23 hours - the seventeenth hour

16.00. “What?” is screamed down the phone in offices and newsrooms around the country. The news of this death, as yet the cause is still a secret, richochets around the internet much as the bullet that took off half his face richocheted off the balcony wall behind him. In a window opposite the man has already broken down the rifle and returned it to a laptop bag. He is leaving the hotel as the sirens wail.

16.05. In and around the office is bedlam as the CRISIS team re-gather and remove a series of documents and computers before the police, in what ever form, arrive. A new ‘blank’ computer is placed on his desk. Faith and I witness all this and then finally are allowed into the office to view the scene. It seems that we are back at work. The man in pyjamas has throws up three times at the sight.

16.10. News bulletins are being broadcast reporting the death of the Minister. There is a state of shock. The tone of the announcements suggest that it wasn’t a natural death but no broadcaster can yet substantiate what is flying around Twitter. Only a satellite channel refers to the rumours. Already a crowd is beginning to gather outside the building and people working there are amazed at how many flowers and symbols are already being laid.

16.15. Faith is of one opinion – this was an execution. She really is astonishing as I watch senior representatives from the CRISIS committee naturally cede authority to her. “Get pyjama boy on a the computers where he can do some work and get onto our foreign offices to find out if there has been any movements of known ‘hits’ she barks. I stand nearby nodding trying to look as though I would have acted this way too.

16.20. At his desk in the anonymous building the news of the assassination has thrown everything into the air. He knows it wasn’t them so it can only mean there is a third ‘party’ chasing the secrets. He knows that the Minister’s organisation will suspect them and this will only serve to muddy the water. He patches a call the leader of the Zurich Team. “Find out what the f**k is going on,’ he demands. His PA frowns. In nearly forty years she had never heard his predecessor swear.

16.25. The reporter is making his way to what should have been a ‘run of the mill’ media conference by the organisation and one he was hoping to disturb with his ‘open’ questions. Now it is going to be packed and focusing on the death of the Minister. It’s unlikely he will get a question in but he most go as perhaps he will be the only one there who suspects there is far more to this than meets the eye.

16.30. Tracey-Rebecca has settled on her only course of action and has located the busiest PC World in London. The inside is packed with people trying out all types of electronic equipment on display. There are not enough staff to cope so after a surly ‘can I help you?’ is responded by her ‘just looking’ she is free to move from TV’s to laptops. She finds one where there is a USB port at the back and inserts the stick. A familiar ping brings an icon to the screen. She walks away and boards a bus.

16.35. The man in pyjamas has settled into his seat and relaxed. Screens are his friends and he can almost forget what has happened over the last few hours as he opens the programmes he needs. Within seconds he rocks back and shouts, “It’s been plugged in.” He runs an instant location finder. “It’s at Oxford Street, near Tottenham Court Road.” Faith shouts orders and agents are dispatched. There is a chance we are ahead of the others.

16.40. His PA opens the office door. “We have a fix on the stick, it’s in PC World, Oxford Street. I’ve sent the Zurich team the information and they are on their way.” He sits back in his leather chair and places his fingers together in prayer. ‘What on earth is happening now,’ he wonders.

16.45. The lads and two girls slouch into the store. The security at the door clocks them immediately and gives them a look. This only fuels the teenage angst. Victims of others attitudes they deliberately touch screens and keyboards to wind up the assistants. It’s free and it’s fun. One of the lads sees the icon on a screen and wanders over. He looks at the PC and reaches around the edges and finds the USB stick. Whilst looking in the other direction he pulls it out and pockets it.

16.50. “Signals gone,” says the man in pyjamas. The same is said in another office. “The team is nearly there,” says Faith. The teenagers are walking around the store when one of the girls notices the arrival of people in identical suits. They decide it’s time to leave and just get out before the team shows identification and brings down the shop grill. The customers left inside and the shop staff wonder what on earth is going on.

16.55. A woman climbs on board the bus with her bags of shopping and flashes her card across the payment mechanism. There is one seat available next to a young woman who appears to be asleep with her head in her chest. She asks her to move up but gets no reply. As the bus sets off she decides to shake her awake. Even with a shake her head remains lolled forward. She turns to other passages and says, ‘must be drunk,’ before shuffling further along to stand.