by Hatchett
Matt looked at Karen who nodded slightly.
“I guess so,” he confirmed as he pushed his chair back and stood up. “If you change your mind, just shout. The microphones in here will pick up what you say.
Mason stared at the opposite wall as Matt and Karen left the room.
3
“Well, that was fun,” Matt commented as they entered the room next door with the one-way mirror. He walked over to the coffee machine sitting in the corner of the room before returning with a cup for Karen and one for himself.
“Not unexpected,” commented Grant Morrison as a couple of IT guys fiddled with the recording equipment.
Grant was sixty-two years old and a veteran of MI5. He was a thin, gangly man of five feet eleven with a gaunt face, green eyes covered by designer glasses, bald pate and a neatly trimmed grey beard. He was also Karen and Matt’s boss, and one of the senior directors of MI5.
“He knows there is nothing we can threaten him with and that he’ll be handed over to his own kind within a matter of hours.”
“When exactly is that happening?” Karen asked.
“Around midday sometime. The PM has been up all night in discussions with everyone you can think of, the most important being the Council of Elders, as they’re known.”
“How did she manage to speak to their leadership?” Matt interjected.
“Mason had a number of alien devices which are currently being examined by our boffins, and one of those was a communicator of some sort. I haven’t seen it myself, but rumours are that it’s a clever piece of kit, far beyond our technical capabilities.”
“But how would she know how to use it?” Karen asked.
“We’ve got one of their kind in human form called Dr Joshua Raven who is helping us. Apparently, he doesn’t get on very well with our friend Mason in there,” Grant explained, pointing towards the one-way mirror.
“But, can we trust this Dr Raven, or any of them for that matter?” Matt queried.
“I doubt it,” Grant said. “By all accounts this Joshua is a treacherous character, just interested in sinking Mason and saving his own skin, or should I say, his host’s skin.”
“Where is this handover taking place?” Karen asked.
“That information is classified,” Grant replied, “but I’m sure you will be told shortly, seeing as you will be involved. In the meantime, I suggest you two have another go at Mason, and if that doesn’t work, try talking to some of his Stormtroopers.”
“Stormtroopers?”
Grant laughed.
“Yeah, that’s what they call themselves. They must have seen Star Wars and think they’re the Empire.”
Matt and Karen finished up their coffees, ready to go and talk with Mason once again.
4
Situated deep in the countryside between a small village called Aldbourne and the market town of Marlborough in Wiltshire, just a few kilometres from the M4 motorway with links to Bristol and Wales to the West and London to the East sat The Manor. It was a large mansion surrounded by fifty acres of land and a number of outbuildings spread across the estate. It had its own mile long track to the nearest road and was a quiet and peaceful retreat. It was owned by Harry and Harriet Wainwright – the two Harrys’ – founders and owners of the Wainwright Group, a global company with a variety of different divisions and diversified interests.
Both Harrys’ were in their sixties and made a handsome couple. Harry was around five feet nine with greying hair and medium build. However, it was his commanding presence which everyone noticed and when he spoke you found yourself listening.
Harriet was shorter at around five feet three, slim with straight, hazel tinted hair down to her shoulders. She had a few laughter lines around her face, but it was still a pretty face which hinted at a lively sense of humour.
They were sitting at a large oak dining table, drinking coffee and looking through floor to ceiling concertina windows at an expanse of green fields stretching to the far horizon, lost in their own thoughts. The TV was on in the background, regurgitating the latest news stories and Hilda, their housekeeper, was busy fussing around in the large oak kitchen with an island in the centre.
Hilda was a slight woman of sixty-eight, with her grey hair tied up in a bun and she ran the house for the Harrys’.
Her husband, George, who was sixty-seven and a bear of a man with large bald head was the groundman for the estate and he looked after all the external areas from the gardens to the outbuildings. They had both worked for the Wainwrights for decades and were treated more like family.
“You look pensive,” Harriet noted, looking at her husband with mild concern. “Penny for your thoughts.”
Harry turned to look at his wife and smiled weakly. She always seemed to know what he was thinking or feeling, and he thanked his lucky stars every day that he had met her those long years ago. She was his soul mate and he couldn’t even bear to think about what he would do without her.
“I think we’ve made a bad decision,” Harry said quietly.
“Jess?”
“Who else? We should never have let her out of our sight…and our protection.”
“Well, that’s easily rectified,” Harriet replied. “We just invite them all over to stay.”
Harry considered it for a few moments.
“You’re right, as usual.”
“Leave it to me,” Harriet said, rising from the table. “I’ll make a couple of calls and send the helicopter to pick them up.”
Harry took another sip of his coffee before rising and heading to the attached barn. It was a solid structure with breezeblock walls, a corrugated metal roof and was large enough to hold a tennis court. It was lit by row upon row of bright lights which illuminated the various boxes and crates lined up like some sort of industrial warehouse. The two huge doors were open, allowing some natural light to enter and also to give access to the convoy of white vans bringing in more gear and supplies.
Harry looked around and spotted Jason and Andy speaking to one of the van drivers. Both Jason and Andy were over six feet tall, big and brutish, both with black hair, dark eyes, broken noses, huge necks and biceps which were bigger than many people’s thighs. They looked so similar that you’d think they were related but this was not the case. They acted as Harry’s bodyguards and right-hand men. He trusted them implicitly, as he did with the other members of his organisation, otherwise they wouldn’t be there.
He looked around some more and spotted Kate and Hannah poking around in one of the crates. They were both in their thirties and were sisters, although they looked nothing alike; Hannah was five feet nine tall with red hair and green eyes, taking after their Scottish father by all accounts, and Kate was shorter at around five feet five with light brown hair and brown eyes, taking after their mother.
Harry smiled to himself. These were all good people, part of the clandestine Underground that he and Harriet had set up slowly and carefully over many decades, and which had now spread to different countries around the World.
The Harrys’ had always believed that there must be other forces and intelligent species in the universe; space was just so vast that its size was almost incomprehensible to the human mind, and the law of probability dictated that there must be other lifeforms somewhere. There were simply too many galaxies and planets for it not to be the case. In fact, the probability of Earth being the only planet to sustain life was so infinitesimally small as to be irrelevant. There simply weren’t enough zeros on the scale.
Harry considered the Infinite Monkey Theorem which suggested that a monkey tapping away at a keyboard would, given enough time, eventually write the complete works of Shakespeare. Obviously, it would take an inordinately long amount of time, many times longer than the estimated age of the Universe. But, was this as far-fetched as the possibility of extra-terrestrial life?
The shape or form of these lifeforms could be imagined, and this had been extensively done through books, film and TV, but the depictions were al
most certainly inaccurate; other species could be plant, animal or vegetable or nothing like them. They could be colourful or invisible depending on their frequencies and wavelength. The species could be microscopic, millimetres in length or millions of miles tall and inhabiting a monster planet. Who knew? Humans thought they were intelligent and superior, and they might well be compared to some species, especially those on Earth, but again, the law of probability would suggest that there are other species on other planets which were far more advanced than homo sapiens. Humans had barely scratched the surface of the mysteries of their own solar system, never mind the Milky Way Galaxy or the rest of the Universe.
Harry was brought out of his reverie by Jason, who had moved up next to him unnoticed.
“You OK, Harry,” Jason asked. “You looked like you were miles away.”
Harry looked up at Jason.
“Yes, I’m fine. Just thinking about our alien visitors and what it might mean for us.”
“I thought you would be excited,” Jason suggested.
“I am…but also a little concerned,” Harry replied. “I hope I’m wrong, but like a good boy scout, we need to be prepared in case it’s not going to be a happy ending.”
“We’re on top of it, Harry,” Jason confirmed.
“I don’t doubt it,” Harry agreed. “I just hope and pray all this preparation is for nothing.”
Changing the subject, Jason said, “I see the helicopter has gone somewhere.”
“Yes,” Harry agreed, noting that Jason was fishing for more information and deciding to keep him guessing, “it’s gone to pick up some something of great importance.”
5
“Who was that?” Damian asked, as Di replaced the phone in its cradle.
“Harriet, and she’s invited us back down to Wiltshire for the foreseeable future,” Di replied.
“Why?” Damian asked, “we were only with them yesterday. I thought we were going to take things easy for a bit?”
“We can take things easy down in Wiltshire,” Di suggested, “assuming Jess wants to go. What do you think, Jess?”
“I THINK THE HARRYS’ ARE AFRAID FOR OUR SAFETY.”
“Don’t be silly,” Di replied. “That Mason character has been arrested and the leaders of the Laakuu say they want peace.”
“SO THEY SAY.”
“You’re turning into a cynic in your old age,” Di noted.
“JUST BEING REALISTIC. EVERYONE WANTS PEACE UNTIL THEY FIND OUT THEY CAN’T HAVE WHAT THEY WANT.”
“Philosopher now as well, I see,” Damian interrupted.
“Anyway, I quite like the idea of getting away to Wiltshire,” Di noted. “All that countryside. It would be perfect for Jess’s ongoing recuperation. Oh, and I forgot to mention, John and Paula have also been invited.”
“I guess we better start packing the van,” Damian suggested.
“No need,” Di responded airily, “the Harry’s are sending their helicopter to pick us all up. We’ve just got to get ourselves over to John and Paula’s because they’ve got enough ground for it to land.”
With that, Di left the room to start packing.
6
Matt and Karen were accompanied by four armed guards as they escorted a handcuffed Mason up from the basement levels to the ground floor and along a passage to the back doors of the building where four armoured prison trucks sat waiting.
Mason shared one of the trucks with his four guards and his six handcuffed Stormtroopers were split equally between the remaining three trucks.
Matt and Karen sat up front in the truck carrying Mason, and once everyone was ready, they pulled out of the courtyard to join a police escort, ready to take them West.
They were heading for RAF Brize Norton, the largest RAF station and airfield in the country, on the outskirts of Carterton in Oxfordshire. The PM was already there with her protection detail and an assortment of other dignitaries and other guards.
The journey of seventy miles took an hour and three quarters before the convoy pulled up at the main gates to the site. They were quickly and efficiently checked out then allowed to continue along the main road for a few hundred metres before diverting airside and coasting to a stop on the apron just outside the main terminal building.
The PM watched from the terminal building with interest as the Laakuu were taken from the armoured vehicles, all of them a good foot or more taller than the armed guards surrounding them. She looked at her watch and saw that it was nearly 3pm. Perfect timing. The Laakuu craft being sent from the Mothership to pick Mason and his Stormtroopers up was expected to arrive at any moment.
The PM’s protection detail stayed close to her as they waited for the Laakuu ship to arrive. It had been agreed with the Council of Elders that the shuttle would remain cloaked until the last possible moment to avoid unnecessary public concern, but in case this was just a ruse to cover for an unprovoked attack, the armed forces were well prepared to fight back if required.
Hidden from sight around the buildings and surrounding hangers were numerous marksmen, soldiers with RPGs and a variety of other war vehicles. Four Typhoon FGR4’s patrolled the sky as well as a Sentinel R1 surveillance plane. There were also numerous cameras all around the airport, recording every second of the event in high definition and from various angles, which would then be carefully examined frame by frame later.
This was supposed to be a straightforward pick up and leave mission. None of the Council Elders would be on board and there would be no discussions or pleasantries. There was no real reason for the PM to be there, but she wanted to see first-hand what the Laakuu ship looked like.
Following the pick-up, the Council had promised to deal with Mason and his renegades, then proper talks could begin to discuss the best way forward.
The PM looked at her watch again and was beginning to worry that something was wrong when she spotted the people on the apron being blown around as if from invisible gusts of wind.
As the wind began to subside, a shuttle de-cloaked and hovered a few metres above the apron, thirty metres from the gathered throng. It was an impressive structure; roughly ten metres long, four metres wide and four metres high as it finished its decent and rested on half a dozen supports which had morphed from the underside of the ship. The outer surface of the ship was shimmering and smooth with not a sharp edge in sight and it was impossible to tell which was the front and which was the back. The outer shell or skin seemed to ripple before her eyes and the predominantly silver colour changed hue almost constantly. There was no indication of any propulsion system and it did not have any obvious engines or thrusters of any kind. It was the most amazing and unusual thing the PM had ever seen, and as she wondered where the doorway was, an opening slid apart in the side of the ship and a silver ramp of some sort seemed to flow down like water in a stream to hover just above the ground.
A Laakuu appeared in the opening, wearing a flowing robe of various colours which also changed shade and colour as he moved. He beckoned for the prisoners to be brought towards the ship.
When the entourage were still five metres away, the Laakuu glided down the ramp to meet them. He stepped off to one side and looked around at the gathering, noting the prisoners standing head and shoulders above everyone else.
Matt and Karen stepped forward a couple of paces, the Laakuu watching with no obvious emotion.
“I am the courier and we are ready,” the Laakuu said and bowed ever so slightly.
Matt nodded back and turned to indicate that Mason and the Stormtroopers should be brought forward.
As the prisoners passed Matt and Karen, the courier, like an expert magician, flicked his wrist a couple of times and opened his claws to reveal several small silver balls sitting on his palm. The courier passed his other hand over the balls and they glowed blue and rose into the air before moving towards Mason and his Stormtroopers. As they glided along, the balls started morphing into long, glowing silver-blue gossamer threads which snaked around the prisoners’ alread
y-bound wrists and ankles before the ends fused together. The threads then started to contract, growing in width as they pulled tighter.
Matt suspected that despite their fragile appearance, the threads were almost certainly strong, especially as they needed to restrain the likes of Mason and his Stormtroopers. His theory was confirmed when Mason strained hard to prise his hands apart, but only managed to gain an inch or so before giving up and allowing the threads to tighten once again.
Once the sleek and slimline alien restraints were in place, Matt ordered the removal of the clunky metal handcuffs, thinking that the two types of restraint were like chalk and cheese. The alien technology was sexy and futuristic whereas their own restraints were like something from the Middle Ages in comparison. He nearly asked the Courier if he had a spare set that he could have.
Matt then allowed the prisoners to shuffle toward the ramp. As each of them reached it, they were lifted off the ground a few inches by some unseen force and then automatically pulled up the ramp to the shuttle’s entrance, like taking the ‘up’ escalator in a shopping centre. The Laakuu courier nodded once as a gesture of thanks before following.
Unseen by the gathering on the ground below, Mason and his Stormtroopers continued their glide once inside the shuttle to a set of seats which morphed out of the floor. They were forcibly turned by their restraints and made to sit before additional restraints morphed out of the seats to wrap themselves around their arms and legs.
The gathering on the apron watched in awe as the shuttle’s ramp smoothly retracted without a sound and morphed back into the hull of the ship. They hastily moved back as they watched the doorway morph closed with a rippling of silver material until it was impossible to tell where it had once been. The shuttle then re-cloaked and the gathering were hit by another blast of wind as it took off. Within seconds, the wind had died down and everything was back to normal. Matt turned to Karen, slowly shaking his head in disbelief.
“Did that really happen?” he asked, “or am I dreaming?”