindfolded. The corridor was draughty, the air damp in what seemed to be an underground tunnel. The walls, its texture of clay untouched but the pathway visible in its declined state of use was made of concrete. Only the powerful overhead industrial lights on the ceiling flickered with some kind of life and importance. The party walked a series of passageways that twisted and turned like a maze with downward slopes at times that took them deeper into the tunnel until they came to a guarded metallic door. A sign marked ‘NO ENTRY – AUTHORISED PERSONNEL ONLY’ greeted them. Skara turned to Selena.
‘I am fully aware, Miss Marshall, that you are a senior journalist. Make the most of what you are about to see beyond this door because it’s the exclusive scoop that you will never get to make front page news. You do understand, don’t you?’ Selena shuddered nervously and nodded in agreement, sure that the General had just spoken of his intention to kill her. ‘Good, let’s continue.’ The sentry at the door inserted his security key card into a slot and opened the door for them. The party passed through before the door clunked shut behind them. The lighting here was much dimmer, but they were now in a kind of storage facility with light blocking curtains adjourning windows on both sides of the wall. Skara took them to one of the windows and tapped on the glass. A soldier stepped forward and input a code on the window’s security pad. A Shutter whirled down allowing them to view a well lit room.
Selena gasped in fear and confusion. A naked man was on all fours, his hands and ankles clamped down to the floor by steel cuffs. The man’s neck had a lead around it, chained to a hook on the wall. Wires were placed on several parts of his body that showed burn marks. A soldier entered the room and placed a bowl of food down for the prisoner. The hungry man tried desperately to get the food but it was out of reach for him. ‘Why are you doing this?’ Selena asked. She turned to Skara and saw the leer on his face. He was enjoying seeing the man suffer.
‘He treated his dog this way for kicks and we are giving him a course of therapy by subjecting him to the same environment.’
‘What by electrocuting him?’ Selena spoke with some anger at the man’s treatment, forgetting her own captivity for a moment. Injustice of any kind had always aroused her argumentative spirit. It was the reason she had climbed the ladder of journalism successfully and had become a top reporter.
‘We do not intend to kill him, Selena. It is merely to break down his resistance and when he has been broken, he will treat his dog with the utmost respect.’
‘You sick bastard!,’ she replied angrily as she watched the prisoner whimpered defeated after yet another unsuccessful attempt for food.
‘No sign of anger,’ Skara mentioned to a soldier who was taking notes down. ‘We can release him.’ He said the words with a trace of disappointment. The entertainment was short lived. He turned his attention to Selena once more as the window shutter was raised into place. ‘We’re only getting started, Miss Marshall,’ he promised her. ‘Do please follow me.’
‘Like I have a choice,’ thought Selena.
A short walk to another window and another tapped order. The shutter opened onto a new room. A woman was heavily strapped down in a chair, most notably; her head was kept rigid and unmoving by clamps. The room was covered in computers and video cameras. Skara signalled to a white-coated man at a computer desk who promptly stopped his work and went over to the intercom beside their window. He pressed a button.
‘Good afternoon, General,’ his voice did not quaver in the least as it emanated tinnily from the speaker.
‘Doctor Jennings, will you commence proceedings with this aggressor?’ He ordered.
‘Of course, sir,’ he replied and left the intercom on as he walked over to a trolley, its surface filled with items. Some were kept in pots, some in tubes and the majority in small canisters. He pushed the trolley over to the strapped-down woman and put on some protective gloves. He dabbed a swab in a tube that held liquid and applied it to the woman’s face. She screamed hysterically as her skin blistered at the burning acid. Selena turned her head away, her stomach churned at the morbid experiment. Her head was forced back by soldiers onto the victim. She trembled as she watched the blisters spread across the woman’s cheek.
‘Think of all those animals that suffered in the name of cosmetic testing,’ Skara’s words laid into Selena with bitter venom. ‘Just so that women like you can beautify yourselves more.’ He touched her cheek and she tried to resist his strokes but her face was still held in a lock by soldiers. ‘That is the sickening reality we were faced with when we fought for the protection of these animals under the old guard of democracy. Wretches like her are now paying the price for continuing to use products that are not animal free by smuggling them from overseas. Where is the justice in that?’ He demanded. Selena did not answer, fearful of Skara’s preaching. He lowered his face down to hers, the snarl etched on his face with fury. ‘This could be you.’
The thought was too much for her as her stomach heaved and the soldiers quickly released her. Selena spewed vomit onto the floor.
‘Would Mr Treyer still love an ugly, disfigured woman?’ This made her puke again. ‘Or can he live without you?’ Skara’s manic laughter blended with the woman’s horrified screams echoing through the intercom, and Selena could do nothing. She, too, was terrified and defeated.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Carl arrived at the address that they had gained for the motorcycle courier with Phil and Matt. He knocked on the door and waited for an answer. It was a stroke of luck that the courier was on the database; he’d had previous criminal convictions cited for arson and small-time drug dealing. No answer, so Carl knocked louder and harder. Phil went over to the window whilst Matt went round to the back of the house via the gateway to the garden. Nothing could be seen through the drawn curtains, but the sound of music being played could be heard.
‘I guess Mr Archibald can’t hear us with the music on,’ remarked Phil. Carl stooped down to the letter slot and slid it open. The door to the room where the music was coming from was closed.
‘Knock on the window, then, Phil’ and he knocked quite hard on the glass, and Carl then heard footsteps moving toward the door. ‘He heard us.’ Phil returned to Carl’s side. The door opened and they saw it was Matt.
‘The bike’s at the back and the kitchen door was open.’ The men walked over to the door of the room where the music was playing. Carl opened it and though it was dim from the drawn curtains Carl could see the back of a head at the top of the armchair. He walked over.
‘Mr Archibald, Military Crimes Officer Carl Treyer,’ getting his ID card out ready for identification but he already had a feeling that something was very wrong, and as he eyed the man’s face, he knew. Archibald was dead. A bullet hole in his foreh
ead, blood stained the chair and body. ‘Shit!’ Carl lashed out angrily and punched the wall. This was the one lead he’d had in his search for Selena. General Skara had beaten him to the man. Any chance of evidence was now slim, especially after Carl and his colleagues had entered the house and put their own prints all over the place. He feared for Selena’s life. Treyer’s mobile started to ring.
‘Hello?’
‘I gather that you have found Archibald dead,’
‘Who is this?’ He demanded.
‘A friend,’ the man replied. ‘We needed Archibald silenced. Skara’s men were onto him.’ Carl was confused…he’d thought Skara was responsible for Archibald’s death.
‘Have you seen the DVD we sent you?’ The friend questioned him.
‘Yes, I have and can I ask, why me?’
‘You have the authority to bring General Skara down with our assistance.’
‘I can’t do that without evidence and the General had it destroyed.’ Carl spoke and looked over at Phil and pointed to his phone. He mouthed a silent Trace it. Phil nodded and left the room.
‘We are aware that Skara took you hostage and removed the DVD, but an alternate strategy is in place. However, time is against us. We will need to move quickly to nail down Skara.’
‘What about my fiancée?’
‘We advise that you send her out of harm’s way.’
‘It’s too late. Skara took her.’ The friend became silent and Carl heard muffled voices in the background, but he couldn’t make out what they were saying. His attention was interrupted by shots from outside and the sudden surge into the room by Skara’s soldiers. One of them grabbed his phone and listened to a receiver being hung up.
‘Who were you talking to?’ he demanded as he tried to bring up the number of the call. Carl looked over at the phone’s display and saw that the number was withheld. The soldier tossed the phone back to Carl and viewed Archibald’s lifeless body. ‘Did you kill him? Is this the traitor? Who is it?’ More demands from the soldier.
‘The guy was already dead when we got here and I don’t know who’s behind it.’
‘Tell it to the General’ growled the soldier in his frustration to be in control of the situation. Two other soldiers immediately grabbed Carl and escorted him forcibly from the house.
Carl was stunned when he saw the devastation outside the house. Phil and Matt gunned down when Skara’s men stormed the house. He saw neighbours nervously peering from their windows and doorways at the chaos in the street, fearful of venturing out in the presence of the Animals Protection Army. The soldiers swiftly took him towards the van and Carl dreaded the déjà vu of a return summons to Skara’s headquarters. The screech of brakes from three motorcycles that sped into the road alerted the attention of the soldiers. The soldiers raised their guns, with the exception of the two with Carl, but were not quick enough. Shots rang out in quick succession, felling the soldiers before they had a chance to squeeze their triggers. Carl’s armed escorts released him and held their hands up in surrender. However, they too were mowed down by the precision of the black clad snipers on the motorcycles. All members of the A.P.A. at the scene were dead. Mission accomplished, the motorcycles roared off into the distance.
People began milling out of their houses. Their nervousness replaced by jubilation. Carl knew that they had just witnessed the dawn of a new challenge. An organisation had just stood up to the might of the APA and struck a blow for freedom.
CHAPTER NINE
General Skara had been ordered to the Presidential Palace, the former main residence of the royal family before they were banished into exile after the war of democracy ended. He felt uncomfortable as he waited in the Guard Chamber for his ten-thirty appointment, its small space being the final secured barrier before he received granted access to the President himself. The room looked like a giant jewel casket, the ceiling held the fitted, curved and deeply cut glass lights bordered by the richly decorated plaster which showed lions entwined in the golden patterns in the architectural design, marble columns and ornaments completed the room’s look. It was a reminder of the previous occupants’ lavish lifestyle. The large mahogany doors to the Green Room suddenly opened and Skara rose to his feet.
‘President Masterson is ready to see you now, Sir,’ the equerry spoke politely and waved his hand toward the Green Room. Skara walked through the doors and saw right down into the Throne Room. He could see the President sitting at his desk. The general marched with his usual pomposity past the room’s pale green silk walls, the portraits facing him on either side of the Throne Room’s doors showed different aspects of the President throughout the dictatorship to date. Skara passed the two sergeants-at-arms and entered the Throne Room. The doors closed behind him.
‘What the blaze is happening?’ spoke the slimly built President through his bristly brown moustache.
‘I don’t know, Jeffery. The ambush was a complete surprise to me.’
‘In what way, Osti, was it a surprise? Do you know who is responsible?’ He demanded of his friend.
‘No, I do not.’ Skara replied uneasily.
‘I do.’ The statement startled the General as the President picked up a remote from his desk and pointed it at the television in the room that was mounted to the wall. The screen showed images of three black clad, almost ghostly men, their identities hidden by Balaclavas in a darkened room, a dim spotlight shone on them.
‘We are the Black Phantoms,’ a voice spoke electronically, ‘the ghosts of Britain’s past; now back to reclaim the future of democracy. We demand the removal of the Ozone Party from power immediately and for General Osti Skara to face criminal charges in a court of law, most notably for multiple brutal murders. Issue your response with an official statement to the media by fifteen hundred hours today.’ The message ended.
‘Seven years we have had eyes and ears everywhere, so how did you not see a resistance movement forming? Where have they sprung up from?’ The President demanded answers.
‘I don’t think it’s so much of a resistance movement, Jeffery with three rogue motorcyclists.’ Skara answered confidently. ‘It’s just a scare tactic.’
‘Do you just think this, or do you know this for a fact?’
‘I do have a traitor in my camp who is trying to stir up trouble and whoever he is; I am going to hold him responsible for this outrage.’
‘Well you’d better reel him in quickly Osti because nobody defies my authority. Is that understood?’
‘Most certainly Jeffery and I do not foresee a threat to our national security.’ He answered calmly in his authoritative voice.
‘You are absolutely sure on that.’
‘Have I ever let you down Jeffery?’ Skara responded with a confident smile. ‘Can I please have the disc?’
‘Ok, get this nailed down and cleared up as a matter of urgency.’ He ordered of Skara before pressing a buzzer on his desk. The doors started to open with the session over. President Masterson stood up and walked over to the television. He retrieved the disc from its console and held out his hand. ‘We are counting on you General.’ Skara took the disc and shook the President’s hand in view of the sergeants-at-arms, official protocol back in play between the two friends. Skara nodded that he was still the man for the job. He turned and left the Throne Room, marching on towards his exit from the Presidential Palace.
The moment Skara was outside in the courtyard and walking towards his chauffeured car, he became enraged that someone had undermined his authority on a large scale and got him reprimanded by the President. He wanted the problem resolved before it festered any further. The video in the President’s office had alerted him to who was potentially involved with the Black Phantoms He pulled out his mobile and dialled.
‘This is General Skara speaking. Prime Unit Four for a mission and get them up to Wainwright’s home within two hours,’ he instructed and switched off the phone. He got into the car. ‘Head for Wainwright’s,’ he ordered the driver who promptly started t
he car up and drove off.
CHAPTER TEN
Carl Treyer was working in his office. It was an immaculate room; the casework files in operation piled neatly into their respective trays on cabinets by the crime statistics board on one side. Double sided windows on either side of the board. The other side of the room showed a district map on the wall, decorated by framed certificates of commendation for Treyer’s achievements. Beneath, a table held tea and coffee-making facilities. A coffee percolator performed its task, the hot liquid bubbling up into the glass knob, with a wonderful-smelling steam rising from the spout. A television stood in the corner of the room on its stand. On Treyer’s desk, the computer continued its search for vital information as Carl trawled through paperwork looking for clues that might warrant some action. He sipped from his mug as he did so. The telephone rang. Carl picked up the receiver and balanced it on his shoulder whilst continuing to work.
‘Carl Treyer, Military Crimes Officer.’
‘My condolences on the loss of your two colleagues.’ Carl recognised the voice as the ‘friend’ who called him at Archibald’s house. ‘At least we were able to save you from Skara’s clutches in time.’
‘I thank you for that. Why are you watching me?’
‘We are concerned with keeping you safe.’
‘I mentioned my fiancée to you the last time we talked. What about her? She’s probably in even more danger now after your little ambush on Skara’s soldiers?’ Carl was angry and frightened for Selena. He didn’t know what form any repercussions of the ‘friend’s’ actions might take.
‘This is partly the reason I’m calling you Carl. We were not aware at the time that General Skara had Selena held hostage. It’s the reason why I had the attack launched because if Skara knew of your presence at Archibald’s house, he would have killed her instantly in a backlash. Selena is still alive, I can assure you. ’
