by Martha Twine
Back in the UK, the IRA had to find places where Esme could be given a suitable role that did not involve torturing women to death too obviously, as she would have attracted the attention of the British Authorities. She was allocated a commanding role in ‘Our Group’. She took part in the training of female terrorists, and managed some of the genetically modified sub-humans whose job was to terminate non-consensual human research subjects targeted within the North American mafia’s research programmes. She brought in henchmen from the IRA to carry out covert telemetry and electromagnetic technology attacks on British citizens, using a dedicated account sourced by Al-Qaida. The IRA welcomed this, as it brought in new business opportunities for their staff.
As Esme aged, she began to suffer from dementia. She was given less responsible roles, such as bringing up Al-Qaida batch kids. She ended her life running a child brothel for Al-Qaida employees. She left a dreadful legacy. Such was the harshness of her regime; that children entrusted to her care became programmed carbon copies of herself, with the same behaviour patterns.
The first time I visited Al-Qaida’s Algerian research base in the desert, my intention was to ‘return to sender’ some Algerian terrorists who were attacking me in the UK. I saw the prison camp area, and the kidnap victims who had just arrived. Two old-style Al-Qaida prison camp guards wearing long black robes and hoods rushed out and dragged the new prisoners to a fence, where they tied them up, and proceeded to hit them with sticks, before dumping them in wooden prison huts. I looked into one of the more distant huts and found a poor woman in her fifties. She had been terribly beaten. As the Algerian base was an electromagnetic environment, I was able to take away the pain, and make her feel better, but there was a limit to what I could do. She had internal bleeding, and, unfortunately, she died the next day.
On one occasion, I dropped some terrorists in the Algerian base from a great height. They fell dead in what must have been the old punishment blocks, where the earth covered mass graves, before the North American mafia introduced laser-powered cremation services.
As the terrorists’ bodies came raining down, the prison camp guards thought that they must have been thrown from a plane, despite the clear blue sky above them. Whenever a body fell to the ground, they would grab their rifles and fire determinedly into the air, even though they couldn’t see anything up there.
I watched as the Al-Qaida representative in France, with authority over training and operations in France and the UK, suddenly came into focus on my inner view. He got on his mobile directly to the Algerian guards.
‘Stop that, you stupid idiots,’ he shouted in irritation. ‘There’s nothing up there.’
The guards put down their rifles, looking a bit shamefaced.
That incident showed me how effective Al-Qaida’s control of its technology freeways was. The Al-Qaida manager was watching me in the UK, could also see what was happening in the Algerian base at the same time, and could communicate with his staff there instantly.
When Al-Qaida signed a contract with the North American mafia to develop their Algerian site, everything changed. Al-Qaida employed North American mafia technology experts to build their world-wide electromagnetic architecture, using private commercial satellite to provide wi-fi links with ‘roving’ coverage, similar to what you would expect for mobile phones. Al-Qaida owned the infrastructure, and had executive over-ride on all systems.
The North Americans built a vast underground research base in the Algerian desert. They brought in modern technologies and equipment, as well as highly skilled North American scientists. Their front was that they were part of a large multinational conglomerate, carrying out work that would help humanity to conquer diseases, and participating in charitable projects in Africa.
Al-Qaida’s research centre covered medical research, genetic engineering, biological warfare weapons, chemical weapons, electronic and electromagnetic weapons. Back in the UK, there were several smaller North American mafia underground research bases, which got supplies of biological agents from the Algerian Al-Qaida base. These agents included common and rare viruses, bacteria and their antidotes. They were used in the non-consensual human subject research carried out locally. The North American mafia used Algerian Daesh dwarves as couriers to bring products to the UK. The couriers had to be given the antidotes to the biological agents before transporting them, in order to prevent the possibility of infection.
One autumn, an Algerian Daesh employee, who lived in a house opposite ours, brought in a rare type of influenza that featured ear-ache. I heard that he had gone sick with these symptoms himself. Then I got it. Luckily no one else got, it as far as I was aware, but it was a worrying development. What if he had given it to lot of people? I heard that he had stored the products in his home fridge before handing them over to the North Americans.
Another Algerian Daesh employee approached me on synthetic telepathy, mistakenly thinking that I was an IRA woman manager. He offered to get me a range of bacterial agents, at a price of £150 each, plus opportunities to access the child brothel. The man told me that the bacterial agents were kept in a refrigerated area shared with an American charity working in Africa. He had a pass, courtesy of Al-Qaida’s Algerian research base, which gave him the identity of a charity worker, and access to the refrigerated area, from where he proposed to steal the products.
On another occasion, I noticed something wrong with a few plants in our garden. Bits of them were going brown and dying, and it looked like an environmental problem; but I could not work out what it was. I made an enquiry to our county Environment Agency representative, and she kindly came round to have a look. She was very knowledgeable about bugs, fungal attacks and other plant hazards. She surveyed the garden, and immediately focused on a hawthorn bush with browning bits.
‘Oh, that looks interesting,’ she said. ‘I’ll just take a few samples.’
She took out a knife and sliced bits off into a large plastic tube.
‘I’ll send these for analysis and let you know the outcome in a week’, she explained.
A week later she telephoned me, quite excitedly.
‘We’ve found what it is,’ she said. ‘It’s a rare foreign virus, and yours is the only case in the UK. There is one other case already recorded in Europe, so no further action is required. If yours had been the only case in Europe, your house would have had to be quarantined.’
‘Oh, thank you for letting me know,’ I said, wondering what quarantine would have involved. I also wondered how the virus could have got onto our bush. I suspected that it might be something to do with the activities of the local North American mafia research base, but I had no evidence to support my suspicions.
In recent years, Al-Qaida’s influence across North Africa has expanded greatly. Al-Qaida representatives operate openly in Algeria and Tunisia. I visited the Algerian underground base, and found a large number of soldiers sleeping on camp beds in a hospital hall. They were waiting their turn to undergo minor clinical procedures to insert microchips into their heads, and nano-cameras behind the retinas of their eyes. Across the wide corridor were four blocks of operating theatres, where surgeons and doctors worked round the clock to complete this work.
Al-Qaida have exported trained soldiers to the Middle East, Central Asia and Europe in large numbers, some of whom arrive in the UK. I found underground tunnels underneath the cities of Algiers and Tunis, leading to Al-Qaida centres, where soldiers in their early twenties, trained at the Al-Qaida desert base, were awaiting transport to Syria and Iraq. The soldiers were all volunteers, keen to fight for their cause. Morale in the Al-Qaida training camps was high. Some of the more experienced soldiers running the military training had started their career in Libya, when Colonel Gaddafi offered nine months’ basic weapons training to men from across North Africa. But the Al-Qaida soldiers being turned out now had more of a Western approach. At the Al-Qaida Algerian base, the IRA were under contract to provide ‘British style’ army techniques, claiming to employ
mercenaries who had been trained in Britain. The training included proficiency in electronic and electromagnetic weapons, as well as mainstream fire-arms.
When I became more proficient in navigation of the electromagnetic environment, I used to pick up groups of these illegal immigrants, and teleport them straight into Algerian and Tunisian prisons. I thought this was working well, until I dropped off twelve Algerian Daesh couriers in an Algerian jail. At first, they were put in the cells, but, as I watched, one of them bribed a guard to let them make a phone call. Half an hour later, the Al-Qaida representative was in the prison complex, smiling and waving at the couriers, who were let out, and escorted to a coach provided by Al-Qaida, to take them straight back to a seaport, from where they travelled directly to a port in the South of England.
IRA YOUTH TRAINING GROUPS
The IRA spend significant resources on recruiting young people in the British Isles into their ranks. They do this covertly. They are a proscribed organisation – it is against the law to belong to the IRA, so they cannot advertise themselves. Their activists infiltrate charitable organisations involved with youth, for example offering inner-city slum kids holidays in the country, or outward-bound courses for boys who have been in trouble with the law. The young are befriended and then incriminated in such a way that they become collaborators in some illegal act, after which they are controlled by threats of disclosure. Initially the incrimination is very minor, but it teaches kids that there are people who believe it is OK to be above the law. The next step is for the kids to be made to carry out illegal acts, such as shop-lifting and under-age car theft, for which they are likely to get caught by the Authorities. Once the kids have a criminal record, the IRA use them to carry out illicit activities, as and when it suits them.
The IRA ran a junior students’ weekend course, which included woodcraft, cross-country running, and a night exercise in which the students had to make their way, one by one, from behind a local petrol station, over a stream, up a hill, and through several private gardens, collecting a large stone along the way, which they had to throw over the fence into my garden. The last stretch of this exercise was videoed from a neighbouring house rented out by the terrorists.
The youths knew they were trespassing and carrying out minor damage to someone’s garden. They were urged on by IRA youth trainers, men in their thirties, who acted as role models for young boys in their early teens.
I was not aware that my garden was being used for the youth training course, at first, but one day I noticed a pile of stones behind a wall. A few days later, the pile of stones had grown. Then one night, at one thirty a.m., when I was out catching slugs (this will seem a pointless exercise unless you are a gardener), I heard two boys crawling through the undergrowth of my neighbour’s garden. One was close to the pile of stones. I was suspicious, and next night I waited to see what was happening. Sure enough, I heard what sounded like kids crawling through the undergrowth at the back of my neighbour’s garden. I could dimly glimpse one of them. He looked about fourteen.
I ordered them to stop, and they froze. Then I told them to turn round and go back the way they had come. But they did not leave. They just stayed there. So I got the hosepipe and soused them heavily. They did not break cover, but stood there getting wet. I gathered from other IRA operatives on Syntel that the kids had been praised for their endurance, and given a certificate of achievement. However, the youth midnight field courses stopped. I used the pile of stones to reinforce a bank in my garden. The stones were large and specially cut. I suspected they had been stolen from another neighbour’s dry stone wall, further down the road.
It was three a.m. I woke up, and with my eyes still closed, my interior vision via the electromagnetic computer system showed an unfamiliar scene. It was an attic room, and a young woman in her underwear was being threatened by a young man. His arm was raised as if to hit her, and her arm was raised to shield herself. Instinctively, I brushed him out of the room with my hand, and he fell back against the opposite wall in the room next door. Another young man entered the room, and, putting his arm on the roof beam above his head, began to do acrobatics. I dismissed him as well. As I did so, a third young man, whom I hadn’t seen, gave out a screech, and started hopping about on one foot.
‘Augh, she’s got me,’ he cried.
I saw that the young woman had fired an electronic laser handgun at him.
‘Fine,’ I thought, ‘She can look after herself’.
There was a noise coming from the floor below. I went downstairs. It was dark. Men and boys were milling about, but it was hard to see what was happening. I could just make out a large plasma screen TV, showing a grainy skin flick, and some men masturbating in front of it.
‘Open a window, someone,’ I heard an older say.
A tall black guy got up.
‘Why do you need to watch a movie?’ I asked, somewhat pointlessly, since the reason was obvious. ‘Can’t you manage without it?’
‘I need help to get through the night,’ said the black guy.
‘For God’s sake, open the window, someone,’ repeated the older white male.
I smashed the window, thinking that it was an emergency.
‘Don’t smash it open like that, boys,’ said the older man, who could not see me.
I smashed the plasma screen that was showing the porno movie.
‘Now boys, that’s very naughty of you,’ said the white male.
Another young woman suddenly came into view in the shadows. The tall black guy made a lunge at her. She spat at him. A young white boy rushed to her aid. The black guy punched him in the face. I hit the black guy in the groin, and he fell to the floor.
The older man got up in a hurry and ran down stairs into the back garden. He took a large whistle out of his pocket and blew it loudly.
‘Everybody out! Everybody out now!’ he shouted.
Eight teenage boys, another black guy and two young women ran out.
They looked a ragged bunch, standing there in the early morning. Guessing them to be one of the IRA’s youth summer camp courses, I had a go at them.
‘Call yourselves Irish Republican Army, do you?’ I shouted. ‘That’s no way to behave. Let’s see a bit of discipline here.’
The boys stiffened up and got into a line.
‘That’s better,’ I said. At this point, one of the boys put up his hand.
‘Please, Miss,’ he said. ‘I’m not a member of the IRA, where do I sign up?’
An older IRA woman, who, unbeknownst to me, had been on duty, came forward, and said, ‘That will be taken care of, don’t worry.’
‘I didn’t know we were with the IRA,’ said another boy, more politely now. ‘Not that I’ve any objection, I wouldn’t mind joining up either, but no one told us about it.’
‘Honestly,’ said the IRA woman to another female standing next to her. ‘I don’t know why we go through the charade of bringing them on an outward-bound course; they’re all quite OK with the truth anyway.’
The older man decided to assert his authority, as he was supposed to be the responsible adult with the boys.
‘Now then boys, all go into the house,’ he said.
No one moved.
‘What’s your problem?’ he asked.
‘There’s a man in a black coat and hood in there, and he’s dangerous,’ said one, referring to me. ‘He’s punched several of us, and they’re lying upstairs.’
‘And now he’s standing right next to you,’ I said.
The boys and girls all screamed, and ran into the house.
The elder man went in, to inspect the casualties. He came out and reported to the IRA women:
‘There’s one black guy down, who can’t walk. Says he’s been hit in the bottle-brush area.’
He stared at a boy in front of him.
‘Sonny, where’s your front teeth?’ he asked.
‘The black guy punched me,’ said the boy.
There was another black adult male, stil
l standing.
‘You’ll have to carry the injured boys downstairs,’ I said to him.
‘No way,’ he said, ‘It’s not my job. I don’t work here. Me and my mate just snuck in here for a laugh tonight.’
The two boys I had brushed aside came down the stairs by themselves. They were winded by my impact, but otherwise OK. The boy who had been shot in the foot couldn’t walk down the stairs.
‘You’ve got to go and get him,’ I told the other black guy.
‘OK,’ he said, sullenly.
He marched up the stairs and started dragging the boy towards the stairwell, like a sack of potatoes.
‘Ouch! Mind what you’re doing!’ cried the boy.
The black guy had clearly lost patience, and he chucked the boy down the stairwell.
I jumped up, and caught him high up in the well. To prevent hurting him, I very slowly and cautiously supported him down the space of the stairwell, and gradually laid him on the ground.
‘Wow! I’m floating!’ said the boy.
The others gasped, and ran off in a fright. Everybody made their way towards the breakfast room, to receive hot drinks and reassurance.
‘What was all that about?’ I asked the IRA woman.
‘These are slum kids from London, on one of our charity outings,’ she said. ‘They are good recruiting grounds for us. The old man shouldn’t have put on the porn movie. All those lively youngsters running around, and only two girls in the group, it was bound to give them ideas.’
Postscripts
The brave boy who came to the aid of the young girl was taken to a dental surgery later that week, and a few weeks afterwards he was given replacement front teeth. He was quite pleased with the result.