Powder burns, p.12
Powder Burns, page 12
“Well, yes. I’ve heard that you’re very popular.”
“I am. My fans will come to my aid at the drop of a hat.” Clarke boasted.
“Will you be there—at the protest?” Kitty inquired.
“Sadly, no—filming commitments—can’t get out of it.” He simpered. “But, I’ll be there in spirit and of course, and I’m doing my bit here today to rally the troops.” He said, putting on a clipped accent and offering a salute. Kitty giggled coquettishly and Clarke’s eyes widened in delight.
It was just as Sam suspected. Darius Clarke’s role here was to put bums on seats and make the people believe they would be standing side-by-side with their favorite celebrity against Drilsink.
“Darius, we’re about to start now,” A young blond girl said to the man’s ear. The girl gave Kitty the side-eye and a displeased scowl.
“Thanks, Becky. Let’s get you seated first, my dear.” Clarke said, offering his arm to Kitty who took a hold, and snuggled close to Clarke’s side. Becky did not appear to like Kitty touching Darius Clarke and her sour-faced expression lingered as she studied Kitty with the malevolence of prey.
“The meeting should be around an hour long and then we’ll have tea and biscuits and free debate,” Darius explained.
Initially, Sam planned to be discrete and hide in the back row of seating so he could keep an eye on the attendees, but Clarke had other ideas. Kitty shrugged out of her coat and sat where Darius insistently planted her—front and center, so when he took to the stage, she was never out of his eye line.
There were two other speakers before Clarke. A beaver-toothed woman named Jacinta whose job it was to arrange placards for the protest, and Billy who dealt with the logistics of where protestors would be best located at the site for the most effective civil disobedience. He encouraged activists to: “Bring handcuffs, rope, and anything else that you can attach to the main gate. We want to make opening those gates to be impossible”, he called passionately.
“And we need to ensure that moving us on is difficult for the site security and the local police. We shall NOT be moved!” This was met by rapturous applause, and a sing-song chant of
“We shall not, we shall not be moved!”
Sam wondered whether he’d just wasted an evening listening to a bunch of Eco-warriors droning on about a bog-standard protest. They planned to cause a nuisance and try and prevent lorries and materials needed for the test drilling getting access to the site. None of the tactics were necessarily terrorist in nature.
Sam perked up when Darius Clarke took to the stage and began to speak. Sam glanced left and right watching the wide-eyed followers who hung on Clarke’s every word. It was clear that the man loved the sound of his own voice and immediately, Sam realized that what he was saying was familiar.
As part of the research for the mission, Sam had been forced to sit through the whole library of painfully boring Environmental documentaries about Hydraulic Fracturing. He recognized that the speech Clarke was passionately orating was from his straight-to-DVD documentary Xtreme Energy. Sam wished he could laugh-out-loud at the sheer balls of the man. He was reading a script that was written by one of his ghostwriters. Sam listened in as Clarke continued:
“According to a new report, more than six-thousand shale gas wells would be needed to replace half the UK’s gas imports over a fifteen-year period. Imagine how that would decimate our beautiful countryside.” Clarke declared.
“Drilsink intends to drill an eight-point-two kilometer well to extract rock samples and test for viability. We cannot allow this to happen. Evidence from the tens of thousands of wells that have already been drilled in the US, Canada, and Australia, prove that fracking destroys water supplies, affects the air quality, and damages the health of the local population.”
As he spoke Darius Clarke’s lascivious gaze roamed to Kitty a few too many times for comfort, as if he was seeking her approval.
“The problems have been mounting for years and now they cannot be ignored. Deals are taking place that we, the British public, know nothing about. We cannot sit and wait for our politicians to step in and save us. They are the ones who give companies like Drilsink the licenses to plunder our natural resources. That’s why the Eco-Rev must step up. As a collective we are powerful. We have a voice and we must be heard. We must act−” Clarke paused for dramatic effect, “−before it’s too late.”
The audience rose from their seats and applauded wildly. Darius Clarke beamed and held his arms aloft to accept the waves of adulation as if he’d just won an Oscar. So, Clarke had revealed himself not just to be a guest speaker, but to be a member of the Eco-Revolutionaries group. Sam wondered what their long-term mission was, and how they would go about achieving it.
The meeting ended and attendees made an orderly queue for tea and biscuits. Kitty found herself in the long queue standing beside a forlorn-looking girl. The two women awkwardly made eye contact.
“Hi, I’m Kitty.”
“Janice” The girl replied.
“What did you think of the speech?” Kitty inquired.
“Oh My God. Isn’t he just… WON-DER-FUL!” The girl said in an over-exuberant sing-song reply.
“Eh, yes, he is.” Kitty’s response was more subdued but on hearing Kitty’s agreement the girl spoke on.
“Is this your first Eco-Rev meeting? I’ve never seen you here before.”
“Yes, it’s my first time. And you? How long have you been attending?”
“Oh. I’ve been coming for a year or more. God, the time has flown!” She gave Kitty a manic grin and rolled her eyes. “The venue changes every few months. This place is really nice.”
“It is.”
“I’ve always been environmentally conscious.” Janice continued, “I used to donate to Greenpeace and Friends of the Earth but then I saw Darius on TV and it was like… he was reaching through the screen and talking to me. I knew then that I had to become more proactive.” The woman giggled.
“I’m in his closed Facebook group—it’s for real fans only! He recommended the Eco-Rev to us and that’s why I joined.”
“Ah, there you are!” Darius Clarke sidled up to Kitty with two teacups, a Kit-Kat placed on each saucer.
“Sorry, Janice, is it?” The woman turned scarlet with embarrassment as the man she had just been talking about addressed her.
“I’m going to have to steal Kitty away from you, I’m afraid.” Clarke simpered. The wide-eyed girl seemed amazed that Darius Clarke knew her name and had spoken directly to her.
“Of course, no problem.” She near whimpered “By the way, your speech was a-may-zing!” Janice said quickly and then snapped her lips shut and her face reddened.
Janice stared longingly as Kitty stepped out of line and followed Clarke to a corner of the hall where they could speak privately.
“Here you go, my dear. I had to pilfer the Kit-Kats before anyone else got hold of them. The chocky bickies are always the first to go—and as you’re a kitty-cat I thought these were perfect.” Clarke cooed in a tone that was so smarmy it made Sam cringe.
Kitty took the tea and chocolate biscuit.
“Thanks. How d’ye know how I liked it?” She said of the tea.
Clarke gave her a filthy leer. “I guessed. You’re sweet enough, so milk-no sugar. Am I right?”
“Spot on. I’m impressed, Mr. Clarke.” Kitty batted her long lashes.
“Oh, come, Kitty-Kitty, were way past the Mr. Clarke stage. Call me Darius.” He picked up the teaspoon from his saucer and watched Kitty with lascivious eyes as he stirred his tea.
Sam didn’t know whether he wanted to laugh-out-loud or throw up. If these were the moves that made women drop their knickers for Clarke—well, he despaired for woman-kind!
“I need to have a chat to a few group members after the meeting disbands, but, it’s still early, I can meet you at the pub for a drink if you’d like?”
“I’m not sure what I’m doin’ yet, but where will ye be?”
“At my regular haunt, The Hoop & Toy on Thurloe Place.”
Sam knew this pub by the humorous name, and by its reputation. Close to the Royal Albert Hall, it was a hang-out for university students, tourists, and lads who wanted to watch football while having a pint. It was not the kind of place one would choose for a first date or a cozy chat.
“Errrr. Darius, can I have a word?” Becky Saunders interrupted.
“We can speak afterward Becky. I’m sure nothing you have to tell me is that urgent,” Clarke snapped, not even turning to make eye contact with the girl. Sam’s hackles rose at hearing the sharp tone of Clarke’s admonishment. Sam saw that Becky wore a wounded, shocked expression and her eyes began to water.
“It's fine, it’s fine”, Kitty simpered. “I have te get goin’ anyways, but it was a really informative meeting and I hope the protest goes well. I’ll maybe see ya later, yeah?”
“Oh, right-oh, yes.” Clarke bumbled and then removed a business card from his trouser pocket and offered it to Kitty.
“My private number,” he said as he leaned in to plant a kiss on her lips. Sam was horrified by the man’s presumptuousness. Kitty drew back from Clarke’s pursed lips and tipped the teacup a little as a distraction.
“Jaysus. I’m so sorry!” Kitty gasped spilling the tea onto the saucer. Darius stepped back to avoid having tea splashed over his trousers.
“Sorry, Sorry.” Kitty said, “I’m so embarrassed!”
“You’re fine, let me take this”, Clarke gentled removing the cup from her hand and placing it down on the wide window sill. Kitty plucked the card from between Clarke’s fingers. Awkwardly she said.
“I, err, better go. I’ll maybe see ye later, yeah?” She pulled on her grey rain Mac, closed, and tied the belt and, clutching her handbag, she strode toward the door. At the door Kitty turned back to see Clarke and Saunders staring murderously at one another, their lips pinched as if trying to quell the oncoming storm of an argument.
Sam grinned to himself as he exited De Vere Church Hall. He’d had a lucky escape there. Gods, James wasn’t paying him enough to snog Darius Clarke, and Declan would be furious if such a scenario was permitted to occur. But Sam had gathered some interesting information and now he had a private number for Clarke that he could give to the A.L.L techs to trace.
Instead of walking away down De Vere Road, Sam checked the time on his phone. It was 7 p.m and his ride was collecting him as soon as he sent a text message alerting that he was ready to go. Sam was not quite done with the Eco-Rev yet. He edged around the side of the building to the kitchen door. The alcove of the doorway was shaded by the boughs of a willow tree and in the encroaching darkness, Sam could not be seen. The hiding place allowed Sam to survey the comings and goings from the hall. It was freezing and the coat Sam had chosen for Kitty was far too thin for a winter’s night, even though it looked good with the dress. And so, shivering, he waited and watched while his feet throbbed in kitten heels.
When the Eco-Rev activists left twenty minutes later Sam removed a hairpin from his strawberry blonde wig and fitted it into the keyhole of the kitchen door. With a wiggle and click, Sam carefully opened the door. He removed the high heels and fought hard to keep in a sigh of relief at getting the damn shoes off his feet. He pushed the shoes into his handbag and padded soundlessly on the ice-cold floor into the darkened kitchen.
Sam sidled to the door that led from the kitchen to the main hall and he crouched down low. He removed his phone from his rain mac pocket, pushed it to the edge of the glass, and took a covert photo without flash. The image wasn’t as straight as he’d hoped, but the occupants of the hall were clear. Sam now knew that the only members of the Eco-Rev who remained in the hall were Darius Clarke, Becky Saunders, and four others. He was sure at least one of them was a staff member in the Library. Sam pressed a tiny wireless adhesive mic onto the window pane and then pressed the record button on his phone app. The first words he captured were from the mouth of Darius Clarke,
“Our organizer asked me to extend his apologies,” He’d said, “But he assured me he will be with us for the event.”
Sam listened attentively as the secret meeting continued. Getting straight down to business a female voice Sam recognized as Becky Saunders said,
“You’ll be pleased to hear I have the devices ready to go. I was up all night attaching the last components. I’m sure they are all viable.”
“Good girl! The training in Vienna’s came in very handy.” An unidentified man joked.
“Most definitely.” Another said. “Drilsink won’t know what’s hit ‘em!”
“Have you noticed anyone nosing around your safe-house?” A third asked.
“No. I’m sure I haven’t been followed. No one knows where I live.” Becky assured her compatriots.
“I’m very pleased with your progress.” Darius Clarke praised, “If we can get all of the activists to the site for eleven p.m. the security guards should be well-distracted and we can keep to the plan.” Clark informed.
“I’m gonna be getting a lift up there from Darius,” Becky informed the rest of the group,
“I have a rucksack for each of you with everything you’ll need inside. All of the devices are wired up to detonate via a text message. We’ll have two each. I’ll show you on the day how to set them—it’s very easy.” Becky added.
“We want them on the drilling rig and unattended vehicles only,” Clarke added.
“Agreed. We don’t want the same problem that the Northern Cell had.” An unknown activist said.
Sam knew exactly what had happened at a Drilsink test site in Northern England. A device detonated prematurely as a guard was passing on patrol and he was killed.
“That can’t happen. I’m not using the same kind of devices they used. They were sloppy.” Becky bristled.
Sam felt adrenaline rush through his body as he listened in to the meeting. He now possessed the evidence that A.L.L. needed to prove that not only was a high-profile environmentalist secretly an Eco-terrorist but that the Drilsink test drilling site in Sussex would be the next target. Also, Becky had trained in bomb-making during her summer in Vienna. Sam could not wait to pass this information on.
****
Kitty Franklin stood alone at a bus stop close to the junction between De Vere Road and High Street Kensington. The autumnal night was dark but her pretty face was illuminated by the screen of her phone as she tapped aimlessly, sending silly, gossipy messages to Amanda Jamison—the target for Sam’s other assignment. While Declan was working at Imperial, Sam used the persona of Kitty to lure in Amanda as her new best friend.
Kitty occasionally looked up from her phone screen, keeping an eye on the road, but she was not waiting for a bus. Within a few minutes, a battered old black Volkswagen Golf pulled to the curb and the door was pushed open.
“Hey there sexy! Fancy a lift?” Dr. Hunter called. Kitty’s eyes brightened and she hurriedly got into the car and gave Hunter a peck on the lips. Hunter grinned rapaciously as she buckled up her seatbelt.
“What have you got?” Declan asked Sam as the car joined the flow of traffic along the high road.
“Well, first off. Clarke wasn’t just a guest speaker, he’s a member and has been luring his fans to join too. The meeting was to plan the protest at the front gate,” Sam informed, “But there are other plans afoot for sabotage. Oh, and that girl you’ve been targeting, Becky Saunders—She’s the bomb maker.”
“No fucking way!” Declan was stunned. Rebecca Saunders was an intelligent girl who got great grades, and excelled at science subjects to gain her much-coveted place at Imperial. He was surprised that she would put her blossoming academic career at risk for the likes of Darius Clarke—but she wouldn’t be the first woman to throw her career away for a man. Declan was sure then that there must be something more than the cause between them.
“Yep. She was trained up last summer in Vienna.”
“Aye, her file says she was in Vienna on an Erasmus scheme.”
“She’s not living at the halls listed on her student files because she at a safe house where she’s assembling incendiary devices.”
“Jesus! We need to get eyes on her 24/7.”
“Agreed. I’ve sent audio and images to HQ.”
“So, we're done for the night?”
“You are.”
“Am I drivin’ ye home or can we do something, go for a meal or—?”
“Sorry lover. I’m not finished working. I need to get to town”,
“Oh?”
“Can you drop me off? Kitty has a drinks date with a girlfriend”, Sam explained.
Declan tried hard to mask his disappointment. He really wanted to do something simple, like eat and chat with his partner. “Nae bother, where ya headin?”
“Soho… But, park up in the nearest dark side street first.”
Declan comprehended exactly what Sam had in mind. Snatched moments of passion were all they had until the mission was over, so Declan would take whatever he could get. He smiled at Sam’s reflection in the side mirror. Sam was very pretty tonight, wearing a green tea dress, heels, and black hosiery. The thought of what was beneath the dress made Declan’s balls ache. He did as he was told; slowing the car to a prowl and then on spotting a side alley with no streetlights he turned the vehicle into it.
Declan drew the car to a halt at the end of the alley where they would not be seen from the road and then turned the engine off. The interior of the car was dark and in the frigid evening the only sounds were the tick-tick of the cooling car engine and their thundering heartbeats. Both men sat in anticipatory silence for a moment before Declan removed his seatbelt and pushed his seat back. Sam removed Kitty’s rectangular spectacles and then reached for Declan’s fake specs and placed both pairs on the dash. From inside Kitty’s handbag he retrieved a small bottle of lube. Hurriedly, Sam released his seat belt; snuck out of the rain mac, kicked off his heels, and hitched his dress up.
