GAME OF JUSTICE

By Mark Radford

KINDLE EDITION

© Copyright Mark Radford 2011

All characters are fictional and any resemblance to persons alive or dead is entirely coincidental

All rights reserved

No parts of this publication may be reproduced in any form without the permission of the author.

Was published previously in 2007 as a paperback format by Exposure Publishing

CHAPTER ONE

Another tranquil day had embraced the animal kingdom in the countryside.  Birds hovered happily in their flights of fancy whilst hares munched away on what precious pieces of grass they could find in the almost barren fields.  There was a time when grass was aplenty but many years of ignorance by the past regime of civilised governments had allowed global warming to wreak its havoc.  A sunset was in motion over the countryside, the light diminishing.  On the fringe of the woods, a man lay on his stomach, partly hidden by an embankment; the scrutiny of the hares seemed to have kept his interest for a little while.  Slowly, he reached out for the rifle at his side and silently aimed it in the direction of the hares.  A short pause between hunter and prey as his finger rested on the trigger.  A shrill shot reverberated through the air.  The peaceful sanctuary now thrown into chaos, birds screeched in fright and the hares scampered away scared.  The man jumped quickly to his feet.

‘Gotcha’ he exclaimed in delight as he punched the air with his fist.  The wait had paid off.  He bent down, picked up his bag and hastened toward the downed prey.  He grabbed the hare, stuffed its lifeless body quickly into his bag and started his retreat from the scene.

‘Stand right where you are and surrender.’  A voice boomed out through a loudhailer.  The hunter had only gone a short distance and his face froze in fear at the order.  He knew that he had been rumbled by the A.P.A. and instantly threw his bag to the ground and made a run for it.  Engines started up, spotlights flashed on in the faded light of day and the hunter saw jeeps entering one side of the field in pursuit of him.  He raced toward the gate on the other side of the field when the purple-clad foot soldiers suddenly bounded over the wall by the gate.  They made rapid strides towards him, their guns at the ready, and any hopes he had of escape swiftly diminished.  He stopped running and knew he was defeated.  The hunter raised his hands as the jeeps jerked to a stop beside him.  Blinding beams from the spotlights rained down on him as soldiers piled out of the jeeps to take him prisoner.  Two soldiers grabbed him violently; his hands were thrust behind his back, the backs of his knees kicked hard by military boots, the searing pain forcing him to kneel as he was handcuffed.  Another soldier roughly jabbed a monitor to the back of his neck and scanned it, in search of identity.  The machine beeped his particulars from the microchip embedded in his neck and the soldier signalled to one of the jeeps.  A jeep door creaked open and slammed closed and the hunter was aware of someone approaching him.  Squinting up into the blinding spotlight, he tried to focus on the figure now looming over him.  He stared in horror as he recognised the battle-hardened face and cropped cut grey hair from the media reports on TV and the newspapers.  General Osti Skara was a heavyset man with a fearsome reputation.  Skara took the ID reader from the soldier.

‘Morgan Forrester,’ he hissed menacingly, reading the name on the monitor as he eyed up the hunter.  ‘Did you foolishly believe that the Animals Protection Army would allow you to get away with this?’

‘No, I thought I had it all planned out.’  Forrester responded, and received a savage punch in answer.

‘You address the General as sir,’ growled the soldier.  The hunter felt the warmth of blood seeping from his lip where the blow had struck him.

‘Not only are you too stupid to succeed with your crime, but you also showed no respect for an officer upholding the law of the British President,’ the general spat disgustedly.  A soldier walked up to General Skara and opened the hunter’s discarded bag.  He pulled out the dead hare for Skara to see.  ‘You have violated the law on a serious level, Mr Forrester. And you know the penalty for the slaughter of animals for food consumption under the 2020 treaty.’

‘The people should have the freedom of choice to eat meat if they wish,’ a defiant Forrester spoke out to the charge.  A barrage of blows by soldiers struck him hard at the protest, and the pain became unbearable.

‘Not when we had won the war and introduced the treaty.’  Skara sharply reminded Forrester and raised his voice.  ‘You need to be taught a harsh lesson, Mr Forrester, as once again you have failed to address me properly and you clearly have no regards for the laws.  Prison will be too good for scum like you,’ the venom of the general’s words stung Forrester.  He tried to get up from his kneeled position and argue his case but was rewarded by a further barrage of kicks and punches.  Skara looked at the soldiers around him.  ‘I think this man, Morgan Forrester, should do the game of justice.’  The men cheered their approval for the General as much as for his plan for the hunter.

‘What’s the hell is this game of justice…sir?’ Forrester spoke out in his pain and remembered to address the officer to avoid further beatings.

‘All in good time, you will see,’ General Skara said with a hideous glee.  ‘Take him away.’

Forrester started to be dragged away towards a jeep.  ‘No! Wait!’ he protested, fearful of the general’s plans for him.  Skara laughed wickedly.

CHAPTER TWO

Carl Treyer hated call-outs at the crack of dawn.  He would much rather be at home, snuggled up in bed with Selena, his fiancée, but duty called.  The sun had raise, its warmth penetrated through the gentle breeze blowing on this mild Autumn day.  Carl made his way towards the crime scene on the Salisbury Downs and walked up to the entrance of an enclosure, surrounded by a perimeter fence and approached the party of military police personnel.

‘Carl Treyer, Military Crimes Officer.’  He authoritatively held out his official police badge for inspection.  Twenty-five years of age, with his swept back, light brown hair, his face boyish and it often took a few moments for most people to acknowledge his authority as a result. But the MPs soon saw that his credentials were in order.

‘Do please follow us sir,’ a member of the MP personnel advised him.  They entered through the gate into the open countryside enclosure.  Carl always had a fascination over his job as an MCO, especially being a civilian detective with no military background.  A previous government from years gone by had changed the jurisdiction over crimes committed on military lands after the many public outcries on recruits whose deaths were left unexplained.  The decision to demilitarise the investigations was taken to avoid future cover ups.  Carl never knew what to expect on these call–outs, but the job became rightfully his when he achieved top-class status at police training college with his superior knowledge of military law and a keen eye for analysis of criminal motives.   It helped that his father had been a military man before he was killed in the battle for democracy that led to the country’s present administration.  As they approached the crime scene itself, Carl saw that the forensic team were already on site and he spotted a few colleagues in quiet discussions.  Carl glanced around and saw that his team were surrounded by soldiers, their guns at the ready as they kept a lookout for lions that could predate for more victims.   He entered the military cordon and was greeted by the sight of a naked man’s body laid on the ground, bloodied, huge chunks of flesh torn away from it, maul marks clearly visible.  The face was no longer identifiable.

‘Christ, what the hell happened here Phil?’ Carl asked one of his colleagues.

‘It seems someone in a drunken stupor decided to strip off and get into the enclosure with the lions,’ came the response.  ‘A whisky bottle was found nearby.’

Carl took in the surroundings, first running his gaze along the perimeter fence.  It was high.

‘How could a drunken man climb that fence?’    ‘He didn’t,’ Phil remarked.  ‘One of the soldiers found a loose piece in the fencing and he thinks that was how the guy got in.  It’s plausible considering that the bottle was found near the fence.’

‘I don’t think so,’ Carl shook his head. ‘Not when there are signs saying the fence was electrified.  I noticed them on the way in.’

‘I can explain that sir.’  A military policeman spoke up who had kept close to the civilian party and been eyeing them during this conversation.

‘Please do.’  Carl’s interest was piqued.

‘We interviewed Sergeant Dickens who is responsible for the maintenance of the perimeter fencing after we discovered the loose piece.  He informed us that the electricity was switched off yesterday to allow maintenance work to take place on the section in question.  However, there was no time for the work to be carried out or to put the power back on at the end of the day.  This is an unfortunate incident.’  The MP gave the facts with clarity.

‘Yes, very unfortunate,’ replied Carl.  ‘Why was there no time for a simple routine task?’  He enquired further.

‘Classified military commitments,’ the man answered sharply.  Was the MP trying to eliminate their line of questioning?  It concerned Carl that such a task to keep predators in their enclosure wasn’t a priority.

‘Who raised the alarm?’ Phil asked, a sudden change in tack used in the hopes of steering the questioning back around to where they wanted it.  They weren’t finished yet.

‘The night sentry at the watchtower,’ the MP pointed out the tower, in the near distance.  ‘He heard screams coming from this direction and shone the spotlight here in time to see the lions attack the man.  He fired shots to disperse them and raised the alarm.’

‘We’ll need to speak with him as well.’  Treyer noted politely but firmly.

‘I’m afraid that’s not possible at the moment.  He’s been taken off duty and reprimanded over the incident. ’

‘You’ll have to make him available to us,’ Carl responded bluntly.  ‘This is a police matter and we need all witnesses present. You cannot interfere in the investigation and it troubles me that you have taken such action in my absence and without my jurisdiction.’

‘You will have to take the matter up with his commanding officer, Captain Bridger.’  The MP began to look annoyed.  ‘How much longer will your people be?  We don’t want the men’s safety compromised as the lions could return at any time.’

‘Fifteen minutes at the most.’  A member of the forensic team who was within earshot of the questioning had called this out.

‘We do need to escort your party off the premises,’ advised the MP, satisfied that the scene is being wrapped up.  ‘Speak to Captain Bridger.’

‘Oh we will do so very shortly’ remarked Carl.  ‘Thank you for your assistance.  Could you step back please?’  The MP moved swiftly a short distance away from them, to allow them to finish off their investigation at the scene.  He kept within earshot.  It didn’t escape Carl’s attention.

‘Keep him back.’  He advised Phil over the MP.

Carl walked over nearer to the badly mauled body and mulled over the information that was given to him.  He scrutinised the body closely, deep in thought.  Would the man really have been so badly mauled that he had chunks of flesh missing if his screams had been heard straight away by the night sentry?  How did he get here?  They were miles from the nearest road and surely, he should have been caught sooner trespassing on military land.  These and many more unanswered questions went through Carl’s mind.  He watched the forensic team combed over the area and the body with their nanotechnology gadgets.  Where forensics and an autopsy in the old days took many hours separately, such matters now came to a swifter conclusion, the nanotechnology more precise in its delivered analysis than the human eye.

‘Sir, you should see this.’  A member of the team called out to Carl.  He quickly looked away and observed that the MP tried in vain to get closer but that Phil kept him at arm’s length.  Carl went to the female assistant who had summoned him.  She drew his attention to the victim’s lower right leg through her reader.  It showed a bullet lodged deeply in the torn calf muscle.

‘Get it out.’  He instructed her and it confirmed his suspicion of what happened.  A murder had taken place?

CHAPTER THREE

Carl turned the key and opened the door of his house in London; an open plan lounge with soft decorative furnishing that welcomed him after his investigation of the mauled victim.  The place had a feminine touch to it; fresh flowers in a vase adjourned the coffee table by the beige leather sofa that faced the latest entertainment suite of a television and music centre, supported by white fluffy carpets and a brown silken rug.  The room was scented lightly of lavender oils and everything packed neatly away into their places.

‘Hello darling.  Need warming up?’ a softly spoken female voice called out from the kitchen as he closed the door.

‘More than anything Selena,’ Carl sighed, happy to be home.

‘I’ll put the kettle on then,’

He smiled at her little tease as he took his jacket off and made his way to the kitchen to find his sweetheart.  Selena looked up at him with dark eyes set in her lovely delicate face.  He still felt the sparkle between them.   She was dressed in her working suit.

‘Oh you poor thing,’ she mocked him and duly obliged him with a cuddle, her petite frame fitting nicely in his arms.  She finished off with a sensual kiss.  ‘How was it?’

‘The kiss? Eight out of ten,’ he enthused, knowing what she really wanted to know.

‘The call–out, dopey,’ she scolded, and playfully slapped his arm.

‘Not a pretty sight to view.  A naked guy mauled by lions with flesh chewed off’ putting the subject matter forward to her.  He trusted her with the details of his cases and Selena sometimes offered her perspective views on them.

‘OH MY GOD!  Are you okay?’ she enquired, now in a serious mood.

‘Yes I’m fine, but there’s something about it that bothers me’ Carl watched Selena go over to the boiled kettle and pour him some coffee.  ‘The MP at the scene tried to convince me that the guy was a drunk who had made his way into the enclosure that held the lions, miles from the nearest road and without any soldiers having actually seen him get there.’  Selena returned to his side and handed him his mug.  ‘Yet there was a bullet in his leg and no evidence of any other bullets or cartridges or any other signs of shooting!’

‘So you think its murder?’  She asked.  Carl nodded.  ‘Any idea of who the victim is?’

‘No, face got chewed off and the microchip in his neck eaten away.’

‘Oh please don’t!’  Selena backed mentally away from the grisly details, the image stuck in her mind.  ‘What happens now?’ her voice quivered a little.

‘I’ll have to see if I can establish some kind of motive.’  He answered.  Selena walked over to her work bag on the kitchen table, opened it and pulled out a notepad and pen.

‘Is there anything that I can report on for now?’ she asked.

‘Hold fire on that until I get the forensic reports back’ he grinned at her.  ‘You know that you always get first dibs from me.’  She put the pad away but was itching to get the scoop on this new story but she had never betrayed Carl’s wishes.

Selena was a senior journalist for a national newspaper and Carl had never forgotten the day that they first met.  He was working on a murder scene and she was one of the journalists reporting on the case.  The attraction between them was instant and mutual with a romance that quickly blossomed after a friendly exchange of flirting between them when their paths crossed several times in their respective jobs.  They had been together now for four years and were engaged to be married.   The shared information from their professional lives came into play when a notorious serial killer that continually evaded capture took a shine to Selena who had reported heavily on his crimes.  He was deeply offended when he found that she was dating Carl, a police officer and vowed to kill him.  Selena confided in Carl, the chilling threats he had made against him and together they pooled their resources to catch him.  They succeeded and he was captured, later to died in prison.  They knew then that they made a good team but respected the confidentiality of the information from each others profession where required from that day onwards.  Selena looked at her watch.

‘I have got to get moving’ she hurriedly picked up her bag and kissed him on her way out.  ‘Love you lots’ she called out after him.  He responded with the same before the door opened and closed.

Carl sat for a few moments, contemplating the case and sipping his coffee when the doorbell rang.  He smiled, thinking that Selena had perhaps forgotten her keys again and went over to the front door hoping for another kiss.  He opened it and was a bit disappointed to see a man in motorcycle gear.

‘Courier service for a Mr Treyer’ the man asked.

‘That’s me.’

‘Can you sign here, please?’ the man said as he handed Treyer the paperwork.  He signed it and took the package.

Carl closed the door and examined the handwriting on the package, but didn’t recognise it.  He opened it up to find a DVD case that simply read Want to solve your morning case?  It was hand-printed and sparked Carl’s curiosity immediately.  He opened the case and went and put the mini disc in his DVD player.  Switching on the TV and grabbing the remote, he sat down and pressed play.

Shaky images came to life on the screen and Carl saw a group of soldiers surrounding a man on his knees.  He also saw the well-known figure of General Osti Skara approach the man.

‘Morgan Forrester’ he menacingly spoke the man’s name and Treyer quickly grabbed a pad and pen, jotting the name down.  He watched, sickened at the brutality that Forrester was being subjected to.  ‘What was that he said?  Game of justice?’ Treyer whispered to himself. He watched Forrester being dragged away by the soldiers.  Several moments of interference crackled on the screen as a camera was switched off and a new footage appeared on the screen.  This time, Forrester was naked and it was night time.  General Skara appeared once again.

‘You were a hunter Forrester but in the game of justice, you now become the hunted’ he spoke fiercely into the man’s face.  ‘First, we have to even the score between hunter and prey.’  Skara nodded to a soldier as he stepped back.  A shot was fired into Forrester’s leg.  The man screamed pain and fear.  The soldiers released him, and Skara said simply, ‘Run!’  They all laughed at Forrester’s attempts to run.  The images on the TV stopped.  Carl was horrified at what he had just witnessed and wondered how did our once great nation resort to such savagery?  More importantly, he recognised the background of a watchtower alongside a perimeter fence and faced a problem.  A high ranking officer was implicated in the crime of murder.  How was he going to implement the arrest of General Skara, a firm friend and a key man of the President’s hierarchy?

CHAPTER FOUR

It all started in the late 1990s when The Animal Liberation Front waged a campaign of attacks against the Huntingdon Life Sciences group and their customer base using petrol bombs.  A member of the British government at the time stated that the ALF tactics were becoming more military like.  Was he to know how prophetic his very words were to become?  Over the years, as more British troops were sent overseas to fight the battles in Iraq and the Middle East, the governments were fighting their own cause against the rising tide of Islamic terrorists.  Under their noses, a radical change was happening.  The expansion of the European Union with newer countries joining had allowed battle hardened mercenaries from them to enter Britain as free citizens with no restrictions attached.  A secret army was slowly built up with their assistance under the fanatical wing of the emerging Ozone Party that preached Green issues and for the country to become completely environment friendly in the combat against global warming.  It became a political party, engaged in local and national elections and took giant strides towards being the main opposition party.  One day without warning in 2020, they declared war on democracy, were ready to inflict their own authority and unleashed their army on the country.  The government, whose army was primarily stationed overseas, was powerless against them.  The people swiftly conquered by the Ozone Party after bloodbath battles.  The government was overthrown and the Royal family was banished and forced to live in exile.  Overseas troops were too late to return and save their civilian government.  Britain had fallen to military rule and Jeffery Masterson, the leader of the Ozone Party declared himself President.  The party’s hidden agendas came to the forefront that led to their army being reassigned as the Animals Protection Army.  The animal kingdom gained more rights than humans.  Laws were passed making the consumption of meat and fish illegal, the citizens of the British Presidency were forced to become instant vegetarians or face harsh penalties.    Those who revolted and protested the issues were quickly squashed.  Fear gripped the people of the country as the authority of the President took a stronghold with a hard-line rule.  The Ozone Party had now been in power for seven years.

Carl switched off the TV, retrieved the disc and put it back in the DVD case.  The repulsion over Forrester’s treatment at the hands of a sadist soon turned to anger.  He thought of the sacrifice that people like his father had made in trying to save their country from a hostile takeover.  His father had paid with his life.  The DVD evidence was enough to convince him that the Ozone Party was living beyond the law when regulations were in place to put people like Forrester on trial and imprison him for his crime.  He knew that he faced a long battle ahead of him to bring General Skara to justice for the murder of Morgan Forrester.  Carl picked up his mobile and dialled his office.

‘Phil, I just received evidence about the mauled victim this morning.  His name is Morgan Forrester and he was murdered,’ he relayed his message.  ‘I am on my way in with it, so get the briefing room ready.’  He hung up the phone, reached for his car keys and was out the door.

Speeding along towards his office on the motorway, Carl was cut off by a black van swerving sharply across his lane. He jerked the steering wheel and put on the brakes, bleeping the horn at the insane van driver.  Another vehicle alongside him in the outside lane edged closer to his car, its windows heavily tinted.

‘Oh Shit’ shouted Treyer, unable to see the driver and knew that he was in trouble.  The car bashed into him, forcing him to leave the road.  He quickly brought his car to a halt and saw that the van had stopped and APA soldiers were emerging from the back doors like a plague of locusts.  The car door was then jerked open and the barrel of a gun thrust into his face.

‘Do not try anything foolish, Mr Treyer,’ the voice commanded him.  It confirmed his instinct that the altercation with the car was staged.  ‘Get out of the car.’

Carl did as he was told.  No sooner had he got out, he was handcuffed by a soldier and a blindfold cast across his eyes.  He felt himself pulled away from his vehicle and struck the hard floor of the van as he was bundled inside before the vehicle drove off.  For the first time in years, Carl felt fear creep up on him.  Was his life in danger at the hands of the APA?

CHAPTER FIVE

A few hours had passed since his abduction by the APA.  The van had pulled to a stop.  The doors opened and he was taken into custody.  In his blindfolded state, Carl took care to make a mental recollection of the surroundings around him.  He walked up some stairs and then heard the pound of feet from his captors and himself on what sounded like a marble floor, several turns in direction made.  Wherever they were, it was a large place.  The footsteps became fewer as the men trailed off by numbers and he was finally brought to a halt.  The handcuffs and blindfold removed from him.  He was standing beside a large swimming pool in a room that represented a replica of a Roman bath with its columns and archway and he was facing General Skara.  Soldiers were positioned at the doorway.

‘Mr Treyer, do accept my apology for the harsh treatment that brought you here.’ he spoke humbly, acting the golden ambassador.

‘I should not have been accosted like this at all in my authority as an MCO.’  Carl complained strongly.

‘Quite right but it’s a question of national security Mr Treyer.’  Skara remarked with ease.

‘Do tell me, in what way?’  He demanded of Skara.

‘You have greatly upset Captain Bridger this morning with your persistence to know what the military commitments were last night before the unfortunate man’s death.  You should know that we can’t divulge classified information.’

‘I was merely following a line of investigation that is my rightful duty.’  Carl fired back the broadside.  ‘Why was I was refused permission to speak with the night sentry?’  He enquired further, already knowing the answer.

‘Captain Bridger was within his right on what is clearly an open and shut case.  A drunken man wanders into the lion’s enclosure and…’  The General’s words got halted by a sudden entry to the pool room by a senior soldier who had waved for his urgent attention.  He walked up to Skara and whispered something into his ear before handing him a palm held computer.  The General pressed a key on it and a DVD started to play.

It mortified Carl as he recognised the sounds of the mini disk that he had watched earlier.  He had it with him in the car and it’s been intercepted by the APA soldiers that kidnapped him.  The evidence that linked Skara to Forrester’s murder was now out of his hands.

‘Who handed you this DVD?’  Skara sternly asked Carl after viewing its contents and passed the laptop back to the soldier that brought it in.

‘I don’t know.  It was delivered to me by courier this morning in a package.’  He answered.

‘You are very sure about that.’  Skara spoke and watched Carl’s reaction closely.

‘Yes, it was a motorcycle courier.  If your men had me watched, you would have picked up on that.’  He responded, fearful of the new implication.

‘We will check that out Mr Treyer.  This changes everything.’  Skara replied and summoned the soldier closer.  He whispered instructions into his ear that the soldier acknowledged and who started to walk away from the two men.  ‘Destroy the evidence.’  The General called out after him.

‘I have a duplicate copy in a safe place.’  Carl said instantly and soldiers began to move in on him.

Skara smiled and waved the men back to their positions.

‘Do you now?’  He responded with interest.  ‘You see, these men are prepared to protect me with their lives Mr Treyer.  Do you really think you can arrest me?’  He spoke smugly.  ‘At what Cost?’

A man was promptly escorted into the room by guards, dressed only in his underpants.

‘Please join me.’  Skara indicated the patio kind of chairs facing the pool and he sat down in one of them.  Carl obediently followed suit.

‘Let the entertainment begin!’  The General gleefully announced and made a signal to the guards who took the man to the edge of the pool and retreated away.  ‘Please take a swim while you still have the freedom.  That is an order.’  Skara called out to the man who then jumped into the pool and started to swim.  Skara turned to Carl.

‘Humour me, Mr Treyer.  What crime has this man committed?’  He pointed to the swimmer.

‘I can’t say without the facts, General,’ he answered uneasily.  Skara smiled.  Carl sensed that Skara’s idea of entertainment was of the sadistic nature after what happened with Morgan Forrester.  He feared for the safety of the swimmer and his own life.

‘Let me give you the facts’ and he rose to his feet.

‘This man was caught fishing.’  Skara spoke while he eyed the swimmer doing strokes.  ‘If I mention to you, the game of justice,’ Skara turned to face Carl and seemed pleased to see the look of horror in his face.  ‘Guards’ he shouted out his command.

Soldiers marched out.  They brandished large steel rods with hooks on lines.

‘General, what is this?!  You can’t do this!’ protested Carl, who stood up from his chair in an attempt to intervene.  He was forcefully pushed back into his chair and restrained.  The swimmer ceased his strokes at seeing the fate in store as the soldiers branched out around the pool.

‘Start fishing,’ ordered Skara and the lines were cast into the pool.  The technology of the heat seeking hooks homed in with precision on its target.  The soldiers started to tug hard on their rods.  The screams started.  Flesh being torn apart as the man fought for his life, he was swallowing water as he desperately attempted to escape the hooks.  The water slowly turned into shades of red as blood filtered from the body.

‘Why have you done this?’  Carl gazed at the horrific spectacle before him.

‘It is all down to what life throws at you, Mr Treyer.’ The General continued to watch the slow demise of the swimmer.  ‘My childhood was wiped out,’ he snapped his fingers, ‘in the blink of an eye.  War hardens you…the things that I have seen,’ Skara’s tone was bitter.  ‘It’s way beyond your wildest nightmares.’

‘So because you had an unhappy childhood, these people deserve to die like this?’ screeched Carl.  ‘What’s wrong with you?  What about the laws?’

‘What use are laws?  My mother was raped in front of me as a child and shot afterwards by rebel soldiers from the war in my own country.  They tossed her aside like a broken puppet so why should I grant anyone else justice?’  He sharply rebuked Carl’s plea for clemency.  The screams from the pool had subsided and Skara watched the final moments of the man’s death as the body stopped twitching with life.  ‘Clear up this mess’ he calmly ordered his men and turned to Carl.  ‘Let this be a lesson to you Mr Treyer, not to darken my path.’

Carl felt a chill creep up his spine at the blatant threat issued.

‘Why? Are you afraid of the law?’

‘No, because you’re hiding the traitor who gave you the disc’ he replied.  That threw Carl for a moment.

‘But…I told you I don’t know who sent the disc.’

‘I really do hope for your sake that’s true, Mr Treyer.  I would hate for Selena to be harmed.’  Skara ruthlessly laid down his intentions.

‘You leave her out of this!’ he desperately warned the general.

‘She’s my assurance for now that you will hold your tongue.’ Skara held out a hand.  The duty soldier next to the General pulled up a mobile from his belt clip and dialled a number before handing it to his leader.

‘General Skara speaking.  Put the woman on.’ The mobile was passed to Carl.

‘Hello?’ he asked, cold sweat and terror sending ice up his spine, and then he heard Selena’s cry for help.

CHAPTER SIX

Carl had been returned to the point of his capture to find everything inside the car had been left intact except for the missing DVD case.  He was able to drive the car thanks to the invention of impenetrable steel that was used in car manufacture; making car bodywork repairs a thing of the past.  His first thought was to get home and see if he could find clues on the package paper itself as to its origin.  Selena’s life depended on it.

No sooner had he opened the front door of home than he saw the destruction that greeted him.  Paperwork was strewn across the floor, opened drawers dumped on the ground and furniture upturned.  The place had been ransacked.  Carl’s immediate suspicion fell on Skara’s men, of course.  They had a lot to lose should a duplicate DVD disk materialise, incriminating their leader further.  The scale of the job on his home showed their desperation to eliminate the opposition or rather, as Skara put it, the traitor who was apparently out to expose General Skara for the sadist and madman he really was.  Carl knew that he must have been chosen by this anonymous ally to receive the DVD in his capacity as a MCO.  Was he possibly the only man with the power to bring Skara down?  He doubted his chances after the events of the day so far.  Selena was held hostage and Skara had been shrewd enough to cover his tracks.  The very thought of Selena in peril spurred him into action.  Carl rushed over to the wastepaper basket where he had discarded the package paper.  It was gone.  No surprise, after the thorough going-over that had occurred in the rest of the lounge.  Nevertheless, he screamed in frustration and kicked the basket across the room.  He practically panicked at the thought of losing Selena.  There had to be something he could do to save her.  ‘Think, think!’ Carl tried to picture the motorcycle courier, in the hopes of remembering some small iota of information.  He could almost see his face and it was a lifeline.  Maybe there was an off-chance that he could do a photo fit of him with the bureau’s sketch artist. It was unlikely, but Carl had nothing to lose and left the house.

‘Where the bloody hell was you?’ demanded his colleague Phil, a portly man, face fattened with a thick brown moustache to even out the features of thinning hair on top, when Carl entered the station.  ‘We got the debriefing team together as you requested and you never showed up.’

‘Something came up that became a priority.’

‘It had better be good as the chief is doing his nut over your disappearance.  We found your car abandoned.’  Carl was grateful that they had attempted to find him.

‘I’ll go and see the chief this instant.  Do me a favour, mate.  Get Gavin up here for a portrait sketch.’

‘Sure, no problem,’ Phil responded.  Carl walked on towards the chief’s office.  He knocked on the door.

‘Come in!’ the call came out sharply.  Carl entered the room.  ‘Thank God you are safe, Carl!’ Chief Fletcher exclaimed with relief.  ‘I had telephone calls from people reporting a kidnapping and the vehicle we found abandoned at the scene was your car.  Eyewitnesses claimed the APA was responsible.’  The chief gave him the story.

‘They were, sir but it was a case of mistaken identity,’ Carl acknowledged.

‘Where’s the new evidence of this morning’s investigation?  A Morgan Forrester I am told.’

It reminded Carl of the call he had put in to Phil.

‘I was mistaken on that.’  He replied.

‘Don’t be a damn fool Carl.  We checked it out and Forrester didn’t make it home last night?  His wife admitted that he went hunting and fears the APA had taken him.’  Fletcher laid into him.  ‘Did they take the evidence you were bringing in?’

Carl turned away and put his hand to his mouth, the fingers pressed firmly on the jaw, eyes rolling up towards heaven.  He’s been put on the spot and it showed.

‘Don’t make me have to reprimand you Carl.  Will you stop being evasive.’  The chief bluntly warned him.  ‘What was it?’

‘I really can’t say as Selena’s life is in jeopardy here’ he hesitated.

‘What?!’ The chief scowled, and then thought for a moment.  ‘Jesus Christ, Carl!  Who’s involved?’

‘General Osti Skara and a DVD mini disk had a recording of the whole murder.’  Carl came clean and conceded with a heavy heart.  ‘It’s been destroyed.’

‘You are not bullshitting me.’  Fletcher said taken aback in alarm but saw that Carl was serious.  ‘Who filmed it?  How did you get it?’

‘Judging from the DVD, it seems there’s a mole inside Skara’s camp…someone who wants to oust him publicly.  It was sent to me by courier this morning and I need to track him down quickly because the General thinks I know who the mole is, the reason he’s holding Selena.’

‘What do you propose to do?’  The Chief asked.

‘I want to see if I can trace the motorcycle courier who delivered the DVD package for a lead and Gavin should be waiting for me…for a photo fit sketch.’

‘Good thinking, Carl.  Keep this strictly among those who need to know and inform me when you get any new information’.  Carl nodded and left Chief Fletcher’s office.

A sketch was drawn up from Carl’s description to Gavin and scanned into the profile database where the photo fit search was made.  It found a match!  Details were taken and Carl called on Phil and Matt for assistance.  They left the building quickly.  The chase was on to find the courier.

CHAPTER SEVEN

The sound of a bolt being pulled on the door of her darkened prison made Selena jump in terror.  The door started to open; light from the corridor invaded the bare, windowless room.   She squinted in the glare and put a hand to her forehead to shield her eyes, allowing her vision to acclimatize to the light.  From where she sat on the concrete floor, she could just make out the imposing figure of General Skara in the doorway and became more fearful.

‘Please don’t hurt me,’ Selena sobbed meekly.

‘Why would I want to do that?’  Skara softly answered her pitiful plea and walked to her side.  ‘I have enormous faith in Mr Treyer’s ability to save you by doing the right thing.  Is his love for you strong?’

‘Yes, it is.’  She replied.

‘You have nothing to fear then, my dear,’ his hand gently stroked the back of her hair.  She flinched at the contact.  Skara chuckled.  ‘Get up, woman,’ he demanded the pleasantries over.  Selena acted on Skara’s order and got up in a tremble.  Two soldiers entered the small room and stood on either side of her as Skara made his way to the door.  They pushed her forward to follow the General out of the room.

It was Selena’s first glimpse into her temporary habitat, as when she had arrived she was blindfolded.  The corridor was draughty, the air damp in what seemed to be an underground tunnel.  The walls, its texture of clay untouched but the pathway visible in its declined state of use was made of concrete.  Only the powerful overhead industrial lights on the ceiling flickered with some kind of life and importance.  The party walked a series of passageways that twisted and turned like a maze with downward slopes at times that took them deeper into the tunnel until they came to a guarded metallic door.  A sign marked ‘NO ENTRY – AUTHORISED PERSONNEL ONLY’ greeted them.  Skara turned to Selena.

‘I am fully aware, Miss Marshall, that you are a senior journalist.  Make the most of what you are about to see beyond this door because it’s the exclusive scoop that you will never get to make front page news.  You do understand, don’t you?’    Selena shuddered nervously and nodded in agreement, sure that the General had just spoken of his intention to kill her.  ‘Good, let’s continue.’  The sentry at the door inserted his security key card into a slot and opened the door for them.  The party passed through before the door clunked shut behind them.  The lighting here was much dimmer, but they were now in a kind of storage facility with light blocking curtains adjourning windows on both sides of the wall.  Skara took them to one of the windows and tapped on the glass.  A soldier stepped forward and input a code on the window’s security pad.  A Shutter whirled down allowing them to view a well lit room.

Selena gasped in fear and confusion.  A naked man was on all fours, his hands and ankles clamped down to the floor by steel cuffs.  The man’s neck had a lead around it, chained to a hook on the wall.  Wires were placed on several parts of his body that showed burn marks.  A soldier entered the room and placed a bowl of food down for the prisoner.  The hungry man tried desperately to get the food but it was out of reach for him.  ‘Why are you doing this?’  Selena asked.  She turned to Skara and saw the leer on his face.  He was enjoying seeing the man suffer.

‘He treated his dog this way for kicks and we are giving him a course of therapy by subjecting him to the same environment.’

‘What by electrocuting him?’  Selena spoke with some anger at the man’s treatment, forgetting her own captivity for a moment.  Injustice of any kind had always aroused her argumentative spirit.  It was the reason she had climbed the ladder of journalism successfully and had become a top reporter.

‘We do not intend to kill him, Selena.  It is merely to break down his resistance and when he has been broken, he will treat his dog with the utmost respect.’

‘You sick bastard!,’ she replied angrily as she watched the prisoner whimpered defeated after yet another unsuccessful attempt for food.

‘No sign of anger,’ Skara mentioned to a soldier who was taking notes down.  ‘We can release him.’  He said the words with a trace of disappointment.  The entertainment was short lived.  He turned his attention to Selena once more as the window shutter was raised into place.  ‘We’re only getting started, Miss Marshall,’ he promised her.  ‘Do please follow me.’

‘Like I have a choice,’ thought Selena.

A short walk to another window and another tapped order.  The shutter opened onto a new room.  A woman was heavily strapped down in a chair, most notably; her head was kept rigid and unmoving by clamps.  The room was covered in computers and video cameras.  Skara signalled to a white-coated man at a computer desk who promptly stopped his work and went over to the intercom beside their window.  He pressed a button.

‘Good afternoon, General,’ his voice did not quaver in the least as it emanated tinnily from the speaker.

‘Doctor Jennings, will you commence proceedings with this aggressor?’  He ordered.

‘Of course, sir,’ he replied and left the intercom on as he walked over to a trolley, its surface filled with items.  Some were kept in pots, some in tubes and the majority in small canisters.  He pushed the trolley over to the strapped-down woman and put on some protective gloves.  He dabbed a swab in a tube that held liquid and applied it to the woman’s face.  She screamed hysterically as her skin blistered at the burning acid.  Selena turned her head away, her stomach churned at the morbid experiment.  Her head was forced back by soldiers onto the victim.  She trembled as she watched the blisters spread across the woman’s cheek.

‘Think of all those animals that suffered in the name of cosmetic testing,’ Skara’s words laid into Selena with bitter venom.  ‘Just so that women like you can beautify yourselves more.’  He touched her cheek and she tried to resist his strokes but her face was still held in a lock by soldiers.  ‘That is the sickening reality we were faced with when we fought for the protection of these animals under the old guard of democracy.  Wretches like her are now paying the price for continuing to use products that are not animal free by smuggling them from overseas.  Where is the justice in that?’  He demanded.  Selena did not answer, fearful of Skara’s preaching.  He lowered his face down to hers, the snarl etched on his face with fury.  ‘This could be you.’

The thought was too much for her as her stomach heaved and the soldiers quickly released her.  Selena spewed vomit onto the floor.

‘Would Mr Treyer still love an ugly, disfigured woman?’  This made her puke again.  ‘Or can he live without you?’  Skara’s manic laughter blended with the woman’s horrified screams echoing through the intercom, and Selena could do nothing.  She, too, was terrified and defeated.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Carl arrived at the address that they had gained for the motorcycle courier with Phil and Matt.  He knocked on the door and waited for an answer.  It was a stroke of luck that the courier was on the database; he’d had previous criminal convictions cited for arson and small-time drug dealing.  No answer, so Carl knocked louder and harder.  Phil went over to the window whilst Matt went round to the back of the house via the gateway to the garden.  Nothing could be seen through the drawn curtains, but the sound of music being played could be heard.

‘I guess Mr Archibald can’t hear us with the music on,’ remarked Phil.  Carl stooped down to the letter slot and slid it open.  The door to the room where the music was coming from was closed.

‘Knock on the window, then, Phil’ and he knocked quite hard on the glass, and Carl then heard footsteps moving toward the door.  ‘He heard us.’  Phil returned to Carl’s side.  The door opened and they saw it was Matt.

‘The bike’s at the back and the kitchen door was open.’  The men walked over to the door of the room where the music was playing.  Carl opened it and though it was dim from the drawn curtains Carl could see the back of a head at the top of the armchair.  He walked over.

‘Mr Archibald, Military Crimes Officer Carl Treyer,’ getting his ID card out ready for identification but he already had a feeling that something was very wrong, and as he eyed the man’s face, he knew.  Archibald was dead.  A bullet hole in his forehead, blood stained the chair and body.  ‘Shit!’  Carl lashed out angrily and punched the wall.  This was the one lead he’d had in his search for Selena.  General Skara had beaten him to the man.  Any chance of evidence was now slim, especially after Carl and his colleagues had entered the house and put their own prints all over the place.  He feared for Selena’s life.  Treyer’s mobile started to ring.

‘Hello?’

‘I gather that you have found Archibald dead,’

‘Who is this?’  He demanded.

‘A friend,’ the man replied.  ‘We needed Archibald silenced.  Skara’s men were onto him.’  Carl was confused…he’d thought Skara was responsible for Archibald’s death.

‘Have you seen the DVD we sent you?’  The friend questioned him.

‘Yes, I have and can I ask, why me?’

‘You have the authority to bring General Skara down with our assistance.’

‘I can’t do that without evidence and the General had it destroyed.’  Carl spoke and looked over at Phil and pointed to his phone.  He mouthed a silent Trace it.  Phil nodded and left the room.

‘We are aware that Skara took you hostage and removed the DVD, but an alternate strategy is in place.  However, time is against us.  We will need to move quickly to nail down Skara.’

‘What about my fiancée?’

‘We advise that you send her out of harm’s way.’

‘It’s too late.  Skara took her.’  The friend became silent and Carl heard muffled voices in the background, but he couldn’t make out what they were saying.  His attention was interrupted by shots from outside and the sudden surge into the room by Skara’s soldiers.  One of them grabbed his phone and listened to a receiver being hung up.

‘Who were you talking to?’ he demanded as he tried to bring up the number of the call.  Carl looked over at the phone’s display and saw that the number was withheld.  The soldier tossed the phone back to Carl and viewed Archibald’s lifeless body.  ‘Did you kill him?  Is this the traitor?  Who is it?’  More demands from the soldier.

‘The guy was already dead when we got here and I don’t know who’s behind it.’

‘Tell it to the General’ growled the soldier in his frustration to be in control of the situation.  Two other soldiers immediately grabbed Carl and escorted him forcibly from the house.

Carl was stunned when he saw the devastation outside the house.  Phil and Matt gunned down when Skara’s men stormed the house.    He saw neighbours nervously peering from their windows and doorways at the chaos in the street, fearful of venturing out in the presence of the Animals Protection Army.  The soldiers swiftly took him towards the van and Carl dreaded the déjà vu of a return summons to Skara’s headquarters.  The screech of brakes from three motorcycles that sped into the road alerted the attention of the soldiers.  The soldiers raised their guns, with the exception of the two with Carl, but were not quick enough.  Shots rang out in quick succession, felling the soldiers before they had a chance to squeeze their triggers.  Carl’s armed escorts released him and held their hands up in surrender.  However, they too were mowed down by the precision of the black clad snipers on the motorcycles.  All members of the A.P.A. at the scene were dead.  Mission accomplished, the motorcycles roared off into the distance.

People began milling out of their houses.  Their nervousness replaced by jubilation.  Carl knew that they had just witnessed the dawn of a new challenge.  An organisation had just stood up to the might of the APA and struck a blow for freedom.

CHAPTER NINE

General Skara had been ordered to the Presidential Palace, the former main residence of the royal family before they were banished into exile after the war of democracy ended.  He felt uncomfortable as he waited in the Guard Chamber for his ten-thirty appointment, its small space being the final secured barrier before he received granted access to the President himself.  The room looked like a giant jewel casket, the ceiling held the fitted, curved and deeply cut glass lights bordered by the richly decorated plaster which showed lions entwined in the golden patterns in the architectural design, marble columns and ornaments completed the room’s look.  It was a reminder of the previous occupants’ lavish lifestyle.  The large mahogany doors to the Green Room suddenly opened and Skara rose to his feet.

‘President Masterson is ready to see you now, Sir,’ the equerry spoke politely and waved his hand toward the Green Room.  Skara walked through the doors and saw right down into the Throne Room.  He could see the President sitting at his desk.  The general marched with his usual pomposity past the room’s pale green silk walls, the portraits facing him on either side of the Throne Room’s doors showed different aspects of the President throughout the dictatorship to date.  Skara passed the two sergeants-at-arms and entered the Throne Room.  The doors closed behind him.

‘What the blaze is happening?’ spoke the slimly built President through his bristly brown moustache.

‘I don’t know, Jeffery.  The ambush was a complete surprise to me.’

‘In what way, Osti, was it a surprise?  Do you know who is responsible?’  He demanded of his friend.

‘No, I do not.’  Skara replied uneasily.

‘I do.’  The statement startled the General as the President picked up a remote from his desk and pointed it at the television in the room that was mounted to the wall.  The screen showed images of three black clad, almost ghostly men, their identities hidden by Balaclavas in a darkened room, a dim spotlight shone on them.

‘We are the Black Phantoms,’ a voice spoke electronically, ‘the ghosts of Britain’s past; now back to reclaim the future of democracy.  We demand the removal of the Ozone Party from power immediately and for General Osti Skara to face criminal charges in a court of law, most notably for multiple brutal murders.  Issue your response with an official statement to the media by fifteen hundred hours today.’  The message ended.

‘Seven years we have had eyes and ears everywhere, so how did you not see a resistance movement forming?  Where have they sprung up from?’  The President demanded answers.

‘I don’t think it’s so much of a resistance movement, Jeffery with three rogue motorcyclists.’  Skara answered confidently.  ‘It’s just a scare tactic.’

‘Do you just think this, or do you know this for a fact?’

‘I do have a traitor in my camp who is trying to stir up trouble and whoever he is; I am going to hold him responsible for this outrage.’

‘Well you’d better reel him in quickly Osti because nobody defies my authority.  Is that understood?’

‘Most certainly Jeffery and I do not foresee a threat to our national security.’  He answered calmly in his authoritative voice.

‘You are absolutely sure on that.’

‘Have I ever let you down Jeffery?’  Skara responded with a confident smile.  ‘Can I please have the disc?’

‘Ok, get this nailed down and cleared up as a matter of urgency.’  He ordered of Skara before pressing a buzzer on his desk.  The doors started to open with the session over.  President Masterson stood up and walked over to the television.  He retrieved the disc from its console and held out his hand.  ‘We are counting on you General.’  Skara took the disc and shook the President’s hand in view of the sergeants-at-arms, official protocol back in play between the two friends.   Skara nodded that he was still the man for the job.  He turned and left the Throne Room, marching on towards his exit from the Presidential Palace.

The moment Skara was outside in the courtyard and walking towards his chauffeured car, he became enraged that someone had undermined his authority on a large scale and got him reprimanded by the President.  He wanted the problem resolved before it festered any further.  The video in the President’s office had alerted him to who was potentially involved with the Black Phantoms He pulled out his mobile and dialled.

‘This is General Skara speaking.  Prime Unit Four for a mission and get them up to Wainwright’s home within two hours,’ he instructed and switched off the phone.  He got into the car.  ‘Head for Wainwright’s,’ he ordered the driver who promptly started the car up and drove off.

CHAPTER TEN

Carl Treyer was working in his office.  It was an immaculate room; the casework files in operation piled neatly into their respective trays on cabinets by the crime statistics board on one side.  Double sided windows on either side of the board.  The other side of the room showed a district map on the wall, decorated by framed certificates of commendation for Treyer’s achievements.  Beneath, a table held tea and coffee-making facilities.  A coffee percolator performed its task, the hot liquid bubbling up into the glass knob, with a wonderful-smelling steam rising from the spout.  A television stood in the corner of the room on its stand.  On Treyer’s desk, the computer continued its search for vital information as Carl trawled through paperwork looking for clues that might warrant some action.  He sipped from his mug as he did so.  The telephone rang.  Carl picked up the receiver and balanced it on his shoulder whilst continuing to work.

‘Carl Treyer, Military Crimes Officer.’

‘My condolences on the loss of your two colleagues.’ Carl recognised the voice as the ‘friend’ who called him at Archibald’s house.  ‘At least we were able to save you from Skara’s clutches in time.’

‘I thank you for that.  Why are you watching me?’

‘We are concerned with keeping you safe.’

‘I mentioned my fiancée to you the last time we talked.  What about her?  She’s probably in even more danger now after your little ambush on Skara’s soldiers?’  Carl was angry and frightened for Selena.  He didn’t know what form any repercussions of the ‘friend’s’ actions might take.

‘This is partly the reason I’m calling you Carl.  We were not aware at the time that General Skara had Selena held hostage.  It’s the reason why I had the attack launched because if Skara knew of your presence at Archibald’s house, he would have killed her instantly in a backlash.  Selena is still alive, I can assure you.  ’

The revelation by the mysterious friend gave Carl incredible relief at the news that Selena was alive but it wasn’t enough.

‘Just who are you?’  He demanded to know.

‘We do need to meet with you as a matter of urgency because we will need to step up our campaign to save her.’  The friend stated, avoiding the question.

‘Where do you want us to meet?’  Carl enquired.

‘Look out your window.’  The friend responded.

Carl leant over to the telephone unit and switched from the receiver to speaker phone.  He got up from his seat and walked over to the window.  He peered out.  He saw a man looking up at his window, mobile phone held to his ear and the man acknowledged Treyer with a wave before speaking into the phone, but Carl could not hear the words on his line.

‘Is that you down there?’ he spoke in confusion.

‘No, it just my man Cousins confirming visual contact.  Do please leave your office now and go to him.  He will bring you to our headquarters where I will be waiting.’

‘What’s so urgent about this meeting?’  Carl hesitantly asked, not understanding their need for him.

‘We believe that General Skara may within a few hours commit another murder and we want you here with us to witness it.’  The proposition was tempting.

‘You have my full co-operation.  Do I need to bring an arrest warrant?’

‘It is not that simple, my friend. Remember, we are up against General Skara and his soldiers who will vigorously defend him to their last drop of blood.  We are playing a dangerous game here and if our plan comes off, it should avoid the need for bloodshed.’  Carl realised the peril of the mission.  ‘Time is ticking away, Mr Treyer.  Please do not delay your departure any longer.’  The friend instructed him.

‘Okay, I am on my way.’  Carl turned away from the window, hung up the phone and grabbed his jacket from his chair.  He left the office, a chain of events set in motion.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

General Skara’s car arrived at the woodlands destination after learning that Sir Ivor Wainwright was not at home, but they were informed of his whereabouts.  A posse of soldiers were left at the mansion to ensure that none of Wainwright’s staff were in a position to warn him of General Skara’s pursuit, but the majority of Unit Four were already at the woodlands, ready and primed for action.  Skara gave his instructions and all were clear on their duties.  On his order, the unit made their way to their positions, keeping the noise of the jeeps to a minimum.  Once in place, the engines were switched off and all became quiet.  It was now a matter of waiting as the unit watched the countryside around them from their positions on the edge of the woods.  It was nearly forty minutes before the first stirring was heard.  In the near distance, the sounds of barking dogs followed by a bugle call put the unit on alert.  On the horizon, a tired fox came into view over the hilltop, running for its life.  The unit started procedures with the foot soldiers branching out into the field.  They took steps to allow the fox to pass by them and then they closed ranks; a front line going forward with the hounds now on the scene with its party of riders.  The fox limply made it into the woods when the jeeps started up and drove into the field.  The onslaught of noisy vehicles and soldiers firing their guns into the air frightened the hounds into a retreat towards their masters and the riding party stopped in their tracks, some of their horses also in distress at the noise.  The riders allowed the military presence to get nearer to them until it stopped a short distance away.  General Skara got out of a jeep and walked toward the riding party.

‘What the bloody hell are you playing at?’ demanded an angry elderly Wainwright to the invaders, as he sat on his horse, dressed in his hunting gear of red jacket, black trousers and black riding hat.

‘I could ask you the same question,’ responded Skara in a calm orderly manner.

‘You are trespassing on my land and have no right to barge in like this.’  An aggrieved Sir Ivor blasted Skara verbally.

‘You have committed an illegal act in holding a fox hunt Sir Ivor,’ rebuked the General in defence.  ‘We have every right to interfere in such matters.’

‘Don’t be so patronising General.  We have an agreement on this.’

‘Not anymore.’  Skara sharply informed him.

‘Is this anything to do with the attack on your men yesterday?’  Wainwright queried, his anger subdued at Skara’s forfeit of their agreement.  The other riders became a little fearful of their precarious position should the illegality stick.

‘Finally, you are talking sense Sir Ivor,’ he responded sarcastically and applauded him.  ‘How did you guess?’

‘Are you are implying that I had something to do with it?’  Wainwright clearly not impressed at Skara’s assumption.

‘Get down off your horse and we will discuss it honourably.’  He ordered Sir Ivor.  The man duly obliged and got down.  He walked over to Skara.

‘General, you are making a grave mistake in accusing me.  A word to the President…’

‘Yes, the President,’ he rudely interrupted Sir Ivor’s words.  ‘It is precisely why I am here.  The President had received a disc from the group who carried out the attack asking for me to be removed from power on murder charges.  They call themselves the Black Phantoms.’

Wainwright laughed.

‘General, just because I used to play polo for a team called the Black Phantoms, it doesn’t make me a conspirator.’

‘It does with your connection to the President.  Who could possibly have smuggled in the disc to him without the usual distribution channels being involved?’

‘You are highly delusional General, to think that I had something to do with yesterday’s attack.  You have completely lost the plot.’  Sir Ivor sneered.  He started to walk away from Skara.

‘Don’t you insult and turn away from me,’ his rage unleashed.  He grabbed Sir Ivor by the jacket and pulled him around to face him once more.

‘Get off me, you bloody lunatic.’  He shouted aggressively and pulled Skara’s hand off his jacket, not afraid of the General or his soldiers nearby.  ‘I have a good mind to report you this moment to President Masterson.’  He declared with defiance.  He put his hand into his inside pocket and pulled out his mobile.  He started to dial the number.  General Skara immediately pulled his gun from his holster and thrust it into Wainwright’s face, much to the horror of the other riders.

‘Are you resisting arrest for treason?’  He spoke with bitter menace.  Sir Ivor became terrified.

‘Look let’s be calm about this,’ he nervously said and switched off his phone.  ‘I won’t call the President but believe me General, I had nothing to do with yesterday’s hostilities.’  Skara debated whether to believe Wainwright or the conviction of his own thoughts that Sir Ivor was pulling the strings of the traitor in his camp.  He withdrew the gun from Wainwright’s face and brought it down.  He was reserving judgement until he was more certain.  Besides, it could prove advantageous to keep Wainwright alive.

‘Get out of here,’ he ordered sternly, giving them a reprieve from charges on the fox hunt.

‘Thank you, General.  You are an honourable man.’  Sir Ivor spoke, thankful that sanity won the day.  He started to make his way back towards his horse as the General watched.  A mobile phone rang and Skara realised it was his own.  He pulled it out and answered it.

‘General, remember what Sir Ivor said to you.  One word to the President and you are a dead man.’  Skara dropped his phone, the shock etched on his face being overtaken by the knowledge that he had been double crossed.  He swiftly pulled the gun back up towards Wainwright.  Screams from the riders alerted Sir Ivor to the danger and before he had a chance to turn back to Skara, a shot pierced the air and Wainwright slumped to the ground.

‘It’s a setup.’  General Skara bellowed out to his men.  ‘We are being watched by Wainwright’s men.  Find them.’  He screamed the order and picked up his phone from the ground as his unit started to head for the trees, the riders galloped off to save their lives with the hounds following close at their heels.  Skara listened at the earpiece of his phone.  The line was still open.

‘General Skara, I give you my congratulations.  You have just given me filmed evidence of Sir Ivor Wainwright’s murder.  You are caught.’  The caller informed him before the line went dead.

Skara screamed aloud in rage at his enemies wherever they were hiding.  ‘You won’t get away with this.  I will rip out your hearts,’ he promised.  How had he allowed himself and his men to fall into a trap so easily?  The tide was slowly turning against him in the battle for power.

CHAPTER TWELVE

The rugged face of Commander Jack Denham, his blond hair flowing to the front with a side parting, switched off the telephone call he had just made to General Skara, with a quick push of a computer key.  He watched the man continue his rant against their intrusion from the many television monitors on the wall.

‘Poor guy, if only he knew that we were watching him from this control room, using Spynet.’  He enthused.  Spynet was a sophisticated British military satellite that beamed pictures as close as the person standing next to you with clear clarity.

‘It doesn’t change the fact that you tricked Skara into committing the murder.’  Carl protested.

‘Did I actually tell him, Carl, to shoot Sir Ivor?’

‘No, you didn’t but you knew his frame of mind.’

‘I saw the mind of a madman who’s losing his stranglehold on society after our attack yesterday.’

‘General Skara would argue in a court of law that he was provoked into killing Sir Ivor under duress and will use the phone conversation as evidence.’

‘You amaze me, Carl Treyer.  Why are you defending him?  He’s a born murderer.’

‘I’m just doing my job.’  He reminded Denham of his position as a MCO.  ‘Sure he deserves to be put on trial for the atrocities he’s committed, but this won’t be enough to do it.’

‘We’ll let the people of the country decide that, as this will go…’ their conversation was interrupted by an announcement.

‘OPERATION CHECKMATE, READY TO GO,’ the voice boomed through the speakers as several TV monitors switched to a different location.

Commander Denham leaned toward his computer and activated another key.

‘Good luck, everyone.  It’s a green light for action,’ he instructed, and the figures on the TV screens started their advance on the building ahead of them.  The personnel in the room rallied around Denham at the control desk in silence, watching the action unfold before them.

‘What’s happening now?’  Carl asked.

‘We are attacking General Skara’s headquarters.’

The quietness of the atmosphere pierced by the bursts of machine guns fire as the first of the enemy was engaged in combat.  A shrill sound overhead, parts of the building’s walls suddenly blown to smithereens, executed with precision.  The Black Phantoms made their advantage count as they picked off Skara’s men, ill-prepared for the unexpected brutal assault on their stronghold.  Swiftly, the Black Phantoms stormed the building, striding towards their destination.  They encountered little resistance from Skara’s soldiers who were not quick enough off the mark when it came to predatory skills.  Seven years of non-combat had severely weakened the resolve of the Animals Protection Army.

Carl Treyer found it difficult to watch the stomach-churning scenes shown via in built cameras and transmitters on the Phantoms personnel helmets and linked to Spynet because he had not experienced first hand the rigours of war.  He was only a student when the battle for democracy started and before he was old enough to enlist for battle, it was over.  Military rule enslaved them.   Carl’s attention was suddenly drawn to the monitors showing General Skara who seemed distracted.  He retrieved his mobile phone from his pocket.

‘Commander,’ Carl alerted Denham quickly and pointed to the General.  Denham switched on sound feedback.

‘How could this be happening?’  Skara sounded shocked.  The news had reached him of the assault on the headquarters.  ‘Do what you can to fend off the aggressors and call in reinforcements.  We are on our way.’  The General immediately terminated the call and called his unit in on the radio.

Commander Denham switched the sound back to the battle and activated his microphone.

‘Skara has just been informed of our assault and is calling for back-up.  Find the informer and silence him.  Time is now running short.’

‘INSTRUCTIONS UNDERSTOOD.  TIDY-UP SHORTLY TO BE IMPLEMENTED.’  A Phantom soldier replied.  The soldiers quickened their pace.

They scurried down flights of stairs and reached the underground tunnels.  The Phantoms took off in different directions; they needed maximum efficiency on this mission.  The lead party came to a steel door and one soldier pulled back the bolt that held it closed.  He opened the door and shone a light into the room.

Carl gasped with relief as the pictures on the television monitors showed Selena in the room, alive but looking haggard.  She was frightened.

‘Don’t be scared, Selena.  We are the rescue party.  Are you okay to go?’  A Phantom asked her.  She nodded and was helped to her feet.  ‘Here, put this on.’  A soldier said and handed her an earpiece.  She inserted it into her ear as they made their way for the exit.

‘Are you ready to talk to her Carl?’  Denham asked.

‘Yes.’  The emotion choked him up.

‘Go ahead then.’  Denham spoke, the communication link active once more.

‘Selena, can you hear me?’

‘Carl, is that you?’

‘Yes, sweetheart, it’s me.’  The sweet sound of her voice soothed him after the anguish of having her taken from him.  She started sobbing as she heard his voice.

‘I’ll give you both a few minutes.’  Denham interrupted them.  He sensed that they would need a private moment, their emotions fraught at the trauma inflicted on them.  He ushered his team from the control room.

A couple of hours had passed since the notification of the attack on the Animals Protection Army.  General Skara surveyed the damage to his headquarters, deeply disturbed by the heavy casualties.  It was a massacre; he had no doubt about it, and knew that he had underestimated the strength of the Black Phantoms.  More worryingly for him, they had known the layout of his headquarters with great detail and taken the majority of his prisoners, in addition to the ammunitions and weaponry stores.  Skara knew that the disc to the President requesting his removal from power was a planned strategy, a masterful trap that he fell for.  It left him fighting for survival and a change of tactics swiftly needed because he had no intention of surrendering.  They had not beaten him yet.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The morning after the assault on HQ, the media were having a field day.  Constant reruns of the video footage that showed General Skara in his assassination of Sir Ivor Wainwright were beamed across the nation before Skara was able to order his men in to close down the broadcasts at the TV stations.  Skara had arranged an urgent press conference.  He walked into the conference room at his press office, away from headquarters; camera bulbs flashing away, reporters clamoured their questions at him.  He presented himself as a confident man as he took the stand.

‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ he addressed the audience, speaking into the many microphones set up on the stand before him.  ‘It is with much regret that the nation was led away from the truth over the death of Sir Ivor Wainwright.  The footage shown on television this morning only showed the last moments of his life but not the event that led to this sad state of affairs.  Sir Ivor Wainwright was caught in the illegality of holding a fox hunt on his land during our investigation into his connections with the terrorist group, The Black Phantoms, and his responsibility for the attack on the APA two days ago.  He resisted arrest over his crimes and with the welfare of the country at stake; I was forced to take the shot.  Nobody is beyond the law where a crime is committed, and Sir Ivor Wainwright was a dangerous man.  President Masterson has given his full support stating that the APA had followed the law in seeking an arrest.  This sets the record straight and I thank you for your time.’  Skara stepped away from the stand.  Reporters pushed forward, demanding their questions be answered as soldiers held them back.  The General ignored them as he left the room.  He showed that he was in control.

‘Give the mad dog a bone,’ expressed Commander Denham after watching the TV statement.  ‘Skara knows how to cover his tracks well but he doesn’t know the feelings of the people.  They know that an injustice happened and that the Black Phantoms are fighting for their freedom.’

‘No reference made to the HQ assault yesterday,’ remarked Carl; he and Selena, now reunited, were staying in the resistance camp.

‘We have got him running scared, that’s why,’ Denham replied.  ‘Why else did he order the raids on the TV stations and got his soldiers standing guard?’

‘How did you get hold of the evidence against him in the first place?’ queried Selena.

‘It’s all down to Spynet, a genius of a system,’ Denham proudly proclaimed.

‘Didn’t the old government shut it down, saying it was too costly and too intrusive a programme,’ she continued, her journalistic nature nosing in.

‘Yes, they did.  But times have changed and we activated it again for assistance in our battle with General Skara.  If only he knew that a satellite in space is watching his every movement.’  He allowed himself a small chuckle at their tactical advantage.

‘How can you afford to run Spynet?’  Carl asked.

‘Our former ally, the Americans is funding our campaign to oust the Ozone Party from power.  In return, we allow them the use of Spynet for their own agendas.’  Denham responded.  The countries had fallen out of their unity together over a dispute regarding who ruled a country, ravened by war that they had partaken in to resolve the situation.

‘In order to get Skara arrested, we need to show the brutality of how he had Morgan Forrester killed and how he’s living beyond the law.’  Carl’s words focused their attention back on the task in hand.  ‘There are the prisoners you freed from Skara’s headquarters,’ he reminded Denham.

‘Without a TV station to run the broadcast, we’ll have to play a waiting game.’

‘I believe there’s an abandoned studio up in Shepperton with operational equipment,’ remarked Selena.  This caught Commander Denham’s full attention.  Selena told him all she knew of the studio and he made notes.  Time was precious and they now had a chance to sabotage General Skara’s attempt to cover his tracks…perhaps they could weaken his resolve on holding power.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The studio lit up as the lights flickered into life with the arrival of Commander Denham and his party.  Both Carl and Selena were among them, Denham having valued their contribution to the cause with their combined knowledge and assistance.  Selena had used her contacts to get the studio opened up.  The air was stale and musty with a layer of dust covering the sheets that were protecting all of the equipment. There were cobwebs visible in places.  Spiders darted for the shadows; their nesting places shredded as the sheeting were pulled away by the Phantoms.  The soldiers with technical and engineering backgrounds got to work on the instruction manuals entrusted to them by the studio’s owner.  They started to familiarise themselves with the controls of this dated machinery.  Commander Denham walked around the control booth with Carl and Selena in tow and beckoned them to sit down.  They discussed what was to be broadcasted ensuring that the timescale was adhered to with the work going on around them.  Within hours, they had control of a functioning TV studio.  After many rehearsals of their broadcast, they were ready.  The clock ticked away, drawing closer to their prime-time transmission.

The ghostly music started up its introduction; images of phantoms glided across the television screen and in their wake, the words ‘The Black Phantoms’ appeared.  Homes across the nation were bewildered by the sudden intrusion.  The music faded out.

‘We are the Black Phantoms,’ again, the electronic voice spoke as the identity of the freedom fighters.  ‘The ghost of Britain’s past; now back to reclaim the future of democracy.’ This motto provided an assurance to the people that a revolution was underway.  The picture then cut to a news desk in a television studio, two presenters at the ready.

‘Good evening.  I’m Selena Marshall, a senior journalist with Network Britain Today.  The Black Phantoms apologise for intruding into your homes like this.’

‘I’m Carl Treyer, a Military Crimes Officer.  The Black Phantoms would like to give to the British people their response to General Osti Skara’s statement this morning regarding the death of Sir Ivor Wainwright.  Firstly, here is what the General had to say.’  The station broadcasted Skara’s speech.

Two scantily dressed females danced erotically for General Skara in his penthouse suite, their inhibitions consumed by the champagne and speed he’d supplied to them.  He was enjoying the attention they lavished onto him when the telephone rang.  He ignored it; one woman caressed his hair, leant in and planted a kiss on his lips, the other slowly stripped off her lingerie.  He usually savoured moments like this but became irritable at the continuing ring from the telephone.

‘Excuse me ladies,’ the impatience and curiosity got the better of him, and he pushed the women’s advances away.  He got up from the edge of his bed and walked round it to the telephone stand.  He picked up the receiver.  ‘I specifically asked not to be disturbed,’ Skara rebuked the caller.

‘The Black Phantoms are broadcasting on all TV channels sir.  We are trying to track their location,’ a loyal sentry informed him.

‘Thank you.’  He now politely acknowledged the caller that alerted him to an emergency and replaced the receiver on its cradle.  He picked up the remote and turned on his television set.  It was showing the full footage of his exchange with Wainwright in the countryside.  Skara felt the tension build up inside him as he viewed the incriminating evidence being shown to the nation.  ‘Get out!’  He screamed at the women, his mood for sexual entertainment no longer present.  They quickly picked up their clothes and scampered out of the room.  The General watched himself on the screen, a thrust of the gun into Sir Ivor’s face and then lowered after Wainwright’s plea.  The let-off statement given, swiftly followed by the return of his gun towards Sir Ivor and his deadly pull of the trigger.  There was no sign of the intervening telephone call in the footage.  It didn’t surprise him to see that the events had been stitched together to make him look a cold-blooded killer.  The broadcast returned to its presenters.  Skara the rage welling up within him as he viewed Carl and Selena, no longer under his control.

‘The evidence shows that Sir Ivor Wainwright denied any knowledge of a link to the Black Phantoms and was allowed to leave the scene by General Osti Skara before being fatally shot.  He had not resisted arrest.’  Selena reported.

‘How many more lies are there in General Skara’s statement?’  Treyer questioned his TV audience.  ‘The Black Phantoms would like to draw your attention to the quotation given by the general that nobody is beyond the law where a crime is committed.  Please be warned that the following video we are about to show you is of a sensitive nature and may disturb some viewers.’  The broadcast switched to the Morgan Forrester footage, a duplicate copy had been held by Commander Denham and this did shocked Skara.

He hurried over to the telephone and called his second in command.

‘Why haven’t you pulled the plug on this broadcast?’  He demanded.

‘We can’t trace its location at present, General, because they have bypassed the normal television transmission frequencies.  We are scanning satellites links.’

‘Report back to me the moment you locate them.’  Skara slammed down the phone and continued watching the television, a helpless man, drowning in his own sea of deceit.

‘Why should General Skara exclude himself from our laws?’  Carl announced after the cameras shifted back to the news desk from the photographic clips of Forrester’s mauled body which had been shown directly after the video of his capture and subsequent beatings.  ‘Only an evil barbaric man could devise brutally horrific murders as entertainment for his own needs.’

‘The Black Phantoms also hold further evidence of brutality by General Skara,’ Selena continued.  ‘They ask President Masterson why their request to bring Skara to charge has not been heeded sooner.’

‘In my duty as a Military Crimes Officer, I have a warrant for the arrest of General Osti Skara for the murders of Morgan Forrester and Sir Ivor Wainwright.  More charges will follow in due course.  Mr President, how can you ignore the evidence shown tonight?’  The camera zoomed in on the news desk when Commander Jack Denham joined the presenters with no protection to his own identity.

‘I salute the bravery of these two people to report on the evidence of the Black Phantoms after their own lives were threatened by General Skara.  It is only fair that I reveal myself to you, too.  I am Commander Jack Denham, the leader of the Black Phantoms.  I serve notice to President Masterson that we are here to stay and will not rest until this country is back in the hands of the people and its royal family reinstated to their rightful place.  Thank you for watching this special broadcast and God save the King.’  The studio lights dimmed until an old video clip of the Union Jack flying in a breeze showed, a rendition of the old national anthem played its tune to the public for the first time in seven years, secured in posterity by the Black Phantoms.  The broadcast over, the TV networks were returned to their normal transmission frequencies.

General Skara wasted no time in getting on the telephone to his second in command.

‘Find out all you can on Commander Jack Denham as a matter of priority.’

‘I already have, General, and he served in Special Forces under the old government.  We also just found out that the Spynet satellite is in operation.’

The Black Phantoms’ tactical advantage over him started to make sense; their superior knowledge and how the filmed evidence had been gleaned.  The real surprise was that the Spynet project wasn’t destroyed all those years ago as he was led to believe.  Skara was concerned that the Special Forces had a foothold back on mainland Britain after their failure to get back in time for the battle of democracy.  Time was short for him.

‘We need to counterattack fast and I have the solution in mind.  Remember classified mission Mercy and our discussion about it?’  He asked his man.

‘Yes, General, I do.’

‘It’s time we activated it.’

‘I understand fully, sir.’

‘Good man,’ Skara confided in him and terminated the conversation.  He hoped that he could buy some time to regain his control on the power struggle declared by the Black Phantoms.  The telephone rang.  Skara knew instantly that it was the President calling.  He answered it.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The usual humdrum activities were in motion; workers going about their duties in between departments on the main corridor of floor seven of the police station in their usual quiet ways.  An unexpected sound stopped them in their tracks for once.  Down the hallways in the nearby distance, the stomps of boots in a rhythmic manner could be heard.  Every step taken intensified the sound as it crept closer to the station’s staff, their curiosity stirred.  The first sighting came into view as the soldiers of the APA marched in formation, a line of three, their guns held in their hands.  The police workers, startled in their confusion at seeing an army unit approach them, began in a blind panic to step back against the wall, away from the invading throng.  Nobody dared question their presence.  The soldiers passed by.  A door opened at the end of the corridor and the Chief stepped out of his office into the corridor, alerted to the commotion drawing closer to his door.  He saw the soldiers.

‘What is going on?’ he sternly asked as the soldiers grinded to a halt.  They broke formation and turned sideways, taking steps back towards the wall, leaving the exposed General Skara facing the chief.  He walked forward to the chief.

‘Ah Chief Fletcher?’ he enquired politely.

‘What brings you here General?’

Skara lifted his arms and pushed his wrists together towards the Chief.

‘I understand that MCO Carl Treyer has a warrant for my arrest.  Here I am on order of the President.’

It took the Chief by surprise that the General had surrendered himself for arrest so calmly.  He signalled to two of his men to come forward as arresting officers but some of Skara’s soldiers stepped forward and blocked the access.

‘My men are very protective of me Chief Fletcher.  They will not leave until they are absolutely certain that my safety is assured in your custody.  I would like MCO Treyer to be the arresting officer.  Is it not protocol for him to do so and make the arrangements?’  Skara looked serene.

‘Of course General, it’s my mistake.  Please come into my office and take a seat while I get hold of Carl Treyer.’  He stepped aside and allowed Skara to enter his office.  Two of the soldiers took up guard at the door; the others stood their ground, guns at the ready.  The Chief felt uncomfortable at the stand off; Skara’s men were clearly in control over the proceedings.

*****

Carl and Selena looked out at the view of the Solent from a grass bank that covered the top of their building, among others, at the hilltop retreat of Fort Trafalgar near Portsmouth.  It had previously been a disused building for a number of years, but was now operational as the secret headquarters of the Black Phantoms.  The fort was in a secluded surrounding, protected by trees, access only by a private road.  They were sitting on a blanket and Carl had his arm around Selena’s waist; her hand rested on one of his arms as they watched the boats.  They munched on mouthfuls of their picnic breakfast that consisted of croissants, ham, cheese and a flask of hot coffee.  They enjoyed the precious moments between them after the ordeal of the last few days at the hands of General Skara.  The peaceful lull was broken by the ringing of Carl’s mobile phone and Selena pulled herself a little from their gentle embrace to allow him to answer the call.  He picked up the phone and saw on the display that it was the Chief calling.

‘Good morning sir.’  Carl announced his presence to the Chief.

‘General Osti Skara is in the station and wants you, as the MCO, to undertake his arrest.  His men will not leave the building until we can safety assure his protection in our custody.  Will you return?’

‘I was not expecting that, sir.’  Carl voiced his surprise at the news.  ‘Are they armed?’

‘They are indeed.’

‘I am on my way, sir, and it will take me a couple of hours to get in from my location.’

‘Please report directly to me on arrival, Carl.’

‘I will do so, sir, and thank you for letting me know.’  The call got terminated.  Carl switched off his phone.

‘What’s happening?’  Selena asked.

‘General Skara is at the station asking for me to arrest him, and his soldiers are there too, armed apparently.’

‘I don’t like the sound of it, Carl.  It’s got to be a trap,’ Selena said worriedly.

‘You are probably right.  I had expected Skara to fight it or avoid capture with his men’s loyalty behind him.  We need to discuss it quickly with Commander Denham.’  Selena nodded in agreement to Carl’s words.  They hastily cleared up their picnic and were soon on their way.

*****

Commander Denham stroked his chin with his hand as he mulled over the news of the General.

‘I don’t think Skara would surrender meekly.  It’s not his style,’ Denham answered.  ‘He’s looking for a bloodbath and a police station would fit the bill perfectly, with all those senior officers of the law inside it.  How do we counter that?’  It was a difficult dilemma as Denham eyed the people around him; nobody looked if they had the golden answer to the problem.  ‘I have a plan in mind.’  He alerted the entourage in the room; being the leader he was, a potential solution to a situation was always on hand.  This was no different and he told them of his proposal to combat General Skara and minimise the loss of life.  The plan was approved by all concerned and set in motion.  As the party prepared to leave, Selena rushed up to Carl and hugged him tightly.

‘Come back safe,’ she begged him, fearful of the plight in store at the hands of General Skara.  She had been ordered to stay behind for safety being of no use for the task with any knowledge of weaponry.  It was potentially a dangerous mission and she was downcast at Carl’s involvement.

‘Don’t worry.  I’ll be okay.  I’ve got the Commander’s men giving me strong protection to carry out my job, and I have a bullet-proof vest for good measure.  I’ll see you soon and that’s a promise.’  He leaned in and kissed her, then gave her a smile.  ‘I want more of those in return when I get back.’  He managed to get her to give him a glint of a smile.

‘You’ll get them,’ she answered and released her grip on him.  ‘I love you.’

‘I love you, too.’  Another kiss and then Carl, the Commander and a selected band of soldiers made their departure for London.  Selena had a gut feeling that something would go wrong.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Carl walked alone down the police station corridor guarded by General Skara’s soldiers.  He portrayed his usual mannerisms and gave no hint of nervousness, in order that suspicion would not be aroused.  The soldiers acknowledged his presence and allowed him access to the office door of the Chief without challenge, sentries on both sides.

‘It was too easy,’ he thought to himself as he knocked on the door.

‘Come in,’ the usual stern order bellowed out by Chief Fletcher and Carl made his entrance.  The General rose to his feet from a chair by the Chief’s desk when he saw Carl walk in.

‘You really must improve your level of respect, Mr Treyer, to keep myself and the President waiting to conclude this matter of arrest.’  Skara scolded him.

‘The President?’  Carl was surprised.

‘Yes Carl,’ the Chief remarked.  ‘He’s waiting on a call from the General for confirmation of the arrest before announcing it to the media.’

‘I do apologise for the delay, General.’  Carl looked discreetly about and noticed that no soldiers were in the room.

‘What choice do I have when the President stepped in after watching the TV broadcast by the Black Phantoms and asked for my resignation?’

‘A plausible explanation,’ Carl thought, but it bothered him that Skara was so calm.  He had expected an angry man, fighting for his freedom by brute force if necessary.  He had men who served him with unconditional loyalty who were prepared to die for him if ordered.

‘How is Selena?’  The General enquired mockingly.  Carl felt the resentment build up in him over the question.

‘She’s coping well.’

The General gave a smug smile.

‘Being forced to share my bed so easily and to satisfy my sexual needs…’

Carl lunged himself at Skara, cutting short the remark as it unhinged him.

‘You bastard,’ he growled and grabbed the General’s jacket with one hand, his fist ready, but the Chief quickly intervened and pushed Carl away from Skara.

‘Control yourself, Carl.  This isn’t the time and place to let your feelings to overrule your duties,’ Fletcher ordered him.  ‘Let’s get this arrest over with, shall we?’  Carl backed off.

‘Are you ready for the arrest, General Skara?’  Carl asked in his authoritative manner and quickly recomposed himself.  How he wished he’d got off a punch before the chief stopped him.  He would have liked to wipe the smugness from Skara’s face and get retribution for the General’s captivity of Selena.

‘I will notify the President that proceedings are underway.  May I?’  Skara announced and pointed to the telephone.

‘Do be my guest, General.’  The Chief responded bypassing the usual protocol as the President had an interest in the arrest.

Skara turned round, his back to the men and leant over the desk and picked up the receiver.  He dialled the President’s hotline number and straightened up again as he waited for a response.

‘Good afternoon, Mr President.  The arrest is taking place as we speak and I am calling to officially inform you…’ a section of the outside window shattered and General Skara slumped to the floor, his words halted mid-sentence.  His soldiers stormed the room and saw their leader on the floor dead, a bullet to the forehead, blood seeping from its entrance.

‘Get your hands up!’  A soldier shouted out to Fletcher and Treyer, his gun aimed at them and they followed the order as another soldier bent over Skara and two others raced to the window, guns at the ready.  Both the Chief and Carl were frozen in shock.

‘What the fuck is going on?’  The second in command demanded of the soldiers as he entered the office, but he saw his answer in the lifeless body on the floor.  He quickly saw the dangling telephone receiver over the desk and went over and picked it up.

‘Mr President,’ he sharply acknowledged the voice on the receiving end.  ‘This is General Skara’s second in command.  The general has just been assassinated.’  The new commanding officer listened with attention to the President’s words on the phone.  ‘Yes Sir, I will do so.  Thank you.’  He replaced the receiver and shouted, ‘Get the General out of here and fall back.’  The soldiers by the window lifted Skara’s body off the ground and carried him out of the room.  ‘Mr Treyer, the President holds The Black Phantoms responsible for this,’ said the officer as he retreated from the room with his men.  Once they were out of sight, Carl immediately reached for his hidden earpiece.

‘What the hell happened?’

‘It wasn’t us Carl,’ Commander Denham protested.

‘I think we’ve been set up to take the fall here.’

‘You think General Skara ordered his own death and got his men to carry it out?  It’s a crazy idea!’

‘Who are you talking to Carl?’  Fletcher interrupted him and closed his office door against the prying eyes of the station’s workforce who lurked in the corridor.

‘Commander Jack Denham.’ Carl showed the chief the wire under his shirt.

‘Did The Black Phantoms come to London with you?’  He demanded.

‘Yes, but they weren’t the ones who shot Skara.  They were here for my protection and I’m sure it’s a set up by Skara.’

‘Well, the matter certainly needs to be investigated but I am afraid that I have to suspend you with immediate effect due to your involvement with The Black Phantoms.’

The news of the suspension struck him hard and he was defenceless against the charges.  He reluctantly gave up his gun and police badge and handed them to Chief Fletcher.

‘I will be in touch Carl.  Don’t do anything stupid to compromise the investigation.’  The Chief warned him.  Carl nodded an acknowledgement and left the office.

‘Sorry to hear about the suspension, Carl, but we will help you out of this mess.’  He heard Denham say to him over the radio link.  He wasn’t in the mood to answer back, his mind swamped with theories as he started the journey out of the station.  He wasn’t convinced that General Skara was really dead, tranquillized maybe in a devious mastermind plan to create the impression that he was dead and in the process take down the Black Phantoms with him?  The more he thought about it, the more Carl was convinced of his suspicions.  Skara had played a shrewd hand Carl thought to have left his own career as an MCO in tatters.  Carl vowed that he would leave no stone unturned in seeking out the evidence that would clear up the whole matter and get his reputation restored.  A throng of people rushed forward when he exited the station, cameras rolling as pictures were taken of him.  It took Carl by surprise at how quick the media were on the scene or was it pre-planned.

‘What is your implication on the assassination of General Osti Skara by the Black Phantoms?’ a reporter asked and thrust a microphone into Carl’s face.  Similar questions were shouted out to him by other reporters standing in the throng.

‘No comment.  Chief Fletcher is in the process of opening an investigation and he’ll answer your questions in due course.  Please excuse me and thank you.’  He kept his statement brief as he no longer had any jurisdiction on the matter.  He pushed his way past the media who continued to follow him.  He was relieved when he saw Commander Denham’s escort car pulled up to the kerb, his men quickly making their way toward him, and he got in the car.  It drove back to Fort Trafalgar at high speed, the mood sombre at the backlash that faced them.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The control room at Fort Trafalgar was one of muted silence as the personnel watched the many reports coming in from the scene of Skara’s assassination.  Selena felt jubilation that Carl was safe when she saw the television images of him giving his statement but all the same, mystified at the Black Phantoms’ involvement in the event.  It had also given other members of Denham’s staff cause for concern at the impact for them.  The various television channels’ pictures all suddenly switched to the Presidential Palace and to President Masterson at his desk.

‘This is a grave day for Britain as the spectre of terrorism darkens our country once more,’ he started his speech.  ‘General Osti Skara had honourably resigned his position at my request and gave himself up for arrest to Central Police Headquarters for justice to be served on the murder charges that were raised against him.  He did not deserve to be assassinated for his crimes and there has been strong evidence that the Black Phantoms are responsible for this atrocity.  They are terrorists who claim to be fighting for the freedom of you, the people, but when they hijacked the television network last night, it was an act of propaganda and now this.  I will not tolerate this action by them as President of this majestic land.  They can run, but they cannot hide from the truth of who puts the people’s interests first.  I declare a curfew from eight o’ clock this evening and every night onwards where everybody, with the exception of Presidential departments, is to be off the streets and into their own homes.  It was not an easy decision to take, but the safety of the people in this country is of paramount importance.  We will fight against the terrorist threat of the Black Phantoms and the APA will patrol the streets in large numbers in the curfew hours and anyone caught outside without good explanation will be taken into custody.  This will allow us to hunt down and restrict the activities of these terrorists and believe me, they will be punished severely.  Thank you for listening, and be vigilant at all times to the actions of those around you as the Black Phantoms walk among you all.’  The live broadcast ended and television stations were returned to their own frequencies and programming, but many had news desks on standby after the President’s breaking statement.

The broadcast was picked up and heard on the radio by Commander Jack Denham and his entourage as they travelled back to Fort Trafalgar.

‘Skara has really screwed us with his master plan, hasn’t he?’  Denham remarked to the others in the car.  ‘The President is making him a martyr.’

‘We can salvage this and win back support,’ Carl stated positively.  ‘The General made a mistake.’

‘How?’

‘In the office he stated that the President was waiting for a phone call from him that the arrest was underway before he announces it to the media.  Did he really ring the President or did he call the assassin?  There was no mention of that phone call in the President’s speech so Skara must be alive.’

‘Yet news reporters were already outside the police station when it all happened.’  Denham enthused at the direction of Treyer’s analysis.  ‘It all makes sense.  You are good, Carl.’

‘It’s all part of the job to probe every angle to a situation.’  He said, lifting the spirits of those in the car.  ‘We need to get hold of Chief Fletcher’s telephone records and find out Skara’s last call.’

Denham swiftly brought up his radio link and relayed the Chief’s office telephone number that Carl had given him, and told his men his plan.

‘Selena wants to talk with you, Carl,’ the radio passed over to him by the Commander.  He declined it and shook his head from side to side.  ‘He doesn’t want to talk at the moment so leave it until he’s back at the complex.’  He ceased the link up.  ‘She’s upset that you are not returning her calls.’

‘She’ll have to wait until I get back.’  Carl felt discomfort at how best he was going to tackle the issue of Skara’s abuse towards her, the words of the General in the office still fresh in his mind.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Commander Denham and his team returned to the control room at Fort Trafalgar after the disastrous mission to London, ready for a debriefing session to repair the damage to their reputation.  Selena was concerned to find that Carl wasn’t among them.

‘Where’s Carl?’  She asked Denham.

‘He went straight to his room and asked us not to disturb him for a few hours, and that includes you.’

The request shook her.

‘I know that he is upset about being suspended from his job but I don’t understand why he’s being cold towards me.  He needs my support.  I need to talk with him about this.’  She set off to leave the control room.

‘Selena wait.  There’s something you should know.’  The commander called out to her.

She halted her tracks and turned back and faced him, her mood unforgiving at Carl’s snub.

‘What should I know?’  She demanded.

‘The conversation in Chief Morgan’s office became unpleasant between Carl and General Skara with a reference made about you.  He didn’t take it well and tried to attack the General.  It’s part of why he’s been suspended.’  Denham spoke tactfully.

‘What was said?’

‘It’s really not my place to say but I suspect it’s a factor in Carl’s present mood towards you.  Just be prepared for some flak, okay.’  He gently warned her as he had seen the genuine love between the pair.

‘Thanks for the warning, Commander, and believe me, I will not let Skara come between me and Carl’ she responded defiantly as she walked off in pursuit of her fiancé.

*****

Carl lay on the bed, his back up against the bedstead.  He was shirtless and deeply in thought as he looked at his wallet photo of him and Selena together in a cherished moment.  It repulsed him looking at her, the mere thought of his fiancée in bed with Skara.  He tossed the photo aside to the floor and clamped his hands to his head.  The handle on the door rattled, followed by pounding thuds upon it, his thoughts interrupted.

‘Carl, I don’t know what the hell the General said to you but you better open this door right now and we’re going to discuss it.’  She angrily spoke.

Just what he needed, Selena in a confrontational mood.  The thuds continued.

‘Okay, I’m coming!’  Carl guessed it was time to tackle the issue.  He got off the bed and walked over to the door.  He unlocked the handle’s knob and it turned speedily, the door opened swiftly by force from the outside as Selena barged in on him.  She slammed the door closed behind her.

‘We are supposed to have trust between us and a strong relationship here.  What the fuck did the General say for you to treat me with such contempt?’

‘That he forced you to have sex with him so easily.’  He told her bluntly, straight to the point.

The thought horrified her.

‘I’d rather die than have sex with that treacherous arrogant pig,’ she laid into him.  ‘Are you seriously telling me that you believed him?’

‘It would not be the first time you betrayed me, would it?’

‘What?’  Selena gasped in disbelief.

‘Eric Solomon comes to mind.’  He reminded her.

She slapped him hard across the face with her hand.

‘How dare you compare that to this,’ she beseeched him.  ‘I never slept with Skara.’

‘I never said you did, but the General said so.  Sounds like a guilty conscience for you to deny it.’

It shocked Selena that the situation could get this out of control.  She quickly changed tacks.

‘Can’t you see that Skara was a nasty, manipulating man out to destroy us after we brought him down?’  She reached out and touched his hand to soothe him.  He flinched at her touch and pulled his hand away.

‘I know what kind of man Skara was but I have reasons to be doubtful, don’t I?’

Selena couldn’t believe that Carl was raking up the past over her affair with Eric Solomon, a senior newspaper editor who had promised her a promotion if she had a secret relationship with him, but the career progression never materialised and she left that newspaper when the affair was exposed.  She nearly lost everything in her life.  It happened so early in their relationship.

‘I know that I made a bad mistake back then but we had moved on from that and built a stronger relationship between us.  Please believe me when I tell you that the General lied to you.’

‘Like you did when you denied many times that you had not been involved with Eric until the press plastered the whole sordid details across the news pages for everyone to read.  Why should I believe you now?’  He spoke bitterly.

‘I won’t let General Skara destroy us, Carl, because it just isn’t true.  I will get you the truth.’  She promised him, a determination not to lose him again.

‘How do you intend to do that?’

‘I’m going to ask Commander Denham to speak with his mole inside the APA Headquarters for clarification on this.  It hurts me that you are placing your trust in a sadistic man’s words.’  Selena felt the tears trickling down her face as she said the words but wiped them away quickly.  She retreated from the room, nothing more to say.

Carl saw that he had pushed her to a tearful state and it snapped the bitter mood within him at her promise and left him wondering if he had made a grave mistake to judge her so swiftly.  He knew that he should run after her and comfort her but his emotions were fraught; he was ambivalent, caught up in a past deceit for leverage that did not warrant a place in the present time.  Selena was right about one thing.  He should not have allowed Skara to come between them.  Where had the trust gone?  He thought to himself and realised that he had to get away from Fort Trafalgar and seek out the answers he craved, both to save his career and his relationship.  He started the preparations to leave.

*****

The nightly curfew ordered by President Masterson was in effect.  The streets were empty, devoid of the usual nightly crowd of people going about their business, replaced by foot patrols of APA soldiers, armed to the teeth.  Fear had gripped the people once more as they took heed of the President’s instructions.  A military truck thundered down a street and came to a jerking halt.  Soldiers jumped down to the ground from the back of it and swarmed off, descending towards the front door of a house.  A car pulled up alongside the truck and switched off its lights and engine.  One of the APA soldiers banged on the door of the house, which was then opened by a terrified-looking man.

‘Are you Edward Parsons?’  The soldier enquired.

‘I am,’ the man responded nervously.

‘You are under arrest for sympathising with the Black Phantoms.’  The man was dragged away from his doorstep by several soldiers.

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about! I have nothing to do with them.’  The man protested loudly as his wife rushed to the door wanting to help her husband.

‘Do not step outside your door, madam, or you’ll be shot,’ screamed a soldier to the distraught woman, his gun aimed ready to shoot.  She stood still as another soldier went up to her and pushed her back further into her home before he closed the door.  Wails sounded from the inside.  Parsons was dragged to the middle of the road and forced to his knees as some people peeked from behind their curtains.  Soldiers were spread out along the street and a few stood behind Parsons.  An officer stepped up to the man.

‘You are the owner of Pilgrim Studio, am I correct?’  He asked loudly and allowed anyone with a vested interest in the commotion from their windows to bear witness.

‘Yes, I am,’ he meekly answered.

‘I’m sorry, can you speak up?  I don’t think anyone heard that.’  The officer goaded him.  Parsons answered again, raising his voice.

‘The studio is supposedly abandoned, I take it.’

‘Yes,’ Parsons replied and he knew exactly where the questioning was going.

‘Except for the night of the Black Phantoms’ broadcast where electricity records showed a huge surge of power from the studio.  You allowed them to use the studio, didn’t you?’

Parsons spoke in agreement and knew that he was a doomed man.

‘Did they pay you for the studio time?’

Parsons nodded his head, unable to speak as the shock of being caught sunk in.

‘That makes you an enemy of the country and a collaborator with the Black Phantoms.  The punishment is death.’  The officer delivered the damning verdict.

‘Please, I beg you, have mercy.’  Parsons said in a pitiful plea for his life.  The officer looked towards the car where a hand signal was given.  He drew out his gun, put it to the head of Parsons and shot him dead.  The body limply fell to the ground.

‘Let that serve as a warning to all of you who wish to co-operate with the enemy.’  The officer screamed to the audience watching from the safety of their homes.  The car started up and went on its way.

‘Leave the body and move out,’ he instructed his men.  They all clamoured back onto the truck and it drove off away.  A few brave souls ventured out onto the street and went over to the body, including the wife of Parsons who sobbed uncontrollably over her husband’s death.  At the corner of a house just down the street, Carl emerged from his hiding place, having witnessed the street trial on his way home, and having glimpsed General Skara in the back seat of the car as it passed him.  His suspicions were founded.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Commander Denham had been urgently summoned to the control room by an incoming call.  He went straight to the communications link after being informed of who it was by a member of the staff.  He switched on the link.

‘Where are you, Carl?’

‘I am back home and I…’

‘Are you mad?’  Denham cut him short.  ‘The APA will be watching the house like a bunch of buzzards.  They will kill you if they catch you.’

‘Not if I stay one step ahead of the game.  I know what I’m doing, but I’ve got news for you.  I have sighted General Skara and the curfew is a smoke screen to allow him to move around undetected.’

‘How did you find him?’  The Commander responded in surprise.

‘He ordered the execution of Edward Parsons for giving us the studio time and I saw him in the back of the car as it passed me.  Have you heard the news about Parsons?’

‘Yes, it’s been on the news.  Why did you go back to London and just leave a note for Selena?

‘I need to find answers fast on the setup to clear us of conspiracy charges and it’s easier to do it from here.  How’s Selena doing?’

‘She’s doing well, considering your fight, and I have spoken to my undercover man at the APA headquarters.  Selena was telling the truth.’

Carl paused for a few moments at his own stupidity, that he had shown a lack of trust in her.  Denham picked up on the uneasiness in the pause.

‘We have tracked down the telephone number dialled from Chief Fletcher’s office,’ Denham said, to give Carl something positive to think on.  The Commander gave out the address for the number.

‘I will go and check it out tonight.’

‘It’s not safe, Carl.  Wait for back up from us,’ pleaded Denham.

‘Time is precious as it is and I can’t afford to waste another minute.  I have borrowed a bullet-proof jacket and taken a gun from your ammunitions store.  I’m fully prepared.’

‘Well, play it safe, Carl and a dispatch team that I sent out earlier should be with you soon.’  There was no answer.  Carl had already rung off from the conversation.

‘Get me the dispatch team,’ Denham ordered a soldier and turned to an assistant.  ‘Who’s responsible for the security around here?’  He was concerned that their defence had been breached if Carl was able to slip out of Fort Trafalgar unsighted and taken a few items with him.  Before the Commander got an answer, the emergency drill siren sounded.

*****

Carl arrived at the address given by Denham and found the place deserted.  He had expected to find sentries in place around the office building, but there were none.  He had a renewed vigour within him to know that his hunch on Skara being alive was proved correct and that Selena had been honest with him.  He was determined that the General would pay the price for messing with his life, but first he needed the evidence that would blow the whole assassination cover wide open to the public.  He made his way cautiously to the building and checked to see if there was any security apparatus, but there was nothing.  Carl made his way to the back entrance and switched his gun to silencer mode and blew the lock open from the badly neglected door, that clearly been unused for quite a time.  He slinked in and the building lights were on.  He suspected that there was probably a security guard around somewhere.  He came to the board that listed the offices in the building and found the one for AP Freight Shipping Limited that the Commander had given him.   Carl made his way to the designated floor and once he found the office where the call was received, he picked the lock and unlocked the door.  He entered the office and was able to look around; the hallway light gave exposure to the room through its inner windows.  He closed the door and started to search among the papers on the desk for any evidence that could expose Skara’s faked assassination.  No luck on the desk so he moved to the filing cabinet.  He picked the lock and it was opened.  Carl used his own small pocket-sized torchlight to scan the titles of files.  One file name, ‘Mission Mercy’, aroused his suspicion and stood out since it did not seem to be related to any shipping terms as were the names given to the other files.  He opened it up and started a brief read of the documentation.  Carl quickly discovered that it was a goldmine of information and stated why General Skara was still alive.  Carl looked at further files for more incriminating evidence to champion his cause but was interrupted by the sound of footsteps in the corridor.  He switched off his torchlight and quickly closed the filing cabinet, keeping the Mission Mercy file in hand and hid behind the desk.  The footsteps came to the door and he heard the door opened.  The light for the room flickered into life.

‘You can stop hiding now, Carl.’  He was stunned when he recognised the voice.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Carl emerged from behind the desk, surprised to see Chief Fletcher standing in front of him.  The Chief shook his head.

‘What part of suspension did you not understand?’ he asked Carl.  ‘You have defied my orders.’

‘I couldn’t just sit around and do nothing when I knew that an injustice had been carried out.’

‘How can the assassination of General Skara be an injustice?  Please enlighten me.’  Fletcher sat down in a chair as he said this, and gestured for Carl to do the same.  It looked like they might be in conversation for a while so Carl took the seat behind the desk and faced his Chief.

‘How did you know I was here?’  Carl fired his question as he probed the face of his boss for giveaway clues.  The Chief gave a mere chuckle.

‘I just knew that you would break your suspension so I had your home put under surveillance and the moment you turned up, I was informed.  You are too good an officer to stay quiet over an impending investigation.’

‘It doesn’t answer my question.’  Carl baited him.

‘I followed you here from your home,’ he replied harshly.  ‘Your standards are slipping for you not to double-check your route here.’

It bothered Carl that he had been followed despite the extra care he took to avoid detection.

‘I thought I did.  How did you avoid the APA?’  More burning questions, Carl hoped for Fletcher to get careless and reveal something he could use.

‘I’m on official business, tracking a renegade officer – you.’  He coolly demolished Carl’s stance and line of questioning.  ‘I can book you for breaking and entering and defying a curfew order.’

Carl now felt like he should give his Chief the benefit of the doubt.  He remembered the President’s speech and that he had stated that those on official business were exempt from the curfew.

‘Okay, read this.  It will explain the resurrection of General Skara and put me in the clear.’  Carl passed the Mission Mercy file to Fletcher who opened it and started to read the notes.  ‘There was a military classified cloning experiment being done overseas at a time when it was an outlawed practice to replicate humans.  It was something that I had heard about in my training years but I didn’t think it had ever happened until I read in the file that Skara had been successfully cloned in readiness for the battle of democracy in 2020.  I guess that it was the clone that snuffed it in your office.’

‘How did you trace this to here?’  The Chief showed great interest in Carl’s findings.

‘I only found out tonight that the telephone call that Skara made from your office, the one he claimed was to the President was actually made to here.  I had my suspicion that the General was still alive and when the President made no reference to the phone call in his curfew speech…’

‘You don’t miss a trick, do you Carl?’  Fletcher smiled at him and held the file up.  ‘What were you hoping to achieve with this?’

‘It’s obvious, isn’t it?’

‘I’m sorry, Carl, but I can’t allow you to walk out of here with that information.’  The Chief solemnly pulled a gun on him.  ‘General Skara has been good to me through the years.’

It didn’t surprise Carl that his boss was using undesirable ethics after the way he had just showed up to the office without backup.  However, he had always portrayed the Chief as a stickler for the law.

‘Carl, is Fort Trafalgar the headquarters of the Black Phantoms?’  Fletcher asked.

‘Why do you ask?’

‘It’s under attack by the APA this very moment, with live television broadcasts of it under the President’s instructions.  Heavy casualties were being reported just before I came here.’  The Chief took delight in delivering the news.  It stunned Carl.

‘You’re lying.’  He bitterly spoke in defiance, sure in his mind that it was a ruse to glean information.

‘Am I?  Why not turn the television on?’  The Chief goaded him and indicated the television in the room with the brandished gun.

Carl turned on the television and watched, horrified at the coverage of the unfolding drama.  Fort Trafalgar was slowly being reduced to rubble, huge chunks taken out by the APA’s heavy artillery, but Carl could hear machine guns blazing away from inside the fort.  However, hope of a Black Phantoms uprising for freedom against the military rule enforced on the country was, disappearing by the minute.

‘I can’t see any chance of survival for the Black Phantoms,’ Fletcher remarked.  ‘Is Selena there?’

It dawned on Carl at that moment, just how precious Selena was to him and he feared for her safety, despair suddenly engulfing him.  Carl was angry with himself that their last moments together ended in a quarrel.  He couldn’t bear the thought of losing her now; the harrowing scenes ate away at his soul.

‘It’s all over Carl.  You are effectively a dead man with nowhere to run,’ Fletcher said as Carl heard the heavy pounding footsteps in the hallway.  The Chief smiled.  Carl’s heart sank at the expression, the knowledge that the soldiers of the APA were upon him.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

As the soldiers came into view of the office’s windows, the smile was wiped from Fletcher’s face. These men were not APA soldiers at all, but the Black Phantoms.  He pointed his gun at Carl but it was futile as a shot downed him instantly.  Carl was relieved to see the rescue party, as he looked up at the Phantom who had just saved his life.

‘Carl, we are the dispatch team sent by Commander Denham.  He warned us that you were coming here and it’s a good thing that you’re still here.  We need to get you to a safe house right away.’

‘What’s the point?  The war is over.’  Carl stated as he pointed to the gruesome images on the television.

‘The Commander is alive, and so is Selena.  They got out in time with the elite task force unit and are making their way to the safe house.  It’s only a matter of time before the APA will realise that, so we need to get moving fast.  Did you find anything?’

Carl’s was so relieved and elated to hear that Selena was alive.

‘Yes, sufficient evidence to bring down General Skara,’ Carl responded and handed the Mission Mercy file to the officer in charge.  ‘There may be more evidence in the filing cabinet but I got interrupted.’  He looked down at Chief Fletcher, shot dead in the line of duty.

‘Check it out.’  The dispatch team leader instructed a few soldiers to the cabinet and the men started further searches of the files.  ‘We need to make copies of all useful evidence and put everything back exactly as it was.  We can’t afford to compromise anything.  We need the APA to think we still know nothing about what is going on.’

Further incriminatory evidence found, the dispatch team finished off their tasks swiftly as the TV pictures showed the APA entering Fort Trafalgar.  The team left the building, Carl in tow, disposing of the Chief’s body away from the building.

*****

After a studious journey that avoided any potential encounters with General Skara’s soldiers, the dispatch team arrived at the safe house undetected.  Selena rushed up to Carl the moment she saw him and hugged him tightly.

‘I was so afraid I wouldn’t see you again.’  Her voice choked with emotion as tears began to show in her eyes.

‘I’m sorry for not believing you earlier.  I should have trusted you...’  Carl began, but Selena hushed him and kissed him, just happy to have him back in her arms.  He broke off after a few moments and looked away from Selena to see Commander Denham looking sombre, a man seemingly resigned to defeat, when the dispatch team officer entered the room.

‘We may have a solution, Commander, for an outright victory in this war.’  The officer reported and gave Denham the copies of the files they had found.

Denham looked at the first document, his eyes widening in total surprise at this breakthrough material which could lead to their salvation.

‘This schedule information is extraordinary!’  Denham’s sombre mood was replaced by a look of optimism.  ‘Who found this?’

‘MCO Treyer found it, Sir.’

The Commander continued reading and looked at the list of contents for the schedules, the serious implications that they held.  The destination was the Presidential Palace.  He looked for the carrier which showed as being from overseas.

‘The next delivery is two days away.  Should we try and intercept it, sir?’

‘No, let it through, but I just realised that the deliveries tie in with President Masterson’s executive committee meetings.  I believe it extends further than that and if we can capture that moment in hard evidence,’ Denham paused to get his breath back, ‘We are looking at the surest sign of victory and the President’s downfall.’

‘We need to find a way past the Palace security to pull it off.’  Carl wasn’t sure the task would be possible.

‘That’s the easy part,’ Denham assured him with a quick grin, and turned to the officer.  ‘I want a debriefing session in place within the hour.’  The officer acknowledged the instructions and left the room.  The Commander gathered everyone else together.  ‘We will not allow those who sacrificed their lives tonight to be forgotten.  From the jaws of death when all seemed lost for us, an opportunity has presented itself,’ waving the documents in his hands, ‘for us to redeem ourselves and snatch the freedom we have been struggling for so long.  Stay strong in your beliefs and don’t waver from our chosen path.  Let’s say a prayer for those who perished for our cause tonight.’  They all took a moment as Denham spoke a few words praising their deceased comrades.  The debriefing session began, the plans debated and outlined for the final throw of the dice, the future of democracy at stake.

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

Deep underground in the long-forgotten, dank and disused sewers from the Victorian era, Commander Denham’s team waited for further instructions.  Carl had joined them because he, too, had a part to play should proceedings go according to plan.  He now understood what Denham had meant about the entry to the Presidential Palace being the easy part.  Their underground passage had led directly from the safe house and they were now beneath the Palace, a short distance from a secret chamber that led into the building itself.  They had not been detected at all.  A question was raised at the debriefing as to why the tunnels had not been used for an earlier assault by the Black Phantoms to finish the conflict.  Denham merely stated that it would have been a suicidal mission if they’d gone in with no back up plan in place to restore democracy.  The discovery of the documentation at the office of AP Freight Shipping Limited had given them the ammunition to turn the situation to their advantage, and it was a lifeline they grabbed desperately.

‘The delivery is under way,’ an officer relayed silently to the Commander, informing him of the images coming through his hand-held projector from the Spynet satellite.  The control of Spynet had now been given to one of their overseas allied partners after their communications link had been destroyed when the APA invaded Fort Trafalgar.  The images showed that the freight had arrived at the gates of the palace.  The duty sentries of the palace guard were going through their formalities with the driver and allowed him the usual access after the paperwork clearance.

The Commander peered at his watch in the darkness.  Everything was on schedule.  It was now a matter of waiting for the key players to assemble for the President’s executive committee meeting.

*****

Selena was locked in a meeting with the Director General of the BBC television network.  She was accompanied by members of Denham’s team for protection.

‘I understand the repercussions fully should the Black Phantoms fail in their mission, but they are confident of their ability to win this battle.’  She assured the director.

‘It’s too risky.’  He replied.  ‘We all know what happened to Edward Parsons.  I would rather be living under fear of the president than risk my life.’

‘Come on, Eric.  You owed me a favour when I took the full flak of our affair all those years ago and had my career ruined while you got on with your life quite nicely.’  He sighed in resignation.

‘What exactly is this incriminating evidence you believe could be an exclusive?’

‘I can’t’ tell you yet.  Too many lives are on the line.’

‘However,’ one of Denham’s men offered, ‘if the evidence we seek materialises and gets shown on national television, you will be involved in ending the war and the tyranny of both the president and General Skara.’

‘The General is already dead.’  Eric replied.

‘Is he?’  Selena curtly responded.

‘What are you saying?’

‘Take the risk and find out,’ she badgered him.  Eric hesitated for a few moments, wrestling with his conscience on the issue.

‘If I agree to this and the hard evidence is not forthcoming, will you protect me from the APA?’

‘We will do our best, but I really don’t think it will come to that,’ assured Denham’s man.

‘Okay, we’ll carry the coverage, but only if the evidence is there.’  Solomon laid down his terms.

‘Thanks, Eric.  Believe me, you won’t regret it,’ Selena promised him.

‘After this, I don’t owe you anything anymore,’ he added.

Selena nodded in agreement as one of Denham’s men got straight onto the phone and informed the Commander that they had just secured a television network.  The stage was set for the showdown.

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

The president’s executive committee meeting was drawing to a close, held in The Picture Gallery with its dominating skylight domes that allowed the natural light to shine down on the large oval meeting table.  President Masterson rose up from his chair and raised his glass.

‘Gentlemen, I salute you with much gratitude for an excellent job done on destroying the Black Phantoms and obliterating their Fort Trafalgar headquarters.  This calls for a greater celebration than usual.’  He then gave a hand signal to one of his footmen standing across the room.  The man promptly walked over to the doors of the lobby and opened them.  Several trolleys with large platters were instantly wheeled into the room with several prostitutes following the servants in and brought to the table.  The committee members, including General Osti Skara, applauded in appreciation of what they were about to receive.  Two servants lifted the largest platter and positioned it in the middle of the table before one of them lifted the lid and revealed a whole roasted pig.  Gasps of admiration came from the table’s occupants, now joined by the women blissfully unaware that the event was being filmed by Spynet.  The plates containing chicken, turkey, rabbit, ham, and many other similar meats were laid out, bottles of champagne stood on the table and the party helped themselves.  They were happy to make gluttons of themselves, and began stuffing their faces with the delicacies on display.

*****

‘Start the transmission feed to the television network,’ ordered Commander Denham to an officer, who turned and radioed to the team at the television network.

‘We have a go, standby for forward transmission.’

‘The images are coming through.’  Images of General Skara, alive and well, and making a pig of himself, along with the President, and other members of the executive committee, with their female company were now being broadcast on national television.

‘Let’s go.’  Denham and his troops darted forward into the secret chamber, guns at the ready for the final onslaught.

*****

Distant gunfire from within the building interrupted the executive committee’s meal.

‘What the hell is going on?’  The President spoke with concern as he dabbed his mouth with a napkin and put it down on the table.  He rose from his chair.  The doors from the Ante-Room burst open and Black Phantoms soldiers stormed the gallery, their guns aimed at the table’s occupants.  Commander Denham entered the room with Carl behind him.

‘Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,’ Denham greeted the committee.  ‘Consider yourselves superstars, as you are all, this very moment, on live television, and what a spectacle you are serving up.’  A smile affixed itself to his face.

‘You are bluffing!’  The President exclaimed.

‘Who has control of Spynet?’

The President glared at General Skara for an answer.

‘You are all dead man.’  Skara bellowed loudly as he looked at the President for a moment before returning his attention to Denham.  He got up from his chair to face his foe.

‘We may not get out of here alive but a revolution will be our legacy.  The people of this country have just seen the concrete evidence of how corrupt you all are,’ spat the Commander.  ‘Face it; you have lost your control of the nation.’

‘Switch it on.’  The President demanded of his footman, who went over and switched the wall mounted television on.  The images were clear and close up of the situation in the gallery.  Captions under the footage stated that people were taking to the streets in large numbers, protesting their anger.

‘It seems the revolution is already underway.’  Denham remarked.  The continuing sound of gunfire crept closer to the door; soldiers of the APA had entered the room and scurried forward in earnest.

‘You can’t just remove us from power’ Masterson exclaimed.  The standoff was now in place as both armies’ guns were aimed at each other.

‘We can because as the Military Crimes Officer, you are all under arrest for breach of the Ozone treaty with regards to your consumption of meat,’ Carl informed them.  ‘You have violated your own laws, and I don’t think I need to remind you of the penalty for it.’

Some of the APA soldiers hesitated in confusion, seeing their General alive right before their eyes, the food on the table and the media spotlight on them.  Their reaction did not escape Denham’s attention.

‘Yes, look around you,’ he told the General’s men.  ‘Will you battle to the end for these criminals and risk the wrath of the people’s revolution that will kill you all without mercy?  Do the right thing for the country and surrender your arms.’   The soldiers of the APA hesitantly began to put down their weapons.

‘Damn you, you fools!’  Skara laid into his men with fury and attempted to take a gun from one of them.  A shot rang out.  The General’s eyes widened in shock as he turned around and saw that he had been shot in the back by the President, a long standing friend.

‘You always were a liability.  You just couldn’t stop abusing your power,’ the President scolded Skara bitterly.  ‘I should have removed you a long time ago, but it’s over now.  We will surrender.’

The General trembled, racked by the searing pain that shot up his spine, his breath ragged.  Carl walked over to the struggling man.

‘The biggest mistake you made, General, was to get me suspended from my job after your collaboration with Chief Fletcher.  A jail cell will suit you well,’ he condemned the man.  ‘Take them away.’

Skara exerted one final burst of energy and tried to grab Carl, but he failed, a wounded man with nowhere to run, the humiliation on his face for all to see.  The war was over and Carl Treyer was finally satisfied that justice had been served.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Mark is a deaf author, born in 1964, who has been living on the south coast of England for over 30 years.  After many years his writing dream was revived when in mid-1998 ill health caused him to lose his job on medical grounds.  He was diagnosed with Menieres.  During the recovery period, he enrolled in two creative writing courses that led to writing qualifications and two novels, one of which was ‘Early Memory’, his debut publication release.  A full biography of the author can be found at his Web site www.markradford.co.uk. He is presently working on his next novel.