Next were the sanitary arrangements. Before he had laid the flooring, he’d dug a huge soak-away in one corner of the cellar and installed a toilet bowl and header tank – similar to one used in a motorhome or caravan. This flushed using a 12v battery, and chemicals provided a way to dispose of the waste effectively, if not exactly cleanly and environmentally-friendly. Around this arrangement he’d constructed a plywood frame and insulated door for complete privacy. He stored the chemicals next to the batteries and was surprised at how little he needed for a one month siege.
The next issue was water storage and it took him some time to find a viable solution. He reckoned he needed four gallons per day for drinking water for seven people, plus another four gallons for the toilet and other washing needs. Thirty days times eight gallons equalled two hundred and forty gallons or just over a thousand litres. The problem was getting a suitably sized tank down the stairs and into the cellar. All of the conventional barrel-shaped tanks were too wide, so he had to plump for a baffled, rectangular shape – and he had to buy it brand new – because try as he could, he was unable to source a good second hand and indisputably clean example suitable for drinking water.
He persuaded the two delivery men to lug it down to the cellar and set it up on a brick-built platform set flush against the wall, next to the toilet. Although the two chaps were mildly amused by the set up in the cellar, by the time they had finished their rounds for the day, it was but a distant memory.
This took Les up until to 2008 to complete the main structural work, and most people would have acknowledged that a nuclear conflagration was now an unlikely scenario. However, in Les’s mind he was almost ready and so he continued his preparations.
If nothing else it would make an excellent spare bedroom, office, games room or den!
Day 23
Monday 6th January
Tesco Superstore – Brighton
Patric and Joanie Silver were roused from the seats where they had been dozing upright for the past three hours. The ropes confining them to the chairs were untied, but their hands were still bound tightly behind their backs.
They were manhandled out of the office and down the stairs to the main shopping floor. Joanie shrieked as one of the thugs was just a bit too rough and Patric cried out:
‘Watch it, you bastard. Just untie me and I’ll deal with you – you coward!’
The thug ignored him and grasped the whimpering Joanie even harder by the arm and dragged her ahead of Patric to the customer greeting area adjacent to the store entrance.
They were met by a strange and ominous scene. Three couples from their sleeping aisle were standing, hands bound, set aside from the throng of other ‘inmates’. The ‘committee’ of five were sitting at a desk by the front entrance, discussing something animatedly and intensely. When Patric and Joanie arrived, they concluded their discussion abruptly and looked up.
The Chairman – or ‘voice’ from the night before began to speak. Everyone was silent – as if awaiting some horrific announcement.
‘You will see that, because of the reliability of one of our number, we have been able to confound your ungrateful and disloyal attempt to overthrow the legally constituted council in this area.’
To the left of the ‘committee’ stood Harry Kimble, a weasel-featured excuse for a man, who was constantly snivelling whenever Patric came into contact with him. He looked extremely nervous and Patric suspected that he was terrified of something or someone.
‘Patric and Joan Silver, you have been found guilty of treason and before sentence is passed, have you anything to say?’
It was no less than Patric expected.
‘Treason? You’re having a laugh, aren’t you? What gives you the right to charge anyone with anything – let alone treason. You broke into this shop, usurped power and then abused that power to keep over one hundred and fifty British citizens as virtual prisoners, whilst you ate the best food and bribed these thugs to enslave us.’
The crowd started to jiffle and a few ‘hear, hears’ could be heard.
‘Silence!’ shouted the ‘voice’. ‘The Prime Minister himself declared a State of Emergency on December seventeenth and we have – not unreasonably – taken that one step further and declared Martial Law within this area.’
The crowd now rumbled with discontent and surprise at this revelation.
‘Martial Law?’ declared Patric. ‘I’m a police officer and I know for a fact that you have no right to declare any such thing. In fact, when this is all over, I, personally, will be indicting you all for manslaughter – if not murder. You have cast countless innocent people out into the snow when any humane person must have provided shelter!’
‘We did what we had to do,’ protested the ‘voice’.
‘Bollocks!’ shouted Patric.
‘Silence him,’ screamed the ‘voice’, and a thug punched Patric in the ribs, winding him and stifling his protests.
‘There’s no more time for this rubbish,’ cried the ‘voice’, ‘it’s time to pronounce sentence.’
‘Firstly, the three couples, Smith, Harris and Templeman – you are to be excluded from the co-operative with immediate effect, taking only the possessions with which you entered. Joan Silver – you are to suffer the same fate.’
He now turned to Patric as two of the committee got up and walked away.
‘Patric Silver, for the crime of treason against the people, by the powers granted me by Martial Law and by a majority verdict, you are to be executed. You will be hanged immediately.’
Joanie fainted.
Day 23
Monday 6th January
RNeth Air Force Volkel
The Ambassador’s car took Brady straight back to the gymnasium, where he discovered that it was empty. He needed to find the two SAS soldiers as soon as possible, so he asked to be driven back to his ward, and asked the orderly at reception if he knew whether a Ross Bryant was in his building.
He was! In room 23b on the third floor, sharing with his wife. Brady flew up the stairs, freshly invigorated by the adrenalin flowing through his system. He rapped on the door of 23b and Ross Bryant answered.
‘Oh, hello again…sir,’ Ross ventured.
‘Hi,’ replied Brady, ‘I need to talk to you straightaway, we’ve got a job to do!’
Ross looked suitably startled, but stood aside and let Brady pass by him and into the small room the Bryants now called home.
Brady acknowledged Ross’s wife and turned to face him.
‘Are you up for a trip back home – a rescue mission – it’ll probably be the first of many and we need to get moving fast.’
Ross took Brady’s statement in his stride, but nonetheless sat down. However, his wife stood up and walked into the adjoining room and closed the door.
‘She’s not used to all this, and has never got her head around my work. She thinks that because we escaped we are out of it – for good – but I never expected that at all. What’s the job? I’m in, but I don’t think my mate will be – his bottle has gone – he ‘lost it’ completely on that fookin’ boat.’
Brady beamed at the SAS sergeant and related the parts of the story he ‘needed to know’. The cover story was to be that Les Townsend was an important scientist whose presence in Brussels was essential. Brady’s mission was to lift him and his six family members out of London and get them to safety.
Ross nodded.
‘When do we start?’ he asked.
‘As soon as you’ve said goodbye to your wife!’
******
Ann Fletcher spent the rest of the evening at Volkel preparing her brief for Sir Ian James. Her heli-flight was at 7am the next morning and she was expected to brief the PM comprehensively on all aspects of the crisis – as she knew them. Of course, she had her finger on the pulse, but was more than mildly distracted by the danger to her daughter back in the English snow.
She had briefed her PA to prepare documents, for her signature and office stamp, which would give
Brady full authorisation for his mission and full access to any supplies or assets he might need. It was a huge con-job and an ever bigger risk – but one worth taking. In any event, authorised rescue missions would be starting tomorrow anyway, and this would be just one amongst many. It probably wouldn’t even be noticed, and if it was, Brady would carry the can.
She prayed for its success, and that Brady was a better man than she knew all those years ago. She also anticipated that the SAS sergeant would do his job.
Day 2
Monday 16 December
Walthamstow, East London – Chloe’s Story
Chloe Fletcher had spent a very busy weekend. Pre-Christmas socialising was in full swing, and on both Friday and Saturday nights, she and her boyfriend, Chris had attended parties at friends’ houses in London. Sunday was spent with the family wrapping presents and decorating the three houses they shared.
When the snow started to flutter down on the Sunday evening she thought little about it except to dig out suitable clothing for the trip the following morning. She usually walked to the station at Wood Street and completed her journey by Tube to the offices in King’s Cross.
However, when she went out of the front door that morning at about 8.15am, she noticed that her boyfriend’s car was still parked in his drive. She quickly popped across the road and rang the doorbell. Chris opened the door and Chloe asked him why he was still at home.
‘The foreman rang and said the site was closed due to the weather. I’ve got the day off. Are you still going in?’ he asked.
‘I suppose so – if I can get a train – they are probably cancelled. I’ll struggle to Wood Street and check it out.’
‘Hang on,’ said Chris, ‘I’ll come with you. I’ll just put a coat and hat on.’
Two minutes later they were slipping and sliding down the road towards the station. When they reached the entrance, they realised that Chloe was not going anywhere. The station was closed and when they asked a railway official what was happening, he indicated that the line was blocked. An earlier train had seized-up further down the track and it would be several hours before it re-opened. ‘Wrong type of snow’, apparently!
Chris let out an ironic guffaw and made an instant decision.
‘Look, Clo, this weather is getting pretty bad. Let's walk home and you can phone work and see what they are advising. If my work is cancelled, then maybe your office is closed. You can always work from home.’
Chloe was not convinced, but the snow was blowing into her face and she was freezing cold, so she nodded her assent and they set off for home. Fifteen minutes later they reached No.50 where they were greeted by Les and Sue with cups of steaming hot chocolate.
Chloe got on the blower and eventually someone picked up the phone extension at work.
‘Hi Clo,’ answered her line manager, Zoe. ‘Don’t bother coming in – there’s only about half of us here and the company is recommending a day off for everyone. I'm just manning the phones till lunchtime. Sorry, got to go, another phone is ringing. See you tomorrow, bye.’
Chloe smiled to herself and took a big slurp of chocolate.
‘Hurrah!’ she shouted up the hallway, ‘Day off!’
She walked back into the kitchen and joined Chris, Les and Sue. Bracken was scampering round their legs and Sue was offering more toast to Chris.
‘Is Marie going in?’ Chloe enquired.
‘Yes, I bloody well am!’ came a shout from the front door.
Marie was standing ready to depart for her job as a first-year teacher at a local infant school. She was dressed for the weather but not happy about having to go out.
‘Why don’t you ring in and see if the school is still open. There’s been a man on Breakfast TV saying that some schools are closed today,’ begged Sue.
Marie hesitated, but turned and went out of the door. Her parting shot fading in the wind.
‘It's only a ten-minute walk; I’ll be back soon if I'm not needed. I like the snow anyway.’
At that, she slammed the door behind her.
‘Typical,’ said Chris. ‘She's far too conscientious for her own good. If she’s not back in an hour, I'm ringing the school. If she’s not there or they don’t answer, I'm going to get her.’
The others agreed and continued with their coffee and toast.
‘This snow is really bad,’ said Chloe, ‘I was freezing out there and the wind was biting. I don’t see how anyone can get about today.’
‘I agree, wholeheartedly,’ chimed in Les, ‘which reminds me, I’ve got some jobs to do downstairs.’
When he'd disappeared, the others looked at each other and smiled. Les’s cellar continued to be a source of amusement to the family, but they didn’t say anything directly to his face.
Just then, the front door opened and they all turned to look, expecting Marie to have returned, but were greeted by a snowy Matt and Lynne.
‘That's the full set,’ quipped Sue.
‘Why, are we all skiving off today?’ bantered Lynne.
The removed their outer clothing whilst Sue put on two more hot chocolates and extra toast.
‘We both contacted work and have been told to work from home – if we can. I'm glad really, as it's horrid out there,’ groaned Lynne.
She looked around and enquired after Marie.
‘She’s walking to the school,’ complained Sue, ‘we told her to ring the secretary – but you know her!’
‘I'm not surprised,’ said Matt, ‘how long’s she been gone, it's bad out there, we should go and fetch her back,’ he suggested.
‘I agree,’ said Chris, ‘come on, Matt, let's get dressed and go and bring her back. She’ll bloody freeze in this blizzard!’
Sue looked on with relief as the two boys re-dressed in their bad weather gear and set off for the road.
‘Don’t get lost and remember that she takes a shortcut down Aldiss Lane,’ shouted Chloe as they slammed the door.
Matt and Chris leant into the wind and struggled down the road in snow that was already over six inches deep. There were no tell-tale tracks even though Marie could only be ten minutes ahead of her brothers. However, there was a large Mercedes 500SEL lying abandoned, resting against the lamppost it had clattered after skidding across the snowy surface. They reached the end of the road, turned right, continued fifty metres and then turned up Aldiss Lane, the short cut Marie always took to school.
It was damned lucky that they had set off when they did, because not twenty metres up the lane sat Marie, on her backside in the snow. She was crying and trying to get her mobile phone out of her handbag. She hadn’t noticed the two boys approaching and looked up in fear until she recognised her brothers.
‘What the hell happened to you?’ shouted Matt against the howling wind.
‘I slipped and twisted my ankle as I fell. I was just trying to phone home, but my fingers are so cold they won't work,’ she sobbed.
Chris took command.
‘Come on, Matt, grab one arm and we’ll get her back. We’ll probably have to almost carry her. Marie, can you manage okay?’
Matt nodded as he bent down and helped to lift Marie to her feet, whilst Chris took her other arm. They all but lifted her off the ground and started the trek back to the safety of No.50. It took about fifteen minutes to complete the return journey, and when they hauled Marie through the front door Sue rushed forward to help.
‘What happened?’ she cried.
‘Let's get her into the front room and we’ll explain. Don’t worry, she had a fall but she’s okay and safe now,’ replied Chris.
The family carried the limping Marie into the sitting room and she plonked herself down on the sofa, whilst everyone else fussed and mithered.
‘You silly girl,’ grumbled Sue, as Bracken jumped up and licked Marie’s frozen face.
Marie was remorseful and apologised for her rash decision to go out.
At that juncture, with everyone sitting and talking all at once about the snow and its potential
consequences, Les came into the room and a flash of inspiration sprung into his mind.
Day 23
Monday 6th January
RNeth Air Force Volkel
Brady and his new ally Ross Bryant, late of the SAS, exited the hospital block and made their way back to the station headquarters. Brady wanted to pick the brains of Annie’s PA – essentially to determine where he could draw clothing and supplies for his mission.
It was lucky he made the return visit, because he would have achieved nothing without the official identity documents she handed over on their arrival at the office.
‘Dame Ann has gone out to complete her preparations for the trip to the UK tomorrow morning. I’ve got ID’s for you and Mr Bryant here – will you not require the third set?’ she enquired.
‘No,’ said Brady, ‘it's just me and Ross for the foreseeable future. Now, can you answer a few questions and open a few ‘doors’ for us, please?’
‘Anything within my power – Dame Ann was explicit,’ she responded smoothly.
‘Thanks,’ Brady continued, ‘first, we’ll need combat fatigues and Arctic cold weather clothing, including ski gear and skis. Then; two large Bergens for carrying food, camper Gaz and a raft of other survival items. We’ll also need maps and compasses – a Sat Nav and/or personal GPS each would be good. A radio would be useful as well. Finally, weapons! We will need hand guns and a rifle apiece with the appropriate ammunition. We’ll also require documents proving who we are and our authority to operate. If we need co-operation, then official looking back-up might be essential.’
Brady took a breath and continued as the PA took extensive notes in shorthand.
‘The vital issue is transport – how do we get to our target area?’
The PA was unperturbed as she addressed the two men.
‘Gentlemen, I have already made several appointments on your behalf – I am very keen that you are successful in your mission as I am extremely fond of Chloe. In addition, Mr Ross, your wife will be taken very good care of – the Ambassador has ordered that she be transferred to a local Five Star hotel, where her costs will be met personally by Dame Ann.’
Snow! The Series [Books 1-4] Page 52