“Can you confirm that you are Alexander Kosloff of 1938 Robindale Drive, Houston, Texas?”
“Ye-es, but can ah just -?”
“I realise you have many questions, Mr Kosloff, but for now can you just answer our questions, okay?”
Lex nodded numbly and the broad cop who sounded like a politely-spoken Northerner, maybe New England, continued with his questioning.
“Mr Kosloff, I take it you do not have any objections to being recorded for the purpose of this interview?”
Lex shook his head dumbly. Neither cop made any move to start any recording equipment so he assumed that the recording had already begun. He could feel his body shake with small uncontrollable tremors and a thin sheen of cold sweat came in waves across his chest and back.
“Now, Mr Kosloff – can you tell us where you were on Thursday afternoon, February 6?”
Lex looked blankly at the two cops and his tongue felt swollen in his mouth and his throat constricted. He sat there struck dumb. The slimmer black cop named Detective Madsen then spoke.
“Are yah exercising yah right to remain silent, Mr Kosloff?”
Madsen was a Texan like Lex.
“No-o-o…”
“Well, can yah answer Detective Magruder’s question? Where were yah Thursday afternoon -?”
“Ah g-guess ah was at home in R-Robindale…”
Magruder allowed his voice to rise just a little with a hint of sarcasm.
“You guess that you were at home on Thursday? Why is that, Mr Kosloff?”
“You see – ah – ah got real bad drunk Wednesday an’ ah must a slept it off all day Thursday - an’ a just came to at home on Friday. Look, d-detectives, what is this all about? Have ah done somethin’ wrong?”
Magruder continued the questioning. Madsen remained silent with his arms tightly crossed. Magruder, his eyes tightening, leaned across the table a little menacingly towards Lex.
“Is there any chance that you could have been up in Dallas on Thursday? You could easily have flown there and back in a few hours?”
Lex racked his brain, but Thursday remained a blank.
“Ah sure don’t think ah was in Dallas? Is this about Marna – is Marna okay?”
The detectives ignored the question for now making Kosloff feel sick with worry. Madsen uncrossed his arms and continued with the questions.
“Marna, now she is yah wife, right?”
“Yeah…”
“What’s she doin’ up in Dallas for anyways?”
“We were, uh, havin’ some difficulties. She went to stay with her folks for a bit.”
Magruder stepped back in.
“From what we have heard Marna’s been in Dallas with her parents since New Year. Quite some difficulties is it not, Mr Kosloff?”
“Marna thought ah, um, ah was drinkin’ too much. She needed some time away but ah have pleaded with her to come back –“
Magruder jumped on Lex’s last statement with some more menace.
“So you pleaded with Marna to return and she refused! That must have made you mad, Mr Kosloff?”
“N-n-no - ah’ve been real down ‘bout it – suppose ah’ve had one or two too many to try an’ drown ma sorrows. B-b-but ah could n-never get mad with Marna. Ah love ma wife!”
Madsen changed the subject.
“Mr Kosloff, do you own a gun?”
Lex’s stomach turned a cartwheel, the cold sweats and shakes returned and his mind went into overdrive. Marna – Dallas – gun – what in hell is going on here?
“A g-gun?”
“Yeah, Lex, do yah own a gun. Y’know – a little pointy thing – fires bullets!”
“Of course ah do – everyone in H-Houston owns a gun.”
“Do yah know the make?”
Lex did not know too much about handguns – he hated the things - and he toiled to think where all this questioning was leading to, but it gave him a terrible feeling in the pit of his churning gut.
“Ah - ah believe it’s an ole Walther, but ah couldn’t tell ya anything else about it. Ah ain’t seen it in years –“
Magruder took over – the constant changing of detectives was starting to make Lex’s head spin.
“Where do you keep your gun?”
“At home – last time ah seen it was in the drawer of ma bedside locker. It should still be there as far as ah know.”
“Would you be happy to take us to your home and show us the gun - and while we are there do you have any objection to us looking around?”
Lex looked at the two cops in complete bewilderment. He had never before in all his life been in trouble with the police. He screamed at himself to remember what happened on Thursday. Remember! It’s important, Lex! Remember!
“Y-yeah – ah mean n-no. Ah mean ah can show you if ya like…”
Madsen stood up swiftly, slapped his thigh loudly and barked at Lex with mock gusto.
“Well, Lex, no sense in losin’ time over it. We all might as well do it now!”
Magruder signalled to the mirror-glass behind him that the interview was ended.
Chapter 8
Earthdate: 06:54 Sunday February 9, 2081 GMT
It was still dark outside her big picture window. Jill yawned painfully wide and gave an aching stretch of her weary arms, which caused various bones and joints to crack and pop as she leaned back from her laptop. She had been up working all night down at the crash site at Windsor. She had been interviewing, videoing, and generally gathering as much information for her piece as was possible in the timescales. Jill had also excitedly phoned Buckley, who was still up and watching the breaking news unfold on the BBC 24/7 news channel, in order to get him to hold her the Bloid home page. Buckley could not believe his luck that one of his own journalists was the first reporter on site, even beating the TV crews in their helijets. Jill had arrived back at her flat in a heavy shower of sleety rain on Khan’s air-bike about 3.30am. After reheating the chocolate cake, which she was not sure would be safe to eat, and grabbing a cup of hot sweet black coffee to keep her awake, Jill got straight down to writing up her article, which was now almost finished and ready to transmit straight to Buckley for final edit. She glanced up at the clock for the umpteenth time that morning knowing the pressure was on her to get the article into the Times. Nearly seven o’clock. Buckley needed it for seven fifteen to give him forty five minutes to add his editorial and then it would be published at eight on the London Times online ‘Bloid’ in the home page ‘Sunday Times Breaking News’ section. On the seven minute air-bike flight from Kew to Windsor Jill had thought that if this was one of Ewan’s meteorite strikes then it would be a huge public interest story and a real precursor to the Times printing the exclusive on the new ‘Schenkler Comet’. When she arrived at Windsor she found the fireball’s impact had exploded on the main street right in front of Windsor Castle and even part of the castle was on fire, although it did not look too serious. A secondary fire there was being dealt with by one of the four fire crews already on site. One of the other three crews tended a clothes shop which was burning fiercely and the other two crews were fighting the main cause of the fire on the street. The police had more or less cordoned off the whole area and Jill was kept well back in an area which was beginning to be quickly populated by arriving journalists and TV media crews. A huge crowd had also gathered around the blue and white taped cordon. Mainly Saturday night revellers and local residents. It had quickly become apparent to Jill that this was no meteorite strike. She could clearly discern from the burning wreckage being doused with two powerful jets of water that this was actually a large air-vehicle on fire. Her subsequent enquiries, interviews and the police and fire chief press releases soon revealed that the story was even bigger than a meteor crashing down to Earth. Jill began to read over her column on her laptop for the last time before final transmission to Buckley.
<
br /> PRINCE OF WALES DEAD:
HEIR TO THRONE DIES IN AIR-CAR TERROR
By Jill Geeson, Senior Investigative Reporter, London Times, Feb 9
Today the country is in mourning following the tragic death of His Royal Highness, Edward, the Prince of Wales, who was killed in a horrific crash in front of Windsor Castle last night. Fire crews and other emergency services fought in vain in an attempt to save the heir to the throne and his aides from the burning wreckage of the Royal air-limousine at around 9.50pm. Six people died and 23 people were badly injured in the carnage that is still smouldering this morning. Not for the first time in its long and eventful history Windsor Castle is burning today amid the wreckage.
Along with Prince Edward, 24, it is believed that the driver of the air-limo, the Prince’s Royal Protection Officer and his Press Aide-de-camp, along with two pedestrian passers-by were among the dead. Police and national security have launched an investigation into the cause of the incident and senior officers have refused to confirm reports of the sound of an explosion going off before the crash.
It is believed the Prince was returning to Windsor following a private dinner at the Ritz Hotel in Paris. The police have not formally released the names of the other occupants of the limo, but two of the victims have been named locally as Harry Poll, 47, the Prince’s chauffeur, and Aisha al-Gazari, 25, his Press Aide. Their Royal Highnesses Queen Elizabeth and David, Prince Regent are reportedly ‘deeply shocked and distressed’ at the sad loss of their oldest son and heir. A Buckingham Palace spokesman told the Times that Her Majesty has expressed her condolences to the families of all the victims of this tragedy.
Queen Elizabeth III is expected to make a further statement on the events later today. An eye-witness to last night’s disaster described the scene prior to the limo exploding front of Windsor Castle, describing it “like a huge fireball appearing in the night sky followed by a burning streak of fire like some terrible meteorite crashing to Earth!” One of the first to arrive at the scene of the crash, resident Ernest Postlethwaite, a 43 year old part-time St John’s Ambulance paramedic, described scenes of terror and carnage.
Mr Postlethwaite stated, “The vehicle exploded onto the street about 150 yards from where I was walking home with my wife. I immediately ran towards the air-limo and tried to rescue any occupants, however, the fierce heat from the flames kept beating me back. There was nothing anyone could do to save them. I suspected the car may have carried members of the Royal Household, but I am totally shocked and saddened to learn that I had failed to save the Prince of Wales. I am heart-broken for Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth.”
The cause of the crash is unknown and the Metropolitan Police, the Berkshire Fire Division and the Royal Protection Squad have crash investigation teams on site working on site throughout the night. The area has been cordoned off in a four-block radius and the limo is now covered by a protective tent. The police have refused to confirm eye-witness reports which claim the sound of the initial explosion was ‘like a huge bomb going off in the air’.
The senior investigating officers at the scene, Chief Superintendent Mike Hollingsworth, supported by Chief Fire Officer Rob Lang, held a press conference for media representatives from around the globe crammed into the narrow Windsor street at 5am this morning. CS Hollingsworth stated,“At the present time the Metropolitan Police, supported by the Berkshire Fire Division and the RPS, are currently investigating the events leading up to the terrible tragedy, which occurred here in the main street of Windsor at around 21.51 local time on Saturday 8th February 2081 - and which has led to the awful and sudden death of His Royal Highness Edward, the Prince of Wales. Along with the regrettable loss of the Prince and heir to the throne, three members of the Royal Household and two members of the public also died”.
“To date, 23 members of the public have been reported with serious injuries and have been taken to the Royal Berkshire Hospital for treatment to their wounds. It has been reported to me by the receiving hospital that seven are critical and nine are seriously wounded but that none of those at the Royal Berkshire is in a life-threatening condition. The investigation into the cause of the tragedy remains at a very early stage at this time and all possible eventualities are being investigated.”
“The crash investigation teams will consider all factors such as an air crash, bird strike or failure of a technical nature to the Royal vehicle. However, it is believed that the vehicle was travelling along recognised air lanes and had not collided with any building or other ground-based structure. Furthermore, media speculation that the crash was as a result of a terrorist attack on the Royal Household is extremely premature.”
Hollingsworth added, “No internet traffic has indicated a rise in the threat levels leading to a possible terrorist atrocity nor are there any terrorist cells or organisations known to be actively operating on these shores. However, currently the investigation has not established direct causation for the Royal air-limo crash. Therefore, terrorism has not been ruled out amongst all the other various factors under investigation.”
“Due to the ongoing and lasting peace that has existed globally for almost fifty years there has not been a serious terrorist attack on mainland Britain in that time. No known serious terrorist threat to Britain’s shores has been reported to or currently is being investigated by the National Security Services at this time.”
In a tragic twist of fate, the incident is reminiscent of Her Majesty’s own predecessor Queen Elizabeth II’s ‘annus horribilus’ 90 years ago, when she suffered the loss of her daughter-in-law Diana Princess of Wales in a car crash in the Alma Tunnel in Paris and a fire in Windsor Castle that same year. Queen Elizabeth III is expected to make a brief statement on TV later in the afternoon to the British public and the world’s media following an updated press conference by the police. The Queen will express her sympathy and condolences to all who lost their lives in this terrible tragedy and also to give some initial outline details as to the arrangements for Prince Edward’s State funeral, which is fully expected to take place later this week pending a post-mortem.
Jill was now satisfied with her finished article. She attached it to a covering email, which she had ready with the photos she had taken at the scene attached, and sent it to Buck Buckley at 07:14. Jill knew that he would open it immediately. Within five minutes after Buckley had speed-read the article he emailed back. ‘Fantastic work, J. Made couple of small but minor changes. Off to get my editorial finished for 8, BB.’
Jill looked out her window past Richmond in the lightening but heavy grey and cloudy Berkshire sky. Sleet was falling again and she could still make out a pall of black smoke rising ominously over Windsor. Police and TV helijets buzzed around the billowing smoke like angry wasps round their smashed and invaded nest. Jill had had enough for one night. Exhilarated but by now completely exhausted she closed the black-out blinds of her bedroom and climbed into bed. Sunday was after all going to be her day of rest.
*
Earthdate: 11:05 Sunday February 9, 2081 GMT
Ewan sat dreaming away during the service in the small whitewashed Round Church. It was prominently situated at the top of the hill on the road south leading out of Bowmore. The road bent around the church and headed off down to the Mull of Oa and Port Ellen, the Isle of Islay’s southern port and now on the major European tourist marina network built by the Swedish multinational ROMANCE (Ranulf Olafsen Marine and Nautical Corporate Enterprises). It was said by the highly superstitious islanders that the Round Church had been built in the Victorian era to a circular design in order that ‘the Devil cannae hide in the corner’. Ewan sat in the long dark wooden pew a couple of rows back from the pulpit beside his parents. His father was the 71 year-old Reverend Dr John Archibald Lewis Sinclair MD, retired minister of the Free Church of Scotland, and his mother was Jessie McAffer Campbell, 10 years younger than her white-haired husband. The Round Church was actually a part of the Estab
lished Church of Scotland. Ewan had rejected his father’s stricter sect in his mid-teens, mainly because most of his Boy’s Brigade friends belonged to the Round Church and he wanted to follow them. It had taken his parents many anguished years after his father retired from the ‘Wee Frees’ to come to worship here in Bowmore. Even before his retirement the Reverend John-Archie’s congregation had all but collapsed and when he finally left at 65 the Free Church Assembly in Stornoway decided that the church in Port Ellen was no longer viable. Ewan knew that even the established Church was struggling on this once strongly religious isle off the Scottish mainland, which faced the Mull of Kintyre to the east and Northern Ireland to the south. Islay was no different to the rest of the world when it came to religion. It was a globally dying art. Christianity, whether Catholicism or Protestantism, Judaism, Hinduism and all the other major religions. They were all being deserted in their droves. Even the strictly controlled Islamic religions headed up by the pseudo-legal, political and religious leaders of the imams and the Mullahs had required a relaxation of many of the stricter Shariah laws of the Qur’an. They had been under pressure over the last fifty years by increasingly restless Muslim populations crying out for greater freedom and prosperity. In the 2080s there was basically only One True God – and the One True God was Money! Money was now the root of all good. The peoples of the world prayed for Money, they worshipped It, they slaved their guts out for It, they gambled excessively for It and they bowed before the altar of It.
2084 The End of Days Page 11
