Chapter 1

“Aren’t you the slightest bit worried about that idiot Sarkis running around London linked to you. I know you disarmed the bloke but he sticks out like a sore thumb, and seems like the type to turn you in if his shit were in the fan.”
“Don’t worry Kiara, I plan to know exactly where he is from now until the time he leaves Perfidious Albion.”
“How? Did I miss something here?”
“You remember I gave him a hug when he left? Well I was not doing it out of any sense of remorse or camraderie. I put one of Rob’s tracers on the bugger. The vid will track his every move. That bastard will not be able to go to the loo without my knowing it. Fortunately for us there is no visual link to the thing. Actually, I think he will leave London very quickly. He is not stupid. If not, he would have snuffed it a hell of a long time ago in the company he keeps.”
“I’ll take your word for it. That bastard gave me the creeps. How could you work with someone like that?”
“Look, he’s actually not that bad. I bit rough around the edges but a damn good soldier and very loyal. I honestly think that he thought he had a chance of getting me to go to Liberia. He was being genuine. The trouble with him is the company he keeps.”
“Can we come out now? We’ve got your drinks ready, liquid Prozac all around,” a male voice spoke from the kitchen.
“OK, but only if you behave. Rob how do you get the vid to track that tracer you gave me.”
Rob emerged with a large pot of coffee, the sugar bowl and a pitcher of milk. ” I set the code a few days ago, it should be a simple command to get it moving. Just for giggles see if you can do the command verbally. I hope the thing works. It cost me a few bob and a bit of arm twisting.”
David carried the cups and saucers in his hands, trying to avoid dropping them in front of Michaela. His mother-in-law would have killed him if he even chipped any of her wedding present.

“Vid, track tracer.”
“Tracing already activated.”
“What?”
“RL6B Tracer activated upon placement.”
“Nice touch, Rob.”
Rob had been looking at the vid as it spoke, a habit he found hard to break dating from when Teresa, his late-girlfriend, used it to call him frequently. He had justified this by remembering that his mother had always told him to look at the person talking to him. Teresa pointed out that the vid was not a person therefore the rules did not apply. This had no effect on Rob. “Vid sound on!” Rob exclaimed, ignoring rules of courtesy for guests. What was being said on the vid preempted any explanation of his actions. The small tracer screen was quickly relegated to top left hand corner of the vid, revealing the scenes of destruction unfolding as they watched.
“I don’t believe it, someone blew up the fucking British Open.” Rob never admitted it but, he had always wanted to play golf but never got ‘round to it.
“Shh,” was the response from his companions. Kiara was fascinated by the unfolding carnage but after the tension of their arrival, coffee was a higher priority. She poured four cups, nearly spilling it several times as her friends settled themselves onto the assorted furniture.
“A new group calling itself Free Caledonia has launched its campaign for an independent Scotland today, the vid intoned. The bomb was placed under the spectator stands near the Royal and Ancient Golf Club in St Andrews. Our sports reporter who was on the 17th hole when the bomb went off joins us now. Gregory, we see pictures of the devastation, can you add anything.”
“Ah,.. yes. I can tell you that there are bodies everywhere around the R.A. and the nearby stands. The stands took the brunt of the explosion. Euro-police and emergency officials estimate that over 300 are killed and many more injured. Several coast guard ships are sitting off the coast providing helicopter support for the rescue operation. The RA building is largely intact although one side is highly scorched. Those inside at the time were slightly injured. This is a dark day for the fraternity of golf, that venerable Scottish institution. This aggression will be a severe blow to golf tourism. This is a great act of barbarism…”
“Gregory, I must cut in, we have just received a statement from the hitherto unknown terrorist group called Free Caledonia. The statement claiming responsibility for this outrage came in two languages, Scots Gaelic and English. “Citizens of the Union, we encourage you to tell your government to remove its occupying force from sovereign Scottish soil. We demand the immediate end to the illegal occupation Scots land including the Coastal isles and all oil platforms in territorial waters. The withdrawal should be completed no later than Burns Night next year. If the Union wishes to stop any further attacks, we require immediate entrance into negotiations.”
“Union officials expressed dismay at yet another atrocity by a separatist group in the Union. This is not the first of its kind this year. In fact Scotland has been unusual in the fact that there have been no such attacks in recent memory. Except for the now quiet BASH, the former UK had been unusual in the Union for its lack of violent separatist groups. We now have with us the Governor of the Western Provinces, Rupert Oakley-Sharkey, who was attending the open at the time of the bomb but escape injury as he was in a local hostelry with Asian dignitaries.”
“Thank you. I can assure all citizens of the Union residing in Scotland that we shall do everything we can to prevent any further attacks. I shall be liasing with my northern colleagues and allocating as many resources as they need to apprehend the perpetrators of such a heinous attack. I can confirm that so far there are at least 300 dead and many badly injured. I offer condolences to the family members of all on the guests of the Union attending this event. For those citizens of the Union with relatives here at this event, we have set up a help line for further information. Thank you.”
“That was Governor of the Western Provinces, Rupert Oakley-Sharkey, talking to you live from the scene of today’s attack. We shall return to St. Andrews when we have more details. Now we got to the Greece-Macedonia border where there have been further clashes between European-Police and Greek protesters over the publication of a book assigning Macedonian nationality to Alexander the Great. Several villages on the Macedonian side of the border have been burned. Greek rioters have been killed by the forces of the Kingdom of Macedonia. The Macedonian King Alexander XX has condemned this intrusion onto sovereign soil and has put his army on high alert. There were reports that Union soldiers of Greek appearance participated in the disturbances. Union units in Greece have been put on high alert after automatic weapons fire hit several key Union buildings.” Scenes of rioting and the burning of both the Union and Macedonian flag filled the screen, interspersed with pictures of Macedonian and Union army units mobilizing. “Union President Moritizio Heath has condemned the actions of both sides and appealed for calm. He has sent an envoy to Macedonia to try to calm tempers…”
Michaela spoke first, “vid mute.” She reached for her rapidly cooling coffee and took a long drink.
“It took the Scots long enough to join in…slow about these things aren’t they?” Quipped Rob.
“Well, look at it this way. It will take some of the heat of those of us in London. They will send all the men they can spare off to Scotland, giving us some peace for a change,” added David.
Michaela and Kiara said nothing and continued to drink their coffee and nibble on the biscuits David had scrounged in the kitchen.
“Michaela, what about checking on the progress of your tall friend?”
“Yes, David I guess you have a point there. None of this news affects us anyway.”
“Wonder when Wales will get in on the act? There has been no trouble there since the Labour Party gave them an assembly back in the 90s. When the Union wound it up, there was barely a flutter from anyone except Plaid Cymru, and they had screwed it up so badly no one else cared. My mates tell me that there is been a big increase in the use of Welsh these days. Annoys the Union officials but there is not much they can do about it. My mum tells me non-Celts are speaking Welsh just to rebel against the Union. I wish I had paid better attention in my Welsh classes. I am pretty crap at it I must admit.”
“They didn’t teach Cymru in Pembroke did they? I thought Pembrokeshire was Little England beyond Wales and they didn’t teach Welsh.”
“Michaela, my mother made me take it privately. I hated my teacher and fancied one of the girls in class. Spent more time daydreaming than learning I guess.”
“David you can be such a pin-head at times.”
“Watch it, the next time you gang up on me with my mother I am leaving you. You and your mother were awful to me at the reception. Picking on your husband, the first day of the marriage!”
“Oh, quit whinging, thanks to your mother, we got that lovely little chapel down by the water in Castle Martin. It may have been cold, but it was the most romantic place I have ever been. Tough on the older relatives though. I am glad the Holyland Hotel was so warm.”
“Oh…Kiara, we had better watch out. They’re going to have a row.”
“Shut up Rob. When are you going to ask me to marry you anyway?”
“Oh, uh. I think I’ll go make some more coffee.” Rob’s exit was followed by a trail of laughter as his friends took delight in his facial expression.
David and Michaela knew why he was reluctant to talk about marriage. Fortunately, so did Kiara. They warned her that after Michaela’s marriage that the subject was still difficult for Rob. The pain of Teresa’s murder was still fresh in Rob’s mind. Michaela feared that he might never get over it or that he would lose Kiara because of it.
With the death of Pius, Teresa’s murderer and their last major tormentor, the foursome’s life had become relatively easy and calm. The same could not be said for the Union, however. As the latest scenes of chaos in Greece filled the screen Michaela, Kiara, David and Rob finished their new cups of coffee. The silence broken only by the sound of the vid informing them that Sarkis had left London and boarded a flight for Strasbourg.
Michaela cleared up after the coffee and biscuits to prepare for dinner. As she left the room to offer her help Kiara, she asked David, “I understand you’re taking Michaela to a classical concert in crypt at Smith Square Church. Do have any idea what is on the program?”
“Well, it is supposed to be a recital of banned works. A mate of mine gave us some tickets in exchange for a piece of cyber-kit. Actually, he paid me and gave me the tickets as well. It is a very exclusive place, I hear. Black tie and fancy frock all the way. That reminds me, I have to go buy a DJ and a bow tie.”
“What banned works?”
Forgetting that Kiara had been out of the country for many years, David replied forcefully, “You know Wagner, Elgar, Rule Britannia, that sort of stuff. The Nationalistic music the Union so hates.”
“Aren’t you worried the pace will get raided by the pols?”
“Nah, several of the regular audience are Union officials based in London. I am told it is popular with the German & Austrian contingent of Union representatives.”
Rob interrupted, “David why didn’t you tell me. I know a great bespoke tailor in Rochester Row in Westminster.”
“Isn’t that kind of expensive? I have no idea when I will use the thing again. Tech dealers rarely are required to dress in formal attire, unless it is leather of course. Hey…I got it, why don’t I get a black leather DJ, with a bit of kevlar for good measure.”
“Uh yes David, I thought you worried about the cost?”
“Oh come on Rob, a leather DJ, just what I always wanted. David Coverdale wore one when he married Tawny Octane back in 1988.”
“David, you pathetic metalhead. Grow-up!”
“Piss off, Mr Fulham FC. Losers every year.”
“Look boys, I am going to help Michaela with supper. Why don’t you set the table or something useful for a change?” She paused and looked at David, “I think you would look smart in a black leather DJ, it suits you.” She walked off to join Michaela.
“Vid get me Wittaker & Co.”
“One moment please, no video link available. Only audio line.”
A man whose accent was not of the 21st or 20th Century answered the phone. “Hello. May I help you, sir? I apologise for having no visual link but my employer has a distaste for modern communications.” Reginald Whittiker’s father had been most put out when the Union required him to purchase a touch tone phone in 09’. Having to give up his fifty year old phone almost killed the man and not long after that he handed the business to his son. Humphrey, who soon earned a stiff rebuke for hiring a woman assistant.
Rob spoke up realising that David was reluctant to do so. “Hello Gerald, this is Teresa Agnelli’s fiancee. I have a friend here who requires your talents.”
David could see from Rob’s face that mentioning Teresa brought him intense pain, he was grimacing in anticipation of what was about to come.
” Oh sir, her death was a terrible tragedy. I feel for you and her family to this day. She was such a nice girl, generous as well. I trust you still have that suit I made for you. If you need it adjusted bring it in and I will alter it free of charge.”
“That is terribly kind, it was nice of you to send a bouquet to her funeral. It meant a great deal to Mr Agnelli. When can we come for a fitting.”
Gerald propped his appointment book on the side of the table so he could see it in the fading afternoon light. “I am free 4p.m. tomorrow. I have to see someone at 3p.m. to repair a tweed suit. It seems that it was injured in some sort of altercation at the open.
“4 p.m. will be fine. See you then. Oh, yes, would it be possible to fashion a dinner jacket and trousers out of leather? My friend seems keen on the idea.”
“Yes there is no problem, we have made at least one before. Before my time, but I am sure the pattern still exists. Good day.”
“Thank you Gerald, I look forward to seeing you again.”
Rob turned to David and began to explain how he had come to know Whittaker & Co.
“Teresa took me there before I met her parents the first time. She paid for me to have a bespoke three-piece suit of my choice. It seems her family had been going to Whittaker & Co for generations. I went back several times until Teresa’s death. After that, I could not really face it.”
“No need to explain. I understand. Fancy an ale?”
“Sure, I’ll just wait around here for the next disaster.” He did not have to wait long.