by Andie Fessey
“That is reassuring John, thank you,” the Prime Minister said, “but does anybody have any inclination as to what has caused these incidents?”
Jaqueline cleared her throat, casting a brief glance at the folder lay on her lap.
“Without proper data, all we have at this present moment in time is purely conjecture and speculation. It was mentioned at our meeting yesterday that it could be random isolated incidences of violence.”
She glanced around the room at each of the others seated around the table.
“I think that it is safe to say beyond reasonable doubt, we can dismiss that notion.”
This met with murmurs of agreement from the others.
“Due to the demographics of the individuals involved we are reasonably sure that we can also dismiss that these attacks have been organised in anyway. GCHQ had a team working throughout the night regarding collating data which may suggest otherwise, but their results do not indicate this is the case, unless all of the individuals were completely off the grid which we know is not true.”
Based in the suburbs of Cheltenham, Gloucestershire, the Government Communications Headquarter, known more commonly by its abbreviations GCHQ, is the British security and intelligence agency responsible for providing signals intelligence and information assurance to the British government and its armed forces.
Throughout the Second World War, located at Bletchley Park, it became famed for its role in the breaking of the German Enigma codes. In more recent years it received considerable attention from the media when a former National Security Agency contractor, claimed the agency engaged in the process of collecting all telecommunications data in Britain.
“So, what does that leave us?” The Prime Minister asked.
“We are still awaiting the toxicology reports from Merseyside police,” she replied, looking across the table to where the commissioner sat, “in addition to any information garnished from the medical examination of those people who are in custody. We had hoped to have the report through by now regarding the deceased person in the restaurant but, we are still waiting on that one also.”
“In defence of Merseyside Police,” Alsaadi said, placing his hands in front of him on the desk and addressing the room, “this is certainly an unprecedented situation on British soil and I am certain that they are endeavouring to the best of their capabilities in these circumstances.”
“I was not questioning that Commissioner,” Jaqueline retorted, “nor questioning the capabilities of the force, which must be under immense strain at the moment given the situation.”
“This is most certainly not a finger pointing discussion,” the Prime Minister spoke, empathising an air of finality, “we need to know what on earth is going on in the North West, what has caused it and most importantly what actions we are going to undertake in order to bring this situation under control as soon as possible.”
“Regarding the latter part of that equation Prime Minister,” Riley said, “I strongly urge we deploy ground forces on standby without further delay to assist the current infrastructure there, to ensure that the matter is as you say, brought under control.”
“But under what remit?” Sebastian asked.
Riley stared at him, wondering if the Secretary of State possessed any idea what was going on and if he was listening at all to the conversation around the table, but thought better of it.
“To support in any way necessary of course Secretary.”
“The armed services will work alongside the civilian police force but both chains of command will answer directly to the HDD,” the Prime Minister informed them.
“But Prime Minister,” Sebastian interrupted, “ultimately the chain of command would normally rest with me”
“Sebastian, ‘ultimately’ it is in my hands where this currently sits and it is my decision that the combined services will answer to the directions of the HDD.”
“But normal protocol would dictate otherwise PM?”
“Sebastian, I think we can safely say that normal protocol has left the room for the time being. As you are aware, a major part of our last manifesto was to establish the HDD to manage the machinations of whatever steps are necessary, regarding ensuring the safety and defence of our homeland.”
“The clue is in the name,” Jaqueline pointed out, raising a glass of water to her mouth.
“There is no need to be facetious,” Sebastian said indignantly.
“My sincerest apologises Sebastian, there was no disrespect intended,” she replied, turning to face the Prime Minister, “as I mentioned PM, I believe we can safely rule out that these outbreaks are random or organised.”
“I’m sorry,” Sebastian interrupted, “but you have lost me there. If they are neither random acts of violence nor organised ones, then what on earth are they? They must be one or the other.”
“Not necessarily. Sameer mentioned yesterday it could be down to mass-hysteria, doubtful but we are not going to eliminate any hypothesis at this stage.
“Until we receive the toxicology reports, then we cannot rule out the possibility that a pathogen may have been released, accidently or purposefully, which has triggered these events.”
There was more murmuring from the people sat around the table, as they digested this information.
“Are we saying that this may be a terrorist attack of some sort?” Sebastian asked.
“We are not ruling that possibility out at this moment.” Jaqueline replied. “I have informed WHO and they are in the process of sending a team to assist to ascertain whether this is the case. They have also made a request to the LSTM to see if they can assist, as they have feet on the ground so to speak”
“What is LSTM?” Sebastian enquired.
“The Liverpool school of tropical medicine,” Jaqueline replied.
“Are we talking about bio-terrorism?” Sebastian asked incredulously.
“Again, Sebastian, it is much too early to speculate that that may be the cause. As you are no doubt fully aware, it is the role of the HDD to look into all and any possible threats.
“We could speculate any number of causes at the present moment and hypothesise, but any hypothesis would be just that. It may be that there has been the involvement of a pathogen of some form but until we receive and correlate the data from the situation then we can only speculate.
“We have to deal with the situation at hand right now.”
“I agree wholeheartedly,” the Prime Minister agreed, “John, please instruct the respective personnel to deploy with immediate effect.”
“As you wish Prime Minister,” Riley replied. “If you would please excuse me for a moment.”
He stood up and made his way from the room to place the respective calls.
George stood up after reading a message he received on his mobile telephone. He walked to the Prime Minister, leaning over and speaking into his ear.
“My sincerest apologies,” the Prime Minister said, sighing, “you will have to continue without me. I also must excuse myself as it seems that our Russian friends have arrived a lot earlier than expected. Please ensure I am kept up to speed of the situation.”
He cast a glance around the table at them, holding their eyes for a second, before staring at Sebastian.
“And again, please be certain that any proceedings are conducted with approval by the HDD first.”
“Director Lewis,” he said, looking at her before turning his gaze again to them, “has full autonomy regarding the handling of this situation and will answer only to me and me personally.”
Before anybody could say anything else, the Prime Minister stood up.
“Good morning to you all,” he said as he turned and left the room.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Jake steered the 4x4 onto the gravel drive leading to the gates of the stable yard.
Retrieving his mobile phone from the side pocket in the door, he dialled the number to open the gates, but they remained closed.
He checked t
he signal on the screen, the bars at full strength.
“Strange,” he said, dialling the number again.
“John said he switches the gates off by the mains override,” Abigail said, “but he only does that of an evening as a back-up, to stop anybody coming in out of hours. It should have been switched back on by now.”
He switched the engine off and they both exited the vehicle. The rear door started to open, as soon as Jake’s feet hit the ground.
“Stay here son.”
“No bloody way,” Nate replied, jumping onto the potholed drive, “I’ve seen too many movies and what happens if you split up.”
“How do you propose we get the horses out Dad? Even if we do, I don’t think they will both fit on the back seats.”
Jake shrugged, looking at his wife, currently halfway across to the gate.
“We will have to get the trailer through here somehow,” she said, turning to face them.
“Come on, let’s go see what we can find,” Jake said, gently punching Nate’s arm.
Kneeling in front of the gate, Nate cupped his hands together.
“It’s a fine time to start praying son.”
“, I’m going to give you a bunk up over the gate, old man,” Nate replied, grinning.
“Oi, less of the old.”
“Seriously Dad, I’m thinking about your back.”
Looking at his son, Jake smiled with pride.
Always looking out for his father.
“Okay,” he said, placing his foot into Nates cupped hands, “give me a bunk up.”
Nate proceeded to rise and lift his father up.
“You, fat bast,” he said, feigning struggling under his father’s weight.
“Watch it you,” Jake replied, laughing as he landed on the other side of the gate.
Placing his hands on the gate and leaping up, Nate cleared it in one jump.
“Show off,” Jake said, pausing as he noticed his son frozen where he landed, staring straight ahead.
“What is it Nate?” he asked, turning around but seeing only his wife waiting a few yards in front of them.
Slowly Nate gazed downwards. Jake followed his gaze, stifling his laughter.
“Horse shit,” Nate said, “bloody horse shit.”
Striding to the kitchen door at the rear of the cottage, Abigail knocked on it sharply.
Jake and Nate made their way to join her, whilst she waited for an answer.
By the time they reached her side, there was still no reply.
Jake peered at the windows of the cottage, their curtains all closed.
He felt concerned and a cold shiver ran down his spine. Milly should be in the yard by now, throwing feed to the horses, whilst John would be across the road where his fields were located or tinkering under the bonnet of his car.
“Let’s see if their car is around the front,” he suggested.
They made their way around the cottage to the little driveway, obscured by the view of the road by the large rhododendron bushes John nurtured for.
“I don’t like this,” Abigail said.
“Ditto,” he replied, feeling the same concern.
“That’s Rosalind’s,” she said, pointing to a sleek, red convertible parked outside of one of the stable blocks.
“John and Milly said there were others calling in last night,” Jakes said, “unless she arrived early.”
“If she did arrive here early Hun, how did she get through the gate?”
He shrugged his shoulders.
“,” Nate said, “she’s bought a new horse box, so maybe she left the car here and took that?”
“Good thinking Batman, mystery solved,” Jake said, smiling.
“It still doesn’t solve the mystery of where John and Milly are,” Abigail said, frowning.
He looked at his wife sadly, then turned to his son, a quizzical look upon his face.
“How do you know she has a new horsebox?”
“She told me a couple of weeks ago, when I was lunging Storm in the outdoor.”
Jake grinned. He gently joked with Nate on a couple of occasions before, when it came to the subject of Rosalind.
Extremely attractive, tall, cascading blonde hair, busty, athletic, cultured, sports car and, as he overheard his son describing her ‘rear’ to his friend on his mobile, “cheeks like two eggs in a hankie,”
Whatever did he see in her?
They walked along the long, wide paved drive to the three blocks of stables, their horses located in the smaller second stable, standing between the two larger blocks.
As they passed the first stable block, they saw the steel doors remained closed and discovered the combination lock, which all the blocks possessed, remained locked.
“Do you want to check on them?” Jake asked, nodding to the first block.
“I can’t. Milly said that John replaced the old lock, as it was not locking properly. I don’t know the combination for this one.”
He could not help but notice, the look of concern on his wife’s face, as she stared at the closed doors.
They walked to the middle stable block housing Raven and Storm.
Raven being a hot headed, ex-steeple chaser who he bought for Abigail as a birthday present. She embraced the challenge of the fiery chestnut and now Raven became affectionately known as her ‘baby’.
She, in turn, surprised him on his next birthday.
He dropped hints the best half of a year, he wanted a sporty Japanese motorbike for his birthday. Not an expensive or new one. Just one with green, white and red paintwork.
“Mid-life crisis,” she joked at the time.
His face was a picture when she introduced him to his actual birthday present, sixteen hands high, Dutch Warmblood named Storm.
Whereas Storm was bomb-proof and could be ridden by all the family, Raven would only allow Abigail. If anybody other than Abigail attempted to mount him, they would find themselves thrown halfway across the yard.
Reaching the two large metal doors forming the entrance to the block, they discovered the combination lock remained in place where they left it the previous evening.
From the third block, they heard the horses whinnying loudly and noticed, the doors to the block lay wide open.
“They are making a hell of a noise, do you want me to go check on them?” Nate asked.
“We’ll stick together,” his Father replied, shaking his head, “as soon as we have our two in the trailer, we’ll check on them.”
Abigail unlocked the combination lock and Jake helped her open the two doors, Nate leaning in and switching on the lights.
The strip lights in the stables flickered into life.
Immediately, there came the whinnies of their two horses.
Abigail made her way to Raven’s stall.
He leant his head over the heavy, wooden stable door as she stroked the side of his head, her hand running down his neck until it found his ‘sweet spot’ which she gave a good scratch.
Jake walked over to Storm, leaning his head down as normal over the door of his stable, expecting to find a mint in Jake’s hand.
“Nothing for you today feller,” he said, as Storm lowered his head to be stroked.
Storm’s coat dark, as black as ebony, shone in the light of the strip lamps.
He stood almost a hand taller than Raven, but his temperament stood nowhere near as hot headed as his stable mate.
Nate came across, his hands full of pony nut treats.
“Stop spoiling him,” Abigail said, unclasping Raven’s head collar from the bar on the outside of his stable.
“There are some for the Ginga too,” Nate replied, holding his outstretched hand to Storm who, now completely ignoring Jake, bent his head down, taking in his mouth, one treat after another.
“What’s the plan?” Jake asked Abigail, walking across to her.
“I’ll get these two ready, if you want to go rig the trailer onto the Beemer,” she replied.
“How am I go
ing to do that? The gate is locked,” he asked.
“Shit,” she responded quietly. “Throw some haylage into a couple of nets and hang them in the trailer. We will figure something out.”
Kissing her gently on the cheek, he made his way to the rear of the block to the feed-store.
Nate followed him and the pair of them filled two of the biggest hay nets to capacity.
Nipping to the rear of the barn, Nate fetched a wheel barrow, leaning against the outside of the block and returned to his father.
“Sounds like they’re going ape-shit next-door Dad,” he said, as his father hefted the bags into the barrow.
“I’ll have a look in as we take this to the trailer,” Jake replied.
Nate walked alongside his father, as they pushed the wheel barrow from their block.
The large gravelled area used by the horse owners to park and stow their trailers and horse boxes, lay at the far side of the last stable block, used by the horse owners to park and stow their trailers and horse boxes.
We’ll be passing by the open doors to that block to get there anyway. I’ll just pop my head in to see what’s causing the horses to make such a bloody noise.
“Dad,” Nate said, as they approached the open doors, pointing passed the block, at the far end of the gravelled area. “look over there.”
At the far corner stood a large horse, craning its neck forward to eat bits of grass, growing at the edge of the gravel.
“What’s that doing roaming loose?” Jake said aloud.
“That’s one of Rosalind’s horses, Zeppo,” Nate replied, standing beside him, “do you want me to fetch Mum?”
“Let’s get these in the trailer first, we’ll tell her when we get back.” Jake replied, shaking his head.
As they approached the open doors, the noises of the horses whinnying grew louder.
They stood in the open doorway, the barn lying in darkness, the only light being the one cast from the daylight through the open doorway, forming a large rectangle of light running into the passageway within.
The noise almost unbearable, amidst the whinnying, they could hear a few of the horses spinning in their stables, kicking at the breezeblocks forming the walls and the doors with their hind-legs.
