23 hours - the nineteenth hour

18.00. Faith quietly walks over to me. She has a strange look in her eyes. She grabs me by the elbow and leads me out onto the second balcony. “What’s wrong?” I say before she stammers out, ‘Things are a lot worse than we thought.” ‘What the hell was on that stick?’ I say. “He won’t say what is on it but I do know what they packed around it.’ She leans forward and whispers in my ear. I instantly feel sick

18.05. If he had been ready he could have completed the next part of the contract. Both have appeared on the other balcony. As it is he is not ready and in a public place. He curses himself but he knows he will get his chance. He is the best. The very best

18.10. The leading specialist in contagious disease walks to the back of the bus takes one look and tells everyone to get off. He draws tall the senior people together and relays his instructions. This is a situation they have practiced for in a control room below Whitehall on many occasions. He dials a preloaded number and speaks the password. In three words the world begins to change. He jumps into the back of an unmarked police car and the blue lights go on.

18.15. The journalist has escaped the press conference and not answered the questions of fellow professionals about his question and list of names. It was clear from the reaction that it had scored a hit. He is wondering what to do next when his mobile goes. ‘No caller ID’ flashes on the screen. He answers and recognises the voice immediately.

18.20. We descend in a lift to a basement room. We are two of the first here. I recognise the faces of three of the other four in the room from the television. I get the sort of questioning look that says’ what’s he doing here?’ Faith speaks, ‘This is Mike, he was on the delivery from the start.’ I glance round the room and see maps of central London, the helicopter crash site, rail routes and then I almost gag when I see a photo of a woman head covered with weeping boils.

18.25. The Zurich team regroup at the office of the Leader. Their network of contacts has thrown up some interesting information. Although the stick is still missing it is clear that the other side do not have it. The have their own meeting currently going on. A journalists question has linked a number of names they were conscious of. A young woman, as yet unidentified, has died from a highly contagious disease.

18.30. In the basement we finally begin to understand the scale of what might happen. The stick has information on it so sensitive it could change the world. To safeguard it the packaging it was held in contained a mutation of a highly virulent disease that was previously eradicated and as a result there is little resistance, if any, in the population. It will spread and already hundreds, possibly thousands will have been infected.

18.35. Newspapers are getting reports of some A&E departments getting ‘call ins’ with similar complaints. There is a growing sense that something very odd is happening. The journalist is sitting at his desk in a daze. What he has been told over his mobile by the ‘voice’ has scared him witless. He now knows there is a contagion – well two. One is physical and the other is the network of links that the organisation has had the subverts power and has done for years.

18.40. The biggest decision is about to be made. Morally can they withhold the information they have and put at risk the lives of thousands, potentially millions, knowing it can only get worse? Finally the senior Minister speaks. ‘We are going to have to break silence. We will not mention the USB stick but we must let people have a chance. I will make the call.’

18.45. The lads and girls make a decision. They will go back Jane’s place and try to find out what is on the USB stick. They jump up and head for the Underground Station. As they walk along one of them grabs the boys arm and shouts in his ear ‘stop scratching yourself’ He hasn't even really noticed that he has a red weal on his arms where his nails have been digging into the surface.

18.50. Discussions in the basement room now focus on the disaster management plans that they have rehearsed regularly knowing they would never have to use them. The head of the emergency have arrived to augment those present. They have made the decision not to issue the true reason for their actions but have settled on ‘significant’ air pollution as the reasons for their actions. A media information pack is agreed upon and will be issued shortly.

18.55. The Zurich team is still in the office with a leaked copy of the information statement from the basement room. They know something really big has happened and are not fooled by the ‘air pollution’. Finally one of them risks saying what they are all thinking. In that small utterance they all begin to think of the implications.

We're only making plans - by Nigel

‘Miss, miss!’

‘What is it now Nigel?’

‘He’s taken my pencil miss’

‘No he hasn’t Nigel, it’s there on your desk.’

‘But he could have Miss.’

‘Yes he could have, but he didn’t. In fact, you’ve got over ten pencils there on your desk.’

‘I know, I might need them.’

‘And he hasn’t got a pencil at all’

'I know, but if he takes my pencil others will want to take them. Then I won’t have any pencils’

‘He hasn't taken your pencil even though he really wants to write something. Do you want to write or draw Nigel.’

‘No, I just want to make sure my pencils are safe.

‘All right Nigel, but I do hope you grow out of this fear fuelled selfishness.’

‘Miss, miss, he’s getting too near my desk.’

'He hasn't moved Nigel.'

23 hours - the eighteenth hour

17.00. The man steps up to the lectern and opens the Media Conference. The room has had to be changed because of the level of interest not just from the UK media but international journalists as well. To calm the level of noise and excitement the man goes through the traditional start reading out the statement for activities for the week before signaling that the questions can begin.

17.05. The people in the shop are complaining about not being let out onto the street. They are objecting to being questioned despite having been shown ‘some form’ of identification. Two of the team are reviewing the internal CCTV. They note the behavior of the group of young people and quickly assess the situation and what has happened. Only the Leader of the team knows why they all have to wear the surgical gloves.

17.10. Faith and I have feedback from our group in Oxford Street. They have not been able to get into the store as the shutters are down. One of the team says he is sure that he has seen an agent he recognised inside the shop. Somehow they have got there ahead of us again. As we curse the Minister’s superior walks in and glances around. The remainder of the CRISIS committee suddenly become animated and start barking orders.

17.15. The media conference has been dominated by the Minister’s death. The questions started respectfully but have now become more pointed and the first reporter for an online publication risks asking about the rumours. The man chairing from the lectern says he will not even ask the representative from the organisation ‘respond to such speculation’. The journalist sits and wonders whether he can ask his questions with such little substance behind it.

17.20. The bus has arrived at the terminus. The driver glances at the screen displaying the internal views of the bus. There is a shape at the back of the ground deck. The driver jumps out of his seat and walks to the rear. ‘Excuse me,’ he says, ‘end of the line I’m afraid. You’ll have to get off here.’ As he gets no response he leans forwards pushes the slumped figure. The next thing he remembers is screaming.

17.25. He sits and considers how he will take out the next contract. There has been no sign of either of them since they stepped out onto the balcony and the hotel now has police officers inside. It didn’t take them too long to work out which building the shot had to come from but they are on the wrong floor. With this much activity he is going to have to be really careful.

17.30. Everyone has been let out of the store and the Zurich team are explaining to the staff that they will have to be extra vigilant. They don’t of course but the team has used their ‘identification’ as members of the Anti Terrorism Squad. Although unnerved most of the staff feel somewhat excited to be trusted with such work. The security guard in particular thinks this is the sort of work he should really be doing.

17.35. The bus driver is explaining to the police what happened. Meanwhile the ambulance crew have called back to the hospital to say that they have never seen anything like this and need advice. On the bus, in a taped off area, Tracey-Rebecca is dead. Her face is covered with pustules that have hideously deformed her skin which, once clear, now is shaded with purple and black.

17.40. The lads and girls have walked then length of Oxford Street and gone to sit in Hyde Park. As they are messing about the boy with the USB stick produces it. ‘Where’d you get that?’ As he explains the others start laughing. That’ll teach the staff to hassle them. It’s tossed from one to another until one of the girls finally asks the question, ‘I wonder what’s on it?’

17.45. The dead Minister’s Superior has spoken to a handful of the CRISIS committee and then makes a bee line for Faith. It’s amazing how powerful people know automatically where the real power is. He ushers her away from me and they have a quiet conversation. At one point Faith’s face gives away a moment of surprise before almost immediately resuming the professional air.

17.50. The depot is now shut and taped off whilst people in white suits and face masks work feverishly on the bus. The driver has been taken into quarantine along with those people he has spoken to. A press announcement is prepared to request everyone who was on that bus to go to a named hospital. How do you say that without causing a panic? Meanwhile at hundreds of bus stops travellers are bemoaning the delays.

17.55. With the media conference drawing to a close and the rumours that the Minister’s death was not natural growing in strength he decides has little to lose. He raises his hand and is pointed at. He stands, gives his name and publication and then asks his question. A room that had been filled with background chatter falls to silence and stares at the raised dais. The representatives on the stage rise and file out as the spokesperson declares the conference over.

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.

Two Tales of a City

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.

As the dawn began to break across the skyline of the metropolis they were tired already. It had been a long night and, as they began to tire, all they could hear were the sounds of the port. Well, the sound of the port decanter being crashed against the rims of fine cut glass goblets. It would be time to leave the club soon into the blinking daylight and back to their busy lives.

Well why shouldn't they enjoy themselves, they deserved it. They were all ‘self made’ men. Self made if you call inheriting a family trust or business, a private education, Oxbridge ‘self made’. Oh yes, they had certainly faced challenges but they had overcome them. It was what made them so courageous and determined that everyone should have to face personal challenges and win through. To be tested by the fire. If they could do it, so could anyone. A safety net is only there for people who fear their own abilities. Remove it and everyone will discover their true worth.

As the dawn began to break across the skyline of the metropolis she was tired already. Another night without sleep wondering how she would pay, the bills, feed the children, heat the flat. This wasn’t how she had imagined her life but one debt had spiraled and her partner leaving had hemorrhaged the order of her life. Short term loans had only accelerated the fall. With heavy limbs and head she pushed back the duvet to start another day with clouds.

The television switched on to fill her head with noise and drown out her fears. Today the noise brought more to worry as a reporter on childhood poverty says ‘Children who grow up in poverty tend to do less well in education because of factors in their home background, for example having parents who are more stressed, less able to afford educational activities and resources and less well-placed to help them with their school work.’ She had no wealthy parents to run to, she had no opportunities to recover. She just had pills.

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epo of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way--in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.