Terror in Britain

by Martha Twine

  Obviously, she had picked up my thoughts via synthetic telepathy.

  Bertram gave me a look.

  ‘All right, what’s this about?’ he said.

  ‘I’ve found some very strange people who are spying on all of us, from an underground base under the Indian Ocean. Would you like to meet a couple of them?’

  Bertram was not as phased as you might expect.

  ‘Oh, all right. Bring them in, then,’ he said.

  ‘Where shall I put them?’ I asked.

  Bertram nodded to a door on the other side of the corridor.

  ‘Can you put them in there, please?’

  ‘Will do,’ I said.

  I went back to the undersea base, and found the group of brown-suited men, who had just come back from lunch. Selecting two who looked like suitable spokespersons, I explained that we wanted to ask them some questions. Then I transported them into the interview room. The room was modestly furnished, with two arm chairs, a bookcase and a side table. The men were somewhat bemused, but sat down in the armchairs. I left them to it.

  Half an hour later, I got a call from Madelaine.

  ‘Excuse me, can you please take your two gentlemen away? We need people more senior than that.’

  ‘OK,’ I said.

  I returned the men to their under-sea office, and went in search of the silver-suited VIPs.

  ‘They all look pretty important,’ I thought.

  I selected all thirty of them, just as they were going in to their banqueting room, and put them in an aerial cage suspended above the garden area used by Our Group. Then I singled out their leader, and brought him into the room next to Madelaine’s, where she and Bertram were now sitting.

  ‘Perhaps you could stay for this, if you wouldn’t mind,’ said Bertram.

  I nodded and sat down at the table with the other three.

  ‘Thank you for joining us,’ Bertram addressed the VIP politely. ‘We haven’t met your people before. Would you mind if we asked you some questions?’

  The VIP did not reply.

  Bertram beckoned to two women, hovering in the other room. They looked to be Special Service personnel. The women came in and sat next to the VIP. They stared intensely at him, as if scanning him at close range, which is what they were doing, using nanotechnology equipment concealed somewhere around their eyelids.

  Then suddenly, the VIP ejected a prosthesis from above his own eyelid, as if in a tit-for-tat exchange. One of the women screamed and put her hand over her eye. She had been shot.

  ‘Right,’ said Bertram. He called out to two heavily armed guards in the corridor, who immediately appeared.

  ‘Kindly escort our visitor to the research laboratory,’ he said.

  As the guards took the silver-suited attacker away, two medics were attending to the Special Services woman. I doubted whether they could save the sight of her eye, but hoped for the best.

  ‘Come with me, please,’ said Bertram.

  We went down some stairs, passed a security check, and reached the entrance to the research laboratory.

  ‘Maybe it’s better if you don’t come in,’ said Bertram. ‘Can you just wait out here?’

  I nodded, and sat down on the stairs. An hour passed, then the door opened, and a hospital trolley was wheeled out. I saw the VIP lying face upwards. His eye prostheses were still open. It was not clear whether he was alive.

  Bertram came out.

  ‘Pity,’ he said, ‘We still had some questions to ask him.’

  We went upstairs to the meeting room. Madelaine was waiting for us.

  ‘I don’t suppose you’ve got any more like that?’ said Bertram.

  He looked at me knowingly.

  ‘Just one would be enough.’

  ‘Actually, I’ve got twenty-nine like that in an aerial cage,’ I said. ‘Where do you want them?’

  ‘We’ll have to use that room in the basement’, said Madelaine.

  She led me down some stairs, and showed me where to drop them off. It had been used for social events at some time, and had several three-piece suites in it.

  I went back and got the rest of the silver-suited VIPs from the aerial cage. Then I carefully deposited them in the large basement room. I checked to make sure that they had landed safely, but I couldn’t see them at all.

  ‘Maybe I didn’t achieve the manoeuvre properly,’ I thought. I did it again. Still no result.

  Then I looked round the room. The twenty-nine VIPS were there all right. They were all pressed up against the walls, and their silver suits had faded into the background, achieving near-invisibility.

  Some armed military personnel arrived, and I left them to it. All this was way above my head.

  Just then, some low-level operatives from Our Group attacked me outside our house, with laser guns. They had been excluded from accessing me until now, because I was technically out of their area. The moment my mind returned to normal, they seized their opportunity.

  ‘All right,’ I thought. ‘You can go and meet the people who seem to be giving you orders’.

  I picked them up, and dropped them in the parallel reality Earth, in a large room below the VIP’s conference room. The room could be described as a ‘brown study’, in that there were dark wooden panels all over it. The room had an enormous meeting table. There was a massive brown desk at one side, and the arched ceiling was so high that it felt like a cathedral.

  A large heavily built man in his fifties with dark hair, was lying back in the Chairman’s seat, with his feet on the table. He was smoking a cigar. When I dropped the Our Group rabble into his office, he called some guards, who marched them smartly off. I repeated this procedure several times. Then I went to see what had happened to them.

  They were in a prison area, tied to iron rings embedded in the walls. There were two metal bars over the area of their faces. In front of them, guards were wielding various weapons. There was a lot of noise, and the guards seemed to be hitting the Our Group lot in the face. I saw a woman Our Group member and went over to her.

  ‘Are you in pain?’ I asked.

  ‘No,’ said the woman, ‘They are just hitting the bars.’

  ‘How strange,’ I thought.

  A dark-clad manager came over to me.

  ‘It doesn’t work with people from your world,’ he said. ‘Now, if it was our lower people, they would be totally intimidated, and return to their work stations in a submissive state.’

  The manager had a fairly repellent frequency. It reminded me of people I had met in North Korea. At that moment, I heard a senior Our Group woman outside our house giving orders for some weapons group men to attack me with electromagnetic weapons. Immediately, I lifted her up and dumped her in the prison. When she arrived, I could see from her uniform that she was a member of the US cult that advised the IRA. I was expecting to see her tied up, like the rest of the rabble, but instead, the large man with the cigar came over to her.

  ‘How nice to see you,’ he said. ‘Please come upstairs.’

  I watched as she was escorted to a VIP reception point.

  ‘OK! OK!... interesting,’ I thought.

  Then I went over to North Korea, to one of the notorious prison camps, and picked up a head prison guard. I deposited him in the cigar-smoker’s study. Again, there was the same response. The North Korean was welcomed as an honoured guest.

  I had seen enough. It was obvious. These guys were in league with the best of the worst on our planet.

  ‘So this is where the people driving all those cranial implants hang out,’ I thought.

  I decided to pick up the cranial implant trail of a senior Our Group manager, and see if I could track it back to the sinister parallel reality Earth.

  I watched a senior Our Group man, receiving instruction via his cranial implant. He was sitting alone at his desk, on the top floor of his mansion.

  ‘Let’s see where his wi-fi trail goes,’ I thought.

  I followed the light trail up into the ether, expecting
it to emerge in the office of one of these brown-suited freaks. I was determined not to lose it, wherever it went. My focus held on to the light trail as it sped into outer space at hypersonic speed. After a while, I saw a spherical dark brown object. It was hard to make out, as, unlike stars, planets and gas clouds, it did not shine at all. If anything, it absorbed light into its mat surface. I reckoned it was about half the size of our moon, and it was clearly man-made.

  The asteroid, if you could call it that, was constructed like a submarine, with interior decks of different levels. It had a lot of antenna on the top, with a large mast, on which was a round transmitter, held in place by metallic cross-bars, just like the one I had seen in the sinister city. The light trail finished up in a large office. But it was hard to make out who was sitting at the desk. Everything was dark brown, and if there was light, it was dark brown as well. In spite of that, I could tell by frequency sensing, that the furniture was of a human type, and that there was someone sitting at the desk.

  This set-up did not look like the centre of an organisation. It felt like a subsidiary body. I examined the metal wheel on top of the ship, and picked up a transmission coming from outside, leading far away into the galaxy. I decided not to track its path, as it could be light years away. Instead, I tuned into the frequency of the transmission, and found myself in a different world. It was a brown earth-like planet, with forests, and canopies of green trees. There were no buildings that I could see, except for one massive brown metal spire, of the same style as on the ship, and a round wheel with cross bars, stuck on the top.

  The spire descended into the earth, and as I followed it down, I could see huge architectural spaces, clearly man-made, like enormous underground cities. But there were no people walking about. At the top of the city structures, there were rooms which appeared to be for very senior people, and then a complex honeycomb of structures leading far down into the earth. I learned later that ordinary people in this culture never went near the surface, and were not permitted above ground. I tried to make out what the senior people looked like, but all I could see was a dark brown out-of-focus area, possibly caused by shielding devices.

  Could this civilisation be the source of the maleficent instructions being cascaded to terrorists in our world? The whole place had a bad feel about it. What was needed was some higher frequencies to lift the energy. I remembered a ‘cloud-buster’ device I had seen on the internet, produced by a firm in Wales, which was said to help the energy of our planet. I mentally copied and pasted one onto my visual screen. I radiated it with pulses of golden light, and magnified it to a colossal size. I placed this device as close to the centre of the alien world as I could, deep inside its rocky centre. Then I multiplied the number of devices, doubling the number each time, until the devices filled the entire contents of that world and were beginning to show above the surface. I visualised the brown world as a ball inside a basketball net and filled the net with intense golden light. Then I stepped back.

  The brown sphere began to glow from inside. Then lights started shooting out all over the surface. The surface was expanding, and, as it struggled to contain the frequency reaction inside, cracks started appearing. There was an enormous explosion of light, and the brown fragments of that world were sent hurtling into space at tremendous speed. At the same time, I could see trails of light leading off through space. I followed them, and found some twenty brown spaceships parked in a remote circle around our planet, each with their spire and wheel transmitter. They were hundreds of thousands of miles away from the earth, and absorbed light, instead of reflecting it. They were hard to detect.

  As the trails of light reached the dark ships, they began to glow, and expand. Then they also began to crack, exploding in a shower of galactic fireworks. But now there were thousands of trails of light snaking their way towards the earth.

  ‘They’re going to hit all the cranial implants!’ I thought. ‘I wonder what will happen when they do?’

  I returned to the Syrian desert and my Bedouin friends, knowing that they lived across the road from a group of Arabs that were enemies of Al-Qaida, and likely to have implants. As I arrived, I heard a tremendous wailing going on. One of the Arab houses had its windows pushed wide open.

  ‘My master has had a heart attack,’ cried a senior Arab manager.

  I switched my gaze to a Malaysian underground base, where the pastel Arabs supervised a group of technicians involved in remote electromagnetic attacks on their enemies. There were no Arabs visible. The technicians were not working. They were looking round and talking to each other in hushed tones. Above ground, in the car park, I saw an Arab with a pastel coat lying on the ground.

  Then I went back to the UK and checked on the numerous senior Our Group officers, who seemed to do nothing but sit at their desks day and night, issuing orders for their servants to carry out. Not one of them was at his desk. Everywhere I looked it was the same. In New York, the US mafia’s headquarters had posted a list of the deceased. People were standing silently looking up at the board above their heads.

  Although rather shattering, this was quite logical to me. After all, we already knew that people whose cranial implants had been subverted were responsible for all kinds of terrorist attacks across the world. But I was not expecting so many people to be affected. Even senior people in Al-Qaida had been hit. I never guessed how many of them had had the implants.

  That night, there was silence in terrorist headquarters across the world. All the secret communications lines had been burnt out, and terrorist decision-makers across the planet were lying dead, awaiting burial.

  THE SIEGE OF EXFORD

  After the demise of the sinister city, it began to feel as if the terrorists’ electromagnetic world was beginning to go extinct. And thanks to our British military, the counter-terrorism teams and the Royal Air Force, the activities of the Al-Qaida/IRA terrorists had diminished to such an extent that several IRA regiments had been obliged to merge, most notably those known as the Exford Regiment and the Metropolitan Regiment, which included London and the surrounding areas.

  Following the merger, the Metropolitan Regiment put pressure on the Exford element to resolve its problems in our area by seeking to take back control from the British Military. As a result, groups of male and female terrorists from several units were drafted in from both central and outlying areas, and ordered to cooperate with the Islamic State and Daesh terrorist cells. They began a series of concerted attacks on me and other targeted individuals over a ten-day period, in an effort to re-establish sovereignty of the area.

  Whenever they tried to attack, the British military sent helicopters and aircraft to disconnect their wi-fi routers and melt their electronic installations. The military took out the IRA satellite links to their shared systems across the British Isles, and hit the weapons of perpetrators with guided lasers. While all this was going on, I began thinking what I could do to highlight some of the more covert electromagnetic activities of the terrorists, going on behind the scenes. Exford was the nearest large terrorist centre, with a specialist science research centre, where unethical scientists, sponsored by the North American mafia, conducted industrial espionage, and attempted to spy on defence and space research in neighbouring British government facilities.

  I decided to repeat the method which I had used in Exborough. I went into Islamic State and Daesh safe houses in our area, dragging and dropping their soldiers onto the road and car park outside the secret mafia science research facility, where they lay with minor injuries. I also placed a Daesh soldier on the roof of the building. The county police and ambulance service services were soon on the scene, and started measuring the distance from the roof to where the Islamic State soldiers had fallen, to try and establish what had happened. They worked out how the terrorists might have got onto the roof, but they were puzzled about the placement of bodies on the ground in relation to the roof.

  Our local terrorists were trying to stop me dragging and dropping their men, us
ing a hand-held anti-gravity device. I seized the device from them and placed it in the car park outside the science research facility. Almost immediately, a member of the counter-terrorism team found it, and took it away, warning the police to be on their guard, and not to approach the building.

  The area was cordoned off, partly because the Islamic State and Daesh soldiers were found to be carrying hand guns, and there was as risk that others could be nearby. I arranged for another Algerian Daesh soldier to fall a few feet, slightly hurting his head. He was immediately seized by the police, and disarmed. He began shouting that he had been pushed off the roof by a man in a black-robe and hood. Although he had entered Britain illegally, the terrorist could be heard demanding his rights as the ambulance men took him off to the County Hospital with a police escort.

  There were US mafia scientists in the secret research building. I looked into one of the rooms, where a man with grey hair was having a meeting with two visitors. They had a sheaf of papers which they handed to him before they left. I gathered that the papers contained information about a confidential industrial development. Just then, the police could be heard, obtaining access to the building. The scientist was in the middle of putting the papers in a filing cabinet, when he went out to see what was going on.

  On an impulse, using electromagnetics and anti-gravity, I selected the entire filing cabinet and lifted it out of the building. But where to put it? My mind raced through possibilities.

  ‘I know,’ I thought. ‘I’ll take it to MI5. But what is the best way to do that?’

  I remembered the well-known buildings that could be seen near Vauxhall railway station, with the green glass and decorative roof technology shining in the sun. In a second, I had dragged and dropped the filing cabinet on to the top of the roof of one of those buildings.

  ‘What will happen next?’ I wondered. ‘Will anybody notice?’