

# DOUBLE DEATH

Drew Herdman

Smashwords edition at Smashwords

Copyright Drew Herdman 2010

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PROLOGUE

**Nobody really paid much attention to the tall angular man who walked slowly down Harley Street that late spring morning of April 2032. Of those that did, the men only noticed the set of the face which gave an air of intense concentration on the job in hand. Women, however, saw the full head of hair, greying slightly at the temples, the boyish twist to the slim lipped mouth, and the bright blue eyes.**

**His name, Andrew Walker; he worked for the government in a very restricted computer research laboratory, located on the outskirts of Harrow. His assignment... To finally solve the puzzle of full Artificial Intelligence. He was so near......**

He walked slowly along, checking each house number. The sun warmed his back as he mounted the three stone steps that led up to a highly glossed door. Satisfied, he turned to press the polished bell. He hesitated. Would this appointment resolve the problem of his persistent cough and the racking pain that always accompanied it? Was it the cancer he had feared for so long........?
Part 1.

Chapter 1.

Walking down the street, his mind drifted back to his office a few days earlier. His long time friend, Charles Gardner, a short thin lanky person of unlimited energy, had come into the room, picked up the full ashtray, then held it out accusingly.

"Andrew, you're a bloody idiot. You persist in smoking even though you are driving us all nuts with your coughing, "I think you should consider us other poor mortals, so go and see the doctor."

Andrew, with a wry smile gasped "You, if anyone, knows the reason for not going. You know how our slave driving lord and master Sir Archibald Hemmings has been pushing for a result with the Brain. All I need is a few weeks more and I'll have it done. I promise I'll see him then."

"Sorry" Charles broke in "I appreciate that the 'Old Bastard' flaunting his Golf Club Tie, and his Aston Martin, is a true blue turd, but we can't have you of all people collapsing on us now. If you're right, and this is no more than a cough, then the doc' will confirm it, but if there is an underlying problem, it must be addressed now. Sit there and I'll make a quick phone call to our resident doctor upstairs, and have him see you now."

Andrew tried to rise from his chair but was gently pushed back.

"I told you I'd go later".

"Tell that to the Marines. If I let you do that, you'll never go. "

Resignedly Andrew shook his head, and with an exasperated sigh, relaxed.

Charles picked up the phone, jiggled the rest a few times until the switchboard operator answered.

"Hello. Gardner, computer section. Can you put me through to the Company Doctor? Please. I have a rather urgent case for him to look at."

Andrew, still relaxed in his chair, clearly heard the operator say 'Hold' and after a few seconds.

"Doctor McPherson here."

"This is the computer section, Doctor." Charles replied diffidently." I appreciate the lack of warning about this, but I have an urgent customer for you, our computer wizard, Andrew Walker. May I send him up to you now, as he's driving us insane with his constant coughing. " Charles tilted the receiver away from his ear, so that Andrew could hear the reply. "Very well, send him up right away. I'll expect him within the next few minutes." With that the line went dead. "Good grief. Who rattled his cage? However, get yourself up there now, and I'll see you later. O. K?"

Andrew stood slowly, a wan smile on his pale face; and with a brief over the shoulder wave of resignation, left the room. Charles watched him go, then slipped into the recently vacated chair. He studied the forgotten glowing screen on the console for a few seconds that Andrew had been working on. In his minds eye he saw a bright red vintage Porche convertible, the hood down, the sun shining, a beautiful long legged blonde, hair streaming in the wind, mini skirt riding high, moist lips parted. As she turned to him he saw vividly the invitation in her gleaming eyes. His left hand reached out to caress the silk skinned thigh. All this would be his soon. All he needed was a copy of Andrew's latest work. His contact in America would pay more than well for a disc with this information on it. Charles was working on the framework that would accommodate the brain. His work had been running some way behind schedule, and he had felt the first chill breath of warning about his future in the department. It was then, when at his most vulnerable, he had been persuaded to part with some classified information. Given the choice of exposure or riches Charles had become a willing pawn in the dark and dangerous game of Industrial Espionage. So now it was every man for himself. His conscience did not trouble as he pulled a blank formatted rewritable very high density CD disc, now capable of holding many Gigabytes of memory from his pocket, more than enough to hold Andrew's latest work, and was about to slip it into the CD ROM drive, when his daydream was shattered by the angry female voice that rasped close by his ear. "What do you think you're doing?"

The voice belonged to Andrews' secretary. By name of Janice, it had been the butt of many nasty and sly comments that the last three letters of her name denoted her character, and hence her unmarried status. She fussed over him, and woe betide anyone she felt was trying to take advantage of him, and she hated Charles.

He turned, holding up his free hand to stop her developing her theme.

"Hold on, Janice, I'm only helping Andrew. In fact you should have done exactly as I have, and chased that idiot to the doctor. Couldn't you see how ill he is? So don't YOU lecture ME. It was only concern that brought me in here anyway."

Having distracted her, he turned away, slipping the disc into his pocket, and with a forehead slightly beaded with a thin film of sweat stalked out.

Andrew had walked from the computer room, along the corridor past the communal secretary's office, hardly hearing the clatter of keyboards and printers in the typist's pool, and on to the stairwell where the lifts whined up and down. He pressed the call button, and within a few seconds the arrival bell pinged, and the doors slid open. Stepping inside he pushed the button for the fourth floor, where he stepped out into unfamiliar territory. Opposite, an illuminated sign pointed the way to the Medical Centre.

Once there, he opened the door. The receptionist looked up, smiling. "Come in Mr Walker, doctor is expecting you, so please go right in. ". Andrew took a deep breath.

The doctor, a rather rotund balding middle aged man dressed in a check shirt, covered by a tight crumpled white coat, was seated behind a desk. Looking up, he regarded Andrew over a pair of reading glasses. He held Andrew's gaze with a pair of startling blue eyes. "What can I do for you?" He asked belligerently. "I hope I do not see a two legged malingerer in front of me. I have enough trouble with the four-legged sort. "

Andrew, already short tempered, snapped " Doctor, I have more important things to do than stand here and be insulted by a person who thinks more of horses than he does of people. I was persuaded to come and see you against my better judgement, so if this is all you have to say to me I'll be on my way and leave you to your obviously more important work. I hope the horses appreciate you more than I do."

He turned on his heel to leave the room, but the effort of the last few angry words caused a fit of coughing. He caught the side of the desk, and hung there until the spasm passed. As the racking cough subsided he reached into his pocket and dragged out a handkerchief, the final spasm ending in it. As he lowered it they both saw the bright spots of red blood. As he hesitated, the doctor reached out a long arm and gently took hold of Andrew's wrist. As he stood, his face changed from belligerence to concern.

"Let me see that. "

"It's nothing"

"Who is the doctor here? You may be the computer wizard, but now you come under my care. So sit down again and prepare to undergo the most thorough examination you have ever had. I appreciate that you are very valuable to the government, so let's get to the bottom of this problem as soon as possible".

Andrew subsided into the chair, feeling a wave of fatigue wash over him. It was a good hour later when he left. In his pocket was a referral to a specialist hospital, and an appointment for the next day. Rather anxiously he had arrived and was soon X-rayed, blood and biopsy samples taken, every orifice examined, urine sample required, E E G, and E C G traces made, plus several other tests that he had never seen, and had then driven slowly back to work, his mind in a turmoil, full of foreboding one minute and relief the next. Unable to concentrate on his work, he left the building, managing to avoid Charles. Driving home, he decided not to tell his wife Susan, as he knew from past experience that she was the worlds worst worrier.

When she saw him, she remarked how drawn he looked, but he manage to shrug it off with a sarcastic remark about 'OB' and how hard he was driving them. He assured her that as soon as the pressure was off, they would take a long overdue holiday. During the evening he noticed several times her slightly concerned glances, and it was only when they lay quietly in their wide bed that he felt her relax. Soon she was asleep, and as he himself drifted between awareness and sleep he thought how lucky he had been meeting her all those years ago. He remembered how, from their first meeting, she had never gone out with another man. She had told him that she would never change, and she never had. True, she left all outside matters to him, but she had run the house with an ability that left him amazed. He knew himself to be very lax in that department, his mind always full of the next days work. He thought also of their son Anthony, now a computer programmer in his own right. Pity he was a little unsure of himself. At that point, dreamless sleep overtook him.

Next morning in work, to take his mind off what the doctors might have found he decided to revue his latest programming files. His brief was to construct the circuitry for a brain, which could have artificial intelligence, in that it would always absorb knowledge in whatever form it might take. So an empty brain could be trained by simply feeding in the relevant textbooks on any subject, and there would be a ready-made expert in any field that was required. This was the long sought after Neural Net, which had a form of pseudo life, and was capable of self-analysis and repair.

Secretly, to test his theories in practice, he had written a programme to create a hologram. Vanity had made him create the face in his own image. Weeks had been spent in filling every available memory bank with basic information, from pre-school lessons to post graduate level. Now the hologram had the ability to talk on most subjects, to scan new books in seconds, and to suggest improvements to itself. It was also true that the hologram had not been seen by anyone but Andrew, and he only worked on it at night behind securely locked doors. Again, his vanity had driven him to aim for total surprise amongst his peers, which the completed work would bring. A slight sense of revenge for all the pressure that the 'OB' had put them under would be more than repaid when the hologram was unveiled. The completed brain could then be constructed, and fitted to any robotic body.

He was in this rather pleasant mood when the intercom chirrped. It was Janice.

" I have the doctor for you." a pause, then. "I want you to go and see a very good friend of mine in Harley Street. There are some points I want cleared up, and he is the man to do it. I have made an appointment for you for tomorrow morning. Your secretary has all the details, check with her. " The phone was replaced before Andrew could say anything. Unbidden, foreboding swarmed in his mind. It was still there when at the appointed time he raised his finger to push the bell of the surgery. A few seconds passed, the door opened.

The vision that stood there left him tongue-tied. She was tall and slender, her dark hair glossy and shining, fell to her shoulders in waves, framing an unblemished skin that glowed with an inner fire. The pert nose topped a pair of beautifully sculptured lips smiling to reveal perfect teeth. The eyes, green, flecked with gold held his. One eyebrow raised enquiringly, the husky voice asked, "It is Mr Walker?" He could only nod. She turned, Andrew trailing behind. She opened a door to one side, stepped back and gestured for him to enter. "Please wait in here, Mr Stuart will see you quite soon".

The door closed soundlessly. He looked round the room. The carpet was thick and lush, the chairs all-leather and inviting.

Discrete lighting cast a shadowless aura, and hidden speakers softly invaded the space with quadraphonic music. Andrew thought that if there was any way to put the clients at ease, this was it. He slumped into the nearest chair and picked up a magazine. He had hardly settled when he heard an intercom buzz, and the receptionist say. "Yes Mr Stuart. He is here. I'll send him in immediately." The intercom clicked off. A few seconds later the door opened and vision reappeared. Again the captivating smile. "Mr Stuart will see you now. Please come this way".

The carpet made no noise as they walked down the hall. Deep pile smothering their footsteps. Vision opened the door, glanced into the room. "Mr Walker to see you, ".

Andrew brushed rather ineffectually at some cigarette ash on his jacket, and went in. As soon as he stepped inside, the door closed behind him.

The room was large and airy. Shafts of sunlight streamed in through the windows, falling on the man who rose to greet him. As he rounded the desk, Andrew caught a glimpse of Saville Row suit; shirt cuffs just the right length protruding, and a smile in full charm mode on an otherwise serious face. When they shook hands, the hand was firm and dry. Andrew felt his anxiety lessen. Like himself, he felt that this was a man who would stand no messing. The consultant ushered Andrew into the chair in front of the desk, asking whether he would like some refreshment, his glance indicating a well stocked mini bar discreetly hidden in an alcove off to one side. Although his mouth was rather dry, he shook his head. The consultant nodded approvingly then returned to his chair. They regarded one another, and at length the consultant opened a file on the desk, steepled his fingers. " I know that you are a computer expert, but I don't know how much you know of medicine. I must assume that this may be rather limited, so I'll try to keep it simple. I think the best way to deal with this is to show you some x-rays and take it from there. ".

"Hold it right there. I'm not interested in the mechanics of the problem. I have a feeling that you are trying to let me down gently.

Please tell me in simple language all I need to know. That way we will not embarrass one another."

"All right, Mr Walker, I'll tell you what we have found with no frills. You have a cancer. The tests that you underwent show that it is in the lungs, and is advanced. It is inoperable, and there are secondaries elsewhere. They are not important, as they will not affect the outcome. I am sorry if this is putting it somewhat bluntly, but that is what you asked me to do."

Andrew sat there for a while; eyes closed as he absorbed this. The consultant sat and waited patiently, this was a scene that was all too familiar.

After a few moments in which Andrew digested this information, he raised his eyes and met those candid ones regarding him across the desk.

"Well, this is not really the shock I thought it would be. I suppose during the last few days I have been preparing myself for this, and now it is here my main concern is not for me, but for my wife and son. I would be more than obliged if you would give me the best prognosis you can." He leaned back and waited.

"I have never met a person as cool as you before". The consultant said. "But what will happen is really in your hands. By that I mean it depends on whether you are going to take things easy or work yourself into an earlier grave than is really necessary. If you work at the same pressure that you have been recently, you will only have a matter of weeks, but if you take it easy and abide by the regime I will give you, it could postpone the event by several months. The choice is yours. "

Whilst Andrew was pondering this, the consultant buzzed the intercom and spoke quietly to the receptionist. Shortly after, the door opened: she came in and put a sheaf of papers on the desk. Her smile, as Andrew briefly caught her gaze was sympathetic, her thoughts, as she left the room were on the waste of such a strong looking man, and pity for the wife who would soon be left to fend for herself. As she shut the door behind her, she mentally berated herself for even considering any emotion about a patient, and stalked angrily back to her desk.

It was not much later that he stepped out into Harley Street. Driving away, the reality of the situation sinking in, he headed without thinking, towards home.

Turning into his cul-de-sac, the line of trees hiding the houses, he came to the detached house, with the trim garden, that was Susan's pride and joy.

He nosed the car up the short drive and stopped. It was a deliberate act to switch the ignition off and apply the hand brake. Reluctantly he went to the front door; inserted the key, and after taking a deep breath, opened it. He could hear the radio playing an old big band number, and Susan singing along with it. In the background the washing machine added a bass rumble.

"Hi Honey. I'm home." The sound of Susan singing stopped abruptly, and she appeared somewhat towsled, and threw herself into his waiting arms. Her kiss had never lost the ability to thrill him, and even though he ached to prolong the moment, he reached up and removed her arms from around his neck.

She looked at him quizzically. "What's wrong, darling. You're not usually home this early, and you called me Honey. You only call me that when you want to sweeten me, or there is something wrong. Which is it?"

Silently he walked into the lounge and poured himself a large scotch, added a splash of water.

"Will you have one with me?"

"I think I'd better. Perhaps I'm going to need it. " Andrew poured hers, handed it to her, then sat down. He took a sip of his drink, carefully put it down on an occasional table, turned towards her, then collapsed in tears. He made no attempt to hide them. Susan was so startled that she put her glass on the sideboard without looking, missed the edge, and as she moved to him, her glass fell to the floor, where it rolled, spilling the drink over the carpet. She threw herself onto the arm of the chair, and as she put her arms about him, he turned to her, burying his face in her lap, and for a few moments she could only hold him until the crisis passed. Siting up, he took a handkerchief from his pocket, dried his eyes, saying. "That's enough of that."

As though to interrupt him, a car stopped outside, the door slammed and off key whistling sounded as footsteps clattered on the path. The key turned, and their son Tony came in.

"Hi, I'm home" he said before he had absorbed the scene in front of him. At twenty, he was an inch shorter than his father, well built, with strong features, and the wisp of a moustache gracing his upper lip. The eyes usually so full of laughter, went suddenly serious. "God, what's happened. Why are you home, Dad. Has the "OB" finally gone too far?"

"I'm glad you came home now." Andrew said. " At least what I have to say need only be said once." Tony picked up the spilled glass, set it on the table, then subsided into an armchair.

"Fire ahead, Dad, what the hell has happened?"
Chapter 2

Sir Archibald Hemmings known affectionately, despisedly, or hatedly, depending on who was doing the considering, as 'OB', or The 'Old Bastard' was seated in his top floor office. The view from the French window was impressive. From the open balcony it overlooked the nearer buildings, and the gleam of water could be seen amongst the trees at the edge of the golf course that was his favourite recreational place. The fact that he was the Head of the Ministry of Science and Technology had opened many doors to him, and his inherited title had opened many more. A tall sallow being, with a pronounced stoop, and a way of walking silently about on thick-soled shoes had earned him his nickname.

He was aware of this, and even from childhood he had always been able to ferret out secrets that other people had thought secure. He owed much of the status he now enjoyed to this ability. Over the years he had used one opportunity of blackmail after another to gain further hold over his victims. Surprising snippets of information often came his way, and he had recently learned by devious ways of Charles' involvement with Industrial Espionage.

Seated at his desk he looked at Charles, regarding him much as a cat would regard a mouse it was about to torment.

Charles squirmed under the cold gaze. What, he wondered, could the Old Bastard want with him. He was not left in doubt for long. 'OB' gazed at him and with a slight smile mentioned one name. Charles started.

"Who"

"You heard me. You thought you'd covered your tracks pretty well, but you were wrong. Did you think was unaware of your nasty little deals. Yes, I know all about your involvement with the Americans". The 'OB's smile widened slightly as he saw Charles' discomfiture. The pleasant smile was replaced by an ugly snarl.

"Yes. I know all about your little sideline. Now, however I think the spoils will be divided in two, and you will do me certain favours as and when I ask. Do I make myself clear?"

Charles merely nodded his mouth too dry to reply.

"Naturally, as head of the computer section, I am aware of Andrew Walkers work, and I also received, as a matter of course, the doctors report on his physical state. Andrew Walker is dying. He has advanced cancer. I want you to keep a very close eye on him. As you know, all his research is Government property, but I don't trust him. You will report to me if you find out anything that I should know about. "

Defensively Charles retorted "You know full well the inter-departmental secrecy rule.

"Charles. I only want you to watch him for now. But remember that we are a partnership, and it would not be in my interest to cross you. In fact I wouldn't do that. Now go back to your work, and call me when you have something interesting."

The satisfied smile was back. He nodded briefly, then picked up some papers, turning his chair away to show that the interview was over.

Charles got awkwardly to his feet, turned and left the office. In his anger he did not see the startled glance of the secretary sitting nearby.

It was in the coffee break when she met her friends in the canteen that she told them, wide eyed, about the state Charles had been in when leaving the office. She had been interested to find out whether Charles' rumoured sexual reputation was true. At times she had daydreamed during idle moments, on how it would feel to have his hands doing wonderful things to her naked body. Maybe, if she played her cards right, one day she might find out, but the time was certainly not yet right. Wistfully she abandoned the dream as the intercom clattered and the OB's' hated voice rasped a demand for her to bring her note book

Another of her dreams was to see him come to a violent end, the more violent the better.

How little she knew how near that event was.
Chapter 3

Susan took Andrew's hand and pulled him over to the settee. "Darling, we have never had any secrets, so what's the matter". Andrew glanced from her to Tony and back.

"What I have to say can really only be said one way, because no matter which way you look at it, the result is the same. God knows I wouldn't hurt either of you, but now I must. I was sent to the company doctor to sort out my cough. The problem is that it is worse than I ever thought. It is cancer."

Susan gasped, and paled. Tony's grip tightened on his glass, knuckles whitening.

"I went to the specialist this morning and he confirmed that there is no chance of an operation. What I have is terminal, but there is no definite date for...." Here he hesitated. He swallowed a mouthful of whisky, then in a stronger voice. " Well, there you have it. The next thing I have to consider is how I am going to leave my affairs. I want you two to be as protected as possible. My work has always been with computer technology, but I have never told you much about it. I have developed a new form of almost intelligent brain. The details might be of interest to Tony, but I don't want to confuse you with the technicalities. It is to be used in a robotic body. It can be programmed to do any job. It is the instant specialist in any subject. The empty brain is just filled with the appropriate subject and there you are, really just like putting books onto a shelf, which the brain reads, as it needs them. With the ability to be fully mobile, it can then be sent anywhere at any time. To test my theories, I built a programme to create a Hologram. This is just like a 3D model which you can see, but it made me think that if I produced one here at home, I can programme it to have all the knowledge necessary to advise you on any problem you may have after I......." Here he broke off again.

The strain was telling on him, and he began coughing. By the time the spasm passed, his handkerchief was again spotted with blood.

"The doctor has given me detailed instructions on how to cope with this sort of thing.," he said hesitantly. "I appreciate that it will not be easy for you to handle, but I need all the help I can get to finish my work. I have an almost complete hologram at work. The computer files are under my security codes, but as I am the one who set them up, they will be no problem to hack into from here; and I can transfer them, leaving no trace of doing it."

He leaned back with a smile, and sipped his drink. "You know, I'm really going to enjoy doing this. At least it will be a return for all the crap that 'OB' has given me over the years. Tony, all your computer skills are now of paramount importance. You must help me to finish the job."

Susan, now wide eyed. " You're going to steal your work."

"Of course. They owe me. Remember also that when I leave work, I must hand all of it to the 'OB', but I intend deleting all the important sections. Recently I realised that most of it could be used in weapon guidance systems, and I do not want to be known as the father of the perfect robot bomb. No thanks. I have a much better idea. A hologram so real that neither of you would be able to tell us apart. Call it vanity of you like, but I think that any advice you may need will be more acceptable coming from me rather than a soul less computer." His eyes had brightened, his voice strong, and he infected then both with his enthusiasm. "Add to this, it will speak with my voice. All you will have to do is call me, and I'll be there."

Tiredly, he slowly sipped his drink, "Now it is up to you. Can I count on you?"

"Just ask, and we'll do anything that you want." replied Tony. "I know I can speak for Mum as well"

Susan nodded.

That night Tony tactfully went out to be with his friends. During the evening he telephoned to say he was staying over for the night and would see them in the morning. Andrew and Susan went to bed earlier than usual. Susan waited for Andrew to clear the bathroom, and when he came into the room, she held out her arms to him, but he merely smiled and turned the light out. She saw his shape move across to the window and draw back the curtains. The sky was cloudless, an almost full moon slanted its beams into the came to her, and they lay together, one arm cradling her, the other caressing her as he spoke quietly.

"Remember the day we were married? It was a night very like this. Same old moon, same old stars. There's been an awful lot of water under the bridge since then. I know Tony will be a tower of strength to you later, but I want you to know what is going to happen. I have some leave due, so I'll use that instead of working out my notice. After that we will be together for as long as I have left". His breathing slowed and became regular. He was asleep.

'God give me strength to see this through' she prayed fervently. It was almost as if her prayer was answered. She felt a warmth flow into her. She neither knew nor cared where it came from, but it eased her into a deep dreamless sleep.

Later she felt the slight movement as Andrew tried to keep back the tears. The sadness he felt was not for himself, he had no fear of dying, it was only that he regretted the loss of the rest of time they would have had together. Susan reached across the narrow gap that separated them. She touched his cool skin. He had always slept naked, but she had never been able to match that, even though he had often teased her about how much easier it would be when love making was in the offing. Now however, as she stroked his chest and their bodies touched, she felt his desire harden. This was the time to show him that she too could take charge. She sat up and lifted the flimsy nightdress over her head, a quick wriggle, and the other half followed it to the floor.
Chapter 4.

"That's it, finished. The last of the files are transferred and loaded. All it needs is this." Andrew tapped the final key, and the hologram took shape. It just stood beside the console, but their sense of achievement was total.

Strain was telling on Andrew. "The rest of the work is relatively easy." He said "I can't stay on at work now, it is just too much. Tomorrow I'll see the 'O.B.' and hand in my notice. To give us more time, I've entered several false trails in the computer at work, and it should lead them a merry dance."

Next morning Charlie received a short call from the 'O.B.' demanding his immediate presence. Without any of the usual pleasantries the 'O.B.' launched into a flow of verbal invective that Charlie had never heard him use before. He just stood and let it wash over him. Eventually. " Sorry about that, Charles, but our diligently working genius Mr Walker has just been to see me. We knew he was ill, but I did not think it was as bad as it is. Anyway, he is leaving, rather he has left . He just handed me all the codes to his work, said he had some leave due, and he was taking it instead of notice. Legally there is nothing I can do about that. He has complied with his contract. It's just that I feel something is not quite right. I think he is pulling a fast one. I don't know what it is, but you can visit him as a concerned friend. Get a good look at that computer he has at home."

Charles nodded. "What's in it for me?" The 'O.B.' looked at him speculatively, then said amiably, "If you find out what he is really doing, you will become the head of research for the entire project. But, and I stress this, if the project fails for any reason, you will carry all the blame. And remember that none of this goes to your friends in America. If we complete the work on time, we will have a lead of years in this field, and the reward for me could be a peerage. So we both profit. Now go and get on with it.."

Two days later, shortly after Susan had cleared the dinner dishes away, and both Andrew and Tony were programming the hologram to follow movement with its head and eyes, the front

door bell chimed. Charlie stood there. His heightened senses told him that Susan was really none too pleased to see him.

"Hello" he smiled. I've only just heard officially that Andrew has resigned. I know he's not too well, so I thought I'd came to cheer him up. " As he spoke, he was edging into the hall. He heard voices nearby. "Shall I go in and surprise them?" His hand was on the door knob. Susan said, a shade too loudly, "Charlies here".

He heard the snap of a switch being turned, and the whine of a computer running down. He opened the door.

"Hello, hello. What's going on here? Caught you in the act. Trying to hack into the Bank of England." His tone was jovial, but his eyes were taking in all the details of the computer system he saw laid out in front of him. He noted the series of slaved Hard Drives, scanner, microphone, and twin speakers. The amount of memory available was immense.

"Charlie. Nice of you to call." Andrew walked with outstretched hand, shook Charlies' warmly; then without releasing it, turned him away from the computer, almost pulling him out of the room.

In the lounge, with drinks, Charlie re opened the subject. "They told me you were ill, but now I find you beavering away on some large scale computer project. Come on," he wheedled, "Tell me what it's all about. Maybe I can help. "

"Thanks for the offer. " Andrew smiled, "But it is only a programme that Tony is putting together. He asked me to help, so I am. You will understand that it is confidential, and much as I appreciate the offer, I must say 'No thanks'."

Charlie smiled, but the smile did not reach his eyes. The fact that Susan was hovering around in a very unsettled way reinforced his conviction that all was not as it should be in the Walker household. 'Non-committal, and embarrassed.' thought Charles. 'But I know you are dying, so why all this evasion.'

Driving away, he could reach no firm conclusion, but was sure the 'O.B.' would find his report very interesting.

Sir Archibald's secretary had had strict orders to connect Charlie at any time.

"May I see you as soon as possible." blurted Charlie. "I don't really want to talk on the phone."

"Very well", interrupted Sir Archibald. "Come to my club at 8 this evening. I will be dining alone."

Without another word the phone went dead. Charlie swore viscously to himself. ' The old bastard' he thought. 'One day I'll get even'.

The day dragged for him, and he was unable to concentrate on his work. He knew better than to arrive early at the club. Once when this had happened, and he had surprised Sir Archibald at a rather inopportune moment, he had seen the veneer of civilisation fall away and show the savage that lurked beneath the smooth surface. He walked up and down outside the club until a nearby church tower clock rang out the hour. It was just as the last chime died away that he rang the doorbell.

"Yes Sir, may I help you?"

"Charles Gardner to see Sir Archibald."

"You are expected, Sir. Will you please follow me".

Sir Archibald made him welcome, poured a drink, and whilst Charlie was sipping it, he shut and locked the door. He returned to his chair, sat, crossed immaculately creased trousers, picked up the brandy glass that had been warmed by his hand, swirled the amber liquid around, tasted it, then looked Charlie straight in the face and said, 'Now tell me exactly what is so important."

Unsure of himself, Charlie said, "There is something very odd going on at Andrew Walkers' house. I called there today, to show concern. I was very surprised to find Andrew in the middle of setting up some programme on his home computer. His wife was very nervous when I arrived, and as I tried to go into the room, he had the computer switched off so fast it was unbelievable. When I asked if I could help in any way, he made the excuse of it being a programme he was helping his son with, and was therefore confidential. I don't think that was in anyway true. He has more equipment in his house than could possibly be needed for any normal work. I would say that he is trying to continue the work he was doing at the centre. I can't think of any use for it, unless he is going to get that son of his to sell it abroad."

As he paused, Sir Archibald chipped in with a sarcastic sneer, "Trying to beat you at your own game! " Charlie had to get a firm grip on his anger. Now was not the time to fall out with this piece of excrement. Maybe later.

Sir Archibald was still talking. "When Andrew left us, the first thing I did was to check the main database for signs of tampering , but from then until now, nothing. However the experts I brought in to check his work tell me that they think significant pieces seem to go nowhere. From what you tell me now, I think the time has come to do a little investigating. Let me do some thinking about the best way to do this. I am expecting a report in a few days from the new team. When I have that I will know how to deal with Mr Walker. Don't concern yourself with this, I am sure we have plenty of time in hand. After all what can one dying man do?".

With this assumption he made the greatest mistake of his life.
Chapter 5.

Those few days made the difference between success and failure. At last the Hologram was finished. It stood beside the computer terminal speaking as one of the family. Susan watched, but when she closed her eyes, there seemed no difference between the two speakers. Now both Andrew and Tony spoke alternately testing the hologram. It answered perfectly, apparently looking at each speaker in turn. Two miniature video cameras on the console, and the latest voice recognition software placed sounds on a three dimensional map in the computers memory.

Andrew had followed the doctor's instructions to the letter, but now things were going wrong. Susan knew instinctively that the end could not be too distant.

"That's it. The job is done. I must rest now, but I'll be fine tomorrow." Andrew sighed as he switched the computer off. The hologram vanished.

Another meeting was taking place at Sir Archibald's club. He was livid; the veneer of civilisation was gone. The raw savage was showing. Charles watched, horrified.

"The final reports are now in from my experts; and they do not make very good reading. Apparently our Mr Walker has really screwed things up for us. All his work has been deleted, that is the important bits, and the rest is a maze of leads that go nowhere. I want him and any work he may have, destroyed. Without it, my peerage goes down the toilet, so you had better get on with it."

"I.I.I can do it. I can....but surely the others in the project can carry on....."

"I don't give a damn how you do it, I don't want to know the details, just do it. But remember, involve me in any way and you're dead. Now get out of my sight."

Charles turned away, almost falling in his haste to get out. Soon he sat in his car, breathing heavily. "I'll show you, Sir O.B. how to fix Mr Walker. Oh yes. I'll soon be back in your good books" He muttered angrily. Starting the engine he drove back to his lonely flat. There he found a pre-packed meal in the refrigerator, Micro-waved it, and while it was heating, poured a stiff whisky. After swallowing it in one satisfying gulp, he poured another, adding some ice this time, just as the bell pinged to signal the end of the cooking cycle. Later, as he showered away the tension of his meeting, he finalised the plan, which would destroy all Andrew's work. Knowing that Andrew's life was almost over, he would let nature take its course. His plan for now was to add a booster pack to the portable laser in the laboratory, and in one huge over voltage discharge, fire it at Andrew's house. The resultant magnetic pulse would wipe any computer disc, floppy, hard, optical, or any other form of storage that might be in the vicinity.

It seemed an eternity before the staff clocked off next day, and he was alone in the building. He had parked next to the elevator doors, and now he carefully carried the laser and booster pack from his work place and laid it in the boot. Knowing that the security guards always made themselves a drink at this time, the only hurdle he had to cross now was the chance of a vehicle check at the front gates. As he drove from the car park and headed towards the gates, his pulse quickened when he saw one of the guards stand up in the booth, and open the window. As Charles drew level he slowed, but did not stop. He waved from the car, shouted 'Good night' and with a brief glance to the right as he crossed the white line at the junction with the main road, he turned left and accelerated away. The guard slammed the window and snorted, "That little shit will push me too far one day. He knows that he's supposed to stop before leaving the place." The other guard just laughed and shrugged his shoulders.

Arriving home, and into his garage, he set the laser across the back seat, and attached the booster pack. The final lead, with a push switch, he inserted into the socket for the cigar lighter. All he

needed to do now was drive to Andrew's house, park, point the laser, and press the switch.

Darkness seemed to take forever to come: Nine thirty came and went. He almost ran to the car, and again drove off carefully. The cruising police car that tagged along behind him for a mile or two, brought him out in a sweat, but it turned away, losing interest in a car that had not the faintest whiff of a reason to be stopped. Arriving, he stopped opposite the front of Andrew's house. Lights burned in the room Charles knew held the computer, and above it shadows moved on the curtains of a bedroom. He sat for a while relishing the moment. Soon he would send all that hard work to hell. If he could not profit from it, then no one would.

Behind the curtains the last act in Andrew's life was being played out. He had slept fitfully, and now was unable to sit up without assistance. In his mind, the wish to die peacefully, but not yet. The doctor had been, but as he left, he had shaken his head meaningfully. Even though he had directed it at Tony, Susan had caught it, and had to take a very firm grip on her emotions to stop herself from breaking down. 'Later' she thought, 'Not now. I must not show any weakness.'

During the day, Andrew had drifted in and out of sleep. When he was awake, he was lucid. It was towards evening that he lapsed into a coma. Susan and Tony just sat and waited.

As darkness fell, he struggled from the depths and whispered that he wanted to see the hologram. Tony brought in a monitor and seconds later the hologram stood in front of them. Without the video cameras and microphone it had no reference points; but even so the smile that brightened Andrew's face was a joy for Susan to see.

Outside the house Charles had enjoyed his moments of fantasy.............One deep breath and he closed the contact. The laser hummed, and the tube flared with overload. A split second later it went black, its job done. Tony was standing with his back to the window; he was thinking how peaceful his father looked now. Maybe it would end like this. Just a slipping away.

Andrew opened his eyes wide, and looked over Tony's shoulder, right at the window. A smile spread slowly across his face. Tony felt a breath of cool wind on his cheek. The hair on his neck rose in fear as he felt a presence pass by him. Something only his father could see.

Andrew held out his arms. In that brief second of time, the computer monitor flashed, the hologram splintered into a million points of light. Andrew closed his eyes and fell back on the bed.

The next sound was the scream of tyres being tortured against unyielding tarmac. It faded. Both Tony and Susan stood petrified. A voice said "Ye Gods, that was some jolt. Good job Andrew installed that instant overload switch".

Shaken, Tony and Susan turned and saw the hologram standing, smiling.

"Yes, it's me, Andrew".

"What happened? ".

Just as I thought. That was a honey of a magnetic pulse. I think it was designed to wipe me out and all the memory in the computer with it. "

"But you're still here, and how can you move about. "

"That jolt should have killed me, but for some reason it didn't. It's freed me from the computer, but my senses tell me that I must not stay outside for too long, as power loss would be fatal. It seems I have a limited separate existence. Now, though, I think it would be a good idea to call the doctor, and tell him that Andrew has just died."

Susan and Tony turned back to the bed where Andrew lay still, his face composed, and all the lines of pain and worry smoothed away. Peace had finally come to him. As Tony went slowly down the stairs to the telephone, Susan finally gave in to her grief, knelt beside the bed, her hands holding Andrews, and let the long held back tears flow.

The doctor was soon there and after a brief examination signed the Death Certificate. He called an undertaker to come and remove the body. Unable to face this Susan and Tony and shut themselves in the living room, trying not to hear the heavy tread of feet as the body was brought down the stairs, slid into the hearse and driven off.
Chapter 6.

The funeral was dismal. Angry clouds drifted in a sullen sky, and fine falling drizzle soaked everything it touched.

The cortege moved slowly from the house. Cars with Andrew's friends and fellow workers added to it. When they arrived at the church the bearers wheeled the coffin down the aisle and then retired to the side, where they stood heads bowed, in mock solemnity. The vicar, a tall thin man, seeming ill at ease, took the service. Susan, looking at him, felt he was a stranger, completely disinterested in what he was doing, just passing the time until he could get away. As Susan walked out of the church, she felt every eye on her, and she wondered what was going through their minds. She saw Charles who gave her a sympathetic smile, but on passing Sir Archibald, the feeling of cold evil that emanated from him was almost tangible. She nearly missed a step and felt Tony's' steadying hand on her elbow. She wondered if he had also felt that wave of hate, his look told her that he had. His mouth was set in a thin line, and he was breathing hard.

The drizzle had turned to rain, and when they reached the gravesite, it was running in little rivulets over the edges and forming a pool at the bottom. Drops falling directly onto it formed sluggish rings that rebounded off the sides of the grave, forming overlapping circles. Umbrellas had sprouted over the heads of the mourners and they moved slowly about as an errant wind blew in a directionless way.

The vicar stood reading the service, a bearer holding his own umbrella over him, trying to keep the pages dry. His voice, without a microphone was lost, and it was only as the coffin was lowered into the grave that they realised that they could soon depart.

Susan stood looking down on the coffin. The brass plate with just the name, dates born and died engraved on it gleamed wetly. That would be there long after the body had turned to dust. Her heart ached with the loss of the one person she had truly loved. She jumped a little as Tony touched her arm, and gently pulled her away. They walked slowly to the car. As they did, Susan felt tears mixing with the rain that trickled down her cheeks. It tasted salt, when it tickled her lip, and she, without a thought touched it with the tip of her tongue.

The car door shut, and the engine purred into life. Slowly they drove away, leaving the gravediggers to fill the now soaking hole with earth that stuck to their spades, and made them curse and sweat until their job was done. The final thought that crossed her mind as they passed through the gates was that it would take a lot longer for her to fill the hole in her heart. Fortunately the car windows were steamed up, and she

After arriving back at the house, Susan was pleased to note that the Caterers had done a really good job with the refreshments.

Charles had moved in to take charge of the bar, and was dispensing drinks to all and sundry.

It was only later that he managed to get away and finding the computer room unlocked, slipped in. Putting the catch on the door, so that he would not be disturbed, he powered up the computer, and called up the main menu. All he got was a blank. The memory had been well and truly wiped. A flick of the switch and the only sound was that of the hard disc running down. As he rejoined the crowd, he looked Sir Archibald to tell him that the job had been done, and there was no trace of anything in the computer, but he had already left.

Some time later, the last car was driven off, and after the Caterers cleared the remains away, they too departed. Silence fell in the house. Exhausted, Susan and Tony sat comfortably in the lounge. As they toyed with their drinks, a voice called.

"Susan, Tony. Come in here, I need to talk to you." They looked at each other, shocked. That voice was Andrews'. In the computer room, the hologram was standing there, smiling. It held out its hands in welcome, and motioned them to chairs.

'It's really Andrew' Susan thought. Her mind already shying away from memories of the open grave.

"It was Charles that tried to destroy me. He came into the room when everyone was busy and tried to see whether there was anything on the computer. I let him see a blank, so he now thinks he has wiped it clear. But there are more important things. I am able to travel wherever I want on the Internet. I have found that the locks and blocks people put on their secret files can't stop me, and passwords are useless. I can go into any computer anywhere in the world, and I have already done some checking with the most amazing result. Look at this."

The screen filled with data. It appeared to be a bank statement. It was replaced with another, then more letters with names and dates listed. While they scrolled past, the hologram said

"This is the evidence I have found which shows that not only is Sir Archibald a blackmailer, he has been, and is involved in the worst sort of crimes from money laundering to extortion. He also uses his Diplomatic Status to bring drugs into the country. I have also found that our one time friend Charles is working for the Americans as an Industrial Spy. His bank balance is way out of line with what he is earning. "

"What can we do?" Susan whispered.

"Leave that to me. It may take a few days, but the result will be terrific. Wait and see. Remember that I can switch the computer on and off as I wish. I can also hear you if you need me. Just call, and I'll be here." It vanished. The screen went blank and the computer switched itself off.

"He really thinks he is Andrew", Said Tony, "But what he has in mind I hate to think."
Chapter 7

When the bell rang Barbara Mountford stirred and tried to switch off the alarm, but even when she managed to get hold of it and press the stop button, something kept on ringing. After a few seconds she dropped the alarm and still with eyes shut fumbled for the telephone handset.

Head throbbing, she managed a dry throated croak.

"What time is it?".

"Time you were awake and listening to me" The sound of that hated voice snapped her eyes open, but the light in the room sent a stab of pain through her head. The voice purred.

"What's the matter, dear. Did you have a hard days night. Well, if you did you had better get over it fast as I have a job for you. I will see you about 8 o'clock tonight. If you have any other arrangements you had better cancel them".

The phone went dead.

Barbara lay back on the black silk sheets, threw off the top one and stared up at the mirror on the ceiling. She regarded the naked body reflected there dispassionately. Some, she thought, have it, and some do not, but you certainly do. The long hair flowed around her shoulders, and lay on the pillow in waves. Her eyes travelled down the reflection, noting with satisfaction the arched

eyebrows, the pert nose, full cupids bow mouth, and strong chin. As she looked further she took in the firm breasts, narrow hips and long very shapely legs. Her hands strayed to the pink nipples and as she gently massaged them between thumb and forefinger she saw them rise and harden. The erotic sensation flowed warmly from stomach to toes, and brought back a vivid memory of the night before. What a stud that hunk had been. True the price for her complete compliance had been high, as the thick wad of notes in the drawer at the side of the bed certified, but even then she had enjoyed the session, a thing that rarely happened when she had to please her usual clients.

It was a short step to the memory of her first trip into the 'TRADE' . But that memory shocked her wide awake. It had been at a well remembered Hunt Ball. The music had been as hot as the evening.

"Christ, I'm loaded, I need to pee, and get some fresh air".

"You go pee, and I'll see you out there on the balcony". The voice had been smooth and almost hypnotic. Minutes later they stood together looking down into the well tended gardens, where in unlit

patches held figures locked in intimate embraces.

"Your very good health, my dear. I have taken the liberty of bringing your unfinished drink.. Shall we toast the start of a beautiful friendship?"

"Friendship! I don't even know who you are."

"Oh dear. We've been dancing the night away, and I was so dazzled holding your, If I may say, so desirable body, that I forgot to introduce myself. Just call me Archie. Now, drink up, and we'll be off".

"Off! Where?"

"You need to be taken home, and ,my car is waiting."

"Waiting?"

"Yes, my driver is just outside. All I need to do is press this call button on my mobile phone. It's just like a magic wand. Look down the drive. See that silver Rolls. Watch."

He pressed the button. Seconds later the Rolls moved out of the line of waiting cars and up to the front of the building.

"Shall we go."

As the car whispered away, the interior light stayed on. The windows were heavily tinted, including the one between the driver and themselves. The mini bar built into the front division clicked open. With eyes closed she hears the clink of ice cubes and the gurgle of a poured drink. She turned to face a pair of dark blue eyes. In her state she felt herself being mesmerised by them. He had kissed her, his warm lips melting hers until they parted and she felt his tongue exploring . She had never felt like this before, and it was only moments later that she swallowed the drink he held out to her. Her memory of the events of that night were blurred when she awoke with a blinding headache, and with a warm body lying next to her. She then remembered being almost lifted from the car and into her flat. The white powder he had said was a cure for the staggers, as he had put it, had done wonders for her. She had done as he told her and sniffed it into her nose., as the silver foil had warmed in the flame from his lighter. After a while the

staggers had certainly gone, and all her inhibitions with it. She had heard about drugs, but girl talk had not given her any idea as to the results of her experiment. Her friends had said how macho it was, and the 'High, darling, just has to be felt, to really know you are alive'.

When he had left her, he had pressed a well embossed card into her hand and said that he would see her again that evening, and without waiting for her to accept, had gone quietly from the room. Examining the card, she had seen the name Sir Archibald Hemmings with an address in St Johns Wood. A very high class part of London. Her head still in a whirl, she had passed the day

unable to settle to anything. She leafed through a magazine for a few minutes only to throw it away, then pace up and down. She tried to eat her lunch but she was just not hungry.

About two o'clock the phone had rung, but it was only a close girl friend asking how she had spent the night. The undertones of jealousy were there, so with pretended disinterest she had managed to cut off what would have developed into a long conversation. It was three o'clock before the phone rang again.

This time the voice needed no introduction, in fact there was none. just a casual

"Hello Barbara, I'll pick you up at seven. I think you will really enjoy tonight."

She was ready by six thirty. and stood at the window overlooking the street. At seven precisely a Rolls had blatantly double parked, and the immaculately dressed figure of Sir Archibald had strolled up to the door and pressed the intercom button. Breathing hard to control herself, she had waited a few seconds before answering, in an attempt to give the appearance of being 'oh so casual'. Huskily she had answered.

"Yes, who is it?"

"Are you ready? The car is waiting." She ran out of the flat, but had to contain her impatience as she waited for the lift to carry her to the ground floor,

A policeman was talking to Sir Archibald, both were smiling, and

there was no hint of a parking ticket being issued. As Sir Archibald opened the car door for her, the policeman gave a snappy salute and with a nod to her, turned away.

The leather of the seats was luxurious, and as she leaned back into the comfort that surrounded her, she thought 'This man must not get away' In her minds eye she saw herself as Lady Hemmings. She must use all her wiles to catch and land this passport to the good life. Had she but known who was trapping who she would have opened the door even at thirty miles an hour and jumped, risking any injury to get away from him. But as she did not know,

she settled back and let the car whisk her away into an unknown future.

From that evening on, it was a whirl of society parties, days at the races, evenings at the various casinos, where she saw large sums of money change hands without seeming to cause any resentment from the people who lost. After each new experience Sir Archibald would take her to dinner where they ate at the best restaurants and

then back to his flat where she always managed to get rid of the staggers by using the innocuous white powder.

"Barbara. My office, now."

She took the offered chair. Her employer regarded her puzzlement in his eyes.

"How long have you been with us?"

"Just over a year, Mr Maudsley."

""What is happening to you? I had high hopes for you. I had thought of making you my persona; secretary, but now..I don't think so." He paused and as she sat silently, head bowed, he went

on. " Your work was first class. I had to check it. But recently, certainly in the last two months it has fallen apart. Is something wrong? Would you like to talk to me, or even have me make appointment for you to have some counselling?"

"There's nothing wrong with me. I don't need your help. I can take care of myself."

"No, that's just what you don't seem able to do. In the last month you have had two verbal and now written warnings, with no visible improvement. You will loose this job if you carry on the way you are, and if you go there will be no recommendation."

"Jesus, just lay off the sermons will you. Who the hell do you think you are, talking to me as though I'm a child. Do you think this job is so important to me. If you only knew where I go, in what circles I mix. And then come in to this poxy job. Ah!! You can stuff it where the sun never shines."

"Barbara, that's enough. One more word and you will be dismissed. Be warned."

"You want to sack me? That's fine by me. I was leaving anyway!"

"Your cards will be in the front office in 5 minutes. I have tried to help, but you are past it. Now get off the premises."

"Don't worry on that score. I'm already gone."

She just had not realised how much she was becoming dependent on the now daily supply of the small packets of powder, then one day Sir Archibald did not call her, and by evening she was almost frantic. She lay doubled up, agonised, cramp pains searing. Sweat starting.

In desperation she had called Sir Archibald only to hear the clipped voice of the answering machine.

Much later her phone rang, his voice, full of concern.

"Barbara, my dear, what is the matter. You sound a bit frantic."

"Archie, please help me, I'm burning up and the pain is awful. I need you so. Can you, no, will you come and..."

It seemed an age before her doorbell chimed.

Again he had produced the small packet and after inhaling the smoke she felt on top of the world. Next day they went out together, but during the afternoon the now familiar pain started again.

"Archie. It's happening again. Please can I have something now."

"No. my dear, you will have to wait until we get back."

He smiled, and slowly shook his head. When they arrived back at her flat this time.

"Archie... Please. You don't know what it feels like. The pain. First I'm shivering then I'm sweating, and I feel so sick. God. I need you.."

He slapped her hard across the face.

"Barbara, you poor whining fool. I know all about the mess you're in. Lost your job. Didn't care. I could see you thought you'd marry me. What a joke. If you have any hopes of the easy life, forget it. Now you will work for this and it will not be pleasant. I also know you can't afford your flat".

Now she felt the first stab of real terror in her life. He had then twisted her hair tightly in his hand,

"You will move into a flat I happen to own. You will 'entertain' the men I send to you. You will do exactly what they want, in the way that they want. And be assured that if I hear a word of complaint that you have not done what was required of you, then, and let me make sure you understand, you will not, and I repeat. Not get the little packets you are now totally dependent on. In addition, they will not pay you, so don't even think of asking. I will arrange for your comforts.

If you are satisfactory, and if you can persuade these clients to talk about business, and you hear something I could use, then my driver will bring your presents....but, if I hear one word of complaint, and rest assured I will, then your presents will stop, and what you have felt just now will be nothing compared to what you will feel then. Do you understand........Here is the address and keys to your new place. I will call and see you as soon as my workmen have finished in the flat. Here is the address and keys. But first a small lesson in how to keep your mouth shut. Get undressed."

She stripped, shivering.

"Now imagine I am one of the people you will meet shortly, and remember I am to be pleased. He hurt her, fingers stiff and

unyielding, his teeth leaving marked flesh. As he dressed, he threw the foil wrapped fix at her. She scrabbled on the floor for it. Looking down at her in her misery he snarled.

"Pack what you need and GO."

After this it came as no surprise when the day after moving into the new flat, two workmen in blue denim overalls carrying a bag of tools had firmly attached a large mirror to the ceiling, carefully drilled a hole through the wall into the spare room, and installed a video camera with an minute lens in a fibre optic cable, and arranged it so as to give a very good view of everything that went on in the bedroom.

Nothing was said until the job was finished. The foreman had then demonstrated to her several times how to load the cassette into the camera, switch it on and off, and in parting had told her that the cassette would be collected each day.

Later, Sir Archibald had arrived.

"Well my dear, I certainly can't fault my workmen, they seem to have made an excellent job of the sex trap. Did they explain exactly how to operate the camera?"

"Yes, several times."

"Don't get fresh with me, my dear, or do you want another reminder of what you are here for?"

" I'm sorry, but I will try so hard to please your friends. You won't stop my presents will you?"

With a smile gave her the small packet. She thought she was going to pass out when she tried to heat it herself, as her hands were shaking so much that some of the precious powder dropped on the table, and it was only after he had said it was 'Up to her,' that she finally managed to do it.

The next few weeks had been pure unadulterated hell. The clients had been a cross section of everything she abhorred in men, from the sadistic who only got their kicks from inflicting pain, to the sweaty foul breathed who pawed at her in wild abandon, then

expected her to bring them to orgasm in the most, to her , disgusting ways imaginable.

It was only the very few men who were considerate with her that kept her sane. Her 'presents' arrived on time and whilst she was feeling normal she tried to plan an escape. She soon realised that even though she always had the best of food, clothes, and that the flat had been redecorated in the finest way, she still had no money whatsoever

It was then that she had decided to take a chance.

"Bill, how well do you know Archie?

"Hardly at all, he tends to move in a more rarefied atmosphere then I do."]

"You mean your not one of his, can I say, his friends."

"Good God No... I just introduced him to my boss, and you were the result for me."

"Do you like what you see?"

"Damn right."

"You've only had the basics, but I'd be happy and willing to give you the full deal. But, it would have to be on a private basis...Do you understand me?"

"I'm ahead of you."

After one session with him that had not resulted in a loss of her 'present', or a beating, she felt that Sir Archibald had relaxed any supervision of her, and it was now safe to divert these earnings into her own pocket. She now had the start of what she hoped would result in her being able to escape before an early death claimed her.

At eight that evening the doorbell rang, and minutes later Sir Archibald was sitting on the settee, eyeing her speculatively, a drink in one hand and a cigarette in the other. Apparently satisfied with what he saw, he smiled the old tender smile.

"You have done so well, my dear, I think it is now time for you to move on and do another sort of work for me. Tomorrow I want you to meet a young man. This man is very different from those you have been associating with recently."

He opened a small brief case and lifted a thin file out of it. The contents he spread on the floor in front of them. There were several pages of typescript, and some photographs. She saw a good looking man. In one he was almost facing the camera, and seemed to be lost in thought. Sir Archibald picked out the typed pages.

"Read these. They will tell you all you need to know about him. I want you to make his acquaintance. I will take you to the right place at the right time so that I can see you do it. You will then seduce him in the usual way. I need him put in a position where he will have to work for me. His knowledge is very important, so bear in mind that if you fail, your 'presents' will stop before you can blink". Barbara sat and saw the mask slip, and the devil look out. Inwardly she shuddered, but nodded her head, and whispered

"When?"

"Tomorrow afternoon. I happen to know he will be going to a seminar at the Science Museum, where you will accidentally fall into his arms. The rest is up to you. I will call for you at noon."

Without another word he left, and she again saw the Rolls whisper away from the kerb. As he drove he again thought how the pleasure of revenge on Andrews family by wiping the computer had been a mistake. Now he needed Tony's knowledge, and this was the only way to get it. Once Barbara had him by the short and curlies, things could really move. As he drove, he smiled.
Chapter 8.

The hologram looked at Tony.

"I have found out so much about our past friends that it will be easy to finish them completely."

Tony raised an eyebrow quizzically. "Just how do you figure that?"

"It's easy, son. All I need to do is send details of the hidden files on Sir A's computer to the police and the newspapers, and there you are. Sir A and Charles arrested. Besides, never forget that they tried to kill me.

Anger and resentment boiled.

"How dare you call me Son. You are nothing but a collection of electrons chasing one another round a few miles of wire. For someone supposed to be so wise ,you are incredibly stupid. Do you think Sir A will meekly admit that he is the bastard we know he is. A denial is all we will get. No, we need something far more subtle. And while we are on the subject ,don't you ever call me Son again. My father made you in his image, and even though you 'look' like him, you will never 'be' anything like him. "

The hologram vanished. Turning,

Tony saw Susan in the doorway, her fingers twisting, eyes brimming with tears.

"Do you feel it too? I thought it was just me. Why did he make it so real? It scares me."

"Dad had the best of intentions, but we never realised how effective it would be. I can't reprogramme it. Dad was far ahead of me when he created it. Besides I have a feeling that it would not take kindly to me trying. Now, if you're OK I must get ready to go out. I have to go to the Science Museum this afternoon."

Susan held his hand for a few seconds longer, then released it. She turned, walked away down the hall. Tony picked up his car keys and left the house.

Starting the car he drove into the city, worried about the effect the hologram was having on his Mother. He knew that his parents had been closer to each other than any other couple he had ever

met. He was sure that his mother would recover her balance, but the hologram was delaying this. He had tried to think of ways to control it, but had always run up against the brick wall of lack of knowledge. He would solve that problem he was sure, if need be.

Parking, he walked the crowded bustling streets until he came to the Science Museum, where a queue of people was filing slowly into the building. As he mounted the steps, he caught a glimpse of a bespectacled girl, her arms full of books, a large shoulder bad swinging , her head down, striding purposefully in his direction. She looked up, their eyes met. He tried to step aside. Mistakenly she stepped the same way, and a split second later they met shoulder to shoulder. The books went one way and the contents of the shoulder bag went another. As she went down, he heard her gasp of pain. Some in the queue giggled, some laughed. Blushing, he bent to pick up the books as she frantically tried to collect the scattered contents of the shoulder bag. He handed them to her.

"I'm so sorry. Should have been quicker on my feet. Please let me help you.

"My fault." she said, brushing aside his words, a smile. "You'll have to give me a hand. I think I've twisted my ankle. "

He put his hands out to her, she hitched the bag onto her shoulder, and gripping his hand rose from the step. She stood favouring the damaged ankle.

"What now, Sir Galahad. You'll have to rescue this damsel. I can't walk on this foot. No! it's not all your fault. I should have been quicker as well. I'm sure there must be a First Aid Station in here".

Picking up the books again, he placed her arm around his shoulders and taking her firmly around the waist, walked her into the Museum. The subtle fragrance of her perfume, and the feel of the firm body on his arm caused his heart beat to increase and his lack of experience with the fair sex left him tongue tied and awkward. The girl smiled sweetly at the commissionaire behind the reception desk as she asked him for assistance. Old soldier that he was, he immediately took charge, and with a flurry of telephones and shouted orders, both Tony and the girl were shown into a comfortable office where they were seated to wait for the medical assistant.

The male medical assistant strapped the ankle, after taking more time than was strictly necessary to examine the shapely limb that was warm beneath his fingers. After a last warning not to put too much weight on the foot, he walked away, leaving Tony and the girl facing one another, smiling.

"Well. Where do we go from here? I was hoping to get a seat in the Seminar today, but I suppose all the seats will have gone by now. "

"I was going there too."

"Right, then help me to the nearest telephone and I'll ring for a taxi. I seem to have caused you rather a lot of trouble, so I'll get out of your way and go home."

"Not a chance. As I said, if I had been a bit quicker on my feet, we would both have been at the seminar by now. You wait here, and I'll go and get my car then take you home. "

She raised an eyebrow.

"No, er, I'm sorry, I didn't mean, Yes, well".

He trailed off as the girl wagged a finger at him. "Sir Galahad, I think you've not had a lot of experience in rescuing damsels in distress, so, now is your chance to get in a bit of practice. I'll wait here. Now please hurry, my ankle is really starting to hurt. "

Leaving the building, he ran to the car park . Driving back, he cursed the traffic that seemed intent on slowing him down. He parked right in front of the entrance.

"Better not park there".

"But!"

"Move it or there'll be a ticket on it".

"Please Warden, there's an injured lady in there. She can't walk, she twisted her ankle, and it was all my fault. I have to get her away from here. Just five minutes..."

"Right then. You've talked me into it, but five minutes, not a second longer, or the ticket goes on. I'm waiting."

Tony took the steps two at a time.

The radiant smile that greeted him made up for all the annoyance and inconvenience. She pushed herself up from the chair, and without a word, put the books into his hand, one arm went round his shoulder, took the other hand in hers and placed it around her waist.

"Lead on, Sir Galahad,"

The Warden still stood, notebook in hand, pen poised. He was putty in her hands when she smiled demurely.

"Please officer, would you help me into the car".

The notebook and pen vanished. As they turned the first corner, he was still standing, looking.

"Which way now?"

With a few more chuckles she gave directions, and some time later they arrived at the front of her building.

"You'll have to help me in" she said. Tony looked around and was impressed by the luxury that surrounded him.

"Do you like it?"

"It's beautiful". he replied, turning to look at her. She was now lying back in a chair with her foot supported on a low coffee table.

"Will you stop standing there like a tailors dummy and sit down. There is something on your mind, so out with it. "

"I'm Tony Walker. Will you tell me who you are? I know I should have told you earlier, but we have been rather busy since our rather violent meeting. "

"Dear Sir Galahad" she said quietly, looking up demurely from downcast eyes. My real name is Barbara, but for you I'd much rather be Guenevere, after all you did rescue this damsel in

distress, even though the distress was not all my doing. However, I am now going to put a cold compress on this ankle, so, dear knight, out you go, " She paused for a few seconds, and as his face fell, she added contritely, "Oh dear, look at that face, but if you call this evening, about 8 o'clock I will have a bite to eat and a drink ready for you, and we can decide what to do with the rest of the evening. "

Tony left the flat in a haze of disbelief. He had never met a girl who seemed so ......... He could not find the right word in his mind to describe the way he felt.

He would not have felt the way he did, had he been able to see back into the flat at that particular moment. Barbara relaxed, a thin spiral of smoke from a fresh cigarette drifting lazily up towards the ceiling, Dear God, she thought. What can Sir A. want from this one. This must be the easiest conquest of my life. I could have him in bed tonight, and the job finished by morning. Hang on, why rush it. This could be a useful way to get some more put by for the escape fund, and he is so easy to string along. If I tell Sir A, it may

take some time to arrange what he wants, then at least it will keep those horrors off me for a while. Anything is better than that.

While she was day dreaming. the telephone jangled. She rolled over to one side and lifted the receiver.

"Well done, my dear" came the hated voice. "The stage has lost an actress of considerable talent in you. I trust all goes to plan". The chuckle she heard was both lewd, and at the same time sinister. "You will have a result soon." he purred. She drew a deep breath and said. "It will be as soon as I can, but this one will not be easy. He does not seem interested in bed, and I am sure he is not a homosexual, so this may take a while, but I'll get what you want never fear." Almost whimpering she added, "You won't stop my 'presents', will you?"

"Not for a while. Just don't take too long or my patience will run out, and then things will become difficult indeed for you. " The

phone rattled in her ear as the hand set was replaced at the other end. She exhaled deeply with relief, a faint sheen of sweat beading her face. She had won a small space that she intended to take full advantage of. 'Now, Sir Galahad, lets see what you are made of.'
Chapter 9

As Tony let himself into the house, Susan looked out of the kitchen.

"Are you ready for dinner?" later, as they lingered over a final glass of wine, Susan remarked conversationally. " I have had a good think about that thing in the other room. It was getting to me, and you wouldn't destroy it, I have."

"How have you done that? You know it can hide anywhere in the computer network."

Without waiting for an answer, he ran to the computer room, he saw that the keyboard and a printer were smashed into a mass of twisted metal, the monitor lay on its side. All the rest was intact, Susan had not realised that the main unit was where real damage could be done. Not that that would have done much good. Standing there was the hologram.

"Your mother really has a temper. I never knew she was able to get so worked up, and she came out with words I never heard her use before." Tony, white with anger stood and stared for a few seconds, then snarled "Can't you see the damage you are doing. You are only stopping her from getting over Dad. If you really want to get back at Charlie and the 'OB' then do it some other way, but keep away from here."

"Son". It said, diffidently, "Have you still not yet realised that I am the clone of your father, and, as such am unable to love both you and Susan any less than your real father did. I will try not to intrude unless I have found a way to destroy those two. but remember that I love her and am drawn to her, just as much as ever your real father was. " So saying, it vanished.

Tony left the computer room. He put his arms round Susan and pulled her close , then said quietly, "Mum, we can't get rid of it. It is just like Dad, persistent. You see it does not need the computer any more, so smashing that does not get rid of it. Anyway we need it. Charlie and the 'OB' must be stopped, and the only way we can do that is with the its help. Remember though, all the time that it can't move away from the computer. We need to have proof of what they are doing, so it is trying to do just that. It won't bother you any more."

Susan relaxed in his arms.

"I'll be going out this evening, but only if you are all right".

She gazed into his eyes, and saw the small glow of happiness, which she had not seen for a long time.

"You've found a girl friend. I can see it. Maybe things will start going right now. Tell me about her. "

"Hold on, Mum. I've only just met her, and I really don't know very much about her yet. I'm seeing her this evening, and I promise that I'll keep you well informed. I do know that she is very attractive, and she does speak her mind. Now, will you go and sort out the dinner dishes while I set things straight in the other room."

In the computer room, he heard Susan start singing in the kitchen, and the clatter of plates and cutlery made a pleasant accompaniment.

"Please God, don't let her be hurt anymore." He said quietly. He disconnected the smashed equipment, and unboxed a new printer and keyboard, the monitor was undamaged. It was only a matter of moments to reconnect the system, and as he powered up, the hologram appeared. Tony caught the glitter at the corner of his vision, but refused to look at it.

"Not now. I don't want any bother this evening. I don't want Mum upset either. I think I have managed to give her another interest. I have met a girl that I want to know better, and she has guessed it. She needs to be kept happy, and if this will do the trick, then so be it".

"That's wonderful. Tell me about her".

"Her name is Barbara Mountford. And apart from that there is nothing more to tell. Yet." He realised what he was saying. and turned to the hologram. "What business is it of yours".

"None, but I can't help my feelings. Your happiness is as much my concern as your fathers, had he been able to enjoy it." It vanished. Tony stood, conflicting emotions chasing one another through his head. The rational side seeing things in the cold light of reason where the hologram was nothing but a man made creation, but on the other side the first insidious stirrings of an emotion that, no matter how he denied it, was the feeling that just perhaps there was still a link with his father.

"Thank you for everything." Susan said later, pulling his head down, and kissing him as she had done so often when he had been a child.

"Hey Mum, no tears please. If you want, I'll cancel.."

"Not on your life." She said in mock anger. "Off you go. I'll watch a bit of television, have a small drink. and be in bed early. Maybe I'll have a good night. Anyway you only stopping her from g0waiting."

After a shower, and smelling faintly of seldom used after shave, Tony drove away from the house. During the evening, she did drink rather more than she intended. It was about eleven o'clock, feeling sleepy , a glance at the clock , and a wide yawn made her feel that it was well past the time she should have been in bed.

Leaving the glass on the table, she pointed the controller at the television and pressed the off button. Relaxed now, she climbed the stairs and to her bedroom. She undressed and went to the bathroom where she spent a minimal amount of time.

Relaxing in bed, she put out the light and in the darkness saw the glow of the street lights gleaming on the curtains. There was a small gap between them, and there she saw the clouds streaming past in the moonlight. She could see in her minds eye the shapes of mountains, which merged into houses, then a castle which transformed itself into a flower or a face. It seemed as if the face turned towards her. It was so like Andrew she thought, and in that

moment her hand strayed across the bed to where he had always lain. The pillow was cold and untouched. Her hand jerked back.

'None of that ' she chided herself. 'Don't go down that road. There is nothing there but pain.'

Once started, thoughts followed one another in succession, and she found that it was really only the good memories that surfaced. At that moment she heard footsteps on the stairs. Sleepily she wondered if she had missed the sound of the car, and it was Tony going to his room, but when the door handle turned and the door opened, she saw in the faint light the outline of Andrew.

"You're late tonight."

"Give me a moment or two and I'll show you whether the night is too far gone for us."

He stripped, and she could see the play of muscles across his body "Tease" she whispered, and saw him turn and smile. She pulled the duvet aside, and reached up to him. Later, she lay with her arms around him, feeling his body touching hers , and the desire she felt burned again.

"Again, please Darling!"

There was no response. Her eyes opened, and in the half light she saw not the so well remembered body, but her arms and legs entwined around the pillows. The bed was empty. No Andrew, no lovemaking, no warmth, only a cool wafting of air from the part open window.

Temper flared. Movement caught her eye and she saw in the mirror the shadow of that beloved face. She could only think of the horror that lurked down below and haunted her every moment. She arched upright, and with one fluid motion hurled the pillow at it , a scream from deep in her throat accompanied the crash of bottles scattering in all directions. She turned face down and lay there sobs wracking her body. The door jerked open and Tony almost fell into the room.
Chapter 10.

Tony glanced in the rear view mirror as he reached the end of the street. He saw Susan wave, then turn and go into the house. At the first break in the almost constant stream of traffic, he eased into the flow and made his way towards Barbara's flat. As he approached, a large car pulled away and concentrating on grabbing the vacant parking space, before anyone else dived into it, he did not see the capped and uniformed figure of Sir Archibald's chauffeur.

Locking the car he went to the front door and pushed the call button.

"Yes " came the husky voice, just as he remembered it.

"Sir Galahad"

The automatic door lock clicked open.

Barbara answered his timorous knock.

"Come on in, it's not locked".

He stepped into the living room, saw her handbag and a scarf lying ready.

"Hi! " he called. "Sir Galahad comes to take you away from all this. My trusty steed waits below, and is impatient to be off. "

"Well, he'll have to wait for a moment or two. I'll be there in two shakes". He gazed round the room, taking in the fine furniture, the thick carpet, and the good pictures on the walls, each with its own overhead light. In an alcove a dining table with matching chairs, highly polished, gleaned in reflected light. 'How' he wondered. 'Can I keep up with all this'.

"Nearly ready". As she made her entrance Tony caught the smell of something that drifted in with her from the other room. He only had time to register the strange rather sickly scent before he was totally distracted by her. She swayed rather than walked across the room, and after a minute adjustment of his tie with her long sculptured fingers, raised her eyes. "All ready, Sir Galahad. Take me away from here, but let me be your guide for the evening".

She passed her hand behind his arm and he felt the fingers slide along his wrist and link into his, the door clicked shut behind them. Seated in the car he raised his hand in mock salute.

" Where to, my lady?"

Barbara appeared to think for a moment. " I'd really like to go for a trip on the river tonight. There is a small cruise boat that takes most of the evening to see the sights of London from the water, I have only been on it once, but the memory is still there. The food is great, and the music is terrific. I hope you like the old tunes. There is a band that plays just the way I like." Her eyes met his.

"Anything you want" he almost whispered. They arrived just in time to get on board before the gangway was hauled away. The mooring lines were cast off, the thrum of the diesel engine deepened and the boat slid gently away into the river. The night was warm, the stars shone. the river was as smooth as glass, and the vee of the wake spread out behind them in an ever widening fan. As Barbara had promised, the music was just to his taste, and when she slid into his arms, the rest of the world and its worries vanished .

It was well after midnight when they returned to the landing stage and walked arm in arm to the car. The drive back to the flat was almost traffic free, and Tony drove as slowly as possible to prolong the moment before they had to part. He knew he wanted her, but had never been able to dominate a situation. His past sex adventures had been few and far between, and then usually at the instigation of his partner. He knew he was looking for true love, and in his minds eye he saw them walking down life's highway hand in hand. Barbara leant against him, her head on his shoulder, her hair brushing the side of his face, her hand resting lightly on his knee. As she did, she felt the tremor of desire in him. Her thoughts were the exact opposite of his. She knew she had him now and could play with him like a fisherman landing a salmon. Sir Archibald would indeed be pleased with her for this night's work.

But wait, she thought, Sir A was in no real hurry, he had agreed not to stop her 'presents', so why not string this fish along for all it was worth before landing him, besides there was always the escape fund to think about. With an utterly feminine movement of her body, she gently pressed the nails of her hand into the inside of Tony's thigh, and as she sat up, drew then up and away from him. She heard his muffled sigh, and was immediately little girl contrite.

"I was almost asleep there. Where are we?"

"Nearly at the flat".

Seconds later they turned into her road and braked gently to a stop.

"May I see you in" asked Tony, palms sweating, his pulse racing.

"Not tonight, darling, but if you call me tomorrow, I'm sure we can arrange another date. I have so enjoyed this one, and I do want it to go on and on. So don't try and sweep me off my feet, I want things to develop in its own sweet time." Her arms went around his neck, and she kissed him. It was a kiss he had never tasted before, and it left him breathless. The car door closed softly, and he was left with the lingering trace of her perfume.

She watched until the car turned out of sight at the next intersection, then went into the building. As she entered the lift, she was jerked out of her thoughts by the leering face of Sir A's chauffeur. He held out the small packet of white powder, but shoved the flat of his free hand between her breasts, when she reached for it. "Not so fast, darling, why didn't you bring the mark in with you? Sir A won't like it when I tell him you are not trying. Perhaps I might say you're going soft on this one. Unless....." He let the threat die away, the hand now cupping and squeezing. She looked at him, utter revulsion in her eyes, then nodded towards the packet in his hand.

"Alright, come on up."

It was as Tony stepped into his mother's bedroom, and saw the shattered mess on the floor, that Sir A's chauffeur drove away from Barbara's flat, leaving her being violently sick in the bathroom, after the most agonising half hour she had spent for a long time. He was a man who liked his women the hard way, and violence was the only way he could come to ejaculation.
Chapter 11

Tony saw smashed glass and scattered bottles lying around on the floor. Susan was sitting upright, face shining with sweat, eyes wide, hands twisting a corner of the duvet.

"Could that thing downstairs get free from the computer?" she whispered. "It was so real. I saw him as he was. He was warm and so alive. I don't know what is real anymore. Perhaps I'm going mad!" Her voice trailed off, she sat staring into space. Tony picked up the phone.

"I am going to call our doctor. He'll have to sort this out".

"No, no, no," she whimpered "Please don't do that. He might have me locked away in an asylum". Her eyes implored him not to go on. Carefully he replaced the handset. As he did so he saw relief flood his mothers face.

"All right. But you do need some proper sleep, so take a couple of those sleeping pills I know you keep in that drawer."

As she opened it , he went to the bathroom, poured a glass of water. As he came back, she held out her open hand with two pills showing. Handing her the glass, she took the pills and drank most of the water before handing the glass back to him.

He watched as she lay back and relaxed. It was no more than half a minute before she was breathing quietly and evenly. How serene she now seemed. He left the room, drawing the door almost shut, leaving a crack open so that he could hear if she became disturbed again.

Going down stairs, he heard the computer switch on, and the rising hum of the hard disk as it spun up to speed.

"Please, Tony, can we talk for a moment. I have found out things that you must know about. It concerns the "O.B.".

Those two syllables were enough to make him open the door to confront the hologram.

"Well?" he asked, without inflection, "What is so important?"

The hologram appeared nervous; a point which Tony registered with surprise. Was it possible that this mass of random electrical pulses was becoming aware of emotions. It moved a pace from the computer, and looked straight at Tony. For a moment he froze, but the scientist in him surfaced in spite of everything.

"How did you do that?"

"It was the natural thing to do. I hope it helps to put you at ease. I am getting more like your father all the time; Remember, you fed so many books into me in the beginning that now I am starting to feel human, in spirit if not really in body. But forget that for now. I need you to understand that as I am able to go anywhere in the computer network, I felt that much could be gained by a very thorough examination of the 'O.Bs' files. His security is a joke to me. His passwords and locks are pathetic. " It paused as if now unsure how to go on. Tony now saw his father talking, even to the way it interlaced its fingers. It seemed to look into his face for a second or two .

"I don't know your feelings about Barbara Mountford. "

"How do you know that name?" Tony interrupted, angrily, "Have you been spying on me?"

The hologram raised open hands placatingly. "No, no, I promised you I would never do that, but her name is in the 'O.Bs' files. May I tell you what I have found?" Tony took a firm grip on his thoughts.

"What do you know?" he asked, his voice cracking with emotion.

"Barbara is only a very small part of the picture I have seen in those files. In them there is proof of blackmail at the highest level, fraud, and drug dealing on a large scale. To be brief for now, he snares girls into drug addiction and uses them to gain information with which he can blackmail the so-called friend. He plants the girl as a sexual favour, they are then filmed during sex, and anything she can wheedle out of him as they relax after is a bonus. It is all there, names, dates, everything. Shall I go on?"

"OK..I know what's coming. I suppose I'm in love with Barbara. I've never felt this way about any girl before. I just want to be near her, to be with her day and night for ever. I know it's sudden, but that's the way it is."

He sat silent for a moment.

"Was I being set up? Was I only something to be used ? But why? I have no Industrial knowledge or state secrets. Why me? " "Son, you have the most important knowledge of all. Me! There is a massive amount of money to be made by the country with the ability to produce robots with intelligence, like me. The military advantage is enormous. Think of the smart bombs that could be made. Think of all the places an intelligent robot could work where men could not live. Think of the moon, and even outer space. The 'O.B.' wants that knowledge. He tried to destroy everything when he realised your father was dying, and thought most of the work was beyond his reach. Now he needs you to work for him, so he'll try to blackmail you through Barbara. It's all there in the files. Shall I screen them for you to see. "

Tony shook his head . "No, I believe you. I don't want to see it."

" Barbara is an addict, and is dependent on the 'O.B.' for her supplies. I think you are really in love with her, but it may be too late to help her on your own. She needs specialist help in a hospital."

It stopped speaking as Tony went from the room and picked up the phone in the hall. He stabbed savagely at the numbers and heard the call ring out in the flat. There was no reply. He let it ring and ring. almost as he gave up and started to replace the handset, he heard the line connect and Barbara's voice, a barely controlled whisper,

"Leave me alone, please just leave me alone. I'll get what you want, I promise. " Her voice faded, and he shouted, "Stop, please don't hang up. It's Tony. Speak to me. What's happened?"

The reply was faint, but he heard her.

" Tony, is that you? Nothing has happened, just wait and I'll call you soon. "

"Not on your life" he retorted, "I'm coming over right now." Cutting her short, he slammed the phone down. Now the horns of a dilemma really pricked him. He was torn between Susan, lying asleep upstairs, confused and needing him should she awake, and Barbara, alone in her flat suffering from God only knew what.

"I heard all that" came the voice from the computer room.

"Go to her. If Susan wakes, which I don't think she will, then I'll call you on Barbara's' phone. Remember I can use the modem to connect anywhere."

Relieved, he ran lightly up the stairs, and looked into Susan's room. She was now deeply asleep. He drove as fast as he could back to Barbara's flat. Someone else's late visitor was leaving as Tony reached the house, so he was able to slip into the parking place. The lift was somewhere above. Taking the stairs three at a time, he

arrived breathless outside her door. He kept his finger on the bell button until he heard the cover over the door spyhole move aside.

"Go away, Tony, I don't want you to see me now".

"No" replied Tony, "Open the door or I'll kick it in, and to hell with the consequences. I must see you now. "

There was a long pause before he heard the security chain being slid off and the click of the latch being drawn back. The hall was in darkness except for some stray light filtering in from the street far below. She closed the door behind him, and as he reached to turn on the light, she took both his hands in hers. Still holding on, she moved into the lounge. Here the light was brighter, and as his eyes accustomed themselves to it he saw the swollen mouth and cheeks, He could see the wetness of tears. He felt real white-hot anger, but silently he lowered her to the settee, and turned on a small table lamp. As he did, she gave a small cry and buried her face in a cushion, sobbing..

"I know all about the drug problem, and Sir Archibald. I know he was going to use you to blackmail me, and I know why. Believe me I have just as much reason to stop him as anyone, and probably more than most. Will you listen to me."

The muffled sobs died away and with an effort she put the cushion down, revealing her battered face. Tony looked deeply into her eyes, and then told her about his father and the work he had been doing. It was only when he tried to explain that the hologram existed, and was now alive that he saw disbelief cloud her face. The phone rang. Instead of the tone, it rang a series of single pings. Tony was the first to recover. He held the handset between them, the hologram saying. "It's all right, Susan is still sleeping, but I felt I should contact you to find out if Barbara's O K. "

"Apart from a beating, I think so".

"Is there any computer equipment there. I've been listening, but I need to see, to talk to both of you"

Barbara stood up and went to a desk where she dropped the front down and produced a lap top computer.

"Will this do? Archie left it. He could e mail appointments."

"This is perfect."

Turning back to Barbara, smiling. "Now you will see what I was trying to tell you about the hologram". Seconds later it appeared.

It was just as dawn was breaking, after a revue of all the files in Sir Archibald's computer that they sat together trying to understand the evil of the mind behind it. "He must be stopped. But how?" said Barbara.

"There is a way" stated the hologram flatly, "But it will take time and could be very dangerous". Two pairs of eyes jerked. "Barbara, do you really want to help?"

"I think I'm ahead of you" she whispered. "It means coming off drugs. Cold Turkey". She shuddered at the thought. "I don't think I am strong enough to do that."

"You can be, with help. If we look after you until it's over, at Tony's house. If we keep you hidden there, no-one can get at you, and by the time you are well again, I will have planted enough 'evidence' with the media to ensure your safety when you go public as a witness to accuse him of everything in these files. I shall send all of the drugs evidence to the police and the media. That will be enough to start an in depth investigation into him. We can plan it in detail later, but the first thing is to get you away from here. Pack what you need, and I'll meet you here". It vanished.

"He certainly won't take 'No' for an answer" said Barbara with a rueful smile. Her suitcase was soon packed, as she remarked acidly that everything in the flat was all 'his'. Finally she went into the bathroom, and as he answered her call, he found her standing by the toilet bowl with a small packet of white powder in her hand.

"When this is gone, and there is no more, I will need you more than I've needed anything else in my life. Can I trust you?"

She stood, waiting. He put his arms about her waist and drew her to him.

"Always" he whispered, and as they kissed, the white powder fell from the upturned packet into the water filled bowl.

The dawn chorus was in full swing as they arrived at the house and hurried inside. The hologram was standing in view from the hall.

"I think the best place is in the cellar. " Tony felt her shudder, but a tightening of his hand calmed her. He went up to check that Susan was still sound asleep. She was. Tony stripped a single bed in the spare room, and struggled the mattress down the stairs. After that it was easy to fit out the cellar with necessities rather than luxuries. Lastly he ran a monitor in so that the hologram could watch and warn if the cure got too bad while Tony was away. Barbara dropped onto the bed as soon as it was ready, and was instantly asleep. Reaction had hit her like a club. He left her, locking the door, telling the hologram to call him if needed. Upstairs he splashed cold water on his face. Going to Susan's' bedroom he saw that she was just wakening. Her eyes focused on him, she smiled. The events of the night seemed forgotten.

He moved to the side of the bed. Holding her hands he said.

"You were so right about me having a girl friend. I have, but she has a problem that is going to take time to resolve. " As he spoke he saw the maternal instinct in his mother come to the surface, and by the end of the explanation she was able to put her worries to one side and commit herself to helping in any way she could.

While Tony slept in dreamless depths, Sir Archibald called the flat, and on getting no answer made a call to the garage. Soon the chauffeur called at the flat. He expected to find her still there after the beating he had given. Finding her gone, searched each room until he found some of the white powder lying on the toilet seat and some still floating on the water. His call to Sir Archibald was shattering.

The fortnight that followed was bad. Time after time Tony was almost at breaking point as Barbara raved a while, then pleaded for the powder. She lay shivering and sweating at the same time, seeing crawling things on the walls, saw those same walls falling in on her, as her body itched and burned. Tony and Susan took turns to cool her with damp cloths, cleaned her when she vomited. and changed her when she became soiled. Eventually these horrors receded and became fewer until one day they were gone. Thin and sunken-eyed Barbara at last was able to sit up and take food and drink on her own. The cure seemed to have worked, but like an alcoholic she knew that the bug was still in her, waiting for the least chance to rise once more to the surface and destroy her. All she wanted was to love Tony as he loved her, and between them to destroy Sir Archibald.
Chapter 12.

The observer had been sitting patiently for hours each day, keeping the house in view. Each evening his report had been the same. "No change, Sir Archibald, No visitors". In the beginning he had been thorough, his first report. "They never leave the house together. I have checked on the alarm system and they are connected to a security firm with panic buttons, apart from the normal burglar alarms, so a direct house search is not on. I think that the lady is there, but I have not actually seen her. Do you want me to continue?"

On this night, however.

"No.. discontinue the surveillance. That's all I need. Send in you account."

As Charlie arrived at his desk next morning, he was curtly told that his presence was required 'Upstairs'. As always he went to the lift with a variety of butterflies practising take off and landings in his stomach.

The 'O.B.' was in no mood to exchange pleasantries.

"I have information that the lady who was helping me to persuade Tony Walker to work for me has decided to change sides, and is now in his house. I suggest that you call on them tonight and drop the hint that the police are looking for her, to talk about certain drug related matters. Nothing specific, but it will be enough to scare her into the open. She will then be reminded who she works for. Remember it is your future that is at stake as well. Just tell me when you have delivered the message. That's all."

A slight wave of his hand dismissed Charlie who slid quietly out of the room.

When he plucked up courage to visit the house that evening, he noticed how long it took for his finger on the bell button to be answered. When Tony did answer the call, Charlie could almost feel the tension. "Yes?" asked Tony without opening the door fully. "What can I do for you?"

"You could invite an old friend in".

"I'm afraid it's rather a bad time just now. Mum is in bed with a nasty cough, and I'd hate you to catch it. Perhaps some other time. Give me a call next week, and I'm sure we can get together."

As he tried to close the door, Charlie blurted.

"I'm here to warn you that the police are trying to find Barbara Mountford. Just don't ask me how I know this, but if you know where she is, for God's sake tell her. I think its drug related, so tell her to get away now. Your name came into it, so I thought the police might get a warrant to search the house. I don't want to be involved, so forget who told you." He turned, walked down the path to his car, and without a backward glance, drove away.

As Tony closed the door, Barbara came out of the lounge, face ashen.

"I heard that". she whispered. "I must go away! " Her voice trailed off

"You're not going anywhere, especially without me". He said as he saw the fear leave her face, but the eyes seemed to be looking inward at something else.

A street away, Charlie stopped the car, flipped open his mobile phone and punched the buttons to connect him with the 'O.B.'. His message was short and to the point,

"She's got to be there. Tony was scared. It's odds on that she'll leave night".

In his opulent house, Sir Archibald smiled and pressed the intercom switch to call the chauffeur. When he arrived, the orders were curt. Sir Archibald then showered, dressed carefully, and caught a cab to his favourite private gaming club and settled down to a long evening in the company of impeccable friends, should an alibi be required.

Tony, worried about both Susan and Barbara, decided to spend the night awake in the lounge in case either of the two women in his life needed him quickly. He made sure that they were both comfortable in their rooms before leaving them. It was during a slow moving part in a play on television late in the night that his eyes slid shut. Upstairs, Barbara lay awake, staring into the darkness. Her eyes had become adjusted to the small amount of light filtering through the curtains. As she looked around, her thoughts were in turmoil. She tumbled from one position to another. Her love for Tony overpowering, then sweating fear for him should the police carry out the threatened action, and drag him into her drug ridden world. Her love for him finally won out. She would leave the house, and with what money she had she would go to some remote place, and now she was clean, live quietly away from the temptation of drugs, and the police. In time, she would write.

She dressed, and went to the head of the stairs, and listened. The TV was still rumbling to itself. Smiling she heard a gentle snore coming from the room. It was one of the hardest things she had done, to write the letter. but eventually it was done. She had stressed her love for him again and again, and the paper was spotted with her tears.

Her few possessions went into a small case. After propping the letter in a prominent position on the dressing table, she went down stairs, looked into the lounge where she saw Tony still asleep. It nearly destroyed her to leave him, but she dragged herself away, thinking that they would be together soon, and then it would be for ever. The door seemed to crash as she pulled it shut. Tony turned in his chair but settled again without waking. Barbara walked out onto the pavement. As she took her first hesitant steps, a street lamp illuminated her, and the Rolls parked about fifty yards down the road behind her began to move. Silently, it came slowly up behind her.

It was the low hum of the engine that alerted her. She turned to look over her shoulder, and in the glow of the street lights, saw the hated face of Sir Archibald's driver. Terror stricken, heart thumping, adrenaline pumping, thinking only of her last meeting with him, she ran along the pavement. The Rolls kept pace with her, and the nearside window whispered down. "Barbara, stop and talk to me". The voice became louder, more insistent. Her breathing became ragged, and she dropped the small case into the gutter. The rear wheel of the Rolls crunched it flat. Now they were approaching a parked car and the Rolls had to pull out to pass it. As it drew in towards the kerb, Barbara turned her ankle on a dip in the paving slabs, stumbled off the pavement into the path of the car. The chauffeur had no time to react, and the front fender caught her neatly behind her right knee. The leg folded forward and the wheel rode easily up her leg, crushing the tibia, fibula , and the on over the femur and pelvis. She screamed once as she fell. She felt no pain, just the thrust of an unbearable weight pushing her down into the pavement. The chauffeur heaved the steering wheel hard right and slammed the brakes on. He peered through the rear window, and saw Barbara lying bent and twisted, not moving at all. Panic struck. Bile rising, he floored the accelerator; the tyres shrieked as two tons of metal was propelled down the road at an ever increasing speed. His only thought, to get away as fast as possible. Barbara lay unable to move but not yet dead. Splintered bone had sliced the femoral artery in her leg, and the blood was pouring from it through a cut in the flesh to pool in the gutter. As final darkness overcame her, her thoughts were of how good it might have been, but the last and fading one was the hope that Tony would find a way of settling the account. As she died, the Rolls sped on until coming from the darker side street into the blinding lights of the main road, he did not see the unwinking red eye of the traffic lights against him. and shot across the stop line . He nearly made it, but a heavy goods wagon, loaded with gravel ploughed into the side of the Rolls, crushing it as though it was made of cardboard. The chauffeur died instantly. It took many yards for the wagon to come to a halt. The front of the Rolls was undamaged, the remainder was unrecognisable.

A pedestrian saw the smash and ran to a telephone booth at the corner of the road. Another nearly fell over Barbara's' body. He saw the blood and a mass of mangled flesh, was violently sick, but gained sufficient control to stagger to the same phone box. After a brief exchange of ' I was here first, and I need to call 999' they realised that both calls could be made together. Moments later they heard the scream of assorted sirens wailing from several directions. The crowd that had materialised was treated to the full show. The chauffeur had to be cut out of the wreckage of the Rolls, and Barbara was body bagged and removed, after the photographer and various Scene of Crime Officers had had their way with the death and destruction. The two bodies were taken to the same mortuary where they were put in adjacent cold storage drawers awaiting post mortems the next morning. As the accident was a double fatality, the police officer in charge of the investigation, an inspector who had seen it all over the years, and having a sharp eye for detail, noticed the blood on the near side front wing of the Rolls, and could not account for it, until he linked it to the hit and run accident only a street away. In his mind two and two definitely made four.

Sir Archibald Hemmings languidly reclining in a deep armchair, gently warming a balloon glass of old brandy between his cupped hands, was not too alarmed when he was called to the foyer to be told that his Rolls was a total wreck.

"I'm sorry to interrupt your evening, Sir."

Said the Inspector. "May I ask if the driver was under your orders this evening?"

"No, Inspector, I have a standing order that if I do not require the car, my driver may have the use of it. He's, or should I say was, a very competent and valued employee, so it was a. shall I say, perk. Provided it was always immaculate, I did not complain."

"Just so, Sir, but I would point out that on this occasion he was leaving the scene of a fatal hit and run accident."

"Are you absolutely sure?"

No doubt of it. There was blood on the damaged nearside front wing. The lady who was killed had been hit from behind.. and that was only a street away. Forensic will match the blood samples, but I am sure that was the way of it."

"If you say so."

" I do. Sir. Perhaps you would inform your insurers. The vehicle will be examined at the central police yard. If you can give me any reason for the driver to have been where he was, I'd be obliged. I'll bid you a good night"

He turned away, then added, almost as an afterthought.

"The victims name was Barbara Mountford. Does this mean anything to you?!

"No, Inspector. Maybe it was someone the driver knew, nut I doubt it."

The Inspectors cold grey eyes followed the retreating Saville Row suited back and wondered whether there was a connection or not. His gut feeling was that there was, but he was not going to get very far without a small miracle. That miracle was indeed not very far away, and was soon to drop into his lap.
Chapter 13.

As he moved, Tony came awake instantly. Aches and pains caught here and there . Pins and needles throbbed in his arm where his head had restricted the blood flow during the night. Standing, he ran fingers through his disordered hair. He walked to the foot of the stairs and listened intently. There was no sound. 'Fast asleep, both of them', he chuckled. In the kitchen, he filled the kettle and switched it on. Minutes later he carefully climbed the stairs, a laden tray in his hands. He knocked on Susan's door, and after a sleepy,

"Come on in"

He waited until she was settled, then placed the tray across her knees, planted a kiss on her forehead, picked up the other tea cup, and said,

"If you're all right, I'll go and wake Barbara. "

Tony crossed the landing and again knocked on Barbara's door. After getting no reply he knocked louder. No answer. He tried the door which opened to his touch. There was the bed, neat, tidy, and definitely not slept in. His heart started pounding as he saw the letter. He scanned it briefly, and as its message sank in, he cried out. No words, just a cry from the heart. He turned as Susan came to the door.

"She's gone."

He held out the letter to her. After reading it carefully.

"She's not gone. She's just thinking about you. Tony, she really loves you. Now, don't you worry, I'm sure it will be all right. We don't know where to start looking anyway'".

The Hologram called from the computer room, it's face almost sorrowful. "Tony, I am so sorry".

"What do you mean?"

The hologram hesitated.

"I am really sorry" it repeated, "but I have to tell you that Barbara is dead."

Tony sank into the nearest chair, and with his head in his hands asked dully. "How?"

"That was not too difficult. I put alarms on all the Police telephone lines, and also on Charlies, and the 'O.B's', just in case someone dropped an unguarded word. Someone did!"

Tony looked up with the first stirrings of interest widening his eyes.

"It was her name on a local police call that alerted me, and I have all the details. In brief, all I can say for certain is that Sir Archibald's driver was the one who killed her after she left your house, and who was then killed himself as he drove away from the place. Apparently, he was speeding through a red traffic light and was smashed by a truck from the side. The police must report it as accidental, and will take no further action, as the driver of the truck was in no way to blame."

The hologram stopped speaking and waited as Susan came into the room. She faced it and in a voice filled with hate and anger said.

"Fix him, Andrew, fix that scheming bastard",

Without another word, left the room and closed the door very firmly indeed.

"She called me Andrew" the hologram whispered.

Tony the room, caged, frustrated. Barbara dead, spun through his mind. All he wanted to do was to hit out at someone or something to relieve the frustration. He turned to the hologram.

"I can't think straight, you tell me how we get at them?"

"Leave this to me. I have had an idea ready for some time in the hope that we would be able to use it. First we send some untraceable E Mail to the police about Charles and his American friends with details of his Industrial Espionage sales and bank accounts. That should start the ball rolling, and cause a split between him and Sir A. If we can get them at one anothers throats. who knows where it may lead. If that fails, the next step is to disclose the drug deals Sir A has been involved in. I know we can't actually prove anything in a court, so we have to make the villains fall out and hope they will shop each other. I'll set it up, then we'll wait and see.

"Right. You do that". The hologram nodded and vanished.
Chapter 14.

Four days later, Sunday morning, Charles was woken by a persistent ringing of the front door bell. Slipping on his dressing gown, he tottered, yawning, to the door. He was immediately aware of the uniformed constable, the police car, with a driver looking at him, by the kerb.

"Yes, officer" he said ingratiatingly. "What can I do for you?"

"You are Mr Charles Gardner of this address?" Charles nodded, the constable continued

"I'm sorry to bother you at this time, but my Inspector would like you to come with us, as he needs the answers to some questions that have come up".

"What's the problem? Nothing serious" he quipped, but failed to raise a smile on the constable's face.

"I'm sorry again, Sir, but I can't discuss the matter. I'm sure the Inspector will explain everything."

"Am I under arrest? Because if so I must call my lawyer".

"Good heavens, no" said the constable. "The inspector only wants a chat. He feels that you are the one who can clear up a problem that has landed on his desk. No need to worry, but he feels that a chat could be better done there than here. If, however you do refuse to come with me voluntarily, I am empowered to arrest you. So if you would get dressed and come with us now. the sooner you'll be back here."

Charles tried to shut the door, but found it blocked by the bulk of the constable.

"Just in case you need any help". smiled the constable. Charles dressed as slowly as he could, his mind racing with possible questions that might be asked, and the possible answers he might be able to give. 'Damn and double damn,' he thought 'What the hell is it all about. I've covered my self. ' There was no satisfactory answer to this, so he trailed out to the car and slumped back in the seat as they were whisked quickly to the police station.

On arrival, Charles was taken to an interview room, seated at a table, offered a cup of tea and a cigarette, both of which he refused, and left in silence. Sitting there he could faintly hear the hum of traffic, and some muted voices from the office down the corridor. There was a clock hanging on a pale green wall, which had nothing else to relieve the monotony of it. The light was only an armoured glass covered glare, and the only window was covered with a wire mesh grill. There was nothing in the room to distract his mind from the thoughts that chased one another round and round in circles.

He watched the hands on the clock face crawl through twenty minutes, and was on the verge of screaming when the door opened and a man not in uniform walked in. "I am Detective Inspector Shawcross, " he said as he motioned Charles to remain seated. Charles noticed that there had been no attempt to shake hands as the introduction had been made. D. I. Shawcross in his very late forties, stood a mite short of six feet, was athletically built, a pair of lazy blue eyes above a nose that had been broken and reset not

quite straight gave the appearance of a rather sleepy individual. The nose had been broken many years ago when boxing for his Division. The brain behind the eyes was as sharp as a razor, as many of his lawbreaking opponents had found to their cost.

He raised his eyes to meet those facing him, smiled, and in a cultured voice without a trace of a regional accent said

"I'm very glad we were able to persuade you to come in to see me. I must apologise for not being able to see you straight away. but I was tied up in a meeting. Still, here we are now". Charlie started to relax. Shawcross went through the process of identification again, reading from a file. He paused for a moment. "We often get information laid in front of us from sources that prefer to remain anonymous, and in the main they are the product of spite, and have little if any substance. However, sometimes the implications could be serious, and these we do look at in some detail. If there are grounds to look deeper into the matter, we do just that." At that point he paused. "Now we come to the matter in hand. I must now

officially caution you" He switched on both the Video and Audio recorders. When they were both running smoothly he again asked for Charles' details, gave his own, the date and time, then continued. "Mr Gardner we have been given the details of certain bank and building society accounts, which total a lot of money, even by today's standards." He paused again. Some more seconds ticked over , and Charles felt a fine beading of perspiration on his forehead. "I see that this may not be news to you, so perhaps you would glance over these statements and give me your opinion on them. While you do, I would draw your attention to the fact that we have the records of all your earnings to date, the amount of tax you have paid. We have also had a good look at your lifestyle. I think you will agree that there is far more in these accounts than could have been earned by you in the normal manner. Would you like to explain. Please take your time, I have all day."

Charles, not practised in the art of being devious convincingly, blushed.

"Well. Everyone goes a bit on the side."

"That may be true, but in your case I think that you will agree that payment for selling your employers secrets is totally illegal. Remember that you work for a Government department and as such signed the Official Secrets Act, Yes, we were also given all the details of who paid you, when and for what." Here Shawcross pushed a few more sheets of paper over the desk so that Charles could read them. It was all there. Charles shrugged his shoulders, then let his hands drop from the papers and fall into his lap.

"What happens now?" he asked resignedly.

"You admit that there is nothing wrong with these statements, and they apply to you. " Charles nodded dumbly, "Mr Gardner agrees that these statements are correct and refer to his accounts," Shawcross said turning to the camera. He then continued, "Our investigation will continue, and I must warn you that prosecution will follow later. Do you now wish to make a statement?"

"No. Not without my lawyer present. "

"Very well. We will be talking to you again soon, so I suggest that you do not try to leave the area without informing us. Do I make myself clear!"

Charles nodded. Shawcross pressed a bell push on the desk. The door opened,

"Show this gentleman out, please. " Charles left almost running in his haste to escape from that place, and in doing so failed to notice the slow spreading smile on the face of D. I. Shawcross. As the door shut, he turned over a paper that had been lying face down on the desk. It ended, 'Do not detain this man as he will lead you to much bigger game. Tap his telephone.'

"Don't worry, whoever you are, Mr Informer, permission has been obtained, and we already have'.

Charles left the building and managed to pick up a cruising black cab which took him home. Shrugging off his coat, he poured a large drink then sat at the telephone table and dialled Sir Archibald on the restricted number he had been given earlier. When Charles

heard the smooth voice answer, he blurted out the relevant facts. Within 30 seconds he was loudly interrupted.

"How stupid can you get, you idiot. Your problems are your own. Never involve me. It is nothing to do with me". The phone was then slammed down. The detective listening and recording that call noted the time, took a transcript from it and sent it on its way to D.I. Shawcross.

What neither party realised was that another being had also recorded the same call in its vast mechanical memory.

" I think you'll like this." Said the hologram as it played the call. "The next step is to give the police some information about the drug deals that Sir A. has set up, but I think we'll involve Charles as the middle man. I think the police will believe this as they already have Charles breaking the Official Secrets Act, and tax evasion for a start". It spoke with a smile, almost rubbing its ghostly hands together. Susan looked on, shocked. "I almost thought you were Andrew, but now I can see you are still nothing like him. You're enjoying this." With tears on her cheeks she turned and ran from the room. Tony and the hologram looked at each other as they heard Susan's feet run up the stairs, to be followed by the slam of her bedroom door. Susan refused to open it. It was well after midnight, after several drinks too many, that he collapsed fully dressed on his bed and lay without dreaming or moving until the morning.

When Charles arrived at work, a memo was on his desk. 'Upstairs now'.

"You really made a big mistake yesterday." Sir A ranted. "did you not think that other ears might be listening. Phones are never secure. I told you before, and I tell you again, so there will be no

misunderstanding; you are on your own. Any reference to me will be denied and I will sue for defamation if you try it. I suggest you take some of your holiday entitlement and get lost for a while. Now get out."

The next few days were a torment. By the Thursday, his nerves were run ragged, and the only solace he could find was in cleaning his 500 cc Kawasaki motorcycle. He ran the engine to get oil round all the engine bearings, and was sitting astride it with the engine ticking over when the police car drew up and stopped across the driveway. D.I.Shawcross heaved himself out of the front passenger seat.

"Charles Gardner, I have a warrant for your arrest. "

That was as far as he got. Charles footed the bike off the stand, and snicked it into gear. Shawcross tried to catch him as he passed, but all he got was a small piece of shirtsleeve. He ran to the car, the fading roar of the motor cycle exhaust receding in the distance.
Chapter 15.

Earlier that morning, a few minutes after hanging his coat behind his office door, and relaxing with several reports that had come in for him, D. I . Shawcross had shouted a curt 'Come in' to a pretty WPC . who had brought in his first cup of tea of the day, when his Sergeant came through the door like a small tornado, brushed the WPC aside, almost spilling the cup.

"Got him! Got the little shit." he snorted.

"Language, Sergeant, lady present. Excuse the Sergeant, but at times he has no manners. "

"That's all right Sir, I've heard it and worse before, and I'm sure I'll hear it again".

Shawcross fixed the Sergeant with eyes that mirrored a certain amount of amusement.

"Get a grip. calm down and tell me which particular shit we have got!"

"It's that Charles Gardner. You know, the one we interviewed last Sunday." Shawcross raised questioning eyebrows as a sheaf of documents was thrust into his hands.

"Read that. Our anonymous informer has really delivered the goods this time. All this came in on an E. mail. We tried to check where it came from, but whoever he is, knows how to cover his tracks. This links Sir Archibald Hemmings the head of the Computer Research in Harrow as part of several drug deals."

Shawcross spread the documents out on the desk, waived the Sergeant to a chair, and studied them with care.

"We can arrest Gardner on the Official Secrets job, and now we have a link through the phone call to Sir A, but proof against HIM will be another matter. Still, we can net the small fish first and see what comes up with him. Go and apply for a warrant for Gardner, and we'll take a ride." As he was waiting, he phoned the Research Establishment, only to be told that Mr Gardner was

not there , as he was on holiday. Frowning, he replaced the phone and decided to try Gardners' house first. He considered that at such short notice Gardner might still be there. He also decided not to phone Gardner, as that might make him run. The warrant duly arrived: Shawcross and the Sergeant drove out of the Police Station yard. Traffic was heavy, as usual, and there were several delays due to inevitable roadworks. As the car was a plain one, not an official police vehicle. it was not obvious as such as it turned into the road where Gardner lived.

As they approached the house, Shawcross breathed a sigh of relief and pointed at Gardner sitting on his motorcycle.

"Block the drive with the car, as I go to get him."

"Will do." came the reply. The door opened and Shawcross stepped out. He had the warrant in his hand, and spoke the formal arrest quote. He was not prepared for the sudden reaction that happened. Subconsciously he expected no resistance from Gardner. and hesitated a fraction too long, and in that moment Gardner snicked the bike into gear, twisted the throttle, and was past him and through the narrowing gap between car and gate pillars. As he reached for Gardners arm, to try to pull him off the bike, Gardner wrenched free, and was away down the road, engine screaming. Cursing furiously, Shawcross ran the few paces to the car and yanked the radio microphone off its clip.

"Shawcross here., I am at Gardners house, you know the address. He has done a runner. He is on a big red Kawasaki Motor cycle. Shirt sleeved, and no Crash Helmet. Repeat, No Crash Helmet. Get that on the air to all stations. If he stays on the bike he should be easily seen. I don't know which direction he's going, but he took off towards the city centre.

As Charles rode on and on, not taking any specific direction, he was unaware of the All Points message that crackled over the airwaves and was received by a thousand radio sets scattered over the length and breadth of London. His confused train of thought led him to one conclusion, Sir Archibald had in some way dropped him in deeper and deeper trouble with the law. Well, there was no way he was going to get away with that. As the thought of confronting Sir A grew stronger in his mind, his course bent, without his being consciously aware of it, towards the Research Department. He was seen on two occasions by beat constables, and reported by radio, but there was never a police car or motor cycle near enough to intercept.

Shawcross, who had heard the radio messages came to the conclusion that he knew where Charles was heading, and took the most direct route towards the Research Establishment he could. Traffic was thick, and even his flashing blue light, hastily dragged from its storage place, and a blaring horn failed to speed him on his way. His frantic radio call to inform other vehicles of Charles' probable destination failed to lessen his impatience. Even though first at the Research Establishment, he was too late to stop the next fateful event. Charles had slowed as he neared the Establishment, and had ridden past the Security booth with a wave to the figures inside. Taken by surprise, the officer had merely waved back, but seconds later realising that something was wrong, stabbed the phone number for reception, to warn them. As it was answered, Charles arrived. Side standing the bike, he ran into the building, past the desk. and ignoring the closed lift doors, took the stairs two or three at a time until he vanished round the first corner. Determination drove him onwards and upwards until he arrived breathless outside Sir Archibald Hemmings' office. He went into the reception area where a secretary rose in alarm at this intrusion.

"You can't go in there"

"No. Watch me." He crashed the door of the inner sanctum open. Stepping through, he saw Sir Archibald turning, startled. His reactions were remarkably fast, and with a smile he rose smoothly to his feet.

"Charles, whatever's the matter?" That oily smile was too much. His mind too far gone with real and imagined wrongs lost control. Froth formed at the corners of his mouth as he crossed the room.

"You bastard, You lousy bastard, You shopped me to the police. Well, if they get me, they will certainly have you."

A siren below. It ran down the scale and stopped. Car doors slammed. Sir Archibald, a coward, tried reason. He stepped forward with hands outstretched placatingly,

" You're wrong." was all he managed to say before a fist smashed into his mouth. Realising his mistake, he tried to push Charles away. Flight was uppermost now, and he turned to run. With the taste of blood in his mouth, panic. The only clear way was the open French Window onto the balcony. Maybe if he could reach it where there was more space, he could .... Whatever he hoped to do was blotted from his mind by the feel of a hand closing on his shoulder. Charles had him, and they were now both almost running. Neither saw the low balcony rail, until they crashed into it. Sir Archibald teetering on the edge, twisted to face Charles. grabbing at him. He managed a handful of shirtfront. Looking over Charles' shoulder, he saw two figures enter the well lighted room. As they came on, he held even more strongly. His mouth opened to cry for help, but now he was well off balance and falling backwards, outwards. With that hated face in front of him,

Charles felt an overpowering need to keep on hitting, smashing. He managed one more blow, but it only grazed the side of Sir Archibald's face. The momentum carried them both over the edge. Two despairing fading screams intermingled as both bodies hurtled down past floor after floor until they were abruptly silenced by the sickening crunch of flexible flesh meeting immovable concrete. High above Shawcross looked over the balcony. He turned away. "Jesus Christ" was all he said.

Part 2.

Chapter 16.

The next morning the newspapers had a field day. Each paper claimed an exclusive, which led to a number of editors burning the phone wires with accusation and counter accusation until they found out that each paper had received the same E Mail at the same time. By then it was too late to stop the presses and each paper had a variation in banner headlines that SirArchibald Hemmings head of the Government Research Establishment had been murdered, and had taken his killer with him. It was only when it was discovered that the 'killer' was an employee, accused of Industrial Espionage that the papers actually got together to investigate more fully. The police neither confirmed nor denied the story, and more confusion reigned when a question was asked in the House of Commons, which the Prime Minister could only evade by saying that the matter was under investigation, and the result would be announced at an appropriate time. The later editions carried full-page accounts of alleged drug dealings and blackmail carried out by Sir Archibald. Again all the newspapers had received the same information. Now the question asked was 'Who is the informer?' Increasing rewards were offered with no result. The story ran and ran, until on the evening of the third day, when Tony, Susan, and the hologram watched the evening news on television.

It was as an interviewer was verbally shredding the Minister for Defense about the laxness of security that allowed National Secrets to be sold abroad, that Susan stood up, turned the television off, and said, without a tremor in her voice. "Now I have seen enough. Four people have died. All of them violently." Here she ticked them off on her fingers. "One, Barbara, two the Driver, three Charles, and four, Sir Archibald. How many more must die before you are satisfied". She turned to Tony, and gently took his ears in her hands, tilted his head back until she could look deeply into his eyes. She kissed him firmly on the forehead, saying, "I love you as much as I ever loved your father, and nothing can change that. " Turning to the hologram, both her expression and her voice took on the sight and sound of total loathing. She continued. "As for you, I had hoped that you would have Andrews' ideals, but it seems I was wrong. You are nothing like him, and I can't see how I ever thought you could be. You, I hate, and one day I hope you die too". She turned to the door, and as she passed through it she smiled once more at Tony then closed it softly behind her. They heard her as she went up the stairs. She was singing 'Swing low, sweet chariot'

She grew fainter, until as she shut her bedroom door, silence fell.

"That was Dad's favorite song." whispered Tony, unable to finish the thought that had invaded his mind. The dread of another depression was unspoken, but it lingered between them. "No. " answered the hologram. "Remember that I know her as well as your father did, and I am sure she will be all right. " "In that case, I'll believe you," Tony replied, " so I'm off to bed as well. No doubt you will put the night to good use sending more information to the Police and the Papers. " Then questioningly " Is it really necessary now Charles and Sir A can do no more harm?" "I will think about that.," said the hologram as it vanished.

All Susan wanted was peace. No more tension, No more worry about events she could not control. Her sense of loss engulfed her, and any lingering doubts she had felt were banished. Andrew had gone without her. Tony didn't really need her. He was full grown and capable of looking after himself. That thing downstairs was another trauma to her. It pulled at her, filling her mind with hate on one side and confusion on the other. She had to be rid of it. She had to go where it could not follow. There was only one place to be, of that she was now certain.

She went to her wardrobe and opened the bottom drawer that lay behind the doors. There nestling in layers of tissue was the night dress that she had worn on her wedding night those long years ago. It was still pristine, and smelled faintly of the same scent she had worn then and had renewed every so often, without telling Andrew in case he laughed. Taking it out of the drawer, she laid it on the bed and spread it out to air for a moment or two. She washed carefully in the on-suite bathroom, brought in a full glass of water, which she placed on the dressing table, and then sat for a while brushing her long hair until it shone. Satisfied at last, she stood and stripped naked. She regarded the figure she saw in the long mirror. Well, she thought. Not bad after all this time. Andrew will appreciate it. She slipped the nightdress over her head and looked again at the mirror. It was almost as though she was waiting on that wedding night for him to come to her. She felt the first flutter of a heartbeat. Soon, she thought, soon. Picking up the glass of water, and going to the bed, she opened the drawer and took out two small bottles. One held a measure of Whisky, and the other was full of Panadol. She put them on the windowsill, drew back the curtains and looked out on a full moon, flooding the garden with a ghostly silver light.

Perfect. She opened the bottles and tipped all the Panadol tablets into her hand. How inoffensive they looked lying there in her palm. She swallowed half of them with half the water, and the rest followed them seconds later in the same way.

Time for the Whisky, she thought, and poured the contents of the second bottle into the now empty glass. She felt nothing, and stared out of the window until a feeling of lassitude stole over her. She yawned, and as she went to the bed she took one more look in the mirror. As she looked, her eyed slipped slightly out of focus. She was sure some one was standing behind her. It must be so; she could feel his hands on her hips. At last, Andrew had come for her. She felt him draw her to the bed. She lay there, so warm, so loved, now and always. The moon passed across the window and the rays moved silently past her face, illuminating the smile that creased her mouth into a smile of pure pleasure.

A breeze outside gently shook the branches of the tall beech tree. The sun shining through them cast shadows on the window of Tony's room. These shadows fluttered across his closed eyes, and woke him. Fatigue had given him a full nights sleep, and at last he felt refreshed. Lifting his watch from the bedside, he focussed blearily on it. Surprise opened his eyes fully when he saw that it was 9-35am. As he washed and dressed, he made enough noise to waken a regiment, but felt the first stab of unease when Susan's door failed to open. His knock and raised voice failed to get a response. Now alarmed, he opened the door. Nothing out of place and Susan was asleep, lying motionless. He relaxed until he saw the empty bottles on the windowsill. The labels jumped at him, almost screaming Whisky and Panadol. He shook her gently at first, then more violently, but got no response. Dropping her back on the pillow he ran to the phone, trembling fingers prodding at the 9 button three times.

It seemed an age until the telephonist answered crisply, to ask which service he required. "Ambulance" he shouted. "My mother has taken something." He could not bring himself to say the words, Whisky and Panadol.

As the motor cycle paramedic weaved his way through the traffic in answer to the call from the dispatcher, this being the fastest method of getting help to any part of the city, she in turn, coaxed Tony into giving details of the pills Susan had taken. He still could not tell her whether he wanted to or not, how many Susan had actually taken. Tony had only just replaced the receiver when the paramedic pulled into the drive and bag in hand came through the open front door. He went immediately to the bedroom and examined Susan. Outside a small crowd of neighbours was gathering to stare at the developing drama in their street. Their waning interest was rewarded when Susan was carried from the house to the now arrived ambulance, firmly strapped to a blanketed stretcher. A muted whisper of curiosity ran through the crowd as the ambulance crew and the paramedic held a final brief conversation before departing in their respective directions.

Tony followed the ambulance after carefully locking the house securely. The crowd dispersed, and the street became silent once again.

Chapter 17.

The slim doctor with an embedded air of permanent harassment came to Tony and suggested that they went to a private room to discuss the case. Tony followed in a daze and was grateful for the comfort of the semi easy chair that was indicated to him. The hard rows of seats in reception had numbed his posterior after the first hour. The doctor seemed to have some difficulty in phrasing the words he wanted to say, but finally managed to say that Susan was very ill, and because no-one knew how many Panadol she had taken, it was impossible to be sure what direction the case would take.

He then suggested that Tony went home and call in that evening when the tests would be complete and the results known. The usual platitudes followed as Tony was ushered from the room, and pointed in the direction of the exit.

At home the hours passed in a blur of misery. Food and drink held no appeal and were forgotten. He sat in the lounge, trying to divert his mind from the circles it was running in. Each TV programme he tried bored him in a few moments, and it was nearly five p.m. when without warning the hologram appeared. Without moving his body, he raised an eyebrow at it and asked, "Well". "The hospital has computerised records, but it takes a while for them to enter all the relevant data onto the mainframe database, where I can get at it. I can tell from your face they have not given you very much to go on. I think you should have as much information as possible, so I will give you what they have. Do you want it?"

After a moment of deep indecision, Tony nodded. "Before I do," answered the hologram, " I must tell you that I also went into the reference section of their medical library. It was fascinating to realise how confused they are on so many subjects. However to be serious. The prognosis is not good. We must assume that Susan meant to do it, and so would not have taken a minimum dose. If she took half a bottle, then we can expect severe kidney damage. The symptoms of that include toxins forming in the blood, then a general degradation of the bodily functions, a drifting into and out of consciousness until a coma sets in which in the end will become fatal. The time span will not be known until near the end.

I'm sorry Tony, but there is now nothing we can do but wait and hope." As the hologram spoke, Tony had turned to face it. "Don't you feel anything? It's Mum we're talking about. She may die, and you say you are the clone of my father, so where's your feelings now? Or are you just that random bunch of electrons I called you before"

The hologram had listened to this tirade without a word, but now it shouted. "No feelings. I have all the feelings that Andrew had and more. So if you think I am going to let this pass, think again. If she dies, then the blame for that must lie with the government, and in that case I have a right to take any action I choose. And don't forget that Charlie tried to kill me. Wait till those politicians and others hear about the nuclear meltdowns that I have in mind. . Charlie and Sir A are dead, but believe me many more are going to tread that road as well." With a flash of an indefinable aura the hologram disappeared.

No matter how many times Tony called the hologram, it refused to answer. In the late afternoon a phone call to the hospital gave him no more information except to suggest that he came in. By the time he would arrive, the tests would be finalised, and the doctor would bring him up to date. Tony hated the disembodied voice, so cool and impartial.

Tony, his mind reeling with a confused tangle of thoughts, drove back to the hospital, where he found the same doctor still on duty. They went into the same room, and took the same seats. Obviously embarrassed, the doctor finally took the plunge and said; "Mr. Walker, I regret that the tests show a massive overdose of Panadol. There is huge kidney damage, and no hope of recovery. The prognosis is that she will gradually fade away, periods of lucidity will occur, but these may produce a false hope. Please do not allow yourself to be fooled by them. You are welcome to stay for as long as you want, as often as you want. We are here to help and advise you in any way we can. She is asleep now, so I suggest you wait until we call you".

"Not on your life" Tony exploded. "I want to be with her now."

"Very well, I'll take you to her, we have moved her into a single room, so I had better show you the way. "

Without speaking they went out and along the sterile white corridors to a dark small room where Susan lay pale and immobile, illuminated by a small anglepoise lamp fixed to the wall above her head, tubes and wires leading from her to drips and monitors.

"I'll leave you now", said the doctor in a hushed voice. "I have so many patients to look after". He turned away and left the room, closing the door softly behind him. Tony went to the bed and pulled the chair provided to him. He sat there and took Susan's limp hand in his. It was warm and dry, but he could feel the bones under the skin. Her face was totally relaxed, the worry lines had gone, and she seemed much younger. After some time, how long Tony did not know, the hand in his moved slightly. As he held it tighter, Susan opened her eyes, and after a few seconds focused on him. She smiled and whispered.

"I'm sorry, but I couldn't take any more." She drifted, rambling incomprehensible words followed until she was once more asleep. All day Tony sat there, the nurses brought him some sandwiches and tea both of which lay until the tea went cold and the sandwiches uneaten. The nurses came and went during the night, checking temperature, pulse and other things Tony had not the faintest idea of, and entered it all on the chart at the end of the bed. At times he wandered the corridors, until he was drawn back to the darkened room, by some undefined instinct.

In the morning he was ordered out of the room by the Sister, and peremptorily told to go home and rest. He was also told that if anything happened during the day he would be called on the phone. Exhausted he drove home and after a drink, collapsed on his bed, and slept.

His dreams were haunted by images of dark shapes, undefined, but which he was sure were the ghosts of Charles, Barbara, and Sir Archibald following him across an endless flat plain. The faster he went, so they also kept coming nearer and nearer. He had reached a vertical cliff face, unclimbable, and felt his body cringe against the expected touch of cold and clammy hands when the silence was shattered by his name being called. Dimly he surfaced, and as his name was repeated. He realised that it was the hologram calling him.

A quick visit to the bathroom left him feeling more awakened able to face the problems that crowded him on all sides. He nodded at the hologram, with a surly "Well, what do you want?"

"They have just entered the latest information on Susan into the computer, and I don't like it, I think she has started to fail. I think you should be with her. I can't go but if they ring, I can tell them you are already on the way there. Please do this now. "

Without a word, Tony left the room, leaving the hologram standing there, and drove back to the hospital. The Ward Sister greeted him with a smile, remarking how they had called only a few minutes earlier. When they stood together looking down at Susan, the Sister, after rechecking the readouts on the machines, said. "I'm sorry, but she is leaving us soon. I'll leave you with her." An hour later, the waving pulsing line on the screen fluttered, steadied, then gradually slowed. Tony heard the click of each pulse and watched as the blips came at longer and longer intervals. Without warning the line flattened and in that moment the alarm bell shrilled. His eyes jerked back to Susan. The resuscitation team crashed into the room, and he was bundled out into the corridor. Tense voices sounded from the room. He could not make out the words. Minutes dragged until the team leader came out. "I'm sorry. We did all we could but she's gone".

Tony nodded his thanks, unable to speak. He turned away; fists clenched, and rested his forehead on the cold smooth wall until the spasm of mental pain and loss eased. Eventually the almoner came to him. They would take care of everything, leave it all in their hands, and they would call him with the details and necessary paperwork as soon as they could.

Gratefully, Tony left the hospital. Now he could sleep. Now, at last Mum and Dad were together again. His loss was her gain, and was that so bad. Even the hologram failed to greet him. A thing he was glad to notice by its absence.

Chapter 18.

The funeral director had a deep sonorous voice. A voice, reassuring for those in need, full of sympathy, and for those who did not really mourn the departed, a note of cynicism. All the arrangements had been made, and would Mr. Walker call, at his convenience to collect the personal articles, certificates, etc.

Yes, the death had been recorded; nothing else remained except to determine whether the funeral would be a burial or a cremation.

Tony rang off after saying that he would be at the funeral directors office as soon as he could. The hologram was waiting as Tony replaced the receiver; "Did you get that?" Tony asked. A slow nod was the only reply. Then after a few moments, it turned away and with a very human movement went to the window and appeared to look out. "Don't worry, I can't be seen from here. I often do this when you are not here. It helps me to understand how people live. I know Andrew and Susan want to be together. He always felt that. I also know that she does not want a religious service. Her feelings were of an immortal soul, but not much else. Could you stand another burial beside Andrew?"

Tony nodded, but said nothing. After a while the hologram said diffidently. "Can I come with you?" Shocked Tony turned and whispered. "How?"

"In a Lap Top Computer. It will be easy. All you have to do is connect the laptop to the main frame, and I can move into that.

I can live on its internal battery. During the burial I can watch from there."

"What about anyone else who sees you?"

"Keep it private. Tell nobody. There will be just you and me. I will stay in the computer, and watch from the screen."

This idea appealed to Tony. He had no stomach for meeting any of Andrews's old friends. He agreed, and drove to the Funeral

Directors office in a much lighter frame of mind than he had had for some time.

On arrival, the director completed the arrangements. He raised no objections to Tony's request. As Tony made a move to leave, The director enquired whether Tony would care to pay his last respects before the coffin was sealed. Sensing Tony's hesitation the director eased him along remarking how lovely Susan now looked. Fearful of what might be there Tony hesitated in the doorway of the Chapel of Rest, but one glance was all that was needed to bring him to the coffin. It was true. She lay at peace. She was beautiful. A gentle smile remained frozen on the now youthful face. The director, a master of his trade stood back and noted with satisfaction the body language Tony now showed. He too, was at ease in the presence of death. It took only a moment or two for Tony to say his farewell. He bent and kissed her lightly on her forehead, his lips only brushing the cold skin. It was enough. He turned to the director, thanked him, and went back to the office. Rather to the directors surprise only the hearse was ordered, Tony intimating that he would follow in his own car.

Mentally counting the loss of earnings and the apparent miserly nature of the client seated before him, he smiled, and agreed to this as if it were an everyday occurrence.

On the day of the funeral, the weather was magnificent. The sun shone, and a few white fluffy clouds drifted overhead on a light warm wind. The hearse arrived exactly on time and as Tony was waiting with the laptop now containing the hologram, securely in his brief case on the seat beside him, signaled for the hearse to proceed. It moved off almost silently, and Tony followed closely behind.

They drove through wrought iron gates into the cemetery, crunched along narrow gravel covered roads, and stopped close to an open grave. Two men leaned on their spades and watched them. The pallbearers climbed out of the hearse and lifted the coffin from the rear. With Tony now holding the laptop following, they came to the grave. Imitation grass hung down into it, and two square wooden beams lay from side to side across the top. The coffin was gently laid on them, and the bearers stood back. As there was no religious service to be performed, they all stood around not knowing what to do. At last Tony told them to put the coffin in the grave. The beams were removed by the gravediggers as the coffin was lifted on ropes set under it, then all together they slacked away, and the coffin slowly sank down. As it passed the lip of the grave, Tony stepped forward to catch a last glimpse, a blackbird in a tree only yards away broke into song. Another immediately answered it, and then a third joined the chorus. With the sun warm on his face, and unchecked tears running down his cheeks, Tony stood and listened. It was as though Susan was saying farewell. Even the bearers were affected. The coffin was held unmoving until the song was finished. As the hearse drove away, Tony watched as the diggers threw the first spades of soil. It rattled on the polished surface of the lid, but soon quieted as the coffin was covered.

"No need for you to stay, sir" said one of the diggers, a bent grey haired man, "We'll see all is put back properly." Tony nodded his thanks, closed the laptop and walked slowly back to the car. "Now," he thought, "there are the two of them together under the earth. At least they will never be parted again. No more worry, no more pain. Was Mum right to do what she did."

A sense of desolation stayed with him as he drove home. He remembered very little of the drive. Various curtains twitched as he pulled into his car space. The neighbours, nosy as they were respected his loss and kept away. He opened the front door and went into the computer room. After dropping his coat on a chair, he stood the laptop on the console and connected it to he mainframe. Seconds after switching on, the hologram appeared. It paced nervously up and down the room until Tony asked, "What did you think of the funeral? Did it mean anything to you?"

"You seem unable to accept that I have developed the same feelings as Andrew." replied the hologram "but I have. If I could cry, I would be doing that right now, but as I can't, my loss will be relieved in another way. I told you I had plans, well, the time has come to exact my revenge."

"You mean the meltdown?" Tony enquired. The hologram merely nodded. "You can't mean that! It would mean the death of thousands of innocent people. Would you want that on your conscience?"

"Conscience!" shouted the hologram, anger boiling over. "You talk about conscience, when Andrew died first, then Barbara after that bastard Sir Archibald had reduced her to nothing more than a drug dependent addict. Not to mention the chauffeur, though that was his own fault, That's three, then Charles and Sir Archibald together making five, and now Susan, by her own hand, and nothing could be done to save her. No, my son, this has gone too far. You can start again. You will be able to go away to somewhere else, maybe meet a girl, get married and raise a family, watch children grow up, and have the love of a real woman to be with you always. What have I got? Life, but no life. Feelings that I can't show, Trapped in this computer, unable to stop thinking about all this The more I search through the secret files held on government computers, the more I find evidence of corruption and double dealing, a complete disregard for the general population, and a drive by those in the highest levels for power, power, and more power. To just send this information to the newspapers will get nowhere. I must stop them in the only way they understand. A meltdown will do this. Get the paper or watch TV tomorrow." With something like a sob the hologram vanished.
Chapter 19.

Tony was unable to sleep that night. He dozed fitfully, but the slightest noise woke him. He had the TV on, with a news channel muttering quietly to itself. The headlines every hour carried no story of trouble at any nuclear power station, and it was only at 5 o'clock in the morning that the first intimation of trouble hit the screen. It seemed that all the main newspapers had received the same story, the gist of which was that some unknown group as a target for a meltdown had chosen an un-named power station, unless certain conditions were met. What these conditions were was not explained. All the power stations had been telephoned and all reported that their procedures were as normal, and No, they had received no threats, and were completely in the dark about this.

During the day nothing more was heard and by the evening newscast, the station had rounded up a variety of experts to discuss the claim. They had only just started their way into which terrorist group might be responsible, when the studio floor manager entered the group with a sheet of paper which he handed to the interviewer. Colour television clearly showed him turn from pink to a very pale shade of grey as he read it. After a moment he held up a hand for silence and said.

"What I have here is a letter from the unknown source. It concerns the whole population, so I am going to read it verbatim, and then we can discuss it. "

He took several deep breaths, his hands trembling visibly, then continued.

"To all the people in this country. Copies of this letter have been sent to all government departments, The armed forces, the secret services, the police, the nuclear industry, and every newspaper. The time has now come for governments to think about the lies and misleading statements they are uttering for their own ends. I have sent proof of the blackmailing and drug dealing activities of one person, Sir Archibald Hemmings, now dead, to the police and I am waiting for them to take action. Remember that I am everywhere, and can tell if action is being taken, I can listen to any conversation, telephone, radio, verbal, tape, or even on a CD. Now we come to the secret disposal of radioactive Waste, You have two days to admit the location of this. If you fail to do so then one or more nuclear power stations some where will suffer a meltdown. There are three other persons in very high places that are involved in this matter. They must read out statements admitting their guilt on the ten o'clock evening news two days from now. If they fail to do so, then they will be responsible for the consequences. As a demonstration of my ability, I shall shut down the London Underground for a period of two minutes after the reading of this letter. "

He stopped reading and looked aside. He then put his hand to his earpiece, nodding briefly. "We are telephoning the control centre of the Underground". A few seconds passed until a voice now linked into the newscast said. "Control Room". The news reader said smoothly, "BBC Television here, Can you tell us if the Underground service is running as it should? "Is this a wind up? Of course things are normal" came the angry reply, but at that instant all the alarms went off. As the phone was crashed down on the table, missing the rest, the line was still connected and the country at large was treated to some of the most colourful language ever heard on the air. Embarrassed, the newscaster replaced the receiver, cutting off the flow, and came back promising further details as soon as possible.

Far below the streets of London, the trains slowed and stopped. All power to the lines cut off. All lights went out to a chorus of screams, and mounting panic. Moments later the emergency lighting in each train flickered on, to show a mass of pale faces staring at one another. Equipped for emergencies, the control room was in radio contact with each train, and a relay in each carriage came to life as the supervisor flicked a switch, lifted a microphone and tried to speak calmly.

"Please remain seated. " He intoned, "Everything is in hand, and the train will continue as soon as possible. This is just a small delay, so please do not try to leave the train. " Any further words were lost in the babble of comment that erupted from thousands of passengers.

Utter silence reigned in the newsroom, as the reader sat waiting for guidance, but behind the calm facade the director screamed, "Get that phone on again, this is news now." An engineer diverted the call to the main speakers. Fortunately the line was still connected at the underground end, and shouts from there blasted into the room before the engineer managed to turn the volume down. The gathered security experts sat and listened hardly able to assimilate everything. The two minutes promised dragged by, and precisely on the dot of the 120th second, the computers that controlled all train power, signals, and points came on line again. The warning lights of power available came on in each train cab, and with relief trains started to move, slowly at first, then gradually increasing speed until shortly it was as if nothing had happened.

In the underground control room order took over and the supervisor saw the telephone lying on the table. He was about to replace it on its rest when the TV Director managed to attract his attention. The director had been whistling violently into the hand set. Startled, the supervisor held it to his ear. It took only a few minutes to establish that the supervisor had no real knowledge of why the trains had stopped, No, he had not received any calls, had not had any threats made, no terrorists had called with bomb warnings, and all he was thankful for was that as the computers had shut down completely, it had been a total failure, where everything had stopped instead of a partial failure which might have had disastrous results with great loss of life. Thanking him, the director switched off.

"Now, gentlemen, what are we to make of this. " said the reader, waving the letter. After a short pause, the so-called expert on terrorism, the home brewed variety, technically the IRA. Volunteered to be the spokesman for the group.

Pompously he said. "This must be either a hoax, the anti atom lobby, or a new group of people. The reference to the Nuclear Waste makes me think it could be the CND Loonies at it again. They are the only ones, who persist in trying to stop Nuclear Power, and it is still being used, in fact there are more stations now than 40 years ago. Remember now we are facing the end of oil and gas supplies in the non too distant future." At this point the discussion broke up into several small groups cross talking, which the reader could not control. Eventually it was abandoned, and adverts claimed the screens in millions of homes. Normal service was resumed later.

Reports and summaries flooded into 10 Downing Street, were assimilated, assessed, then calls went out to the heads of all involved departments demanding their presence at 9 am that day. No excuses would be tolerated. Contingency plans were taken off shelves, dusted down and put into action. During the night convoys of lorries left army barracks and took position in and around every nuclear establishment the length and breadth of the country.

The newspapers had a field day. Banner headlines screamed doom and disaster. Miles of type covered the history and development of the atom, went on to describe in lurid detail the effects of radiation poisoning, the morals or lack of them in those in charge, and then sat back and asked the question What now?

Reporters, and news film teams crowded the road in front of 10 Downing Street, jostling each other in an attempt to be in the best place for the all-important shots of the arriving ministers. It was 8. 30 before the first limousine slid silently up to the door. A succession of cars followed, each one greeted by a chorus from the reporters, and the flash of hundreds of cameras, to be ignored by the occupant who fled into the house with no more than a smile and a wave.

The last car arrived with minutes to spare, then quiet, except for a subdued murmur filled the street. An aide came out and smilingly told the gathered mass that the Prime Minister would make a statement at the conclusion of the meeting now in session. No amount of persuasion would make him say another word. He retired sweating back into the safety of the building and closed the door.

The cabinet room was cool and only the subdued traffic noise from the nearest street made a dim background murmur. Each chair was now occupied except for the one at the head of the long table. None of the ministers wanted to look around or even talk to their nearest neighbour. All managed to appear to be studying documents hastily taken from brief cases. Tension grew rapidly as the time on the wall clock neared the hour. Precisely at 9 o'clock the door opened and the Prime |Minister strode in. Every eye snapped in her direction. She was tall, around 50 years old but those years had done nothing to bend her ram-rod straight back nor dim the light blue eyes that caught and held for the merest second each of those waiting for her as she looked around the room. They all stood, and as she held their attention, the rustle of chairs being pushed back masked the tiny click as the computer in a corner was switched on by the secretary, She had a shorthand word processor booted up before the table had sorted itself out. A milli second later, the tag that the hologram had installed on that programme alerted it, and in that same second, it was itself waiting for the meeting to begin.

"Gentlemen" began the Prime Minister, " I think it is not necessary to go over the reasons as to why we are here. We all now know that Sir Archibald Hemmings stepped right out of line, and appears to have suffered the consequences of that action." There was no trace of sorrow in her voice, and she continued, "Now General," a brief nod to the bemedalled officer, "Please give me an update on the actions taken so far to protect all the atomic installations". That set the trend for the remainder of the meeting. Her last request was to the head of all anti-terrorist activities. He waited for a moment marshalling his thoughts then spoke. "This is something we have never come across before." His eyes ranged around his audience. He had their full attention. "There has not been a whisper from any source, national or foreign, to give us a clue as to the identity of this group. I say group because it must have taken some very sophisticated planning to mange to stop the Underground running. Apparently it was not just a matter of pulling a switch. The whole of the network was put on hold, if I can use that expression, and then returned with everything still exactly in position. There has been no trace of hacking, and all the safeguards were bypassed as if they did not exist. Someone somewhere is several jumps ahead of us, so all I can suggest is that we go along with any demands that are made until we get a break. This must happen, but we have no idea as to when."

Several voices broke in, and the Prime Minister had to raise her voice some decibels to make herself heard. She indicated the Home Secretary. "That's all well and good" he retorted, "But what about the people mentioned concerning the Radio Active Waste. Any information released about that will come straight back to my office, and will give untold ammunition to the Anti Atom Lobby. We cannot afford the publicity, It could destroy this government, and we could loose another General Election on that ground alone. I think it is all a bluff, and we should wait it out. I'm sure those concerned can be reminded of the penalties for breaking silence. "

Around the table heads were nodding, each one glad it was not his department that had to carry the can for this one. The Prime Minister sat a moment, considering this. Eventually she nodded agreement and the meeting closed. She then stood and said, "Very well, we wait for now." She nodded to the Head of the Anti Terrorist Department, "Put every available man on the case, we must find out who is behind this as soon as possible. Now we must go and talk to the press. You will all come with me, as a show of unity." They filed out of the room, through the front door, and into the space in front of Number 10. As they crossed to the ready microphone, questions were already being shouted from the ranks of the press. She held up her hand for silence, and as the noise died away she exchanged banter with reporters she had known for some time. Before they could start again, she said in clear voice, amplified by the speakers, in the full glare of camera lights, directly to the massed recorders, "There is really no need for all this. All necessary steps are being taken to protect the public, and this talk about secret waste disposal is unfounded. Believe me, if I find out that anything like that has been done without my knowledge, then those responsible would feel the full weight of the law. I shall keep the country fully informed of any further developments on this matter as and when they occur. Regarding the halting of the Underground, that is being investigated and it is really too early for me to have any solid information for you. I cannot take questions at this time, and I must carry on with my work, so if you will excuse me I must go. " With a smile and a pose held for the camera crews, she then swept back into Number 10 and the door closed quietly behind her.

Newspaper headlines ran from disbelief in the government by some papers that backed the opposition, to fervent praise for an outspoken Prime Minister. With all shades of opinion in between. Argument raged from side to side during the two days before the ten p.m. deadline given on TV, but as the hour approached watches and clocks were surreptitiously checked with increasing frequency. Every television set in the country was tuned to the news channel. Big Ben struck the hour, and as the introduction music faded, the reader shuffled his papers together and then said. "Good evening everyone, this is the ten o'clock news. We are waiting to see whether there have been any developments in the case of the missing Atomic Waste. The government has denied that any exists." here his voice trailed off as the lights in the studio suddenly dimmed. Behind his head a large multi segmented screen used to show detail of outside broadcasts flared into life. Swirling colours patterned it, changing direction and hue randomly until it firmed into a picture of a calendar on a wall the last two dates had been marked off with large red diagonal crosses. The square carrying the current date moved into the centre of the screen. In the middle of it a circle of light showed, expanding into a head and shoulders of a man, dressed immaculately in suit and tie. "Good evening" it said. In the control room the director shouted, "Are you recording this". to the engineers. "Yes" came the immediate reply. He settled back in his chair, breathless with excitement as the drama unfolded in front of him. The voice was almost gentle as it continued, "It seems that the three people I had hoped to meet tonight have been told that they must under any circumstances not reply to the accusations I have made. This was predictable, but it showed a gross error in considering what may now happen. I tell you that the dump exists, where it is, must come from the guilty parties. If within four days from now this matter is not explained, then another demonstration will be arranged. Last time, no lives were put at risk, but next time could be different." Without another word the screen cleared and the studio lights came back to full brilliance.

During the night the tape and the computer were examined in minute detail. The computers showed no evidence whatsoever of interference. No one had entered the net from any outside source, and the tape showed only what had appeared on the screen. Again, all checks passwords and locks had been bypassed without trace. The resident computer experts scratched their communal head and admitted defeat. "It is as though he was actually in the computer, but that's impossible. The signal had to come from an outside source.

The report was intercepted by the Anti-terrorist Branch, and a copy went to the Director. After studying it for a while, he picked up the phone, pressed the scramble button and dialed an unlisted number that rang another phone on the Prime Ministers desk. She lifted the receiver, knowing who was on the other end, pressed her scramble button, and said, "PM".

"An update on last nights event," he said tonelessly, not willing to appear to be on one side or the other, "No trace of any outside source. The tape is useless, it merely confirms that the event took place. There is no evidence of hacking, which can be traced. The software used automatically tracks back down the live line to the source, as many hackers have found to their cost, but in this case nothing. It seems we are dealing with sophistication beyond anything currently known either in this country or abroad. Even in America, our associates tell us it does not exist. That is the bad news, but it seems that it may still be a bluff. This time the deadline for an answer has been doubled to four days. This may indicate unsureness on the part of the caller. Time is now on our side for the moment. I would suggest caution, better to say nothing than to alienate the caller with lies that may be found out. " As he was speaking the door was opened and his secretary came in. Angrily the director turned to him; "Can you hold a minute PM? He asked. The secretary slapped a paper file on the desk. It was open and showed a photograph of Andrew Walker, "It's him" said the secretary, "He worked for the computer department developing artificial intelligence in the establishment at Harrow. He is supposed to have died some time back, but maybe he is still alive. He could have developed computers that might be causing this problem".

The director spoke again into the phone; "Did you hear that PM? he asked. "Yes" came the stony reply. "This may be the break we need. Use any method to find him, You have my full backing. Get on with it, and report back as soon as you have a result". No sooner had the director pressed the call button the summon the secretary than the door opened and he came in, as if he had been waiting just on the other side of it. "I want a full dossier on this Mr. Walker, family, background, politics, money, the lot. Get as many men as you need on it. Tomorrow morning will be soon enough!" The secretary nodded and left. He knew exactly what was wanted, and how to get it. He thought that the director was in one heck of a hurry, but that was just his way. For once efficiency was right on the ball, and the report was on the Directors desk before he arrived next morning. He read it through carefully twice, then called a conference for an hour later. The small room was crowded as he strode in. He went to a lectern, put the report on it, grasped the edges with his fingers, looked at the faces in front of him and said.

"It seems we have a problem with this investigation. The man whose face was on every television screen yesterday is dead. He died some time ago, so we are told. Anyway, a body was buried but whose was it. It also appears that his wife recently committed suicide and is buried beside him. This leaves a surviving son living in the same house as the parents. The man's name is Andrew Walker, a computer expert who worked for the government in research. That department also lost its head and another scientist in very strange circumstances. The head also had a chauffeur who died after a hit and run accident, in which a woman was killed. She was a drug addict, whose name is linked to the head of the research establishment. The deeper we get into this, the more complex it gets. I want all the files from his computer examined, all names there are to be fully investigated, and I don't care how many toes we tread on in the process. Whilst this is being done, I want an exhumation order to lift the bodies in the Walker grave. The son must be arrested on suspicion of complicity whether he is involved or not. We can search the house, and if we find nothing we can apologise, and let him go. Keep it legal, and as we have the PM's backing on this one, I can't afford to have it blow up, so get on with it. Copies of all the information we have on the family are being prepared for you, but there is nothing suspicious in it. They seem, on the face of things to have been a very normal family, but there is something there and I want to know what it is. Ask yourselves the question. How can a dead man be seen on television, and what organisation has he, to be able to stop the London Underground running. Answer those questions and we will be able to stop another, perhaps worse event.
Chapter 20.

At precisely 8 o'clock the next morning, a squad of police arrived at the cemetery, erected a large white tent over the Walker grave and started digging. Tony, sitting in the kitchen, trying to eat a bowl of cereal, heard the front door bell chime, and with only a small amount of curiosity, went to answer it. On being faced with two plain clothes police men who on producing their warrant cards, promptly arrested him on suspicion of contravening a long list of activities to do with terrorism, stood aghast as they handcuffed him. As they cautioned him, a van full of C.I.D. arrived, and secured the house. After being bundled into the car, the last thing he saw as they drove away was yellow 'Do not cross' tape being attached to his fences, and the collecting crowd being forcibly dispersed.

On arrival at the police station, he was shown into a waiting room, offered a cup of tea, which he refused, and left alone to ask himself, as he heard the door lock click, 'Why am I here?'

Sweating, shirt sleeved policemen took it in turns to wield pick and shovel in the deepening grave. As they neared the coffin tension mounted, and soon they were scraping away the last layer of soil. The coffin lids showed. A nameplate identified Andrews, and it took some time for the earth to be carefully removed from the sides and end of this. Eventually, one policeman was able to get his hands under one end of the coffin and lift it so that a rope could be slid underneath. He had then to do the same at the other end. Glad to have the job done, he scrambled out of the grave, loose earth kicked free from his boots, clattered back hollowly. The officer in charge signed to the waiting team who took the weight of the coffin and lifted. As it rose from the grave, a slight pungent smell assailed their nostrils, making them wince. They first laid it on the ground beside the grave, removed the ropes, and then carried it to the waiting van. A constable was left to guard the site, as the van, with it gruesome burden, and passengers who desperately tried to avoid looking at the coffin, drove away.

On arrival at the morgue, once again they carried the coffin into a post mortem room and deposited it on a slab. As they did so, the pathologist came in. Having completed the necessary paper work, the police left as fast as they decently could. The pathologist came forward, entirely covered by a white gown, his feet encased in rubber boots, and a visored helmet over his head, In one gloved hand a photograph of Andrew Walker, attached to a dental chart, and in the other, a screw driver. Placing the papers on the coffin lid, he turned and switched on the extractor fan to its maximum. As it whined up, he inserted the screwdriver into the slot of the first holding down screw. .

Tony, brought back from his thoughts by the snap of the lock being opened, was taken from the waiting room, still hand cuffed, into an interview room. There, in the clinical sparseness, he was seated in front of a plain desk. On the other side, were two chairs, a double cassette tape recorder, and a video camera on a bracket on the wall. The two arresting officers came in, and without looking at him sat down opposite.

The senior of the two policemen switched on the recording apparatus, and then said. " It is the 20th July 2032, the time is 11. 30 a.m. Present are myself, Detective Chief Inspector Ryan, Special Branch, Sergeant Williams, also Special Branch, and Mr. Anthony Walker. Mr. Walker has been arrested on suspicion of being involved in terrorist activities, and is being interviewed in connection with this matter." The preamble over, he smiled at Tony, and continued in a softer more friendly voice, "I'm sorry we have to go through all this rigmarole, but the law demands that records are kept of any interview." As he spoke, Tony looked more closely at him. He saw a stocky middle aged man, hair already turning silver, and receding from the front. His suit was creased, and well worn, his hands were broad and the fingers stubby with the nails pared down to the tips, as though he needed this to avoid chewing them. The eyes were a dark blue, and seemed as if they wanted to smile in concert with the mouth. The skin at the corners of both eyes and mouth carried crows feet lines, and the voice now was s deep rumble. In contrast, as Tony glanced at the Sergeant he saw the complete opposite. There sat a man, hooded eyes now sunken in dark pools, which carried no message. The still hands folded in the lap, the face absolutely immobile. It crossed Tony's mind that here was a hunter looking for his prey. There was no trace of pity showing, only a fervent need to justify his position.

Tony was jerked back to reality by D.C.I Ryan saying, "The man on the television last night was your father. He was identified by several of his fellow workers at the Research Establishment. We are told he died some months ago, so either someone else is buried in his place, or there is a perfect double of him loose out there. Perhaps I am paranoid about Terrorists, but I have seen too many twists and turns made by such people to believe anything until it is proved beyond doubt. So it may be that the doctor was in league with him and some other body was buried. Perhaps not, but your comments would be appreciated." Tony was staggered by the implication, and as he hesitated, the sergeant leaned forward as an inquisitor of old Spain might have done, trying, by his presence, to drag a confession from an unwilling victim.

Anger and adrenaline flooded into Tony. His balled fists thudded onto the tabletop. "Rubbish" he shouted. "My father died of cancer, and my mother followed him. They are both buried together, and that is a fact beyond doubt." Even in temper, a small voice cautioned him not to say more. The temptation to tell them of the hologram was there, but he knew they would never believe him. All that would do would make things much worse. No, he thought, let them do what they liked. He leaned back again in the chair, and stared back at the duo in front of him, defiance written plainly both on his face and the body language he showed.

"Very well, "Said D.C. I. Ryan, "then the exhumation will prove it one way or another, and I can wait. This interview is now terminated, and will be resumed later." He switched off the recorders, and with a curt "Take him back to the waiting room" strode through the door. The sergeant, his face trying to smile ushered Tony out of the room and back to the cell.

At that moment, some distance away in the mortuary, the pathologist was lifting the lid off the coffin. Even after many years of post mortem work, where his corpses were reasonably fresh, he had never been able to face, without a qualm, the disintegrating bodies of the medium term dead. He stood the lid on end beside the next slab, and taking a deep breath turned back to the body that lay in the coffin. The corpse was lying as it had been, when it was put there. Suited, with the hands folded, the fingers interlaced, but there the resemblance ended. With the passing of the first month, the intestinal flora had gone to work, and the gases that had formed had bloated the intestines, stomach, and chest cavity until it had burst. Unable to escape from the coffin, the green slime had spread over all the lining, and even with the extractor fan on maximum, the smell was appalling. Hurrying now, he inserted an expanding clamp into the mouth. The lips had receded from the teeth, and as he opened the clamp, the jaw sagged away. The skin at the corners of the mouth tore apart, and a trickle of fluid ran down from the mouth, over the neck to vanish under the head.

Relieved to be able to turn away, even for a few moments, the pathologist studied the dental chart, until he had a clear picture in his mind of the teeth with all the fillings, and some empty spaces where extractions had left gaps. Picking a dentists mirror from the table beside him, he inserted it in the mouth. He looked from tooth to tooth, mentally checking them off. They were all there, just as the dental chart for Andrew Walker showed. This must be him, was the conclusion. He then took several Polaroid photos, of the body, and managed with the aid of another flat mirror that just fitted the mouth to take photos of both the top and bottom sets of teeth. When he saw that the photos had developed satisfactorily, he withdrew the clamp, and refitted the coffin lid, screwing the crews down very firmly, to keep the smell as confined as possible. Leaving the room, he pulled off his gown, boots, and gloves, and threw them into a laundry basket. He washed his hands and face thoroughly, and a prolonged spray of after-shave, cleared his feeling of revulsion. He lit a cigarette and then picked up a telephone and dialed the direct line to the Police Station, asking, when they replied, to be connected to D.C.I Ryan.

"Yes". said Ryan. "Sorry to have to tell you that it is Walker in that coffin". came the reply. "There is no doubt, I have checked the dental chart. You'll get my written report in the morning, but as for now, the problem of who was on the television is still very much yours. O.K. " Ryan stood stock still, assimilating this. He went back to his office where his sergeant waited.

"It is Walker in the box, " he said without smiling. "Has there been any result from the house search team yet." "No, but it's early yet. Perhaps we should go and see what there is. We have plenty of time before we have to either charge our man or let him go. I'm sure he knows a lot he's not ready to tell us yet. Maybe a sweating in a cell for several more hours will loosen his tongue."

"You're a bad bastard," retorted Ryan, but there was a smile creasing his face. "Come on, let's go to the house." They went to the car park and drove off, leaving Tony pacing the cell, worrying.

At the house, apart from the mess the search teams had made, nothing had been found that could remotely be called evidence of anything criminal. The computer was running, and the police expert sat in front of it, scratching his balding head, a very puzzled expression on his face. He turned as Ryan came in. "Anything?" he asked, "Not a thing. " came the reply," and that's the wierdest part of this whole setup. There are mountains of memory, a set that any enthusiast would gladly give his left testicle for, and yet there is nothing in it. It is just as if it had been wiped clean. It boots up all right, but there it stops. Empty. I have tried to hack into any possible hidden directories, but again a stone wall. You would expect loads of files about everyday stuff, accounts, letters, that sort of thing, but there is nothing. You will have to put a tap on the phone, and if the modem is used at least it will show something. There is nothing here to tie Tony Walker into this terrorist thing, but I feel that something is brewing. This lot is not in any way natural. Anyway, best of luck with it. I'm only sorry I can't be of more help."

Frustrated, Ryan called the teams into the lounge, and after making certain that no evidence had been found, instructed them to replace everything as it had been, make the house secure, and return to the police station. Without another word he turned on his heel, stalked out of the house with the sergeant trailing behind, and drove away. .

Tony was allowed to sit and think for several more hours and the longer he sat the angrier and more determined he became to tell the police nothing. Let them try, he thought, to prove me guilty of anything. . I'm no terrorist. And in that frame of mind he relaxed, and allowed his mind to wander where it would. His eyes were drawn to a square of sunlight painting a pattern on the opposite wall. As it moved slowly into a corner, it illuminated a spider's web, where the spider hidden, waited for its prey. Just like those outside, he thought, blundering about, not knowing where they are or what us happening, until it was too late. Dig his father out of the ground, would they, well, we'll see about that. A small fly that had been buzzing slowly about, attracted by the splash of colour on the wall, touched the edge of the web. Instantly the spider raced from its lair and within a few seconds the fly was trapped, trussed, and stored. The web was repaired and the spider crawled off to its lair, and became absolutely motionless. Just like the hologram. Invisible.

With time running short, and no further leads to help them, Ryan regretfully came to the conclusion that he had to release Tony without charge. All day since the interview, Tony had refused food and drink. That evening Ryan opened the cell door, and invited Tony to leave, free, but with the rider that they would be talking to him again. Tony, head erect, walked from the police station without a backward glance, managed to hail a passing taxi and was driven away into the gathering darkness.
Chapter 21.

The reports from all the concerned departments landed on the Chief of Security's desk, He studied them for sometime, and then added his own remarks. He bundled them into the file marked top secret in red across the front, tied the closure and locked it in his safe. After a few moments thought, he picked up the telephone and dialed the direct line to Downing Street. The switchboard connected him to the Prime Minister. When the scramblers had been activated, he broke the tension he felt with a few sentences of small talk. The Prime Minister recognised this and realising that it was the harbinger of bad news, waited patiently for it to come.

After a pause, Ryan continued. "You will be getting the reports with my summary this afternoon, but I felt it expedient that you should know now. The news is not good. The body that was buried as Andrew Walker is him. There is no doubt about it; the pathologist confirmed it from the dental records during the post mortem. The fact that whoever is behind this plot, plan, scheme, terrorism, call it what you will is very well organised, is becoming obvious. The ability to take over a major computer network such as the Underground and control it as they did shows commitment. It must be a new group as our informants in the various anti atom groups tell us that they have neither the technical resources or manpower to even come near to a thing like this. It all stems from the death of Andrew Walker. What the connection with him is, apart from the death also of Sir Archibald Hemmings, his boss, we do not yet know. My advice is to wait and see. Take it seriously. I assume that some nuclear waste has been buried illegally, so it may be politic to sacrifice the three people concerned." Here the Prime Minister broke in, a trace of anger leaking through the calm voice. "No, we can't do that. The anti atom people and the newspapers would crucify us, and there is an election not too far off. Revelations of that sort could well cost us our majority in the house next time round. I have already told you to use whatever resources you need. I shall expect a favorable report within the next few days. " Sensing the end of the call, Ryan made a last effort. "If it is true, and I assume it is, about the waste, why not offer the Power Minister to the media, and say you knew nothing about it." There was a low chuckle at the other end of the line, "Are you looking for a job as an adviser? No, you concentrate on finding the people behind this, and advise me when you have sorted it out. Now, good by for the present." With that admonition the line went dead.

Ryan replaced the receiver, and wondered what to do next. A call to the computer experts merely told him that hey were trying to establish how many people would be needed to run this sort of operation, but needed a lot of time. Time, as Ryan remarked acidly, was in rather short supply. Again he came up against the brick wall of silence. Not a whisper from any quarter to help him. The offer of bribes had had no effect. Nothing was known. Morosely he sat and stared out of the window. Somewhere out there, he felt the presence of his enemy, but where?

The taxi dropped Tony off at his house, and he walked to the front door, head up, looking neither right nor left, not willing to meet the inquisitive stares of his neighbours. As he closed the door, he felt the tension of the day leave him. The hologram was waiting, and Tony nodded a greeting as he passed to get a drink from the cabinet in the lounge. Strange, he thought, I can almost accept that image as Dad used to be. He returned to the computer room, and dropped into an easy chair. After a sip of the drink, he looked at the hologram and said.

"I suppose you know that Dad was exhumed. They thought you were him on the television, and they have really put me through it today. Well, enough is enough, and now it is my turn to retaliate. You found out that some nuclear waste had been buried illegally. That's good, but what are you going to do if they ignore you? I agree this must be brought into the open, and even the anti atom lobby have never been able to get anywhere on this subject." The hologram hesitated, as if for effect, a mannerism Andrew had had when a rather unpalatable subject had to be raised. In answer he retorted, "I will wait until the time limit I set has run out, then another reminder will be given. It will be spectacular, but if you don't mind I'll keep it to myself for the moment. It's not that I don't want you to know, but if the police interrogate you again, and you make any sort of slip, you would be connected to me, and that would land you in trouble. One other thing, they have installed a bug on the telephone, so be careful what you say. I could stop it from working but that in itself would alert the police. So leave well alone, and let me get on with things."

Satisfied, Tony ordered a take away meal which was delivered by motorcycle, fed well, bathed, had an early night, and slept deeply.

Far far to the north, just south of Greenland, a small kink developed in the mild warm front that lay from south west to north east. It was picked up, as a slight drop in pressure when the barometric readings were taken by the weather ship stationed not far away. This information, along with thousands of other bits was radioed to the central weather bureau in London. There it was automatically fed into the waiting computers where it was correlated, and printed out. The chief weatherman looked briefly at the first chart, and remarked to his assistant that this little low-pressure area should be watched. Too often he had been caught out where a small depression in that area had gone on to develop into something far worse. When the next readings an hour later were correlated and printed out, the low was developing far more rapidly than the chief weather man had seen in many years. This one was going to be nasty, he thought. The inverted V of the isobars was now plain to see. Out there on the North Atlantic the wind was already speeding up, the waves were beginning to rise, and in places the tops were starting to break, the loose water being whipped into spume that blew down wind in a white froth. Black clouds gathered and soon heavy rain was sheeting down.

As the hours passed, the met office became more and more aware that the low-pressure area was now moving southeast. When it reached the north west of Scotland, it was down to 998 millibars, and deepening. Gale force 8 on the Beaufort scale was left behind as the winds now shrieked along at first force 9 then storm force 10. Storm warnings were issued along the East Coast as far south as the Thames. The centre of the Low was soon passing through the south east of Scotland and the rotating mass of wind had its highest speed at the edges. The wind following a clockwise direction, the eaterly side now pushing a mass of water southwards down the North Sea towards the English Channel, was charted and measured. The result, taken in conjunction with the fact that it was now the time of the Spring tides, where maximum sea levels normally occurred, and the top of the tide would meet the wind driven water just off the Thames, meant that unless the Thames Barrage, that trusted moveable dam, built to stop just this sort of event, was closed, severe flooding could well cover a large area of the London Basin. The alert was telephoned to the control room, and the coastal radio broadcast that the barrage would close about 4 hours before high water at London. By now, shipping was either running for shelter, or making for the open sea, away from the dangers of the coast.

High water was timed at 11 p.m., but well before that the wind and rain reached the London area, Branches were whipping on the trees until the weaker ones were torn off and scattered about like small twigs. Some chimney pots and slates crashed down, shattering on the ground.

The day had been dull all day, cars moving along had had to put their headlights on even at noon. The rain had never really stopped, and pedestrians were few and far between. Tony had slept in until 9 a.m., and even when he had dressed and breakfasted, he felt tired, the result of the previous day's tension, he was sure. He spent the day lazing about the house. Reading the papers from cover to cover had consumed several hours, and it was about 9. 30 p m when the hologram called him.

"They still haven't given the names of those three to the press yet." it said in a matter of fact voice, "They have until 10 o'clock, and then I will show them that I am not to be trifled with. "

"I don't think I want to know what that warning is" replied Tony, "but remember you promised not to do anything that might kill. If that happens and some one is hurt, we fall out. I am with you as far as stopping deceit in Government goes, and there must be more secrets to uncover, which will make any Government take notice, Let's try for honesty, its about time people realised the mess our so called leaders are making of the world. I shall sit and watch your performance tonight. "

The hologram smiled, waved and with the words, England today, tomorrow the World, vanished. In an other office, not far away, three men sat alternately drinking, smoking and pacing worriedly up and down. They had told their respective wives that they would not be home until late, having been given strict orders to wait together until contacted. At 9, 55 p m, the television was switched on and they settled down in front of the screen, as millions of others up and down the whole country also sat and waited.
Chapter 22.

Some time earlier, after a last storm warning from the met office, the massive motors of the London Barrage had been activated, and the huge tilting gates had moved ponderously into position, closing the mouth of the Thames. Outside this barrier, the howling north wind heaped the heaving water higher and higher. As high water approached, the staff in the control room anxiously scanned the TV monitors. Not only was the basin behind the barrier filling, but spray was now being blown over the concrete parapet. It was going to be a close thing.

As 10 p.m. sounded, they breathed a collective sigh of relief. High Water had passed, and now it was all down hill until the storm blew itself out and things returned to normal.

The sound of Big Ben striking 10 p.m. sounded on every TV set to herald the news. The newscaster had barely introduced himself when his face vanished from the screen, and was replace by that of the Hologram. The face of Andrew Walker looked into the millions of watching eyes. He smiled, as though enjoying the situation immensely, then spoke. His voice was restrained but intense. "Good evening" he said. After a pause, he continued, "As this is the news, I have two items for you. The first is that those people responsible for the illegal disposal of nuclear waste have not, and I repeat not come forward. This action causes the second item to now occur. I stress that as yet, no one has been harmed, and I do not intend to harm the innocent. It seems that those in power do not realise that I am serious in my campaign. As I have been ignored, my demands are now increased. Not only are the three people I have asked for to come forward and admit their guilt, but they will now also name the people who ordered this to happen. You have one week from today to comply, or the original threat of a nuclear melt down at a power station will then occur. Now, a further demonstration of my abilities."

The face reproduced on those millions of TV sets vanished, to be replaced by the newsreader. As he spoke, the huge wall panel showing the state and position of all the barrage gates, flickered. Alarm bells shrilled, but were instantly cut off. This snapped every eye to the screen. Each green light, which denoted a stationary gate, had turned to a blinking red, denoting movement. The gates were opening. Down in the depths of the barrage, the rumble was felt as tons of metal moved. The engineers slapped at switches to cu the power to the motors, but to no avail. All their control had been taken from them.

As the gates swung open, thousands of tons of water surged through, meeting the mass of water already held in the basin. This being at a lower level was pushed into a sliding mass that grew into a wave some 10 metres high. Unable to go back on itself, it gathered momentum, and surged away up river towards London. Behind it, more water cascaded through the gates for some minutes, then with motors screaming in protest against the loads that were imposed on them; the gates were gradually closed. Telephones were shrilling a warning in police stations up the length of the river, and contingency plans, made years ago for this very happening were hastily put into action. When the last red light on the control panel changed from red to green, all else returned to normal. The engineers sat in absolute silence. This whole occurrence was far beyond their understanding. It could not have happened, but it had.

The wave, high as it was at the barrage, raced on, loosing height due to the width of the river. The surge at the edges a small increase of about a metre, boats rocked wildly at their moorings, but soon settled again. With the narrowing of the riverbanks, the surge now became a rushing mass. Once again the top crested higher. The edges also started to break against any obstruction that protruded into the river. Damage was now occurring continuously, and the speed of the wave was increasing. It tore through the Pool of London, past Tower Bridge, and finally hit one after another all the road bridges until its force spent, it subsided in a mass of froth. Each bridge had sustained damage in some degree, some serious, where there had been little clearance between the underside of the arch and the water, to a mere tearing away of some stone and brick work on others.

The news was coming to an end at 10. 30pm, when the programmed was again interrupted by the hologram. It looked straight out of the every TV screen in the land, and smiled.

"The government has still not listened to me. By morning the whole of the country will know what I have done. Remember that my patience is almost gone, and the next time I am ignored, I promise you that I will never be so lenient again. Now the time has come to give you all the final warning, but now because of the failure to name the people I asked for, the demands are now as follows. One. Those three names and their immediate superior will be publicised, and they will appear on television to detail what they did. Two. The government will then resign, and I will take charge, with ministers from all parties, chosen by me will take office. Three. All armed forces will come under my direct command. That will do for now, but be warned, if I am ignored again, my next demonstration will entail severe loss of life, by the melt down of one as yet un-named nuclear power station. You now have two weeks to consider. The Prime Minister will appear on television to agree with what I propose on or before the deadline is reached. " With that the screen returned to the studio announcer. He was wide eyed an almost incoherent. Stumbling over his words, he began the fateful announcement concerning the opening of the London Barrage.
Chapter 23.

The silence in the Cabinet Room had been complete for some time. The lighting illuminated the solid paneling, and the faces of those assembled around the long table were mirrored on its polished surface. The full Cabinet and heads of the Armed forces had been assembled at a few hours notice to formulate plans to counter the threat from what was seen as a new terrorist organisation. The Prime Minister had entered the room with a smile for each person singly, and a hearty 'Good morning' to all. Her face had become more and more severe as each report had gone from bad to worse.

Special Branch had been unable to come up with any solid evidence to point the finger definitely at any known group, even though several fringe activists had claimed responsibility for the actions so far and had added their own further demands to the list. The report on the exhumation of Andrew Walker had proved abortive, and the technical wizards were completely baffled by the ability of the terrorists control of computer networks. All the evidence suggested a large well-organised group. Some one was masquerading as Andrew Walker. It must be a double, or an incredibly good disguise they argued. Now however they were silent, reluctant to meet the Prime Ministers eye.

At last, after reading the notes she had made during each report, she shuffled them together, laid them aside, and after a searching glance at each person, spoke coldly.

" I have listened to each one of you patiently, but nothing I have heard has given me any reason to suppose that we are nearer a solution to this problem than we were a week ago. This group has demonstrated an ability to carry out its threats. First the Underground, and secondly the London Barrage. Now we are faced with a nuclear threat. At first I felt that this was a hoax, but now I think everything this group does has a certain validity. My advisors suggest that a token offering might give us a further breathing space. A time to try to trace this organisation. If the offer is accepted, but the other threats are still made, then my profilers tell me that we could be dealing with a megalomaniac who like any dictator in the past is beyond reason, and can never be appeased. So my decision is that you," as she pointed to the Minister of Power, "will admit to the charge of illegally having nuclear waste buried, without, and I stress without my, or any other member of this government having knowledge, and give the location of it and the names of the three others as required, You will then resign.." The Minister pushed his chair back and stood red faced. "I can't do that" he mumbled. "It would be political suicide, not just for me but for this government."

"You will" replied the Prime Minister, "or I will, whether you like it or not. But rest assured that after the fuss has died down, the matter will be dealt with quietly, and you will be fully recompensed for your public sacrifice. Your retirement can be made very comfortable, with an enhanced pension I am sure. Can I take it you agree?" The Minister hesitated for a few seconds more then nodded, gathered his papers together, and walked out of the room.

As the door closed behind him, the Prime Minister continued blandly, "We come now to the threat against the power stations. I would like your summary of measures to defend them against attack". She nodded to the man sitting towards the end of the table. He stood. His bearing was military, his back ramrod straight, His hair cut short, greying at the temples, matched the bristling moustache. His suit, impeccably cut seemed out of place on his frame. A uniform would have been more appropriate. With a deprecating cough he cleared his throat and started on what was an obviously prepared delivery.

"Madam and Gentlemen, I have listened to everything that has been said, and my feelings are that this group are making threats that they cannot fulfil this time. During the last decade, since the IRA failed to achieve the same target, we have seen security enhanced at every power station, to the point of total self-sufficiency. The electricity supply is taken directly from its own generators, air is filtered, water is pumped from underground sources, and every entrance can be locked from the inside. The reactor core of each station is now shrouded in concrete, and all controls can only be activated by people in the building. If an attack develops, the building is sealed. Outside, the armed forces can patrol in numbers sufficient to deter any armed attack. Radar watches for any intrusion, either land or airborne, and both surface to air and surface to surface missiles will be deployed. Staff and Technicians can be flown in by army helicopter, as can supplies. I think I can safely say that there is no conceivable threat that we cannot counter." He cleared his throat again then sat and looked rather belligerently around. The Prime Minister, nodding agreement asked if anyone wished to put any questions. No one stirred; agreement was total, as long as they personally were not involved.

"I think that will do for now," said the PM. "The armed forces will be deployed as soon as possible, I will go on TV to assure the public of our total confidence in the measures being taken, and the ability of our police to track down and apprehend this gang. The Power Minister will make the necessary sacrifice, and the government will weather this particular storm. I am confident that our public has short enough memories for this to be forgotten quickly. If need be Mr. Chancellor, you can distract attention with a few well-publicised tax gifts, or something of that ilk. Remember, not a word outside this room." She was smiling again. As she made to leave, the others stood, and then followed, breaking off into their respective groups.

As the last one left, the green power on light on the secretary's computer blinked off, a faint chuckle faded as the power went down.

Tony was cutting bread to make his lunch when the hologram called him. "I'll be with you in a moment." he called back. He had now accepted the hologram as the nearest thing possible to his father, and now felt a certain affinity to it. Not the love he had had for his father but a definite attraction. He had withdrawn from most of his friends, and his associates, rather irked by his independence, had drifted away until he was now almost a loner. This had not mattered to him, in fact he had rather welcomed it. The death of both parents and subsequent events had made him retreat into a shell where little outside the house affected him.

Carrying a tray laden with sandwiches, some cake and a packet of chocolate biscuits, a cup of steaming coffee on one side, he entered the computer room, laid the tray on an occasional table, sat beside it. A raise eyebrow was all that was needed to start the hologram talking.

"I was sure that until a few moments ago I had the government on the run. I was sure the demonstration last night would make them see reason. It seems I was mistaken. I was there in the computer in the Cabinet Room at Downing Street during the meeting and they have decided to defy me." Now the hologram was taking a few steps up and down beside the terminal. Its attitude was of frustration being overlaid with anger. The body language spoke of a barely concealed volcano about to explode. Tony became aware of this, and a feeling of anxiety began to move into him. This was not the rational man he had known as his father for so many years.

"All right, Dad, " he soothed, using the familiar name. "What's the big deal? So they want to try and bluff you, but I am sure they will see reason. Does it matter anyway? I can't see you trying to cause a melt down. What would be the point."

Feeling that the hologram would be calmed by these words Tony was appalled when the hologram ranted.

"No point! There is every point. Both Andrew and Susan dead. That's reason enough for a start, and must I remind you again that they tried to kill me. Either they capitulate within the specified time or they suffer the consequences. Everything is ready, but I promised I would wait until the time set expires, and so I will. "

Desperately Tony tried once more. "Dad, if you won't promise me not to do this, then I will have no option but to advise the police and the powers that be about you."

The hologram laughed loud and long. Eventually it stopped and said. "Do you really think they will believe you. They try to believe that I cannot exist. I am just not possible to their tiny minds. Anyway you know my abilities. Even you cannot stop me doing anything I want. Try it, if you wish."

Tony slumped back, defeated. His mind filled with possibilities, but rejecting each one in turn. The hologram watched him silently; as if following his every thought, After a while, it said quietly,

"Never mind, son, but this time I hold all the cards." And with a smile that smacked of pity, it vanished.
Chapter 24

The next special editions of newspapers carried a war of words in acres of newsprint that came out following the Prime Ministers latest TV appearance. They all agreed that it was a wonderful show, but there the similarity ended. Those papers whose loyalties lay with the government praised her as a defender of freedom, a person who would never back down in the face of blackmail, to the opposite who ranted and raved about the now evident lying and conniving that had gone on. The past was dragged out, and once again the reasons for the Falklands war were dissected at length. The pro government, using it as an example, shouted that it never did to give in to blackmail, to the opposition shouting that that was all in the name of Oil as that substance was now diminishing in quantity, and therefore carried no weight. And so the argument raged, not only in the Corridors of Power, but in every house and pub in the country.

The day after the Cabinet meeting, various groups of army officers met and planned the logistics of moving men and materiel to the nuclear power stations. The next day transport was readied and soon rumbled away from their respective bases. Within 24 hours, each power station was heavily defended. Radar dishes searched the heavens for any threat; each contact being followed by the needle pointed tips of missiles, sniffing the air like a pack of hounds, waiting for the huntsman to cry 'Tally Ho'.

It only took a week for routine to develop into boredom. Soldiers became idle, and even the public humiliation of the Minister of Power, and the now named associates, failed to raise more than a momentary interest in the population. Same old story, was the general opinion, you just can't trust a politician whatever colour he, she, or it may be.

The deadline was reached, and passed. Nothing happened. The Cabinet and the population in general breathed a sigh of relief.

It was on the stroke of midnight the next evening that without warning, the almost new, state of the art, fully computerised, automated nuclear power station, built in defiance of public outcry, on the outskirts of Swindon, locked itself. Every computer froze. Every programme held in stasis. The few technicians in the main control room watched in horror as the plant came to a standstill. It was then that the message appeared on the main computer screen. It read, 'As promised, this station has been taken over. All exits except the one into the main compound have been sealed. This one will remain open for three minutes, and then will close. If any person then remains in the building, he will not be able to escape the melt down. You are advised to leave. The three minutes starts now.'

The head technician tried to shut the pile down, but every command he punched into the keyboard failed to elicit any response. Desperately they ran from the room, leaving everything in their haste. They had just cleared the outer door into the compound when it swung shut with a solid clang of reinforced steel and concrete. The monitoring room at the Ministry was also shocked as alarm bells went off. Engineers watched as all the connections with the power station were severed one by one, and finally the same message was transmitted to them regarding the seizure of the plant.

The Day Duty Officer in charge of the guard at the power station was sitting in his command vehicle, sipping a cup of tea, his legs crossed, the heels of his highly polished boots negligently resting on the desk in front of him. The radio operator also sat at his set, a magazine in his lap. His eyes were closed, as he let his mind wander back over the events of the last evening. The night club he had visited with his mates had been packed with what he liked to call 'Available Talent' His luck had certainly been in, as the leggy, big busted blonde with her own flat had shown. He had only just made it back to camp without being posted A.W, O. L. Now he was trying to recover from lost sleep. He was jerked from his reverie when the headphones covering his ears clattered into life. It was the Commanding Officer, yelling for the Duty Officer. The operator snapped upright, and holding out the combined microphone and head set, barked out "The C.O for you Sir". The officer also snapped wide awake, leant across and took the head set, and clamping it to his ears, replied.

"Lieutenant Stuart here Sir. What may I do for you? " After a long pause, whilst the operator strained to listen to the tirade that rumbled indistinctly, the officer replied,

"No Sir, Nothing has happened here. Everything is quiet, No alarms, no reports from any of the patrols and nothing on the radar. " Another pause as a further tirade poured into his ears. "Yes Sir, certainly Sir, I will check immediately and report back. Give me five minutes." He threw the head set back to the operator, shouting, "Keep on the net, some-one has infiltrated the power station."

He crashed from the vehicle, his voice receding as he shouted for the entire troop to stand to arms. It soon became apparent that the power station was sealed tight. The technicians, who had run to the compound, were milling about by the gate. This too was locked, and it took a while to release them by cutting the high barbed razor wire that was the first line of defense. During this time they had been shouting about a Melt Down, which caused a ripple of panic to spread outwards, gathering momentum as it passed from person to person. It was no coincidence that each newspaper received an E-mail advising them of the event, and drawing their attention to a deadline for noon the following day, unless the terms already stated were met.

Lieutenant Stuart stood rigidly to attention, even though he was invisible to the senior officer at the other end of the radio link, as he stated that there was still nothing to report, as there had been no visible activity outside the power station. He confirmed that the technicians had been locked out, but had been freed from the compound. Lastly he mentioned the threat of a melt down. He was told to expect his C.O. within the next 30 minutes, who would arrive, by helicopter.

By the time the camouflaged helicopter skimmed low over the camp, turned into wind, and dropped noisily to the ground, lieutenant Stuart had recovered his poise sufficiently to welcome the high ranking trio of officers and a solitary civilian that stepped down as the rotors subsided with a final whistle of blades, with a salute that would have done credit to a guardsman. All the off duty staff were on parade, but were virtually ignored as the C.O, beckoning to Lieutenant Stuart to accompany them dived into the command vehicle.

After a full but rather pointless briefing by lieutenant Stuart, and a conducted tour of the site, which only confirmed the lock out, the civilian, who was a design expert of the power station, mainly on the security side, finally drew a deep breath and rather depressingly said,

"The crux of the matter is that we are locked out of the building,"

"That's bloody obvious" snorted the C.O. The civilian regarded him as a long-suffering parent would view a fractious child. "The point I make is that the building was designed with an attack, terrorist or other, from the outside in mind, not from the inside. The whole station is built to withstand just that, and as such is impregnable. It would take days to force an entry. We can't use explosives, God alone knows what that would do to the pile, and to try to drill a way in through all that steel and concrete would take far longer than the time we have available. All services are cut, but there is sufficient fuel for generators for days. We cannot control the computers, because whoever is in there has blocked us. As I see it, either the government capitulates, which they may or may not do, and suffer the consequences, or if they don't, then we have another Chernobyl, with the same result. The terrorist or terrorists, who are in there, must be willing to die for whatever they believe in, or face being jailed for many years if they give themselves up. How they got in beats me, but the fact remains that it is impossible to winkle them out. I think we should return to London and report our findings as soon as possible. " Three other heads nodded agreement, and after giving detailed orders to Lieutenant Stuart, climbed aboard the helicopter which clambered into the air and vanished eastwards.

When it arrived at the capital, it circled momentarily over Hyde Park, then settled. A staff car waited, and as soon as the passengers were aboard, tore out of the park, and went away with sirens wailing, a police motor cycle escort ahead closing every crossing, until they arrived at Downing Street. The Cabinet room was now full. The Prime Minister, visibly drawn, nodded to start the meeting. The military gentleman, who had looked so out of place at the previous meeting, now stood in his full uniform.

"Madam, and gentlemen. I have been to the site to assess the situation. I will not try to hide anything. The position is this. We are faced with a dilemma that only you can resolve. The power station is impregnable within the time scale available. We cannot use explosives. We cannot over rule the computers that control everything in there. A telephone line has been restored but no-one answers. We cannot find out how the building was entered either. No one was seen approaching the building, nothing was seen on radar. It is now 5 p.m., and we have until noon tomorrow to resolve this. I have also been told that if the threatened melt down does occur, anywhere east of Swindon, and that includes all of greater London, will be covered by a radioactive cloud and become lifeless for the foreseeable future. The meteorological office has confirmed that there will be no change in the westerly winds for at least three days. The terrorists seem to be prepared to die in the melt down if necessary. Well there you have it; the decision as to what to do is now yours. "

The Prime Minister thought for a moment then asked, "Can anyone tell me how this melt down can be accomplished. I understood that to activate such a thing would be impossible. Too many safety checks. "

The nuclear security civilian who had listened to all this without moving, raised a hand, and on being noticed by the PM rose and said rather diffidently,

"Madam and gentlemen, this operation is not as difficult as it sounds. To keep costs as low as possible, and one high expenditure being wages and salaries, it was decided to allow computer control on a very large scale. Everything is linked to the central computer. The only command required to initiate melt down is to withdraw the fuel rod dampers. This allows overheating to start, and without further orders melt down occurs within a few minutes. There are safety locks built into the system to invalidate such a deliberate command, but my feeling is that now the person responsible for the Underground and London Barrage fiascoes would not have much difficulty in bypassing such locks. "

Every eye was fixed on him as he sat down again, reddening slightly under their scrutiny.

"I can't believe it," the Prime Minister said, "unless this person who seems to be a clone of Andrew Walker, wants to become a dictator. But if that were the case, why stay in the power station. He can't initiate the melt down from outside as all links are cut, and to stay inside, unless this threat is a bluff, is certain death. Are there any further developments from Special Branch?" The security chief spoke quietly but with feeling. "If anyone knew anything about this group, we would have heard about it by now. It has been some weeks since the first attack, and you can't hide an operation of this size for long. It is far too complex. I do know for a fact that none of the existing groups such as IRA and all the other terrorists are not involved because we have infiltrated them all. I appreciate that that is not common knowledge, and I would prefer that information not to go beyond these walls. So the bottom line is, 'We do not know' ". Embarrassed, he turned to shuffle his papers on the table.

"What about the psychological profile now?" she asked, pinning that unfortunate specialist with a needle like gaze. He squirmed a bit in his chair before saying,

" I think we are on the wrong track altogether thinking this the work of a group. In his appearances on TV he has never mentioned any others, it has only been 'I' the singular. For myself I am sure this is the work of one very clever person. He must be a computer expert in the finest sense, to do what he has done already. I also think he looks exactly as we have seen him. His manner gives me the idea that he does not care one bit whether we know what he looks like or not. He is supremely confident in his abilities, and is sure he can beat anything we do to stop him. In other words, we have a perfectly rational man who for some reason has been pushed beyond the limits of mental balance, and is now, not to put too fine an interpretation on it, insane. Finally, I also think he is not in the power station, but will have it rigged so that if we try to break in, some thing will trigger the melt down, and that could be the cutting of the telephone line. That must be left so that in the event of his wishing to cancel computer instructions, he can do so by modem. I am sure he means what he says, so I suggest you seek a compromise. Go on TV at 10 p.m. tonight and tell the country that you are doing everything possible to set up a meeting with this person, to thrash out his complaints, and to try to set things straight. Try to get across the effort you are making to save any loss of life. If he thinks you are assuming a subservient role it may stop him from starting the melt down. That is all I can suggest, as I have insufficient information on this character to give more than this attempt at an accurate profile. You have 18 hours left. The choice must be yours." He smiled faintly as he stopped speaking, as though to say, 'I'm glad I'm not in your shoes lady. '

The meeting continued for a while longer, but it was only the logistics that were correlated. Decisions were made, and the TV appearance at 10 p.m. confirmed with he broadcasters.

As they all left the building, they were met by the news media, in every form from hack reporters to CNN news cameras. The world was waking up to the fact there could well be a major disaster about to happen. After a medley of shouted questions, none of which the PM answered, until there was a modicum of silence, when she stated that she would be broadcasting to the Nation at 10 p.m. that night, and she hoped to be able to bring the matter to a satisfactory conclusion. As the ministers drove away, she firmly stepped back from the bank of microphones and returned to the safety of number 10. In the now empty cabinet room the computer once again switched itself off.
Chapter 25.

At 9.30 p.m. Tony sat alone in the lounge, a drink, the fourth since 9 o'clock, resting at a tired angle in his hand. His arm was laid along the side of the chair, and the hand trembled slightly. He had watched as the I T V helicopter had shown film of every road from Swindon to London packed with slow moving traffic as terrified families tried to scatter north or south from the down wind area. Every roundabout was clogged, and even the motorways were slowly becoming grid locked. Fights and scuffles happened frequently as the more powerful vehicles tried to nudge a way through the masses in an effort to escape. The police were becoming powerless to stop it, their own vehicle being trapped as well. The M25 ring road appeared from the air to be a scintillating mass of lights, every entrance and exit crammed with vehicles going nowhere. Only pedal and motor cycles seemed to be able to move, and even those were occasionally stopped by others who attacked the riders, beat and kicked them unconscious, stole their transport and rode off into the night.

Anything now went in this mad flight from danger. At 9.45 the hologram appeared. Tony squinted hazily at it, and asked if it was now satisfied with the chaos it was causing. "So far so good" it replied, "but I have a meeting with the honorable Prime Minister in a few minutes, and I needed a further show of strength to underline my power, just in case she tries to defy me. Strangely enough, I was at the cabinet meeting a while ago, and their profiler is no dummy, He's got it right. There is a man I can use when I run this country. Make no mistake about that, I will. Well, I must go, my audience awaits me," With a sardonic bow, the hologram waved farewell and disappeared. As it did, Tony wailed, "Please Dad, don't do it" but it was too late, the image had gone.

In the news studio, there were three circles of light. The first illuminated the announcer, who was to chair the interview, his chair being centre stage. The second illuminated the chair to his right, where the Prime Minister would sit, a small table to the left with a carafe of water and a glass on it, and the third spot illuminating a large television monitor. This was in place to allow the so-called terrorist to appear, if he so wished, and the Producer, fervently wished that he would. Precisely at 10.00 p.m. the Prime Minister walked onto the stage, the announcer stood to welcome her, smiled and indicated her chair. She sat, interlaced her fingers, and waited, apparently relaxed and comfortable. Just as the announcer was about to make his opening remarks, the lights dimmed slightly, and the T V lit. The hologram stared from the screen, smiled, then said.

"Madam Prime Minister, good evening, how nice to meet you in person. The last time I was with you, you were unaware of it. I won't bore you with the details, but rest assured there is nothing I do not know about your last cabinet meeting. Now, if you wish to put your case, please proceed."

A faint splutter came from the announcer, anger rising at the cavalier way he had been deliberately snubbed. The Prime Minister looked at him sympathetically, turned back to the hologram, and without notes of any kind, spoke in a reasonable voice.

"Mr. Walker, " As she said those first words all the viewing public that were well away from the danger area, leaned closer to their sets, hanging on every word, "I will call you that, because I do not know your real name or who you represent, I am here to try to solve a problem, an unknown one on my side, one which I am more than anxious to resolve. May I ask you to give me the details of your suggestions, I use that word deliberately, instead of demands, so that we may be able to give them a full and frank airing, in public, to show that there is nothing hidden. This will show trust on my side and willingness to compromise wherever possible. I have no wish to have any loss of life on my conscience. So please tell us all, not only those viewing at home, here or abroad, as this is no doubt being transmitted worldwide, what exactly you have in mind? " She sat back in her chair, relaxed and confident externally, but terrified and trembling inside. The hologram considered her words for a moment, then replied.

" Madam Prime Minister, I really must give you top marks for confidence. It must have been quite an effort to be so subservient. Not your usual role!" It hesitated, and noted the two spots of colour tinge each cheek, as anger was barely held in check. "You would like to tell me to go to hell, wouldn't you," it teased," Well I'm sorry but as from now you will have to listen to me. I intend to have a reckoning with those who tried to kill me. Yes Madam, there are those who, like Sir Archibald Hemmings, and we know what became of him, who will stand condemned by their own acts, so my first decree will be that parliament will be dissolved as from noon tomorrow. I suggest you go and discuss this with your ministers during the few hours left to them." The Prime Minister jumped to her feet, eyes blazing, all control gone.

"You mean you intend try to enslave this country? That is just not possible. It would take more than an army of willing soldiers behind you, for you to even contemplate such an action." She spluttered into silence, fists clenched, waving them at the T V screen. The hologram started a deep bass chuckle, which grew in volume until it was a full-throated bellow of laughter. Eventually, it stopped, and looked directly at her. "You poor foolish woman," it sneered, "I don't need an army. I have all the power I need, as I have proved with the two small demonstrations I have already shown. The third is now waiting to happen if I am disobeyed. Do you understand? I admire your spirit, and because of that I will reduce the melt down to just a radioactive cloud for now. Just to make sure you and all those listening and viewing understand what can happen, let me describe what will happen if I allow a melt down to occur. First the controls that activate the lifting winches over the Boron covers that limit the amount of neutrons that cause the atoms to split, and so produce heat, will be switched on. This will raise the covers and will expose the fuel rods to any height I choose. Intense heat will be generated, over a period of time, again of my choice, melting the casing they are in. This will in turn breach the secondary cooling system, causing a radioactive leak into the atmosphere. Are you with me so far? Next, the molten mass will sink into the ground, because there is nothing that can stand that heat, until it reaches the water table. Then it will explode upwards. Your scientists will confirm this if you doubt me. Lastly the radioactive cloud will move with the upper winds scattering death wherever it goes. I think the governments of down wind countries will not be too pleased with you if that happens." Again the sardonic smile creased the features of the hologram. "Well, think it over. You have until noon tomorrow."

Once again the hologram vanished. The Prime Minister stood and spoke directly into the camera with the little red light on it, which signified that it was live. "It seems that we are now faced with a problem which I need to talk over with my ministers. I can only tell you that we are doing everything in our power to resolve this. I shall speak again in two hours time. That will be at about midnight, and I hope by then, to have an answer to this nightmare. " She turned away, but after only one step, turned back to the camera, and with a decided catch in her voice, which many viewers could not decide was real or just a politician milking a situation, and whispered "Pray for us. " She strode from the set and the camera re-focussed on the announcer.
Chapter 26.

Tony was still sitting in the same position, still clasping the same drink. It was as if time had become stationary for him. One second, the hologram had been standing there in front of him, and in the blink of an eye, it seemed, it had flashed away, and had returned in that same second. He sat there without a word until the hologram asked him whether he had enjoyed the interview. It took him several more seconds to make his brain recollect the past few minutes. It was as though he had not wanted to be able to remember the scene. Eventually he recalled the feeling of horror that had coursed through him when the Prime Minister had whispered, pray for us.

Lights were still burning in Downing Street as the cabinet met in another emergency session. Time had drifted past without result, as one Minister reported failure after another. The head of Special Branch stated that he was no nearer flushing out Mr. Walker, as he was now known, than he had been weeks before. Finally it was the turn of the Profiler. He stood and regarded the others with a small smile, and holding a finger to his lips to indicate silence, removed his shoes, and silently tip toed to the computer in the corner of the room, bent down and pulled the power feed plug from its socket, and ripped the modem cable from the telephone jack.

The others had watched this performance in shocked amazement. The profiler returned to his chair, replaced his shoes, and said in a very firm voice.

"That will stop the bastard snooping on our deliberations." The Prime Minister snapped tartly. "What are you doing? " The profiler replied "Mr Walker was using the computer to eavesdrop on us. How was it he knew exactly what we had said at our last meeting? He admitted that he knew all about it on the T V. Now he is deaf and blind to us. I specifically checked on whether that computer was switched on or not when we came in. I found it off. I left it at that, but now, when I pulled the plug, it was switched on. This now means two things. He now knows that we have taken the first step in tracing him. He will realise that we know how he got his information, and secondly I am now sure that we are facing either one man, or a very small group of people. My inclination is that it is one person only. The reason for this is that not, and I stress not a word has been heard in any direction about a new terrorist organisation, That, with all the resources at our disposal, world wide, is just not possible. This man is probably the world's best computer buff, but we now know he is not infallible. The main problem, as I see it, is, from a psychological point of view, and I have given it a lot of thought during he last few days, is that we are now dealing with megalomania. If we push too hard, in one way or ignore him in another, we run the risk of having him trigger a melt down, and to hell with the consequences." He stopped talking to take a sip of water, and as he did so, the Prime Minister jumped in with. "This is all very well, but what do I do now? Am I to surrender to this threat, or what!" The profiler continued as though he had not been interrupted. "I think we try again for time. When he contacts us again, say that you need to arrange things, and are sure that if he waits we can reach a settlement. Do not use the words surrender, or capitulate. Use the fact that the law exists, and as it stands should be adhered to. If he shows signs of dementia, or paranoia I will signal to you, and at that point you will have to agree to his terms. It will still take time to comply, days, in fact. That in itself will take us past the deadline for now. I still feel that the power station needs commands from outside to initiate any action. It could be done through the telephone that is still connected, so it could be that to disconnect it might...." At that moment the telephone shrilled. Not a normal call, but a strident shriek that jarred the nerves. Everyone started, alarm on their faces. The Prime Minister put out a hand to lift the receiver. The hand hovered over it, then slowly descended, grasped it, and as she raised it her other hand flicked the switch that put the external speaker on line. "Yes". She asked.

There was a momentary silence that seemed to drag into eternity, before the voice of the hologram filled the room. The P M quickly turned the volume down to a reasonable level as the hologram continued.

"So, you have managed to sort that little ploy out. I wonder if I am right in thinking that it was the Profiler that did it. Clever little so and so isn't he! I wonder why you are still trying to defy me. You can't win, you know, and to teach you a further lesson, I going to initiate a limited radioactive cloud. Just a little one, but enough to show you exactly how much control I have. I have locked a programme into the power stations computer, which will open the scrubber filters in the chimneys; this will allow tainted air to escape. This will happen whether you capitulate now or wait until after the event. This will take place at ten o'clock in the morning. One final warning, however, under no circumstances disconnect the phone line to the power station. If you do, it will indeed trigger the melt down. The line is monitored at all times, and any loss of signal will initiate the programme. In fact that or a word from me will have the same effect. I shall see you at noon, to accept your surrender." The phone went dead.

The profiler was the first to react. He went to the wall where the telephone socket was and deliberately unplugged the phone. "What are you doing?" the P M screamed, her self-control on the verge of cracking.

The profiler said bitterly. "We know that he is able to control the computers, so why not the telephone. I think any further meetings should be held either out of doors, or in a room where there are no outside lines at all." He hen turned to the replacement head of the computer research department, and said enquiringly, "Correct me if I an wrong, but when he said that all it would take to trigger the melt down, apart from interfering with the telephone line, would be a word from him, did he mean that literally? "

The research department thought for a minute, then replied, caution edging his voice, as if he did not want to be committed to a definite quote that might be held against him at some future date, "I see what you are getting at. You are thinking that there may be a code word. That may be true, and I agree with you, but if so, where do we start looking for such a word. It could be anything."

Silence settled again on the meeting, as each person realised that they were no further on. Once again the profiler remarked, as though thinking aloud.

"Megalomania is taking hold very rapidly now. One of the symptoms is a belief in his own infallibility. He now thinks that by dropping a hint about the code word to us, and our not being able to solve it in time will free him from any blame, mentally. On the other hand he will stick to the time limit. We still have several hours to the deadline. Is it possible to crack it in time." He looked around the room, but was met with a series of blank faces. The research head said, "As long as we do not break the telephone line, we can send as many words or commands down it as we like. The computer will not recognise them, unless we happen to hit the right one. I must go and get my staff onto it A S A P. " With a look at the P M who nodded briefly, he left the room at a very fast walk.

The P M called the Transport Minister out of his daze, with the demand for the present status of the roads between Swindon and London. "Not good P M" he replied. "The police are unable to get control. Every time they seem to be getting one jam sorted, another forms a bit down the road. It will only ease when the traffic further out gets away. I am sorry, but there is nothing I can do to speed things up. " He turned away, his eyes unwilling to meet those of the P M.

Shortly after the meeting broke up, and all concerned left. Last to leave was the Head of Special Branch, who paused at the head of the table, where the P M was still sitting, and whispered, "I think the time has come the give serious thought to getting away from London. Personally I am having a Police helicopter ready to take me and mine north until this subsides. Fortunately I have no dependent relatives to worry about, but I could see it in the others eyes. Believe me, they are ready to run, and to hell with anyone left behind. They and their families will be grabbing any and every helicopter within hundreds of miles. " He then strode from the room, and the P M sat on, haggard, She now knew she was dammed if she ran, and possibly dead if she didn't. Her mind whirled as she thought whether to tell the nation about the new threat, or to blame any disaster on the hologram. In her mind she planned the evasions she would have to make later, if indeed there was to be a later.
Chapter 27.

Tony was asleep in front of the T V set when the hologram returned. Its voice boomed loudly to wake him. "Come on, son, time to sleep later," Grogilly, Tony stirred in his chair, and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "It's all right for you" he replied, "You don't need any sleep, but I'm bushed, and I have had a drink too many, and it's all your fault." He stood, stretched, and left the room, adding. "Think yourself lucky you don't need to go to the toilet. Well I do, so you will just have to wait."

He took his time, and also had a good cold water splash, hands and face, to get himself able to concentrate on what was happening. He was now aware that the hologram was insane, to put it bluntly in his own mind, and had to be stopped.

At the moment he had no idea how, so decided to wait for a while to see whether an opportunity would present itself.

Going to the kitchen he made a sandwich, raided the refrigerator, took a carton of milk, and returned to the computer room. The hologram was waiting. After settling himself, he started talking. "I was with you during the T V confrontation, but after you left, until the time you woke me, I don't know what happened. Care to tell me? "The hologram did that, with evident relish. Its final comments on the 'little cloud' shocked Tony, but he also picked up the reference to the code word. Without moving a muscle that might betray his thoughts, he listened until the hologram stopped talking. His reply was as non-committal as possible, merely remarking that it seemed that he had the government well and truly bottled up, and could do much as he pleased when they surrendered.

At midnight they both watched as the P M now obviously at the end of her tether, spoke haltingly about her efforts to avoid confrontation with anyone, Would Mr Walker, please explain how he could run the country, what about the Americans, the Russians, the Common Market, and a host of other problems. The speech was a rambling affair, and when she faded from the screen, the hologram shook his head in wonder at the collapse of his opponent.

"Well, that's that. " he remarked, "Abject surrender at noon. And the poor fools have been trying to solve the code word as well. They are feeding whole dictionaries into the computer, but that won't work.

" Tony then said in a very firm voice. "I trust this means that you will not allow the 'little cloud' to escape" The hologram seemed to consider this for a moment, but replied tartly, "That goes ahead as planned. A lesson must be learned, so that there is no chance of a mind change on their part later. They must understand that I mean what I say. In future orders will be obeyed without question."

Sadly Tony replied, "Is there no way I can change your mind?" The hologram shook its head, "Very well then, will my death do it?" asked Tony.

"What do you mean by that? the hologram said a shade too quickly.

"It means exactly what I said. I intend to stay in the path of the cloud, and that will cause my death, maybe soon, or maybe in twenty years. But you will have to live with that as you run the country with everyone against you.

Fear is a strong whip, but eventually people turn against the wielder of it. History has proved that time and time again."

The hologram said seriously, "They have never had to deal with anything like me before. Therefore I will always be several steps ahead of them. As to your death, I am sure any cancer caused by this little cloud will be curable long before it can do you harm. Forcibly, if necessary."

"Very well, then, there are thousands of ways I can commit suicide. Remember Susan, your wife," stressing the word wife, "and my mother did just that." In fact, I don't want to be around when all this happens."

"What are you going to do?" the hologram demanded.

"The first thing I am going to do is get a bit more comfortable " Tony replied easily, as he walked from the room. He went to the kitchen, and slid a short paring knife from the wooden holder on the wall. After testing the edge, he took a sharpening steel from a drawer, and began to strop the blade time after time until the hologram shouted from the computer room, "Tony, speak to me"

"Sorry, Dad, he called back, deliberately stressing the Dad, " but I thought you would not want to witness my death."

"Can we talk about it, son?" came the hesitant call.

"We can, but not here. " Tony answered, "If you want that chance then come with me. I am going to the conservatory. At least it is peaceful there, and when you let the 'little cloud' go, I will not be responsible for Armageddon. Killing myself is one thing, but being responsible for the deaths of millions is another. You can use the T V extension there."

He slowly walked to the lounge, opened the French windows, and crossed the patio, followed a gravel path down the garden to the small conservatory. This was a detached glass and plastic building full of plants, now sadly neglected, and much in need of care and attention, where Susan had spent many hours. It was a place full of memories, a place Tony had deliberately avoided, for that reason. Now he unlocked the door, the key resisting his efforts for a while, until the rust gave way. A hint of decay wafted out as the door swung open. Then he was inside. By now, the first trace of dawn was lightening the sky in the east, and for a while there was just sufficient light to see his way across to the cane chair that stood in front of the T V set.

As he sat, ignoring the cobwebs, the screen in front of him flickered into life. The hologram appeared. The argument went round and round in circles, neither giving way, nor compromising. It was not long before voices were raised on both sides, and tempers were stretched.

Tony got to his feet, and as he spoke, he walked about the room, his hands running across and through the rough foliage of the few remaining plants that still survived. Tentatively, he stooped to examine one in a medium sized pot, and as he made some reply to the hologram, carried it with him to the centre of the room. Idly he put it down by the T V, and as he continued the argument he picked up a small watering can, which still held some water in it, and poured a little on the plant. It was when he replied next, he allowed his voice to rise in a crescendo, and without any warning, threw the plant at the window behind the hologram. For a second the holograms human attributes came unbidden into play, eyes following its flight. The crash of breaking glass was shattering, but as the pot met the glass, Tony swung the watering can in a short arc, which terminated in the T V Screen. It smashed into the tube, which imploded, water sprayed across high voltage bus bars, and blew the fuses back into the house. The main distribution board popped its fuses as well. The hologram flashed back to the T V , but it was ruined. Smoke and steam floated from the shattered screen. Time and again it tried to insert itself into the wreckage, but it soon gave up. Eventually, it stood a pace or two from it, turned to Tony, and in a hesitant voice said, "Now what?"

Tony regarded it calmly as it shimmered. "How do you feel, Dad? I think you had better consider how long you can remain outside the computer. An hour? Or is it minutes before you...." here he spread his arms in a chilling gesture that signified dissolution. They regarded one another for a few seconds before the hologram asked, "Can I go back into the computer, son? "

Tony swung away, paced as far from it as possible, then said "Dad, there is only one way I will let you back into the computer. I want two things. The first is the code word that will stop the power station releasing the 'little cloud'. I also want it to open the main doors, and the second is your promise to me, as my father, that you will never threaten anyone again. The Creep and Charlie are both dead, and they are really the two who caused all the trouble in the first place. Be satisfied with that. Think of all the power you will have when you lead the way to the stars. You can go where no human can, space and vacuum cannot stop you. Fame is there for the taking, be constructive, not destructive. What do you say?" Tony walked towards the hologram, arms outstretched, pleading.

"When you put it that way, I see what you mean. " the hologram replied. "Yes, the more I think about it, the more it really appeals to me. After all, I am immortal. I'll do it, Now let me back into the computer."

"Not so fast, Dad, you still haven't given me the code word."

"I will, I will. " Hysteria is colouring the reply, as the hologram shimmered. "I only have a limited time, and I can sense that there is now only about half an hour left. Please, Son."

"The code word, Dad," Tony said forcefully, "The code word first."

"Double Death" came the instant reply,

"Double Death" said Tony, faintly, what possessed you to use that."

The hologram now more quickly, "It was easy. It was the deaths of Andrew and Susan, but it needs to be spelt DBL-DETH, 8 characters, or the computer will not recognise it. That will open the doors, and the rest can be done from inside. There you are, now let me back into the computer".

"I will, after I make sure that everything is safe. We still have lots of time, and there's always the laptop. Now, who do I contact with the code word?"

"You will have to call the Research Department, you know the number, but ask for the Head of Department, his name is Rawlings. He is co-ordinating the search. If you won't let me back into the computer, I can't help you more than that. You'll have to persuade him to listen to you."

Tony fumbled in his jacket pocket, never taking his eyes from the hologram, until he had his mobile phone in his hand. He flipped it open, and dialed the memory number for the department. It seemed to ring out for ages until an impatient voice shouted, "Get off my back, damn you. I'll call you when we have a result. O K. "

"Mr Rawlings?" Tony enquired gently.

"Yes, who is this?"

"I am Andrew Walkers son Tony. I think I can help you with the code word."

"What do you know about this, I thought it was supposed to be a big secret. "

"There is no time to explain," Tony retorted, " and if I told you, you'd never believe me, so punch in the word Double Death, but spell it DBL-DETH, no more than eight characters. I'll wait while you do it. Now hurry".

Tony heard mutterings and the click of computer keys being pressed. A pause, then "Nothing, there's nothing happening!"

Tony shouted "Did you send it, If not press the ENTER key now."

Another pauses then a single click. A few seconds more, then a wild scream of delight came from the mobile phone.

"That's it. The locks are off; the doors are free to open. " A longer pause, whilst fainter cheering came over clearly, until Mr Rawlings suddenly said, "How the hell did you know that code word?"

Tony answered, "I told you you would never believe it, but try this, my father told me. I'll let you work that one out." He closed the phone, and slipped it gently back into his pocket.

"Son, " the quiet voice whispered behind him. "Son, time is running out. Please look at me." Tony turned and saw the hologram, now opaque, almost transparent in places, features dimming, on its knees, begging for help. "Please son, get the Lap Top."

Slowly Tony shook his head. " I can't trust you. There is no way to control you once you get back into the system. You would have killed millions of people without a thought, so I can't take the chance. I am so sorry Dad, but I just can't do it. "

Tears filled his eyes, and ran unheeded down his face as he watched, unable to tear himself away from the awful spectacle of the disintegration of the hologram. In his mind he saw himself as an executioner, and it was his father that he was killing. A great pain washed through him as, at the final moment, just as the last sparks flickered and died, he distinctly heard the words, and 'I love you, my son'. Then there was nothing. Nothing but gathering light as the day broke softly. Through the depths of his misery, Tony heard and felt the insistent ringing of the mobile phone in his pocket. Absently opening it, he heard the voice of Mr Rawlings gabbling congratulations. It now meant nothing to him. He dropped the phone, and put his heel across it, and heard the crunch of plastic as he put his weight on it. The voice was silenced. Tony stood a while longer, then went from the conservatory, carefully locking the door, and paced slowly back to the house.

Idly he switched the T V on, but it remained blank, until he remembered the fuses blowing back to the distribution board. It was only the work of a moment to open the meter cupboard, and press the popped fuses back into place. As he did so, the T V came alive, the sound filling the room. The voice belonged to an announcer giving details of a statement to be made to the House of Commons at eleven a.m. As Tony came into the room, the announcer was saying, "The threat of nuclear disaster is over. The situation is now in hand, the terrorists have been found and neutralised" There was a fanfare of trumpets, and a film clip of the Prime Minister, taken in better times, unrolled itself across the screen, to he cheers of hundreds of spectators. She was waving enthusiastically at some unseen event, as the camera zoomed into a close up. As if on cue, she turned to look straight into the lens, the off camera cheering redoubled itself, until the whole faded back to the studio. The announcer was cut off in mid sentence as Tony switched the set off. "Sick " he muttered.
Chapter 28.

Curiosity made him put the television back on a few minutes before 11 o'clock. The camera was just panning into the assembly room in the House of Commons. It was packed. Every available seat taken, the rest of the members standing in the aisles. Frantic cheering and waving of Order Papers as the Prime Minister now radiating smiles and happiness entered the room, walked on, acknowledging friends and members as she went to the Dispatch Box.

Once there, she laid her notes on the battered and scarred lid. As she gazed around, silence fell immediately. She paused for effect, then

"Mr Speaker, Honourable friends," Then to the camera." And to all those people looking and listening, who have been such a tower of strength to me during this past crisis. I can now report to the house that those who wished to destroy this democratic country by threats and terrorism have now failed, as all who have tried in the past have failed, and all in future who will also fail. During the past few weeks, we had to allow the lifting of the London Barrage during that awful storm, " Here the picture of the House faded, and news reel video scrolled. Her voice now background, while the waves lashed the coast, breaking fiercely against sea defenses, until she reappeared, standing unruffled, head upright. "Yes, " she continued, " We had to wait until the group was identified, and located. It was A small group, whose expertise with computers gave them strength, far in excess of their numbers. Now I must give the greatest praise and thanks to those unidentifiable men and women of our Secret Service, who with great and unreserved courage, put their lives on the line, and won through, to remove this awful threat to our community. In the event, the terrorists were traced to their lair, where even though they were called on repeatedly to surrender, they refused, and decided to fight it out to the bitter end." During this, she had once again been replace by a scene, subtitled S A S Video, of hooded, black garbed men expertly entering a house to the crash of explosions, clouds of dense black smoke, and the rattle of automatic gunfire. The final scene was the removal of zipped up body bags, five in number, to waiting ambulances which sped off, sirens wailing. She continued, "I regret that all lost their lives, but there were no casualties amongst our forces. Obviously, on the grounds of National Security, I cannot divulge to the House, further details. Many lessons have been learned, and will be added to the armoury of weapons we have available to us in our constant fight against universal terrorism. The threat to the Swindon Power Station has also been lifted. Our computer experts had struggled night and day to break the codes that would have caused a radioactive leak into the atmosphere. With only an hour to spare, they were successful, and in future, further safeguards will be built into the system to make the possibility of this happening again a thing of the past, never to be reused. I think this is all I can say for now to this House, Thank you all once again for your tremendous support." She made a small bow to each part of the house, smiled brilliantly to the camera, picked up her notes, and left the chamber to renewed cheers from all the assembled Members of Parliament.

Tony had watched, appalled, at this cynical manipulation of the facts. His first instinct had been to call the newspapers and tell them the truth. It was only on reflection that he realised there was no evidence. The hologram had been destroyed, and even if he were taken in the least bit seriously, a D notice would have been slapped on any paper that tried to print his story, or worse, he might even disappear himself, without trace. The more he thought about it, the more hopeless it seemed, until in the end, he swore viciously, and damming each and every person in authority from the Head of State down to the lowest Civil Servant to the nethermost depths of hell, he proceeded to get well and truly drunk, falling onto his bed fully clothed, dropping an empty bottle which rolled across the room to fetch up with a tinkle under the window, and slept.

He woke the following morning, his head one solid throbbing mass, and a mouth that tasted like dried crud, and a tongue that looked, when viewed dispassionately in a bathroom mirror, like the bottom of an old bird cage. His eyes were bloodshot and bleary, and it took a long drink of coffee to start the re-assembly of all his body parts that seemed to have become disjointed during the night.

As the slices of bread in the toaster cycled their way to a pale brown, Tony switched on the radio, it was another re-hash of the past days events. Was there no getting away from it, he pondered. Some time later, he dragged the paper from the slot in the front door, and as he opened it, banner headlines, full width across the page caught his attention. It was all there, including Andrews' name, and a potted history of his work, and recent death. The comparison to the terrorist, and even a mention of the exhumation was included. Tony leant against the nearest wall, holding his head in pain. It seemed as if a bell was jangling there, until he saw the shadows on the front door opaque glass. "All right, all right," he called, and the ringing immediately stopped. Shuffling to the door, he opened it to be met by a mass of camera lenses, and nearly blinded by the glare of lights. Several microphones were thrust in his face, shouted questions asking for opinions and comments filled his ears, and as they merged one into another, the world seemed to spin round and down, and he felt the cold hard concrete of the porch come up and gently touch his cheek.

He became aware of his surroundings again when he felt a cold damp cloth being gently drawn across his forehead. Opening his eyes he saw his lounge filled with reporters, cameramen, and their assistants. People were pawing through the contents of drawers and cupboards, flash bulbs were flaring, and the babble of voices started again. He was aware of an exotic scent, and felt the touch of long fingers on his brow. His eyes met a pair of smokey grey ones, surrounded by black lashes, looking down at him, concern written large in their depths. The face was oval, high cheekbones, a pert nose, with delicate lips under, the whole enveloped by a mass of dark brown hair which flowed like a river over shoulders, encased in a tight fitting sweater, that merged into a pair of breasts that were trying to escape their confines. Seeing that Tony was now awake, she turned her head to the room in general, and shouted in a rather unladylike voice. "O K you lot, he's awake, but he needs space and some air. Get the hell out of here. Go on, move. "

It took a fair amount of argument, but finally they left the room. Tony tried but failed to catch the last whispered asides as the last reporter departed. Alone now, she looked at him frankly, and said in a very business like tone, "I'm Helen Stacey, and I am a reporter with World News, a part of Reuters. The world is waiting for your story, so if you will talk to me, I am sure it will be well worth your while." There was more than the hint of innuendo in her words. She switched on a small video camera, handily placed, and nodded to him. She spoke clearly. "I am with Tony Walker, son of Andrew Walker, the man who was the absolute twin of the terrorist whose gang met a dreadful end yesterday. I appreciate your loss Mr Walker, and the pressure you have been under recently, but the public at large would like to hear from your own lips how you faced this crisis in your life." She pushed the microphone towards Tony.

"I have nothing to say to you, or any other reporter." He answered, gaining strength. In fact this is a gross breach of privacy. You have invaded my home without invitation, searched my private belongings, without permission, so get the hell out, now, and leave me alone. " Unabashed, Helen regarded him for a moment, then switched the recorder off. Quietly she said, "I have many friends outside, and they can make it very awkward for you if you don't co-operate. Understand. They can ruin you, believe me, I have seen it happen. So now first tell me about the connection with the person who looked so like your father, and we'll go on from there."

Tony struggled to his feet, and walked to the door. "Get out. I have nothing to say except that my father died recently, my mother as you know, followed him soon after, our lives were ruined by events beyond our control. You can print what you like; I can't stop you, just leave me in peace. " He waited until she realised that no matter how she threatened or used her femininity, she would not get anywhere with Tony, so she nonchalantly slung her hand bag over her shoulder, and went. As he shut the front door, he heard her remark, 'There's nothing in there for us, might as well go back to the office. This one is a right pratt.' The muted murmur of engines receding into the distance was music to Tony's' ears. Let them do what they want, he muttered to himself, all the damage is done.

The government spent a long time congratulating itself during the next few days, and twisting the tale until Tony could take no more. He wrote for days the full story, holding nothing back, from the time Andrew had told them of his illness, to the death of the hologram. When it was finished, he added a personal note, an open letter to the editor of the most independent newspaper he could identify, giving them permission to use the materiel as they wished. Marked Personal and Private, and sealed with tape, he posted it, noting that the next collection would not be until the Monday following the Saturday afternoon it then was.

His step homeward, was light. He felt a weight lifting from his shoulders, his mind was clear, and he knew that there was only one more task remaining. He tidied the house from top to bottom a place for everything and everything in its place. Lastly he went into the bathroom, and emptied the medicine cabinet. As he sorted through the amassed bottles, toothbrushes and tubes of paste, he found and studied the label on one hidden at the back. As he read the ingredients, he felt the wide choices open him narrowing to a single one. The words that caught his attention were Seconal, and Barbiturate. The usual warning about over use was also printed on the label. He slipped the bottle in his pocket.

A church clock tolled the hour. He counted 8. After a final call in the lounge, where he collected an almost full bottle of the best malt whisky and a cut glass tumbler, he went round firmly closing every door in the house, From the garage he took a pair of shears, a trowel, a fork, and a black plastic bag. Putting these in the car, he locked the garage door and without a backward glance drove away. His route was somewhat random, as he made his way to the cemetery, as if he was subconsciously saying farewell to all the places he knew and loved. Once there, he parked the car, removed the tools, carefully locked it, and walked slowly between the rows of graves until he came at last to the one he wanted to be with most of all. He stood for a while just looking down at the mound of earth. There, he knew, just a few feet below the surface, were Mum and Dad. How he longed to be with them. No more tension, no more pain from such a terrible loss. But first, a little work had to be done. After all there would be no one to care or do it later. He cut the grass, weeded the plot, and trimmed all the edges, until it was as perfect as he could make it. 'Now for some refreshment' he told himself.

The first glass of whisky tasted fine, the second even better, the third was wonderful. He relaxed into a sitting position, his back against the next headstone, the bottle and glass to hand. Time had flown, and the sun was now setting, turning as he watched it from a bright glaring disc, to a ruddy circle. In his hand he now held the bottle of Seconal. Susan must have forgotten she had it, he thought, or it would have gone out long ago. Prescription only drugs too. Perhaps it was still good. He hoped so. Unscrewing the cap, he tipped them onto his palm. They made a small heap, innocent looking. With the almost full glass in the other hand he quickly opened his mouth and took several of the pills. A gulp of whisky sent them on their way. Two more swallows were necessary to finish the lot. His head was rather fuzzy from the whisky, so he just sat there, watching the sky as it turned from blue with scattered small white clouds, to a darker blue with the clouds becoming more and more pink, shaded with grey as the light faded. Now the sun was on the horizon, a ball of fire, and the clouds now elongated streaks of multi hued colour. A faint tremour of fear niggled at him, were those damned pills too old, would they never work. Why was he so awake, when he should have been well away? Darkness was stealing across the graveyard. The headstones were casting long long shadows, The birds were still singing, high sweet notes that trilled in cadences tugging at the heart, filling it with soaring emotion. 'What now' he thought, 'the sun's getting brighter. No, it can't be, but wait a minute, there's someone there right in the eye of the sun.' He screwed his eyes against the glare, and saw two people walking towards him. Suddenly the glare turned into a bright shadowless light and he could see very clearly indeed. Andrew and Susan were coming to him. They were holding hands, smiling, their free hands stretched out in welcome, beckoning. Tony stood without effort, walked easily to them. They turned to the light and entered eternity.

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Thank you for taking the time to read this book. Please tell your friends about it and direct them to Smashwords, this being a great place to find a good read.

About me

I was born in Liverpool UK many years ago and it was when my Grandson demanded 'stories' that I started inventing for him. I did always leave the tale as a 'Cliff Hanger'' thus ensuring that he came back for the next installment. What I did not realise one time, was that my daughter who had been secretly listening to my tales and after the conclusion told me that in her opinion as a B'eD Hons teacher of English that they were, in her opinion of course, better than most of the stuff on the book store shelves, that I should write them down.. So I did. The writing bug has been with me ever since and I now have many short stories, some poetry, and two novels done. This one and a children's adventure story called Rhescue, which will be added as soon as I can. The third one is called INHERITANCE and is nearly finished. That too will come this way.

You can contact me at drewstwos@yahoo.com. The book is available from me in print or MP3 recorded by me. Yes my easy to listen to Brit voice.

