by John Morris
“Ah, here we are, mind the step and wipe your feet. Agnes, a pot of tea, we have visitors. Police at last.”
Peter and Agnes Penfold told them about how life used to be. “The village were alive back in them days, men and women hard working on the land. We was a community back then. Then them big farms came in. Over the years, the small farms was replaced by big’uns, and bigger still. There was no work. One man and the ‘machinierary’ did it all. There was no money for local folks. Many were forced to leave.
“The young ‘uns moved abroad to find work—Norwich City and the like. Them that stayed, well the children left for city schools, and that left the old ‘uns like us. Then a year or so back, those few of us left began being driven out by them there gangs of Muslim thugs.”
“So who owns these empty houses, Peter? Agnes, who holds the deeds to this property?” Dan enquired.
Agnes replied, “Why, nobody. They are handed down through generations, passed on from father to son. There are no deeds for this place. Used to be a tithe cottage, but the small farms were bought up to make a big farm. They already had too many buildings, so the tithe cottages were ignored.
“The five houses set apart on the far side, see over there. Well, they used to belong to a small brick making company, but as far as I know, that went out of business just after the war. I guess the tithe lapsed.”
They continued to chat for some time, discovering as much as possible about the village, but rose to depart when misses Penfold offered to make fresh tea.
Dan whispered, “Give them the station number.”
Percy wrote down the details and said, “Call on this number if you have any trouble. It’s the main police station line, but leave the message for me, Percy Blodwell. I’ll come as soon as I am able. Good day.”
They drove on to the next village, and Percy remarked, “I thought all properties had deeds.”
“Not so. Outside of the homes of the wealthy in London, deeds have not been common until after the war. However, I did not envisage this scale of unregistered housing. We’ll need to look into it, but it may save us a lot of travelling. Are there a lot of tithe cottages around here?”
“Yes, in the countryside at least, nearly all of them. Not in the cities and towns. When I was growing up, there were many smallholdings, farms of between twenty and one hundred acres. They were satellite to villages, which took the produce, shops selling to the local people, and some acting as regional distribution agents.
“Then the big, managed farms started to move in, and grow. You see that field over there, it’s more than one thousand acres, with no hedges. In my youth, that would have been home to a dozen smallholdings, thirty or forty men, and women, milkmaids, all working the land. The villages had small industries making sacks, twine for sheaves of corn or hay.
“Now look at it. One worker and heavy machinery can maintain the one crop field, and several more. Farm cottages and hedgerows have been knocked down to make the fields as large as possible.”
Dan interrupted. “It looks boring to me. So many livelihoods and communities lost to the greed of corporate farming. That in turn translates into lower prices in the nationwide supermarkets, but detracts from the quality of country life.”
“I agree. The world was a much better place back then, but this is the one we live in.” They were silent, both considering their thoughts, and harkening back to their boyhoods, when Percy exclaimed, “Damn it”
“What’s up?”
“We’ve been struggling to pay off our mortgage early, and before I retire. And I just found out we could have moved into one of these empty houses, for free. No deeds, no cost. Say I were to register it with this Land Registry, then I would have the deeds, own it outright. Am I missing something here, Dan?”
“No Percy, I think that’s about how it is. I’ll need to check this out.”
“Well I’ll be damned. There’s a place not far from where we live, lovely old house with grounds, that’s been empty for years. If it has no owner, could I register it? What do you think?”
“Check it out first, and if it’s not registered, then act promptly. But don’t tell a soul. It’s gotta be worth a try, you’ve nothing to lose, except the fee, a few hundred pounds.”
The next village appeared around a bend and they set to their usual practice, Dan filming, and Percy touring. All the properties appeared to be empty, same in the next village, and then the next. They also came across a few villages that were thriving. Hatton Green had two shops, a school, and a Mosque. They spoke to various residents, but got little information. The signs were in Arabic, and the population Muslim.
They found the same in Malmesbury, and continued the grand tour.
“Dan, it’s already midday, and the last village, Greater Bedlington, is a few miles away. Do you want to go on, or turn back for lunch?”
“Let’s finish with this last one, lunch somewhere near Norwich, and then head for RAF Trimingham.”
The village was not what they were expecting. It was a hive of activity of the Muslim kind. Most of the houses appeared to be occupied, and several shops were open. The sign on the restructured church stated ‘Mosque’. New sectional housing was being erected on a stretch of newly laid concrete. A relatively huge building was being erected on the village green. Percy said, “That looks like a community centre.”
They came to the large village pub, which was awash with signs in Arabic. Dan read them, becoming alarmed: “School of Allah, Boys entrance, Girls entrance.”
He pointed at the signs as he translated and spoke the alien tongue, then hissed, “Drive through. Get us out of here, Percy. We’ll monitor by satellite. This is what they’re doing, taking over.”
Percy kept going, not too fast, and not too slow. Once clear, Percy accelerated, putting distance between them, and what they had just witnessed. Dan picked up the map, and guided Percy towards the main A11 road. They passed through several other Muslim villages, before reaching the main road at Wymondham.
They encountered no more villages with local residents.
They headed for Norwich City, where Percy delivered them to a pub and declared, “This is one of the best eateries in the whole of England.”
Chapter 12 ~ Deeper Understandings
As luncheon concluded, Dan said, “That was a mighty fine meal, if a tad expensive for a pub. Take ten minutes to finish up. I’ll pay the bill on the way out. I need to call a few people. You’ll find me in the car. The keys … thanks.”
Dan called the Director, and spoke his thoughts concisely. She weighed his words before responding. “So it seems to me, they are not taking over every village, at least, not yet, but only certain ones. Why is that?”
“I’ll need to dig a little deeper Ma’am, and will apprise you immediately I discover the reason. I’ll be on my way to RAF Trimingham in a moment.”
“Keep me informed. Send a report this afternoon if you find what I suspect.”
“Yes Ma’am.” The line went dead. Dan called Trimingham, and spoke to the Wing Commander.
“Ah Dan, so pleased you called. Everything is in place, except for the official ‘go’. The Air Commodore is on his way, and I presume he will action your request. It would be good if you arrived before him. He’s travelling from RAF Boulmer via helicopter, so don’t spare the horses.”
“I’m already en route, less than one hour away.”
As they approached their destination, Percy noticed the large Kevlar dome and said, “Is that where we’re going?”
“Yes Percy, the locals call it the Trimingham golf ball.”
They pulled up at the gate. Percy was signed in, and they made their way to the Commander’s office.
The door opened. “Ah, Agent Glower, good timing, the Air Commodore will arrive shortly.”
He looked at Percy. “Allow me to introduce Constable Blodwell of Lower Meddlington Police. He has been my right hand man during this operation. I hope it is okay if he joins us.”
Perc
y produced his warrant card which was inspected before being returned. “I see no reason why not, if he is already a part of the team. Although I hope there will not be others.”
“No sir, the fewer people who know, the better.”
“Good. Please make yourselves comfortable in the Guard Room. Excuse me, but I need to finish my preparations.”
Later, they grouped near the helipad, ground crew guiding the final descent. A man of power got out, and was saluted by all, including Dan and Percy. It wasn’t required of civilians, but they were hoping to make a favourable impression.
The Station Commander spoke. “Air Commodore, welcome to RAF Trimingham. You have been here before?”
“Once, a long time ago. Show me the problem.”
“The problem was brought to light by this man, Agent Glover of MI6. He has discovered thousands of Muslims have been entering this country illegally, every day. We need to track the aircraft they use. This extends through greater Europe, the Middle East, and, we suspect, into Africa.”
“You can verify this, Agent Glover?”
“Yes sir. We have identified an incursion of Muslim origin, at work right here in East Anglia. Just this morning, we began to unravel their long-term plan, but these are early days for us, we’re playing catch-up. This is my dedicated assistant, Constable Blodwell, who has been monitoring the situation personally. I prepared a short video of our results so far, should you wish to see it.”
“Yes, right away, Agent.”
The Commander suggested, “It will be more comfortable and secure in my office. Please, I’ll lead the way. Refreshments are waiting for you, Air Commodore.”
Once settled, Dan showed the prepared recording to the Air Commodore, explaining in detail what was occurring. He showed several days, concluding with Sunday. “This cargo plane is new to us, and I will be interested to learn where it came from, and where it went. The others are regular, same planes, same time of day. I extrapolated the figures, and discovered over two million illegal migrants could be entering this country each year, by this means alone.
“Then there are the militia,” Dan pointed out, “and the wooden boxes for guns and ammunition.”
“So, another Harrods perhaps.”
“With the amount of militia and weaponry that’s come in just while we have been monitoring, I’d say one atrocity per day. Percy and I are currently focused on where all the people are going, and we have discovered entire villages have been taken over by Muslim civilians.
“From our research and observations, we believe similar events are occurring in all parts of the United Kingdom. We are under fifth column assault from Islamic extremists, but the how of it still has to be precisely identified. This is why we need to work directly with Station Officer Wigglesworth. He already understands and supports British Intelligence. This investigation is coming from the highest levels, Sir.”
“I see. The current operation is low key, but the expansion requested is a heavy demand on our time and resources. I am empowered to assess the threat, and either undertake, or reject it. You will have my answer before I leave. First, tell me about your team, Agent.”
“We are small, and dedicated, Sir. In the SIS, only my Commander, Director, and a field liaison agent have any knowledge. Locally, the villager who reported it to Constable Blodwell, and his Station Officer, Inspector Wigglesworth.”
Dan was going to mention Ben and Charlie, but the Air Commodore looked away, distracted. “Wigglesworth, hmmm.” His brow wrinkled in concentration, before he pronounced the name with emphasis, and looked at the Station Commander.
“Inspector Wigglesworth, the chief police officer of Lower Meddlington Constabulary, is my daughter, Sir. This is not nepotism, but chance. Her area of responsibility includes Huntley Spa aerodrome, which you have just witnessed.”
“So, by leaving you in charge here, we keep a tight lid of security on this. Now the request makes sense. Wing Commander, show me what you have, and it better be good.”
The Commander replied, “Thank you, Sir. That is our intention. Please, let’s adjourn to the radar room and I’ll show you what is going on. I took the liberty of running a preview operation, which will be deleted if this request is not approved. I wanted to either prove or disprove the threat in advance, Sir.”
As they entered, Commander Wigglesworth stated, “Air Commodore, the agent has access to that console over there, which only shows civilian air traffic into, or out of the specified airfield. I believe you will be extremely interested in the display on this console over here. Please excuse us for a moment, Dan.”
“The new request is to monitor anywhere these aircraft go. In British airspace, they use the transponders of small passenger jets, and fly through uncontrolled airspace. They cross the North Sea, then dive down to below civil aviation tracking, and change to the passenger aircrafts transponder, entering European airspace in their true identity.
“Here you will see that this swapping from private to commercial transponder occurs often, and across a large swathe of Europe, the Middle East, and Northern Africa. Nearly all of the destinations in Europe are small, private airfields.”
“Run this model since you started.”
The corporal was prepared, and the screen ran almost immediately in fast forward. Once finished, the Air Commodore looked towards heaven, and said, “That is one hell of a lot of unaccountable air traffic. All of it from the wrong parts of the world: Syria, Iraq, Afghanistan, Yemen, Somalia, and Libya!”
“All Muslim extremist countries, at least, the parts of them these aircraft are flying to and from. ISIL. We are at war.”
“This would explain the ease of the Paris bombings, and the Belgian link. They come and go as they wish, undetected. Please ask the agent to join us, but not the policeman.”
When Dan joined them, the fast forward replay was shown again, and he was beside himself with excitement and concern. He explained the importance of some locations, and understood what was happening. Once finished, Dan said, “Sirs, may I have a copy of this? We have the hard and software to run it. For my own, and the Director’s eyes only.”
Silence.
The Air Commodore spoke after due consideration. “Agent, are we witnessing the Islamification of Europe?”
“I believe so, Sir. As to the how of it, that we still have to determine, but all the evidence so far collated is pointing solely in that direction.”
“Good God!”
“The more information I have access to, the quicker will be the resolution, and our ability to respond to the threat.”
The Air Commodore looked at Commander Wigglesworth and said, “I need to make a secure call. I’ll use your office.”
Tension in the room lessened as the Air Commodore departed. The Station Commander walked out of earshot, taking Dan with him. “He came up the hard way, and is not a bureaucrat. Flew in the first Gulf War, and also the Falklands. Earned his armbands the hard way. A man of action is the right person to be in charge.”
They discussed matters until the Air Commodore returned. “I have provisional approval to instigate full tracking of this, and associated threats, from the Air Vice Marshall. This begins now, Acting Group Captain Wigglesworth. Show me what you can do.”
The Commander’s face lit with pleasure, which was soon dampened. The Air Commodore continued to speak. “This is a provisional appointment that may become permanent, if you are man enough for the job. I note you have past experience of similar, but not on this scale. We meet here again in ten days time, with the Air Vice Marshal, and your Director, Agent Glover. During the intervening period, you will both show me why we need to dedicate resources to this project.
“I will need a copy of the video feed shown, and grant permission for another to be made available to MI6, for the hands and eyes of Agent Glover, and his Director only.”
“Thank you,” Dan replied. “It will be as you wish, and a great help to us to properly assess the threat.”
“If you�
�ll excuse us, I need to speak about operational requirements with the new Group Captain.”
Dan replied, “My pleasure Air Commodore, Group Captain.” He flashed a half-smile at the Station Commander, and added, “We’ll return to base, and I’ll see you tomorrow. Thank you both.”
Dan and Percy made their way to the door, and before it closed, overheard, “Now then Wigglesworth, about manning and resources, you have the projections ready?”
“Yes Sir. Let’s retire to my office…”
On the return journey, Dan made several secure phone calls. One was to his Director. “Ma’am, it is much worse than we feared, but for the interim, we have the full backing of the RAF … Yes Ma’am, I’ll rent a jet and be with you shortly.”
Dan looked at Percy, “To Norwich airport, I’ll call them to see if there is a jet available.”
“They have pilots with jets standing by, like taxis?”
“No. A company there has small jets for hire, without a pilot.”
Percy stared at Dan. “You’ll fly it yourself?”
“Of course. Now, after you drop me off… “
Dan was with his Director less than two hours later. “So you are telling me, a network of Islamic cells are working not only within UK, but across the entirety of Europe. That they plan to take over––I find that rather hard to believe.”
“The RAF believed me, when the Air Commodore saw this.” Dan dangled a pen drive from his finger tips. “Have it deciphered from the military mainframe, and I need a copy of the results.”
The Director placed a call. “Tim, I need you for a moment.”
The results were returned in short time, one copy for each of them. The Director ran the video and was astounded. “This is what they are doing? They are everywhere.”