Untitled *Preface*

1995
Present Day

Hostage 28 sat ridged as his wife lay motionless beside him. The fearsome man who had refused to be called anything but ‘Falcon’ had finally left the carriage; but he had stationed a guard whose gun slung heavily over his shoulder. 28 could see the muscles though his shirt and the cruel look upon his face. Age was beginning to show, however this only accentuated the wisdom. Not wisdom in the conventional sense, not the wisdom of the elderly, the comfortable, the ones who had only the experience of a daring life, but of pain, of suffering, of blood and murder and death.
Nobody else dared to look up from their hands but 28’s only emotion was rage. He and his wife were tourists from America; they had been on their way to marvel over the Tower of London when the train had been hijacked. He had now been sitting next to her cold dead body for the last hour, waiting for a chance to do something, anything.
He glanced in the direction of the guard once more, his mind furiously screaming, then leapt up out of his seat and propelled himself forwards. With no hesitation, the guard whipped the gun around until it fit snugly into his hand. 28 didn’t notice and wouldn’t have cared, all that was present in his mind was revenge. To work his way up through the ranks, until he came face to face with the man who had murdered his love. The guard pulled the trigger and 28 stopped short. The revenge of his wife’s death melted from his mind as he sunk towards the floor. The guard kneeled and stared coldly into his eyes. This was the last image 28 was left with as he slipped slowly into the darkness.