Altered Perceptions

Kenn Gordon

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

ALTERED

PERCEPTIONS

By

Kenn Gordon

 

 

 

 

 

Copyright © 2017

 

 

All rights reserved

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I grew up in the Highlands of Scotland. I became a musician whilst still at school. Then I made my first musical instrument, at the age of 13. At the age of 18, I joined the Royal Air Force. I served for 9 years and worked at numerous secret establishments. During my military career, I continued to play in bands and to write music. When I left the RAF, I still played music, forming my own bands and recording over 32 Albums, under various names. I also created Gordon Guitars, making high end and bespoke guitars. As I grew older, I looked for a new avenue for my creative juices. It is because of this, that I have decided to become a writer. The first novel entitled ‘Altered Perceptions’ is the first part of a Trilogy featuring. Andy McPhee and Team Seven, of the SIS Black Door Operations. SIS (Secret Intelligence Service) do exist, as do Black Door Ops. What goes on at CDE (Chemical Defence Establishment) Porton Down, is part factual and part fiction. Although this story is fiction, or you could say factional. The Enriched Uranium and Plutonium did go missing from FBR (Fast Breeder Reactor) Dounreay. The Secret Royal Navy program, the Vulcan Project, did take place between the RN (Royal Navy) and Rolls Royce. There were two major accidents at FBR Dounreay, and they were covered up. There still, to this day, remains two miles of off-limit shoreline. Where pieces of Plutonium are being found, on the beach near Dounreay. Much of what happened in this first book, did happen in real life. Some is of course pure fiction. Real names have been changed. Many of the places exist. Gruinard Island was used by the British Government, to test out bacteriological and viral spores of anthrax. The island remained uninhabitable for almost 50 years. The UK has signed up to the Geneva Convention, that bans the use of chemical and biological warfare. Yet it continues to make these banned items. The UK is not alone in this. The USA, France, Belgium, Germany along with many countries in the west. Yet we first world countries, condemn the third world countries, who try to make them. Worse still, in some cases, we even supply these countries, with the parts required to make these weapons of mass destruction. That is a fact.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

DEDICATION

I dedicate this book, to my Mother and my Father who have always encouraged me in everything I did. To my long-suffering wife Susan, who has put up with my childish tantrums, when I cannot find a way to express, the ideas that are flying around inside my head. To all my sons from both my marriages Yjan, Lachlan, Mark and Adrian. I hope that I have provided the tools that you require, to make a way for yourself in life. To my family and friends who have supported me, by buying my music and now my books

 

Kenn Gordon

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CONTENTS

ACT 1 Page 8

ACT 2 Page 10

ACT 3 Page 17

ACT 4 Page 24

ACT 5 Page 30

ACT 6 Page 31

ACT 7 Page 35

ACT 8 Page 41

ACT 9 Page 45

ACT 10 Page 58

ACT 11 Page 72

ACT 12 Page 75

ACT 13 Page 93

ACT 14 Page 101

ACT 15 Page 105

ACT 16 Page 128

ACT 17 Page 136

ACT 18 Page 142

ACT 19 Page 151

ACT 20 Page 159

ACT 21 Page 173

ACT 22 Page 178

ACT 23 Page 184

ACT 24 Page 188

ACT 25 Page 192

ACT 26 Page 201

ACT 27 Page 210

ACT 28 Page 221

ACT 29 Page 223

ACT 30 Page 238

ACT 31 Page 242

ACT 32 Page 246

ACT 33 Page 250

ACT 34 Page 251

ACT 35 Page 257

ACT 36 Page 258

ACT 37 Page 263

ACT 38 Page 268

ACT 39 Page 271

ACT 40 Page 276

ACT 41 Page 283

ACT 42 Page 286

ACT 43 Page 290

ACT 44 Page 297

ACT 45 Page 303

ACT 46 Page 307

ACT 47 Page 311

ACT 48 Page 317

ACT 49 Page 327

ACT 50 Page 332

ACT 51 Page 337

ACT 52 Page 338

ACT 53 Page 355

ACT 54 Page 361

ACT 55 Page 371

ACT 56 Page 383

ACT 57 Page 385

ACT 58 Page 387

ACT 59 Page 393

ACT 60 Page 394

ACT 61 Page 400

ACT 62 Page 405

ACT 63 Page 410

ACT 64 Page 415

ACT 65 Page 417

ACT 66 Page 426

ACT 67 Page 431

ACT 68 Page 436

ACT 69 Page 440

ACT 70 Page 450

ACT 71 Page 462

ACT 72 Page 467

ACT 73 Page 477

ACT 74 Page 481

ACT 75 Page 486

ACT 76 Page 492

Acronyms and odd words Page 501

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

ACT 1

I was not athletic in the standard sense of the word. I was fit though. I took part in a lot of sporting pursuits. I loved to swim, along with long distance cross country running. I was not really interested in the formal competition of it. It was more of a way to relieve the boredom of a mundane life as a medic. I was stationed at R.A.F. Brawdy, which is in the south west of Wales. Apart from the rare major incident, this usually meant working with a Station Medical Officer, treating hangovers, or servicemen with a dose of the clap.

I also enjoyed an adrenaline rush. Whilst I was stationed at R.A.F. Abingdon, I took up free fall parachuting. Even, on occasions, I completed jumps with the R.A.F. Falcon’s Parachute Display Team. This team was also known as the Big Six, strangely, because most of the team were under six-foot high. This made me stand out from them. I was six foot two inches tall. I always liked to take everything in life to the limit, at least as much as I was able to. When parachuting, I used a variety of 'chutes.' over the following years, from the 'Para Commander' in the mid 1970's, to the later ‘Strato Cloud Ram Air Parachute’. I think more out of a combination of vanity and ability, I went to the extreme length, and had my own custom made 'Chute'. This parachute was loosely based upon the 'XL Cloud'. Over the subsequent years, I completed more than 1,000 high level jumps. This would have gained me a place, in the Falcons display team, had I wished it. That said, I was in it for the thrill, and not for the job. So, over the years, I continued to do it just as a sport. That is, whenever time or location, would allow. On one of my annual leave breaks, I went to the USA and completed an oxygen assisted free fall jump, from a 'PAC750'. This was from a height of thirty thousand feet. I completed this jump with my lifelong friend, Lachlan Henderson. Lachlan, who was better known to his friends, as Lachie. We both grew up together in the Highlands of Scotland. We first met in the Strath of Kildonan. Both of us boys, were from the tiny hamlet of Kinbrace. We even went to school in Kinbrace and as we grew older went to the high school in Helmsdale. The pair of us, enjoyed the same sort of things, as young boys. Swimming, shooting and fishing, whenever time between chores, and schoolwork, would allow. Lachie was a stockily built lad, with a shock of curly blonde hair. He seemed more Icelandic, than Scottish in origin. He always stood a good four inches taller than me. Whilst I, with my jet-black hair, and a slight throwback, to some far off distant relative, of Indian origin. I always looked as though; I had a great natural suntan. Of all the things that we enjoyed most, was shooting. Not just because of the thrill, of shooting, but more the excitement of the hunt. As youngsters, we would pretend, to be in the real military, and the enemy would be a stag, or perhaps, a hare. We stalked our prey carefully, whilst traversing the Highland mountains, then creeping up on the 'enemy'. Sometimes we would just stalk, and not even bother with the kill. Attempting to get as close, to the prey, as we could. The keen competition between us as boys, continued into our teenage life. On one occasion, we got within three feet, of a hind and her fawn. Then we gently slithered, down the side of the mountain, on our bellies, without even having fired a shot from either of our rifles. I say our rifles, they of course belonged to our fathers. Lachie's was a Remington Triple Two, which we used for hares and rabbits. The rifle that I carried was a Mannlicher thirty naught six, this we used for long range shots, when shooting the red deer, that roamed, just about every mountain, hill and valley, of the Strath. Both of us, had managed kill shots, at over a thousand yards, using standard telescopic sights. The rifles were old bolt action models and had been well used. However, they had been well looked after, by our parents, and probably our grandparents. Always taking the strictest of turns, as to which of us, would take the shot. We had the one rule when out shooting. We would never shoot anything, which would not be taken home and then eaten, by our families, or their friends. Unlike the rich folks from the south, that came to shoot in the Highlands. We were not trophy hunters.

Lachie and I were also keen fishermen. To us, this was almost as much fun, as shooting. Often, we would go fishing in the river Helmsdale, or one of the many tributary burns, that would flow into it. We would fish for either salmon or rainbow trout, which were plentiful in the clean and clear waters of the Highlands. We combined this activity, with swimming, in the icy cold, but crystal-clear water. Sometimes we would see which of us could stay under the water the longest. We would hold large rocks in our arms, to prevent us from bobbing up prematurely. This competitiveness ran through our school years and then at the age of 18, we joined the Royal Air Force together.

ACT 2

After we signed up, we were sent to R.A.F. Swinderby, in Lincolnshire, in the east of England. This is where we completed our basic training. Or as it was called by those, who had already completed it, square-bashing. Swinderby, was nothing like our homes in the Highlands. We had never seen such a flat, and unexciting piece of land. Lincolnshire was flat as far as the eye could see. It was pretty much all arable land. However, that said, because of our fitness from running up and down mountains, we found that running around the Perry Track, of the airfield was easy for us. The pair of us, excelled on the rifle range, using the S.L.R. (Self Loading Rifle)7.62 rifle. To get a two-inch grouping, at twenty-five yards, posed little or no challenge to either of us. Lachie, when told to do his grouping shots, asked the instructor?

"Is that a two-inch grouping, on a moving, or a still target?"

Then Lachie, promptly fired, of an entire magazine of twenty rounds, into the centre, of the 'Soldier' target. All twenty shots were confined to a round hole, of somewhat less than two inches. This was Lachie all over, he was always quick of wit, but sometimes too quick with the mouth. This little stunt saw us 'Guarding the Perimeter' of our training camp, as the rest of our squad slept soundly in their beds. After our six weeks of basic training, and prior to our ‘Pass out Parade’, we were all given, our training awards. We never made best cadets, or most improved. However, though, we were awarded our ‘Crossed Rifles,’ for perfect shooting. I however, as a medic, would never be allowed to wear them on the sleeve of my uniform. The Geneva Convention forbade it. After the Pass out Parade, all of us were rewarded with one week’s home leave. Lachie and I went back home in our full Number One’s. (Dress uniforms) We boarded the bus from R.A.F. Swinderby, to the historic City of Lincoln. It was there, we caught our train, to London Kings Cross. Then from there, we took the overnight train, to Inverness. We had a coffee and a curled up British Rail sandwich for breakfast. Then we boarded the train, from Inverness to our destination, of Kinbrace. Kinbrace railway station was at the time, and I and sure still is, ‘a request stop’. This is primarily due to the small number of people, that ever use this remote station. At Kinbrace Station, we were met by our respective fathers, and taken to our homes. One week later, we met up again, to go back south. This time, it was to be to different destinations. Lachie was off to R.A.F. Catterick, to train with the RAF Regiment. I was off to learn medicine, at R.A.F. Halton. It was at this point, that our lives that had been joined for so many years, saw us split company. Over the years, we would see each other occasionally, when home on annual leave. However, we were destined to be reunited some years later. I was by now a Sergeant and stationed at the combined U.S. NAFAC (United States Naval Facility) and R.A.F. Station, Brawdy. Lachie was a Corporal, and was stationed at R.A.F. Saint Athens, as part of their R.A.F. Regiment, Ground Defence Force (This was a glorified title, for the R.A.F. Regiment, or as we called them Rock Apes. A title given to the R.A.F. Regiment, for their defence of the Rock of Gibraltar). One day, in early spring of that year, I was sent out from R.A.F. Brawdy, along with the Senior Medical Officer. Our instructions were, to bring back to base, an injured member, of the Special Air Service. The man had apparently been injured, in a training exercise, on the Brecon Beacons. We flew out from R.A.F. Brawdy, in a Sea King search and rescue Helicopter. From 202. Squadron. This search and rescue squadron was also stationed at R.A.F. Brawdy. Upon landing the S.M.O. and I were directed to a waiting A.P.C, (Armoured Personnel Carrier) with R.A.F. Roundel painted on its side. We went over and clambered in, with our equipment. When the driver turned around, it was Lachie.

"Where are we going too, gentlemen? I have another pickup, in twenty minutes. They are both far better looking than you two."

His mouth was still that bit quicker, than his mind. It would seem, that time and punishments, had not cured it. The S.M.O, who I was travelling with, was a Wing Commander, and whilst laid back with his own lads, at the Medical Centre, he was in no mood, to put up with Lachie's irreverent quips.

"That will be, I will take you to the patient SIR, or I will have those stripes. Now get a damn move on Corporal" replied my boss.

Lachie did not bother with a reply, but shifted the A.P.C. into drive, and started off with a solid jerk, and a spin of the wheels. This was followed by a quick wink at me.

"Why could the chopper, not take us right to the patient?" I asked

"Oh apparently, he's stuck, in a deep and narrow gully. Now what is worse, is he is in a tree. If we took the chopper anywhere nearby. Then the wash of the chopper blades, would like as not, blow him right out of the tree, and further down into the gully."

We travelled, without any more conversation, for about fifteen minutes. All the time, the terrain was getting rougher and steeper. On arrival at the incident site, initially, there was nothing for us to see.

"Walk this way Sir." Lachie said, and then under his breath said.

“If he could walk that way, he would not need talcum powder.”

He then pointed over, what looked like a small crest, in the rolling Welsh countryside. Lachie led the way. When we reached the crest, it was more like looking down a cliff face. I looked down, and there, laid on his back, was the injured soldier. The trouble was, he was snared up, in a large tree, which was also leaning over the sharp drop. Its roots, having been, all but pulled clear of the soil, which was all, that was holding it down to mother earth. There was another soldier, crouched down, at the base of the tree. He was fixing ropes and staking them into the surrounding area.

"How did this happen?" the S.M.O. asked Lachie.

"Sorry sir. I have all the info, that you have. Which I am guessing, is none."

I knew Lachie, was just pushing the officer, to see how far he could take his own sense of humour. Whilst the S.M.O. said nothing, I knew he was not happy with Lachie's sarcasm. This under normal circumstances, could have been treated as ‘Rank Insubordination’. The uninjured soldier from below, shouted up.

"Are you guys here to help or to watch?"

We carefully slid down the side of hill, towards the tree. Initially it seemed obvious to me, that there had been some sort of explosion, near to the tree. This had resulted, in this unfortunate individual, ending up clutched, in a bosom of branches, about eight feet from the ground.

"Grenade went off." The soldier roping the tree said, pointing to a medium sized hole in the ground, about 8 feet from the side of the tree.

"Well, I have no intention of climbing up there, to treat him. So, you lot, had better get him out from the tree, and up to the top of the ridge." The S.M.O. said

Then he turned and started back up the slope that we had just come down. Lachie and I helped the other guy secure the tree. Then between the three of us we managed to attach a short neck and back board to the injured man. After which, we carefully extracted the man from the branches. Then we gently lowered him to the ground. He was breathing, but very pale. I did a quick check, and most of his major bones seemed to be unbroken. The only sign of any injury was some minor bleeding, from both of his ears. There was little or no response, to light from his pupils. He looked, a bit like death warmed up. After getting him onto the stretcher, we got him up to the top of the slope and to the awaiting Medical Officer. I rattled off my basic report.

"Neck and Spine, along with all major bones, look OK. Blood pressure is a little low, as is his pulse. He has shallow breathing, and has shown no signs of consciousness, Sir".

The S.M.O. started his own check of the patient. I walked over to the other soldier who wore no insignia, or rank badges.

"So, how did he get no external injuries, from a blast, that looks to have thrown him up into the air, and then dumped him in the branches of a tree?"

"I don't know Sarge. It happened well before I got here, and I was just told to call it in, then secure the site." He replied

"OK Mate, I need some details. Like who is he? What Unit?"

"I refer you, to my first reply, Sarge"

I started to think, he was another Lachie, a smart mouth.

"And you are?"

"Sorry Sarge, I can’t say."

"Don't be a tosser, all your life. We are not some sort of enemy" I replied to him. In somewhat harsher tones, than I had intended.

"Sorry Sarge. Was not being a gobshite, just none of us, on this training course, know any of the others, and I am on orders, not to give out my details"

"Who's Orders?" I asked

"Sor................"

I cut him off "Can’t Say, OK I get it. But for us, to be able to treat your man over there. I am going to need. a few details. Like blood group etcetera, etcetera."

My boss, called me over

"He has a tag around his neck, which has a bar code, and just his blood group, of O-Positive. What did you get from his mate?"

"Less than you Sir, it would appear, to be some sort of SAS ‘hush hush’ training shit"

"OK, let’s get him down from here after we get a line into him"

Lachie and I, put the stretchered patient, into the back of the A.P.C. I turned around, to get the other soldier, to give him a lift back, and he was gone. Fuck it! I thought, and closed the back door of the A.P.C. Then I got in the front, with Lachie. We chatted on the drive back, and he told me he was planning on joining the S.A.S. He had come down, with some other Rock Apes, who were providing logistical support, for the S.A.S. this week. He had volunteered for this duty, so he could have a look, and check out, what it would be like, being a member, of the most elite fighting force, in the British Army.

When we reached the chopper, we loaded up our patient. The flight back R.A.F. Brawdy was uneventful. We got him down to the medical Centre. My boss asked me, to get on a computer, and get the medical records, belonging to the patients Bar Code. So, I scanned it, and sent it off, to the Military Records Department. I had expected a quick reply, just not quite as quick, as it came. The phone on my desk, rang.

"Station Medical Centre, Sergeant McPhee speaking. How can I help you?"

"You have one of my men there. We are sending a chopper, to collect him"

"Sorry, who am I speaking too?"

"That does not matter. What matters, is this. You have one of my men. You picked him up on the Brecon Beacons. We will be with you in about ten to fifteen minutes. Can you have him ready, for transport?"

"Please wait. I think you need to talk, to the Senior Medical Officer as he is treating this man"

The Phone went dead.

I went and told the S.M.O. of my brief telephone conversation. He was interrupted by his phone ringing. The S.M.O. motioned for me to stay and answered his phone.

"Sir, Yes Sir, yes Sir, Sir? Are you sure? Sir, yes Sir, but.... but, OK, but I want you to sign off on this. OK Sir. Yes, Sir" and he put the phone down.

"That was the C.O. (Commanding Officer) He says, we are not to interfere, in any way, with this patient. We are not to ask any questions. Just make him ready to go. And Andy, not a word of this, to anyone."

Ten minutes later, a Gazelle chopper, landed on the helipad, outside the medical Centre. Two soldiers, in full Nomex, complete with balaclavas. Came in, and took the stretchered patient,

"One of you, wants to sign for him?"

They never even broke stride, and just took him outside, and loaded him, along with themselves, into the chopper, which took off immediately. Leaving me standing in the dust cloud, that it left behind there.

"I guess not" I muttered to myself and walked back inside. I was trying to sort out an order in which things had happened today when my boss stuck his head around the doorway to my office.

"Andy. Can you come to my office please”?

I followed the S.M.O. to his office.

"Take a Seat, please Andy. I do not know, what happened here today, but I just got orders for you. I am guessing it probably has something to do with today’s incident. I am also being posted out. You are to report, to the C.O. at The Centre for Defence Enterprise, Porton Down. You are also to receive a promotion to flight sergeant, effective immediately. I am apparently off to Strike Command, at R.A.F. High Wycombe, with a promotion to Group Captain."

I think my mouth must have dropped, but he went on.

"You are not due for a promotion Andy, nor am I. But I will take it, without question. And I would strongly suggest that you do the same"

"Not a problem for me Sir"

"That's it. You best go pack. It has been nice working with you. Perhaps we will meet again. Best of luck in your new post" He put his hand out, and I shook it

"You too Sir"

I walked out and cleared off my personal possessions, from my desk. Then, I went over to the sergeant’s mess and packed my kit bag. When I got to Administration, I was handed my travel warrant, along with the crown to go on top of my three stripes.

ACT 3

On arrival at C.D.E. Porton Down, I reported to reception, and was pointed immediately to the Commanding Officers office. I knocked and waited.

"Enter"

I did so, and was faced with a Group Captain, who I saluted and spouted off

"Flight Sergeant McPhee reporting for duty Sir"

"Have a seat"

I did

"Now before we start, I need you to sign, the Official Secrets Act. I am sure you have already done this, on many occasions, but this one, carries a RED SEAL. Effectively this takes you to a top-secret level which is to say, that it is the extended version of the Official Secrets Act."

I signed, and he countersigned, then put the folder down on his desk.

"I have your service record here. I do not know the whys or the wherefores of your promotion and posting to me. It looks like you either shagged the wife of someone exceedingly high up or saw something that you should not have seen. I shall not ask you, which it was, as I really do not want to know. The official line, for this place is, that we are all working on the cure for the common cold. I am quite sure that you already know, that is bullshit. So, to cut the crap, we work on chemical, and biological warfare. This does also include, finding treatments and vaccines, for all the nasty shit, that THEY have. As well as creating, our own nasty shit, to use against THEM."

He paused, and I guessed he was waiting, for some kind of response from me.

"What is my position here, Sir?"

"You are to work in the Medical Research Treatment Centre. We have volunteers, from across the Armed Forces, and we patch test things, like blistering agents, on them. This is for us to be able to determine which of our NBC Suits is the least impregnable to these agents. Occasionally, there are some minor incidents. When this happens, you will be required to treat patients who have had reactions."

He continued "Now get yourself over to the sergeants mess, and get settled in. Then, you are to report to your section, tomorrow, for induction.”

"Thank you, Sir,"

I stood up, and stood to attention, and offered up one of my smartest salutes. Then I turned and exited the office. I found my way, to the sergeant’s mess, and there I was allocated a room. After I unpacked and put everything, that someone who lives out of their kitbag has, away. Then I went downstairs, to the bar.

"Large Jameson's please, and no ice"

The steward brought the drink over. I sipped it. I tried to process all that had happened in the last twelve hours.

The following morning, I went to where I had been told to report. The Medical Research Centre. This was massive, and full of various sub sections. I went to reception, and a woman in civilian clothes, pulled open the glass sliding window.

"Your name and rank please?"

"Flight Sergeant Andy McPhee."

She gave me a blue radiation monitoring badge and another yellow, and undisclosed monitoring badge

"You are to wear these, at all times. Please sign here" she passed a clipboard over, and I signed. Then attached the two monitoring badges to the outside of my uniform.

"Down to the end of the hallway, and take the lift to S3"

"S3?"

"Sub level three."

I did as I was told and took the elevator down to S3. The lift doors slid open, into a narrow corridor. This was lined with thick glass windows, that made them look green. I went to the first door, which was fortunately labelled ‘Office’. I knocked, and then entered. There were two other people in the room. An older gentleman, with a white lab coat over an army shirt, but without insignia or rank showing, and a slightly younger man, who was dressed, in a Saville Row Tweed suit.

"Excuse me, I am Flight Sergeant Andy McPhee, and I was told to report here today."

They both looked at each other, and then at me.

"Or I can just wait outside, until you two, are finished."

I turned and walked out, closing the door behind me. Then I waited in the narrow corridor. From time to time a variety of people would go from one door to another. Some were dressed in civilian clothes. Others in various military dress uniforms. Then occasionally, some were dressed in protective clothing. No one talked to me, not even to say “Hi”, or to ask what I was doing here? After about twenty minutes, the guy in the Saville Row suit, came out from the office.

"You can go in now." He said

Then he left, and entered the lift, and was gone. I went in and waited for the bloke in the lab coat to finish writing. However, he continued to do so, seemingly blissfully unaware of my presence. I coughed a few times, just for good measure, then waited some more. Eventually he looked up and closed the folder he had been busy reading and adding notes to the margin.

"You’re the Medic from Brawdy?"

Personally, I kind of thought it was obvious that I was a medic, standing there in my number one dress uniform, and wearing my gold RAF Medical badges, on both my lapels.

"That would sound about right, yes, and you are?"

"Edwin." He rose and offered his hand, which I shook.

"We just use first names here, and we don’t bother, with all that rank stuff. It gets so confusing, with all the services, and various nations military, that we have here as well." he said and then he sat back down

"So, you are Andy. You and your Station Medical Officer, were called to an incident, on the Brecon Beacons yesterday? Is that about, right?"

My internal alarm bells were going off big time, as I was trying to figure out, why a soldier who had apparently, been blown up with a hand grenade, would cause my sudden and immediate posting. To this place, where no one really had a name, rank or service. I decided to keep my answers short at least until I knew, what was going on.

"Yes"

I had not been offered a seat and being as I was not being held rank accountable. I removed my cap and sat down.

"Did you get a good look, at the patient?"

"Yes" I replied

“Andy. What was your medical opinion?"

"Someone tried to blow him up. however, his injuries were not consistent with the story. In fact, I thought, he was having some form of brain haemorrhage. Though, I am not fully qualified to answer that question"

I was not sure, if this guy was being friendly, or just yanking my chain, so did not reply using his name

"And was this the opinion of the Medical Officer with you?"

"I really can’t say. You would have to ask my boss"

"But in your opinion, would you say his injuries were inconsistent with being blown up?"

If I told him the truth, which was, I do not know how the guy ended up in the tree, but he sure as hell was not standing next to a grenade, when it went off. No fractures, no massive blood loss, (except from the ears) no tears to his uniform, and his boots were clean.

"I would have to say, that a concussive blast, could have ruptured both of his eardrums and sent him flying up into the tree. There was a small crater, similar in size, to that which could have been created, by a grenade"

"Andy, have you and your medical officer, discussed this with anyone else"

"Nope"

"Or with each other"

"Apart from the basics, like he was unconscious but alive, and we took him back to Brawdy for full examination. But as I am sure you know; we never had a chance to do that"

"Any others, see this injured man?"

I knew the question was coming, to be fair. That said, I really did not want to involve Lachie, in whatever shit was going on. No one gets a promotion overnight, without apparent reason. So, by that very reasoning, there must have been an important reason, and it must have been very time sensitive. I decided to hold back a bit.

"Not that I am aware of, Edwin."

"OK Great. Thanks Andy."

Then, he went back to his folder, making more notes. I just sat there, and waited some more, and some more, until he looked up.

"Is there something more, you wish to tell me Andy?"

"No, I don't think so"

"So?"

"So?" I replied

Another pregnant pause, I gave in first

"Edwin. What am I doing here? I was posted to this Unit. Who is in charge? If you could tell me, so at least I can get to work, or get a coffee."

"Sorry Andy, I thought you had been told. You are to go to the S.S.T. Unit, on the Ground Floor, and report to their reception"

"Right" I replied. Fortunately, I knew that S.S.T. meant that I was being sent to the Specialist Safety Team. I knew that this unit normally dealt with biological and chemical spills, but occasionally they also worked with radioactive contamination.

I stood up and walked out, leaving the door open and headed for the lift. I entered, and pressed the button marked <G>. Once again in the reception area, I asked the woman, behind the glass window, for the S.S.T. UNIT. This time she handed me a visitor tag and pointed down the hallway, and through the double doors, to the room at the extreme end of the corridor. I clipped on the visitor badge next to the two monitoring badges I was now wearing, then headed on my way. As it turned out, it was a long walk that seemed to slope gently downwards, taking the occasional turn, to the right, and then up a small flight of stairs. At the end there was a door, emblazoned with the letters S.S.T. and all sorts, of Hazardous Warnings, Chemical, Radiation, Biological, Fire and a few other symbols, that I did not instantly recognize. I had no doubt that at some point, someone would tell me what they all meant. I opened the door, which looked like a classroom, filled with multiple services, not to mention a good variety of ranks, as well as what looked like, a few civilians. There was a General, from the Royal Army Medical Corps, talking and pointing, at an oversized blackboard, with an old snooker cue. Every eye in the room, turned in my direction, and the General stopped talking, and glared at me

"Yes? is there something, I can help you with Sergeant?"

"Hi, I'm Andy, and I was told to report here"

It seemed that the hush, had become even more hushed, if that was even possible. I looked at the General, and the veins and arteries, all over his neck and face, looked like they were about to explode!!!! His mouth moved but nothing came out for a bit, and then it exploded, in a torrent of spittle and expletives, most of which I had previously heard, but there were a few in there, that were new to me.

"Well Sergeant, Andy Fucking Pandy! You little badly spent piece of cum, that managed to get into your mothers, poor forlorn and damaged womb. From which she spewed forth, your little fucking shit for brains, out, onto my highly polished, and well-educated floor. You Sergeant Andy Fucking Pandy are less than the total, of an amoeba’s sex life, and without the singular brain cell, to go with it. You, were to report here YESTERDAY!"

"Finished?" I asked

This brought forward, another mouthful, that would have been respectful, from some drill instructor. However, it was a tad more, than I had expected, from an officer and a General at that. The veins by now, were threatening to detonate, and his eyeballs seemed, to be trying to extricate themselves, from their sockets.

"See this Rank on my arm, I am a FUCKING GENERAL!"

"Yes Sir, Sorry Sir"

I was not but said it anyway. He stalled for a moment, so I thought just for fun, a bit of tit for tat, was in order.

"See these three stripes? Now that would make me a sergeant. Now you see this fucking gold crown. Now that would make me a fucking Flight Sergeant. Now we are even."

I was really starting to have a bad day, I continued.

"Sir I was just down at S3. There I was told that it was all first names, so I was unaware, that the rules changed with the floors. I was only shipped out to this place, twelve hours ago. This was about thirty minutes, after I got the posting notice. Those were handed to me, by my S.M.O. who was, in turn posted to Strike command, with the same speed. So, I am really fucking sorry. Because I do not have a clue, as to what the fuck is going on. Being as no one here, will fucking tell me, Sir!"

The silence was palpable, and then he stuck out a meaty hand and spoke

“Welcome aboard Andy.”

Then the entire classroom, burst into hysterics at my expense.

"Andy, Take a seat please"

There were a few empty seats along the side of the room, and so I walked on to the end of the front row and sat down.

"For the benefit of our newest member from the Royal Air Force, Sergeant Andy Pandy, with the Crown"

I guess, I had asked for that slice of sarcasm

"I shall quickly, go back to the beginning"

The lecture proved to be about the dangers, associated with the different levels of contamination, and how these contagions, would normally be directed toward an army, or Country. So, the lecture, was at the basic end of the scale. When the lecture finished, I followed the rest of the sheep, out of the room, and down the corridor, to what was a dining hall, for all ranks. I joined the line, and grabbed a tray and went to the servery, where I chose steak pie and mashed potatoes, along with a mug of coffee. I found an empty table and sat down to eat.

ACT 4

"Hi Andy"

I looked up, and Lachie was standing there.

"What the fuck are you doing here Lachie?"

"Nice to see you too mate. I suspect we are here for the same reason Andy"

He sat down and I looked at him, I noticed that like me he had received a promotion and was sporting a new set of stripes on the arm of his uniform.

"And the reason for that would be?"

"We were in the wrong place, at the wrong time. They probably think that we may have seen, or heard something which folks don't want to be made public knowledge?”

"If that's the case. Why put us with so many other folks? And on a camp with mixed civilians and armed forces? Why not ship us off to Benbecula or Sax Vord? I can understand the promotions, as that gives them a reason for posting us from our regular duties. You know as well as I do. When you get a promotion, you get shipped to a new base."

"Andy, perhaps a lot of these folks here are here to spy on us. To see if we will say anything, they do not want to be said. And the promotion could be a bribe of some form. You know like a sign of good faith on their part?"

"Could be" I replied. Then I continued after a swig of my coffee.

"So, if we are here, why did they ship my boss off to High Wycombe? By the way, he got a promotion too. There are senior ranks here. Why not send him here along with us?"

"I don't know Andy. What I do know is, I do not like this place much. Too many people here, with too many secrets. And everyone here is just 'TOO' nice”.

After dinner, we followed the herd back to the classroom. Then settled down, for what I imagined to be another boring lecture on NBC (Nuclear, Biological and Chemical) Training, by an Army Medical officer.

I looked up and was surprised to see the man in the Saville Row, Harris Tweed, Suit, standing at the podium.

"Gentlemen and of course Ladies" he began

"You are all here for one reason, and that is because we have a problem. We believe we have a serious problem"

Although no one said anything and apart from ‘The Suit’ talking to us, no one else was talking or even whispering. The room seemed to have grown quieter.

“Some material was taken from here. We have already seen it used twice, on service personnel.”

Lachie and I exchanged glances and even raised our eyebrows.

"Some of you will have seen something of it first-hand. Some more of you, may have accidentally been involved in some way, with the people behind this. You have all been drawn here, so that we can find out the following. One, who took it, Two, why he, she or they took it? Three, how do we stop it from being used for whatever reason it has been taken for? All of you have signed an extended version of the Official Secrets Act. This means if you speak of any of this to ANYONE, outside this group. You WILL be incarcerated for the rest of your life, in solitary confinement. Or you will simply disappear. I do hope that I have made this truly clear. Most of you are NOT volunteers, and in fact many of you, until now did not really have a clue, as to why you were sent here. Some of you may have seen things, that shall we say gave rise to you questioning incidents around you. Others may have been working alongside, and without the knowledge of those who have taken these items. For whatever the reason you are here, does not really matter. What does matter is that YOU ARE HERE. From now on your ranks and positions that you previously held, do not count. There are reasons for this which I cannot disclose to you at this time. None of you will be privy to the complete picture unless it becomes operationally necessary for you to do so." He paused for breath. And then continued

"All of you will report directly to me, or any person that I instruct you to do so. You will not have any outside contact unless I deem it to be within the remit of this operation. Who and what I am is not important? In a moment I will be handing out mobile phones to each of you. There is one number logged into it, and that is my number. You will NOT use this phone for anything other than to contact me. They are the very latest in field satellite telephones, so whilst they look like your average Nokia. They are not. Being satellite phones, you will never be out of range for contact."

He passed a large box, to the guy on the far end of the front row, and said

"Take one and pass it on to the next"

There were murmurs as the box of phones, was passed from one person to another "Thanks" "Here you go Mate" "Cheers" "Ta" etcetera, etcetera.

When everyone in the room had their new Satellite phone, ‘The Suit’ continued.

"After some intensive training, some of you will be sent to other bases around the World. Some of you will remain here and some of you will be posted in the field. Each of you will be told personally by me, where you are to be"

He walked from the lectern to the black board and wrote ‘EBOLA’ on the board

"Many of you will already have heard of Ebola and some of you will know, that it causes a break down, on a bio cellular level. Resulting in the bodies organs, turning to 'mush', for want of a better word"

He paused for a moment. I was quite sure most of us were aware of what Ebola was and what it did. As over recent years it had been in the news, due to various outbreaks in Africa.

"The Ebola Virus, is part of a group of Viruses known as V.H.F.'s"

He took the chalk and wrote this under

EBOLA

V.H.F.'s

"VIRAL HAEMORRHAGIC FEVER'S"

He put the chalk down and stood in front of the board.

"There are many of these little bastards".

He went back to the board and picked up the chalk and wrote

CRIMEAN-CONGO HAEMORRHAGIC FEVER.

DENGUE AND SEVERE DENGUE.

EBOLA VIRUS DISEASE.

LASSA FEVER.

MARBURG HAEMORRHAGIC FEVER.

RIFT VALLEY FEVER.

"All of these little bastards will kill you, given half the chance. They all are very contagious" he continued whilst walking up and down in front of the black board.

"Most of these are passed on via direct contact. That is via body fluids or drinking infected water. But in some cases, they can become airborne. Most of what is done at this research establishment is to find cures, or ways to kill these viruses. However, saying that. Like most countries, we also are looking at ways of using biological weapons, in other words Weaponising viruses and bacteria. It is somewhere within this system, that we have suffered some form of a breach"

He stopped and then turned back towards the blackboard. Then with his back towards us continued the talk

"Let us assume that we have managed to do this, and I am not saying we have, but for arguments sake, let us suppose we did and then we gave it a shortened lifespan, by adding a bacterium to that virus. Which in turn would kill the virus in a set time span. That if a person were exposed to it. Then it would kill them and those around. BUT only for a short period of time, say eight hours or less. That would make it a Weaponised Virus" he wrote.

BACTERIA + VIRUS + G M

"A Genetically Modified Bacteriological Virus"

"Assuming this exists, and once again I am not telling you it does, and that it has a life span for infecting of just eight hours. Then this sort of weapon 'could' be used to clear an area or a country, for it to be invaded, without the loss of life to the invaders. Lots of countries have looked at the use of chemical blistering agents in ways of debilitating the other armies. However, imagine again if we rather than using a chemical blistering agent changed that"

He took his chalk and wrote in the board again

NATURAL BIOLOGICAL RECURRING BLISTERING AGENT

"So, it is a GM modified Viro Bio Chem."

FURANOCOUMARIN

"This is found in giant hogweed can inflict painful burns and blisters on anyone who touches it. The sap contains a phototoxic chemical that becomes active when it is exposed to light. The activated chemical damages the skin, on a genetic level. Grapefruit juice is known to interfere with the action of many medicines. It increases their absorption through the lining of the small intestine, which can result in an overdose by increasing the efficacy. The plant chemicals responsible for both the hogweed and the grapefruit juice effect are known as Furanocoumarins" he paused again.

“Now imagine that we then genetically modified this Hogweed sap so that it became strong enough to act like an acid on our NBC suits. Not to burn holes in it or anything like that, but to make the molecules small enough to get through the microscopic weave and then to deliver the Virus of Ebola but with a shortened lifespan and a version that was so modified that it only attacked a specific part of the body, in the same way that the meningitis virus tends to do by attacking, the membrane of the brain. So, turning the brain to mush in minutes rather than hours, but that the virus would die within the host, because of the added bacteria. Why would we want to create such a monster as this? Because our country is no longer in a nuclear race. We, that is, all the major countries, of the world are in a BIO-CHEM Race. Where the deadliest and most indefensible bug becomes the one thing, that stops the other side, from either attacking or retaliating."

He put the chalk down on the lectern and said.

"We are at war with an unknown enemy, who has managed to either get our weapon, or get the information on how to fabricate it. We must get it back at all costs and we must ensure that no one else can have it, or any knowledge of it. Some of you are involved in medicine and are technically Non-Combatants. However, this is NOT a normal situation. Some of you were part of the program to create our defensive and offensive weapons. Of which many of you, are also Scientists or Doctors. Some of you are just Soldiers, Sailors or Airmen. As of now NONE OF THAT MATTERS. As of now, you are part of a team that may have to save mankind. There are three ways it can end for all of us. A lifetime in jail, dead, or we win. So, let us have a coffee break. Obviously, you will want to talk about what I have said here but do so ONLY with the people inside this room. Later I will assign each of you, to a more specific task. Then from that point on. You are not to discuss it with anyone, other than me, or if I have set up teams, then with your team members. I will choose from the personnel, within this room. You will work this project together, and then report back to me. Now get a coffee from the machines at the end of the room"

He wiped the board and put away some files he was reading from. I held back with Lachie.

ACT 5

"What kind of shit are we in now Andy?"

"I am sure you and I both know; it is the worst possible kind of shit. It has to do with that bloke, we pulled from a tree yesterday Lachie. But he was alive when they took him from Brawdy."

"Andy. Who were 'They'? And why did they take him?"

"I have no Idea Lachie. They turned up shortly after we got back to base and took him off in chopper. A few minutes after that, I was promoted and given the boot from Brawdy. After that I was posted to here, and my boss got the same thing, except he was posted to Strike Command."

I pointed at his newly acquired third strip

"And it looks like you and I got the same thing"

"Aye"

"So, what do you think happens now? Lachie"

"I have a feeling we are about to find out Andy."

Most of the folks in the room had their coffee and were sat back down, although some were huddled in small groups around the edge of the room, probably discussing things, like Lachie and I were.

"Can you all, please take your seats"

The 'Suit' was standing at the lectern again this time with a clipboard in his hands.

"I am going to split you into groups for your various assignments. When I call your names if you stand with those who you have been patched with"

"Group one. Robert Weston, Mark Shallows, Jane Miller.

Group two. John Roberts, Martin Wilson, Rory McKay, Ian Watts.

Group three. Mary Morris, Millie Wyatt, Susan Randall, Steph Brown

Group four. Brian Robertson, Andrew White, Stephen Munroe,

Group five. David Heinman, Mick Jay, Peter Humphries, Jayde Smith, Yvonne Harper, Jennifer Harper

Group six. Alun Verne, Colin Eccles, Eric Slow, Gordon Andrews

Group seven. Andy McPhee, Lachlan Henderson, Jon Steinman, Hans Gunnerson.

Those of you who have not had your names called could you please exit this room and enter the second room on the left where another person will assign your various tasks. And thank you all for your patience."

We went over and shook hands with the other two men in our group and said our polite Hello's. Those who were not selected were shuffling out of the room.

"Right folks I gave you a brief outline, of the sort of thing that goes on around here and what it is we are trying to find. Each group is to be given specific agendas as well as training that will be specific, to their operational duties. You have already been grouped by certain skills that you either already have or have an aptitude to take on board. Each of your groups will be barracked together and will no longer have contact, with any of the other groups, or for that matter with any other person, other than those I arrange to be with you. These would be the training instructors, who will only be training you. They will know nothing of your objectives. Should any person outside your group, try to involve themselves in your project? You are then to immediately inform me. So, keep your phones charged, and with you always. First briefing will be arranged for you tomorrow. I shall then arrange for each team, to have a leader that is suited for the group’s role. It will not be based on Rank, but purely what I deem to be the right set of characteristics and skill sets. For today that is it. Tomorrow we begin our journeys. Go to reception and tell them your group number and they will arrange for you to be taken to your accommodation. Thank you.

ACT 6

The place where we were barracked, was more like a small private hotel. Each of us had our own en-suite rooms. Downstairs, there was a large dining room, which had a fully staffed kitchen off from it. We had our own private bar, with barman. Also, a soundproofed lounge area. What it did not have, was outside access. No Windows, No TV, No Internet, No Phones, apart from the ones we carried with us. We ate pretty much in silence, and the food was great. Then we all got a drink and went into the lounge and closed the heavy doors. We sat around in the plush leather armchairs. It was Jon who broke the silence

"Do you think someone has stolen something, from the Frankenstein’s that work here?"

"I think we have a lot more to learn. Before we know who, what, and if anything has been stolen. I do not think we have had much of the truth told to us so far. I mean that ‘The Suit’ never told us who he is. Let alone who he works for. We do not know what each group will be set up for, or how our roles, will interact with theirs. Hell, we don't know a damn thing, apart from what we know about ourselves" I said.

I was careful not to let the others know, that Lachie and I knew each other as lifelong friends. This could just be some weird form of military exercise. Just to see how we worked under pressure. The RAF is exceptionally good at doing that sort of thing. I was sure the other services also did the same sort of thing. We called it TAC-EVAL or Tactical Evaluation. Although if this was one of them, it was a lot more complex, than the ones I had been used too. In a normal TAC-EVAL, the whole military station would be involved in a series of scenarios. For the Tactical Evaluation teams, to see how the camp would perform in the event of a war. The initial start would be station alarm being sounded and all personnel would report to their place of work. Then the camp would go into lock down. After that there would be a huge selection of exercises. Each designed to test individual sections. Security of the camp perimeter would be tested with attacks by ground forces. Then there would be an Air Raid Warning RED in which the camp would be subjected to a simulated, attack using conventional weapons (the TACEVAL personnel, usually from strike command) would place flash bangs and smoke flares around the areas that had been "Bombed" and then the station emergency services, would go into operation. We would go and collect the injured and take them back to the medical centre. There, we would TRIAGE them. Proffer theoretical medical treatment, and then assign the wounded to other medical establishments. After this attack exercise, there would be an Air Raid Warning Black (the warning of a nuclear, biological or chemical attack) We would all then put on our NBC Suits and gas masks and take to our nuclear shelters. In my case, it was directly under the medical centre. We would take all the 'patients' and 'walking wounded' down into our shelter. After which the thick blast proof doors would be sealed shut. Then we would then await for the all clear siren. After a full series of these tests, which could last for up to two weeks. The base would then be told the exercise was over and everyone would return to a normal regime. So, this situation we were involved in, did not feel like a 'normal' exercise to me.

"So where are you guys all from?" Jon asked

"I am from Iceland, but I was on attachment to your Army" said Hans Gunnerson.

He was a giant of a man. He must have been six foot, six or seven inches tall. I would guess his weight to be somewhere between fifteen and sixteen stone. He had broad shoulders. He had crew cut ginger blonde hair. His skin was almost white, but for the freckles that covered all the exposed skin. Hans was Nordic in origin. His voice was deep and bass like and seemed to come from below his boots. There was also warmth to that voice, that made him instantly a likeable person.

"I have come to teach your army, how to ski and kayak. Also, to show them, how they can survive in the cold. Unfortunately, you do not have much snow here in England, so your regiments travel up to the Scottish Mountains. There is a little snow there, but not as much as my home."

"Where's that" asked Jon

Hans looked up at Jon. He seemed to choose his words carefully,

"I am from a small village, on the north east coast of Iceland. It is called Bakkageroi. It is a fishing village. But there was no real work, so I left and joined the Army."

"What about you Lachlan?"

I asked hoping he would get the message that I did not want everyone seeing or knowing a deep insight to our friendship. When he answered it was with a lie, as I hoped it would be.

"Oh me, I'm from an island too. I am from Benbecula. It is a small island off the west coast of Scotland. I left to join the RAF Regiment".

That was the thing about Lachie he could make a lie from the truth and vice versa. Although Lachie was now from Kinbrace his parents had moved there from Benbecula when he was about five years old. Then they split and his dad stayed in Kinbrace. He still maintained that lilt, of the Hebrides accent. I jumped in next before Jon could ask

"I am also a Highlander, but from a village called Keiss"

Like Lachlan I threw in a half truth. My family had lived there for a short time. It was a small fishing village on the east coast of Caithness. Where the coastal area is rugged and was windblown from the cold North Sea, combined with the northerly wind from the cruel North Atlantic.

"I am a medic in the RAF, but I guess most of you know that as I was one of the few folks that arrived in Uniform"

I looked at Jon,

"So, what's your story mate, where you from?"

"I am from Israel. I joined the Israeli Army right out of school. My family is from Jerusalem. My father was killed in the Six Day war. So, since I left school the Army has been my life. I do not know why they sent me here. I was working with the SAS teaching. I was with them on temporary assignment."

I noticed that he gave more info than the rest of us. However, he did not say what he was teaching the SAS or where, he was working with them.

"Nice to meet you all" I said

Then I raised my glass of Jameson's Irish Whisky. We all clinked our glasses. I looked at Lachlan and caught what would have looked to most folks as a slight twitch on his finger as he raised his glass to ours. That twitch was a signal we had used when stalking red deer, as lads. It meant 'We can’t talk as we are too close to the deer, and that we did not want to spook them with any sounds.' After we had some small chit chat with the others, as folks do when they have a drink in a bar. Then I decided to call it a night, so that Lachie and I could have our private chat. I didn’t know what ‘The 'Suit' had in store for us tomorrow and wanted at least to be semi awake for whatever it was.

"Night all, I am off for some shut-eye, it’s been a long day for me. See you all in the morning"

ACT 7

I stood up and went upstairs to the room I had been allocated. I really was tired, but I knew it would not be long before Lachie, would knock on my door. I did not have that long a wait. I had just finished emptying my kitbag and hanging my uniforms in the wardrobe. I had had to rapidly re-pack them from my room in the Sergeants mess when I had been allocated to team seven. So now most of my previously, neatly ironed and folded items, were somewhat rumpled. There was a soft knock at the door. I went to open it and was surprised when Hans was there.

"Shh Can I help you Hans?"

"I need to talk to you please"

I opened the door then looked up and down the corridor. There was no one else there. So, I motioned for Hans to enter. He came in and sat down in the lone armchair. After closing the door, I sat down on the edge of the bed and looked at Hans.

"What's on your mind Hans?"

He said nothing for about thirty seconds, and I wondered if he had come because, he liked me or he hated me. Either way I was starting to worry.

"I have seen him before" he said

His voice was such a quiet whisper that I struggled to hear it. I waited for more, but it did not come so I asked the obvious question.

"Who is it you have you seen before Hans?"

I too whispered, though was not sure as to why, as there were just the two of us in my room. It was the sort of reaction that you automatically do when someone whispers to you.

"Andy, I don't know where I have seen him, but my mind is like a camera. I just need to remember where" he whispered again.

Another thirty seconds of waiting. I was just about to ask again when he said

"Jon, I have seen him."

He was whispering so quietly that I had to move closer to him, in order to hear.

"What do you mean Hans? Have you seen him in Iceland, or here at Porton?" I whispered

"No Andy it was before Porton, and I think it was not a long time ago. But I know I have seen him. I recognise him for sure. I don't think he knows me, but I have seen his face before."

"So why are you telling me Hans? Why not tell the guy in the Suit?"

I was worried that we were whispering like co-conspirators. This alone, was liable to get you locked up around here

"Because Andy, I have seen him also."

"OK Hans. Tell me truthfully. Who you are? Because I know you are holding something back. Like WHY you were sent here? If Porton Down has some problem with their security, why would Iceland need to be involved? Who were you working with before here? What were you doing with them? And why are we whispering when we are alone?"

He got up and went to the Fridge and helped himself to a bottle of water, unscrewed the top and took a small sip.

"You might think I am crazy"

He said as he walked up and down on the floor. All the time looking at objects, in the room. He stopped every now and then, to take a closer look at some items. By now, I practically had my ear to his lips, when he spoke. I was patiently waiting for him to open up to me. He put his fingers to his lips, I thought he wanted me to be patient and wait for him to come up with a question, or a statement for me. He switched on the Camp’s internal radio system, and an old Marc Bolan song, played ‘Ride a White Swan’. Then he turned the sound up a little and went to the bathroom where he turned the shower on. I was beginning to think he was crazy. I was formulating a plan, in my mind’s eye, as to how I could take down this giant of a man, with my bare hands. When he came back into the room I stood up, thoroughly expecting to have to fight for my life. With the fight or flight question, banging around inside my head. He unplugged the Bedside lamp. This is it, here it comes, I was thinking. I flexed my mussels and started to ball my hands into fists. When again, he put his fingers to his lips and then pointed to the inside of the lamp shade. There stuck to the inside, was a small square circuit board, with a wire trailing out from it.

"OK Andy" he mouthed

Again, he pointed to the shower. He carried the lamp towards the shower.

"I will say Goodnight Andy" In a louder voice than he had been using.

He put the lamp gently down on the bathroom floor.

"See you in the morning Andy. I can see you were just getting ready to shower."

He shut the bathroom floor. Then he whispered

"Say Goodnight to me please" I was thinking weird or what!

"OK Hans. Goodnight. Try not to drink too much. See you in the morning"

I opened the Door to let Hans out and Lachie was standing there, ready to knock. Hans put his fingers to his lips, and Lachie looked at me. I just shrugged. I guessed that now Lachie was here, at least I would have a fighting chance against the man mountain that was in my room. Lachie came in and I gently closed the door after him. Hans made sure the Camp Radio was loud enough to cover all but a shout. Then he took his fingers from his lips.

"Hi Lachlan. Fancy seeing you here?"

"Andy. What's going on?"

"I am not sure, but I think Hans, was just about to tell me"

Hans now sat back down in the chair and Lachie sat on the bed end, which left me standing.

"Can you trust him?" Hans asked pointing at Lachie

"Why?"

"Can you?" he hissed

"Again, I have to ask you why?"

"Because I think your life might depend on who you can, and who you can’t, trust around here" He replied

"Let us assume for the sake of argument, that I trust him more than I do you, at this moment Hans. On account of he is acting a little saner than you."

I waited, looking at Hans, and waited some more. It was like playing cards against a stone-cold card sharp. This was becoming a bit of a habit for me of late. Once again, I gave in first.

"Yes, I trust him."

I did not really want to give out more info than I had already done so.

"What's this all about then?" said Lachie

"Hans thinks he knows Jon and the guy in ‘The Suit’"

"How does he know them?"

"Don't ask me, ask him" I said shrugging my shoulders and pointed to Hans.

Hans stood up and looked first at me and then at Lachie.

"I don't know" he said and continued "But I am one hundred percent sure, I have seen them before. They were together in the same place."

Lachie looked at me and I gave him my best 'What the fuck. You ask him, stare'

"When did you see them? Was it here or somewhere else?" Lachie asked

"No, it was not here, but somewhere before and sometime before today. I am just trying to remember where" Hans answered

"Hans also found a bug in my room Lachie"

It was out before I could stop it. I had not called him Lachlan I had called him Lachie. I was not sure if Hans had noticed but Lachie had. The dagger stare told me so. Shit I was not a spy. I was a fucking Medic!

"You mean like a cockroach?" asked Lachie

"No, an Electronic sort of listening device, Hence the Camp Radio System being on and the shower running without me getting wet!"

"So, what is going on Andy?"

We both looked at Hans. Who once again appeared to be deep in his own personal thoughts?

"I am Icelandic, as I told you. I am in the Icelandic Army. This is to say I am also in the Icelandic Special Forces. I am under the command of The National Commissioner's, National Security Office. We do not have a normal standing army. But we have a Coast Guard and a sort of Army for defence. But we also have a Special Forces unit. That unit is only supposed to operate inside Iceland's borders. I was on an exchange with the SAS and I was training them in how to survive, in extreme cold climates. I was also teaching, skiing and kayaking. I was attached with G Squadron 22 troop. There was accident two days ago, on the Brecon Beacons. We were working with a multinational force, under the command of G squadron. It was a mountain top hostage rescue exercise. I did not see the accident. Then they sent a Chinook helicopter and they collected only me. I was flown to a military base near Manchester. My belongings had also been sent there and then the next thing I know is that I had been seconded to C.D.E. Porton Down. I also received Orders from my Director General in Iceland. Stating that I was to do what they asked me to do. On top of that, I had been given a field promotion to Acting Colonel in the I.D.F. There is something wrong here and I do not want to be involved, in something that might look bad on my country. Yet, I know Jon, and the one you call ‘The Suit’. Because I know I have seen them somewhere before today. Then earlier I went to my room and just out of habit I did a security check. I found a listening bug, just like the one I have found here in Andy's room. I suspect we will find the same in your room too Lachlan. I also suspect, that from the little messages that you two give to each other, I suspect that you are also friends or comrades from before today. I see these things because it is my job. To be not just a soldier, but also part of my job is to be a policeman too. The Icelandic Defence Force covers all sorts of duties as our Director dictates. So, I have been honest with you. Can you two, please also be honest with me?"

"WOW. That is kind of a big pill, for me to swallow. But yes, Lachie and I do know each other. We grew up together, but I had not seen him for a long time, apart from when we meet up on our annual leave. That was until yesterday when we met on the Brecon Beacons. I was sent there as a medic from RAF Brawdy. Brawdy is the nearest military base with full medical facilities and is also the home of the 202 RAF Search and Rescue Squadron. I was sent with doctor to assist in the recovery of an injured soldier. But the helicopter could not land near the site, so we landed further down the mountain and that was where we were met by Lachie in an A.P.C, which he was driving. He was also on temporary attachment to G Squadron of the SAS, as a driver. Like you we were given field promotions and dispatched here. My boss was sent to RAF Strike Command at RAF High Wycombe, also with a promotion. So now you know pretty much what we know. Although I do not think that 'They' whoever 'They' be, know about Lachie and I being good friends. But of course, I could be wrong" I replied.

"So, let’s assume that is the case here" said Lachie and then continued

"We all know that the one thing that links the three of us in this room is an injured soldier on the Brecon Beacons. But what about the rest of the folks here, on Teams one, two, three, four, five and six? How do they fit into this picture? More to the point, how do Jon and ‘The Suit’ fit in. Are they Spooks? And if so, who are they spooks for? Let us just wing it now. And see just where all this shit takes us."

"OK I can work with that" I said

"OK we will all talk later, tomorrow, but for now do we tell ‘The Suit’ about the bugs?" said Hans as he got up to leave.

"I say we don’t actually say anything to ‘The Suit’. If he and Jon do know each other, and Jon is on our team. Then he is probably here to spy on us. Hans? See if you can remember where you have seen them before and if so, were they together or just in the same place at the same time?"

"I will, Goodnight Andy, and to you too Lachie"

"Goodnight Hans" Lachie and I said together, as Hans left.

"What the fuck is this shit?" Lachie asked to no one in particular, even though I was now, the only other person in the room.

"Do you trust him Lachie? Or is he just spinning a tale?"

"The jury is out on that one Andy. He seems sincere, but I am sure we will know a bit more tomorrow"

"OK Buddy it’s great to see you again mate. But I am shit faced tired and need to sleep."

"Yeah, me too Andy. I will see you at breakfast and then see when we can get a chance to chat."

"Night Lachie"

"Night Mate" He said and closed the door.

ACT 8

We had breakfast pretty much in silence and then waited for the transport to pick us up to presumably see ‘The Suit’. Just after breakfast all our mobile phones, vibrated at the same time I pulled mine out and looked at the text message

‘You’re training today will be S.S.T. and whilst this course is normally a full five-day course you will receive intensive training and the course is now a single morning’

Lachie showed me his phone and it showed the same message.

"Your transport is here" the receptionist announced

The front door opened, and a black minibus was waiting with the engine running. As we climbed in, I noticed the windows were blacked out and that there was a black privacy glass between us and the driver.

"They either don't want us to see where we are going, or don't want others to see who is in the bus" said Jon

"Or both" said Lachie

Nothing more was said for the next twenty minutes of the journey. There was an internal light, and some nondescript music was playing from speakers in the doors. We stopped and the doors were opened, and we found ourselves inside a large hanger. With several screened off area's

"Put these on please"

A young woman said as she handed out some blue one-piece suits, which appeared to be like the NBC suit but more flexible and less charcoal like inside We put the suits on over our uniforms.

"Now if you would please follow me"

She led us into one of the screened off areas, which was set up like a classroom. With a large white screen and a projector set up on a table. There was also a large speaker next to the screen.

"Please sit"

We all took a one of the chairs provided and sat down facing the screen. By the chairs there were blues boots and gloves that matched our fetching blue N.B.C. suits. The slide show began first explaining that these suits were the new and improved version of The Nuclear Biological and Chemical Warfare Protection Suits they carried the acronym of A.N.B.C-W.S. for Advanced Nuclear Biological and Chemical Warfare Suits. Just like the military to come up with a jazzy name for our blue men outfits. They were now also water resistant and whilst the suit itself was made of a breathable material, it now had a hard plastic collar that was fitted at the neck, also attached to the ‘New Improved Gas Mask’ which was now called an R.B-D.C.F. or Re-Breather Double Carbon Filter which was loosely based on the type used by deep sea divers. With the exception, that not only did it allow us to breathe, BUT that it would also allow the moisture from our bodies to escape without misting up the viewing glass. This viewing glass also housed a heads-up display. This would show the levels of carbon dioxide, RAD counts for radiation, along with other poisons. When put on in an emergency the air trapped within the suit and large full-face mask would last for up to five minutes. This, according to the slideshow, was ample time for us to attach a small oxygen bottle to the utility belt supplied with the suit. Also, if correctly worn, the suit has rubber gaskets that fitted around the gas mask making the entire suit and mask a self-contained completely safe breathing module. Apart from that, it was pretty much self-explanatory. There were neat blue boots and gloves to go with it. The manufacturers 'claimed' that it was impregnable to ‘all biological and chemical weapons' and that the new improved anti-radiation shielding provided by the polymer lead compound would give the wearer, up to one hundred times more protection, than those wearing a standard NBC Suit. They further claimed, it would give as much protection to the wearer, as those worn by the people, who worked at the cores of nuclear power plants. (This I did not want to test).

I wondered, if it would give protection to the ‘nasty bastard’ that the suit was talking about. But being as how they probably created the ‘nasty bastard’ I had to assume that they were wearing suits like this when the made it.

The lights went on, and we were asked to get out of our nice blue suits. Then almost immediately, a klaxon sounded, and we were instructed, we had one minute to get the suits and masks, complete with the gloves and boots on, before a gas would be released. Like most servicemen I had done this. Once a year, on my Ground Defence Training Course. Using the "Gas Chamber" on the camps. Where we would get the same warning and must get our suits on before they would release tear gas into the chamber. This time though, we were in complete darkness with only a guess as to where we had laid our suits down. Mine was by my chair, that I had been seated, just as the klaxon went off. The klaxon was still sounding at a DB level, that threatened to burst our eardrums. I struggled into my suit and pulled the mask on. Even before I had put my gloves and boots on, which was just as well. After about thirty seconds, gas poured down into the room, from two vents above us. The gas was thick and white making visibility impossible even seeing my gloved hands in front of my mask was a non-starter. I was pulling my boots on when I heard someone choking beside me. I shouted to them to stop breathing until they had their gas mask on. I reached over to help them. Totally unaware, as to who they were? After about three minutes the extractors and lights came on and we were all standing fully suited, except for Jon, who was busy puking his technicoloured breakfast all over the floor. This whole process was repeated five times over the next hour until we could rip open a pre-packaged ANBC-WS and put it on in under a minute. We had all figured by now the best bet was mask first, then rearrange the seals once we had the suit on. On to the next screened off area for SST How to mop up a spill. I had my own feelings on that. Do not touch the fucking stuff. But I went along with the game anyway. We learned about foam barriers and how to spray down. What to do in the event of a spill or a radiation leak. This was followed by intensive Q & A session.

The next section one was not one I had expected it was a small coffee room where folks could smoke if they wished. Jon was looking a bit better than he had a couple of hours previously. I know how he felt, as I remembered my time, in basic training. We had to enter the Gas Chamber and stand there, waiting for the CS gas grenade to be thrown into the room. Then, we would have to get our gas masks on and suit up, then wait another five minutes. After which, the drill instructor would call our names and have us remove our masks. For the next part of the torture, we would have to eat a Mars bar, while we recited our names, ranks and serial numbers. Only after that, we were allowed to put our masks back on. There was a lot of puke filled gas masks that day. So, it is not one you ever forget. Jon was having his own memorable moment.

ACT 9

Our next class was not one, I had thought I would ever be doing. Especially as I was a medic. Our instructor this time, was a man who wore khakis, without insignia. We were seated next to a large desk. This was covered, in a myriad of what looked like explosive devices and triggering mechanisms. Some of which, were electronic but there were weird looking bottles of substances, with tubes coming out of them. Lots of stuff I personally had never seen before.

"Today we are going to show you how to stop an IED or at least give you a survivable opportunity" He said, as he lifted a cover on some complicated looking electronic mechanism.

"This, gentlemen are an electronic detonator fitted with four mercury switches and fitted with, a dead man’s Switch. There is an electronic timer and just for good measure, I also have it fitted with a mobile phone receiver. In other words, this device is set to explode, when the mobile phone fitted to this device, is called. It also, as I have told you been fitted with a dead man’s trigger, only this is in reverse. So that if it is picked up, then it will explode, there are four mercury switches that will detonate the device if there is any movement. Added to this, just for good measure, there is a countdown timer fitted with three trigger wires. In short it is a bomb disposal nightmare. If this was just connected to explosives in a small amount, say less than half a kilogram, and in an open area. We would then encase it in foam, and sandbags. After which we could detonate it safely. If not, we would be forced to try and separate the explosives from the trigger. However again I have fitted anti tamper needle firing pins. These are inside the actual detonators. They are made up of a slim tube with a fine needle balanced inside a magnetic casing, and should you attempt to remove the needle there is a ninety-nine-point nine percent, chance that you will connect to the external sleeve and BOOM! This is the most complex detonator system in the world. I know because I created it."

He looked around the table and I am sure that all he could see were extremely white faces. He continued.

"What you must do, is PRIORITISE the triggers. Which one will set it off first?" He said and emphasised prioritise.

I think it was meant to be a question, but it came out more like a rhetorical statement. So, no one talked. He continued again

"Depending on how much time is left on the timer, will also depend on which of the triggering mechanisms you tackle first. Let us assume that it has less than two minutes. Which would you disable first?" This time it sounded more like a question, so Lachie signalled with a small movement of his hand that he had an answer to this question.

"Yes?" said the instructor

"If the mobile phone is accessible, could you not simply remove the battery?"

"You might possible get away with that. Assuming that you do not trigger the mercury switches. You are on the correct track though. We would disable the mobile phone from receiving a signal thus blocking any calls. This is something that we do automatically these days, although we do not advertise it in the newspapers."

He lifted the cover on a small rectangular box and flipped up what looked like a two-inch flat satellite dish. Then continued.

"Obviously, it takes too much time, to shut down all the mobile phone towers and their networks. So, this little baby” His finger pointed directly at the box like gadget next to the explosive device.

“It will create a dead zone of about thirty meters around the device so unless the person, who wants it detonated, is standing within the blast zone, it will kill the signal. So yes, we FIRST set the blocker up. Then we look at the timer and there are many types of timers. Unfortunately for us no one attaches a wind-up clock to their bombs anymore. They are electronic and most work from a quartz crystal, that vibrates at a set rate of 32,768 vibrations per second. Stopping this normally is not an option as they tend to go right to zero when the power source is removed. As there is enough of a charge left in the quartz crystal to do that, and so we go BOOM once again. It is not like you see it, in the movies. Where the guy cuts the wire, and the clock stops with one tenth of a second to go. You cut the wire and BOOM. However, that said you can slow the cyclic rate of the quartz crystal down from 32,768 vibrations per second to about 1,000 vibrations per second. This should increase the time exponentially of the count down. This effectively means a few seconds becomes somewhere between three and six minutes. Again, this is dependent on the quality of the timer and how well it is screened. Trust me, that is a lot of extra time."

He paused, for breath and then asked a question

"So how do we achieve this?"

It was Hans that spoke up first, albeit over Lachie’s muttered "Run like fuck."

Hans said "We use a powerful electromagnetic field"

"Partially correct but first we must isolate the sleeve and pin detonator before we can use the electromagnetic field and the only quick way of doing that is to wrap the area of the pin detonator in lead shielding before we can create our own magnetic field. So, you use this stuff here as he pointed to a roll of grey tape. This stuff is made from lead particles, which are covered in a flexible poly resin. This allows it to provide magnetic shielding, without it being conductive to electrical current. Thus, not allowing it to go BOOM. Then we use this wonderful little device. This is not dissimilar to an MRI scanner that is used in hospitals only much smaller.

“This ring”

He said pointing to the six-inch plastic ring, that he held in his hand which had two wires connected to a large plastic box by a long cable.

"You lay on top of the LED readout or timer. This, when activated, will slow the timer down. Allowing you time to work on the other triggers."

He laid the ring down and then put a large spray can with a nozzle, on the table. There was a flexi hose attached, to the nozzle of the can. The tubing was not dissimilar to the type used in medicine.

"So, the next item to sort, are the mercury switches. What most people do not know about mercury, is that you can freeze it! The stuff that we have, in this deeply insulated container over here, is a mixture of dry ice, liquid nitrogen and the stuff that they use to get deep freezes to go to minus forty degrees, Isobutane. It gets mixed but only in the nozzle. When this spray is applied carefully, to a small amount of mercury. The mercury will then turn from its liquid state, to solid form. Now by using this hose here"

He said pointing to the surgical flexible tubing.

"And carefully running it around the areas where the mercury switches are and being careful, not to knock the needle and pin detonators. As this will also cause it to go BOOM. Now when you have the tubing around the switches you then need to make some holes in the tubing either side of the switch. I use the point of a jeweller’s screwdriver, which I then heat with a cigarette lighter. Then I melt some holes in the tube. When that is done, turn the nozzle of the can, on. So, that you have a steady flow, of the freezing gas. Make sure you do not have a naked flame near this, or it will go BOOM. Keep the gases flowing at a steady rate for at least two minutes! Then you can move on to the final switch. This will normally be a simple pressure switch, attached to the bottom of the device. This will be spring loaded and will detonate the device, if lifted. So, at this point with the clock running slow and the phone disabled, the mercury frozen solid. The needle pins are shielded. You can then carefully and gently, slide a thin sheet of non-conductive material under the device, if you feel it snag more than one millimetre, then you are fucked! There is only one way to move the device to a safe area and that is to take whatever it is sat upon other than that you will have to then make the choice of which wire to cut on the main detonator, which will be the pin and sleeve detonator. There will no doubt, be many wires, encased in some form of housing. This they will have done, so that you do not know which wire goes where? At this point you will probably have three, four or five wires going to the detonator. Two will be the actual circuit and the other two or three, will be alternative live, or duds. You will have to choose the one, which will be the ground, or the negative. Not great odds but a lot better, than none."

I was beginning to feel, that they most definitely had chosen the wrong guy in picking me. I was not made for hero shit. I loved my life just the way it was. I guessed that many in the other teams would be thinking the same as me, and perhaps some others in Team Seven.

"If you will follow me through here" he said

And then he walked through an opening in the partition into another area. There were four large cubicles and inside each was a table, there looked to be a similar device to the one, that he, had just explained to us. It was sat on a large glass table. There was also a toolbox on the floor. Each cubical was made from a steel frame and built using large glass panels. With one of these panels, used for a door.

"Each of you, have five minutes, to defuse these LIVE devices. They are not fakes! THEY WILL EXPLODE!"

I put my hand up and said "I am a medic and a non-combatant"

To which several large men appeared and bodily put all four of us inside our individual glass boxes. Then they locked the doors behind us.

"People this is NOT a drill; these will explode once I start the timers. Your choice stop them or not"

I stood in front of my device and looked to my right I could see Lachie was already busy working on his, as was Hans on my left. How could they do this to us? We are supposed to be on their side. My mind went into panic mode. I switched on the phone blocker and shielded the pin detonators then put the MRI device around the digital timer. This started to slow the clock. However, I knew I could not do the mercury in the time. That is, it. I die here for what, Jesus, this is mad, I thought.

Well, there was no point in my crying about it, so I sat down on the floor. How the hell was I supposed to get out of this? Then it struck me I opened the toolbox and there was a large hammer there. I could smash the door and then escape. Perhaps with enough time left to get Lachie out? I smashed the hammer against the door several times and all I got for my efforts was a sore wrist. I looked at the timer, which was slowly counting down from one minute and forty-two seconds.

"Fuck Fuck Fuck" I shouted to no one in particular.

Then, I had a strange epiphany type moment. If the gas in the canister could freeze Mercury, perhaps it would do the same to the glass and make it more brittle. So, I sprayed the gas, onto the middle of the door until it started to frost over. Then I gave it an almighty blow with the hammer. This time the hammer bounced out of my grip and hit me on my knee.

"Shit Fuck Bugger!" I shouted and hopped around on my one good leg.

One minute and two seconds. Time was really slipping away. Of course, the problem was not that the glass would not freeze, it was the size of the door. It acted like a heat sink only in reverse. The area of the door was too big. So, I sprayed what was left of the gas on the door lock and handle. Twenty-three seconds I picked up the hammer and with every fibre in my body, I swung at the lock, which shattered into a million pieces and the door swung open. I went to Lachie's door and unlocked it and then to Hans and finally Jon's. Both Hans and Lachie, exited like me and we ran towards the main exit.

"Jon! Come on man. We have to go NOW!" I shouted at him.

"No, I can do this. Leave me it’s OK" he replied.

"Leave him Andy” shouted Lachie "There is no time"

We had just reached the main doorway into the room, when we heard a soft thud and whoosh. This was followed closely, by three more

"Jesus Lachie. How the hell were we, as untrained bomb disposal folks, supposed to stop them from going off?"

He looked back at me and spoke

"We were not"

"You are correct" said the voice from behind us. It was the instructor.

"It was an impossible task" he paused and then continued.

"Have you ever watched Star Trek? The episode when Captain Kirk beats the simulator in the Kobayashi Maru test. It was designed by Spock to be an impossible task. But Kirk beats it because he cheated. However, because the task had been made an absolute unwinnable task, the only way to win, was in fact to cheat. We wanted to see if you could think outside of the box and to improvise when the pressure is on. Well done."

I looked at him and said

"What about Jon? He stayed in his room when the bombs went off".

"Oh yes, Ahhh well not a problem, that's life" he replied

I wanted to kill him, for allowing a man to die on an exercise. I had no love for Jon, but for him to bite the bullet on a training exercise, seemed a bit extreme. Then Jon walked into the room covered from head to toe in bright yellow neon paint.

"It was only a test and just so you know. You are the only team to ever have walked away not covered in paint. Well, most of you did."

"Jon? Why did you not run when you had the chance?"

"I almost had it" he said.

Then he launched himself at the instructor, grabbing him around the throat. We managed to pull him off before he totally crushed the guy’s windpipe. The instructor struggled to his feet and then said

"That will be all for today"

The bus was waiting for us and they did not seem to mind that one of us was a day-glow man. There was almost no conversation as we drove back to the accommodation. Jon was sulking. When we arrived, we went up to our respective rooms and showered. I sat on the edge of my bed and thought hard about today’s events. Trying to figure out just what the hell I was doing here, at this place. I came up with no answer to myself. So, I dried myself and dressed in Jeans, I threw on a Ban the Bomb T-shirt, along with a pair of training shoes. My hands were still shaking from the last event of the day. I knew it was just an adrenalin rush, caused by being scared out of my wits, by the bomb disposal lesson. I combed my hair and went down to the bar.

"Large Jameson's please"

The steward poured the drink "Ice?"

"No thanks, the only thing I want in that is MORE!"

"Bad day?" He asked

I did not bother answering at first, then realised it was not this guy’s fault.

"You could say that" I raised my glass to him

"Cheers" and then took a sip and let the Irish Whisky sit in my mouth before allowing it to slide down my throat and enjoying the feeling of warmth that it gave, followed by the smooth taste. I sat down in one of the armchairs and waited for the others to come down, so that we could all eat dinner at the same time. I was sat with my back to the bar.

"Double Laphroaig Sixteen, Please"

"Hi Lachie" I said over my shoulder"

"You want a drink Andy"

"I already got one thanks" as I raised my glass without turning around

"Looks like you could use a refill Andy"

"Another Jameson's for my friend there, too please, he said to the Barman

Then he brought the drinks to where I was sat and put them down on the table.

"Pretty fucked up sort of day mate." He said as he pulled another armchair over and sat down.

"And then some” I replied

I poured what was left of my first drink, into the glass of the second one that Lachie had got for me. Then I took a large swig and sat back into the chair.

"When did you realise that that bomb was unstoppable?" Lachie Asked?

"I never did. I just knew that I could not do it Lachie. I was fucking scared Lachie! I am supposed to save people by treating the ailments. If I wanted to become a Bomb Disposal Expert, I would have joined REME or your lot mate. You know me mate. I am not normally an easily scared sort of person, but I genuinely thought, that the bloody thing was going to blow up and plaster me all over the inside of the glass cage!"

"Well, if it’s any consolation to you. So, did I Andy. I had all the parts done with about two minutes to go. However, the dead man’s pin was impossible as they had made a slight rebate for it to sit in, on the table. So, there was no way to slide anything under it. Also, I noticed that the MRI device did not slow the timer as much as the one he showed us did."

"But you never went postal on the door like me?"

"No but I was planning to sit under the table when the clock got to thirty seconds. The table being made from the same stuff as the bomb proof rooms, they put us in. So, what gave you the idea for breaking the glass door?"

"I never broke the door; I broke the lock mate. And the 'Idea' well that was just blind panic and a light bulb moment"

Hans came into the bar with Jon

"Drinks for anyone?" Hans said to us

"I'm fine thanks Hans"

"I'll have another thanks" said Lachie

"Gin and tonic for me please and what would you like Jon?" Hans said to the barman and then asked Jon.

"Can I just have a soda water please with Ice and lemon, thank you Hans" Jon Replied. When they had their drinks, they came and joined us at our table.

"Are you OK Jon?" I asked him as he sat down

"I am now, but I really thought I had bought the farm, when it went off. It was pretty intense for me."

"Why did you not run when I opened your door?" I asked

"I just thought I could do it"

I left it at that, as from his tone, I thought he sounded tad bitter about it all. I decided not to push him on it. Hans said nothing. He just sat there with his drink.

"Gentlemen dinner is being served in the dining room" said the steward

"Best go eat then" said Lachie.

His appetite was never damaged by anything and the very thought of it made me smile. We all sat down at the same table which was set for six people

"Perhaps Mummy and Daddy Bear are coming to dinner?" Lachie said

"Nah Lachie but it could be those two over there" I said, pointing to the two men that came in the room and headed towards our table.

"Good evening folks" I said

"Care to join us"

Lachie said in his usual tongue in cheek way. As none of the other three tables in the room were set for dinner

"Thanks" said the taller of the two.

The tall one, who was about six foot seven inches, was dressed in jeans and a dress shirt with a blazer over. He wore a pair of brown semi-formal shoes, on his feet. The other man was almost a foot shorter and looked like he did not work out too much. He was dressed in a pair of light tan chinos and a dress shirt. He wore a pair of desert combat boots on his feet. He was almost bald and about forty years old, which also made him look a lot older than his friend, who looked approximately half his age. Unlike the smaller fat guy, the tall man, had a full head of wavy brown hair. His haircut was a good bit too long for the regulation military cut.

"Thanks that would be nice" the short one said

I kicked Lachie's foot under the table, and he gave me a slight nod indicating that he was aware of my doubts over these two new folks, who had come to dinner. Because we four were sat two aside on opposite sides of the table the two newcomers had to sit at either end of the table, in the Mama and Papa bear seats.

"Hi all" said the taller of the two."

We all said hello and were interrupted by the waiter

"Fillet steak or steamed salmon?"

All of us ordered the steak, and each of us told the waiter how we would like it cooked. As we were waiting for the food to arrive, I took a good look at our new guests, whilst they exchanged small talk with the rest of the table. The short bald one must work in an office as his skin was very pale and he was a bit overweight for the military. So, he must either be a civilian working on the base, or he worked within the intelligence services. The taller of the two could be military, but there was just something about him that did not click. In a way he was being over friendly, although neither of them had offered their names. My first impression of him that he might be a civilian contractor, working within one of our security services. The steaks came and we ate and chatted about the events of the day. It is surprising how hungry you get after thinking you were going to die! The steak was nice, and I cleared my plate, in fact I nearly ordered another but decided against it. I drank a glass of iced water that was served from a large pitcher on the table. I decided against desert. I tapped Lachie's foot again and then excused myself from the table. I got up and walked through to the bar. I chose against having another alcoholic drink, as I wanted to keep a clear head.

"Tonic water

Impressum

Verlag: BookRix GmbH & Co. KG

Texte: Kenn Gordon
Bildmaterialien: Kenn Gordon
Cover: Kenn Gordon
Lektorat: Kenn Gordon
Satz: Kenn Gordon
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 22.12.2020
ISBN: 978-3-7487-6926-2

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Widmung:
I dedicate this book, to my Mother and my Father who have always encouraged me in everything I did. To my long-suffering wife Susan, who has put up with my childish tantrums, when I cannot find a way to express, the ideas that are flying around inside my head. To all my sons from both my marriages Yjan, Lachlan, Mark and Adrian. I hope that I have provided the tools that you require, to make a way for yourself in life. To my family and friends who have supported me, by buying my music and now my books Kenn Gordon