Alex Lawson (working title) chapter 2

Chapter 2

         The Prime Minister lifted his huge bulk so that he was sat up in bed.  The digital clock glared out at him in the darkness showing that it was twenty two minutes past three in the morning.  Who was ringing at this ungodly hour of the day? But then he realised that the country was in a state of emergency.  Well, not the country, if he released the current situation to the public there was be mass hysteria.  No it was just those who were sworn to do the best for the country who knew the true perils which lay ahead.
         Why did he become a politician? At least he had been ambitious and intelligent enough to make it to the top, he did not envy all those below him who made the country tick over all behind closed doors.  It seemed cruel to him that the only time a politician ever got any publicity was when something bad happened in their department.  You could take the most senior and well respected politician who had worked tirelessly for the majority of his life to improve the country without any reward or acknowledgement, and bang! As soon as he makes one single mistake the press are on him.  “Vultures,” the Prime Minister said to himself as he picked up the phone in a dreary state.
         “Yes, who is it? Oh, hello Arthur,” he silently reflected that his defence secretary, Arthur Whistlewood was one of these men.  If they could do nothing to stop the bomb going off at the specified time he would no doubt be pressured into resigning.  Stronger men had wilted under the pressures of the public.
         “Right, okay, I’ll be right in.  This is a good lead I take it? I would hate that you’re dragging me out of bed for nothing.”  He chuckled at the flustered reply that he received, it didn’t matter if it was a good lead or not, as Prime Minister it was his duty to be there, and be there he would.
         He groaned as he rose from bed and felt an instant chill when he removed the duvet cover from his bulging bare chest.  This little matter was not and ideal start to life as Prime Minister.  Perhaps that was why it had been planned for now; hit the new guy with a big situation to deal with.  He might bottle it and give in, he might just leave it to his inferiors, but on no accounts would he be expected to deal with it effectively and manage to stop the bomb and keep his country’s money.  Yes, that was probably the plan.  But this man was not going to follow the blueprint.  Jonathon Thomas did not negotiate with terrorists and he did not give in without putting up one hell of a fight.  This was definitely going to be one of, if not the most memorable second week of a new premiership, but Jonathon would strive to make it a triumphant one.

**

Alex pulled in to Downing Street and was instantly stopped by a barrier with two armed guards immediately coming to identify him.  “Bloody, security” he said to his petrified passenger, the Korean diplomat who had only just stopped yelping in pain from his two leg wounds.
         Alex had driven down to him straight after he had taken the shots, and dragged him into his Audi.  He had then placed two calls.  The first was to the number he had dialled earlier to get the three Nazi bodies disposed of.  He had almost laughed when he heard that even in the early hours of the morning it was the same monotone voice which answered him.  He had seriously contemplated asking “don’t you ever leave work?” But had thought better of it and had instead said, “the rate I’m going mate, we’re gonna be on first name terms by the end of the week.” 
         There had been a deliberate pause before the reply came, “yes, I suppose so, you can call me…Michael.  Yes, Michael I like it.”  Alex had burst out laughing at this, a betrayal of emotion from newly named Michael, the first he had ever heard.
         “Come on, you’re not even gonna give me you’re real name? You know mine, it’s only fair.”
         “Will that be all Laws-Alex?”
         “Yes I suppose it will Michael.  I shall speak to you tomorrow most probably.  ‘Bye.”
         “Yes good bye Alex.  Oh, and Lawson, try not to mount up to many more dead bodies for me, we really are run off our feet down here.”  With that, the line went dead and Alex had once again let out a small laugh.
         The second call he had placed was to his office in London where he had asked to speak his head of operations who was aptly named The General.  He had received a polite but firm reply saying that The General had gone home for the day and any matters concerning assignments would wait until the morning.
         Alex then continued in a lower, steady voice which radiated authority without demanding it, “look here lady, this has to be dealt with tonight.  I’m not sure how much The General knows about this Korean I was sent to follow, but I’ve got some pretty revolutionary stuff which I need to share before the morning.  Is that clear, or do I need to come down there myself with a semi-conscious Korean who no longer has any knee-caps.”  With that, the woman on the phone had relented and quickly reeled off The General’s home telephone number for Alex to contact him immediately.
         And here he was, being frisked by guards who held their guns far too confidently considering they had probably never fired them at another human being.
         “That’s right mate, spread you’re arms, please.”  It did not take long for them to find Alex’s Beretta which he had concealed in his shoulder holster under his jacket. 
         “What’s this then mate?” Trying to assassinate the PM right under our noses? Are you really that stupid?” The two guards both raised their weapons to Alex, and he simply shook his head in annoyance.  Just he was about to begin his explanation, the guard who had begun searching the car cut in, “hey, look here, he’s got a blooding sniper rifle in the car.  And this oriental fella’s bleeding-Jesus Christ, his knee-caps have been shot!”
         The two MP5 machine guns instantly snapped onto Alex as he opened his eyes in mock surprise.  “Huh, what do you mean his knee caps have been shot? That’s my best mate, he’s not been shot!”
         “What the hell you playing at, you idiot? You really think we’re that stupid?” 
         “Yes,” he replied bluntly.  “For the simple fact that you haven’t actually asked what my business is, you just told me to get out of the car and started frisking me.  I tried to explain about the gun, but then you found the sniper and the Korean,” he said shrugging.
         “So what is you’re business then, as you’re so damn smarmy about the whole thing, ‘cos in my opinion you’re just a scum ball terrorist who thinks he’s got the brains to outsmart us by acting like the intellectual.”
         “I agree that someone here is a terrorist.  But I can assure you that it is not me.”
         “Are you accusing one of us you prick?” The other guard said, and it was clear to Alex that he was the least intelligent of the two, as he had a harsh Northern accent and used the insult to state his authority straight away.  Nothing more than a petty thug, Alex contemplated.  Maybe I should teach these guys a lesson.
         “Well officers, if you would be so kind as to look in my jacket pocket and fetch out my wallet, you are more than likely to find an identity card labelling me as a member of the British Intelligence Service.”  At this, the guard with the Northern accent reached into Alex’s jacket and pulled out his wallet.
         Now!
         Alex flicked the wallet into the guards face and instantly spun round and kicked behind the other guard’s knee.  Then he grabbed the stunned guard with the wallet by the arm and twisted him round so that he fell flat on his back.  He despatched the guard on one knee by simply pulling him forward by the hair and kicking his gun out of reach.
         “Well, well, well.  It seems that if I am a terrorist then I’m about to go and assassinate the Prime Minister doesn’t it?”
         “Ugh.”
         “But luckily for you two I’m not a terrorist.  I am actually a member of the British Intelligence Service.  However, I could have just said that to make you go into my jacket and give me the couple of seconds which was all I needed to put you both flat on you’re arses.  I would suggest that next time you get asked something like that that you make the suspect take the possession out of their own jacket.  Understand?”
         “Get lost, you prick!” The Northerner.
         “I’m glad we understand each other,” Alex said smiling.  “Now, if I were you, I’d get up and get back on duty.  There may be more terrorists around tonight, you never know.”  With that he stepped over the prostrate guards, picked up his Beretta from where it had been flung in the fracas and got back into his Audi.