LONDON
Inside the dingy internet café, Sergeant Major Primo twisted his computer's display to ensure that any bystanders could not read over his shoulder.
Carefully, he navigated to the Gay Message Board and input his ID and password. The system immediately responded that he had four unread messages.
Primo studied his neighbors to ensure they were occupied in their tasks or games before opening the first message.
"Hello, lover. Missed you. Join me in the land of white mulberries for some fun. Bring that lance of yours."
With two mouse clicks, Primo deleted the message as two teenagers sat next to him and began playing an Internet poker game.
"This is one of his more stupid ideas," he muttered as he moved to the next message. "Wait till I get my hands on his ruddy neck."
"Lancelot, I want you to wear that special outfit that radiates your personality so much. If you're a good boy, you'll bring it and extra two suits so we can have some fun with the bitch."
Blushing furiously, the Sergeant Major proceeded to the next message. He leaned forward as the teenager next to him moved closer.
"I'm cool if you're gay," the teenager whispered to Primo.
Primo glanced around the café to ensure that the remark had not been overheard. "Thanks," he lisped in an attempt to assume the required persona.
"I'm laying here thinking of those black dots that always announce when you're getting a pimple in your special regions. It's so erotic."
"Where the hell does he expect me to get black dots?" Primo cursed under his breath as he moved to the last message. "Jesus! He must be the one going gay!"
The teenager peered at the Sergeant-Major. "That's cool. Is that when you mix meth with you know what? That must give you guys quite a high." The conspirational whisper caused Primo to shudder at the image the teenager had spun in his mind.
The final message contained a provocative picture and caused Primo to lean closer to the display to obstruct the teenager's view. "Christ! Where does he come up with these wacked out ideas?"
He read the final message, glared at the peering teenager and deleted the message.
"Join the army, son." He pushed back the chair and grabbed his black backpack.
**
After slipping out of the back door with his nondescript backpack, Primo hurried towards the nearest Tube system and caught the first train.
At the first station, he exited the car seconds before the door closed and ran for the station's exit.
On the street level, he hailed a cab and instructed the driver, "Thames Street, please."
In the back of the cab, he retrieved one of his disposable cell phones and made two calls. From his wallet, he extracted two Visa cards and made reservations using two different names.
Four blocks before his destination, he instructed the cab driver to stop, paid him and exited the taxi. He ran through the lobby of the nearest building and halted on the other side in a small park with three exits. He had used this area to train his Pathfinders in a counter-surveillance course.
He sat down at one of the park benches and pretended to read a discarded newspaper as he observed the pedestrians entering the restricted area. Carefully, he stripped the SIM card from the phone he had used and ground it under his boot heel. He palmed the crushed card, stood up and exited the park.
YOU ARE READING
The Shaddad Conspiracy
Adventure“Your murder victim was not an innocent, naive woman. She was on our terrorist watch list. The fact that she escaped from Basra and lived a normal life in London buggers belief, but she was planted here by a foreign government to wreck the Taliban p...
