The Watchers (7 page)

New York

The three-carriage trai
n
moved slowly through the tunnel of Penn station, out into the open. The stowaways were at the end of the last carriage where some of the hostages were on seats and some on the floor of the aisle. Tom and Jay were crouched on the floor behind the back row of seats. No one had noticed them. Their presence had been lost among the crowd.

An Iranian terrorist stood guard at the front with his rifle pointing at the people, ready to shoot anyone who gave them trouble. Permanent beads of sweat glistened on his forehead and ran down the side of his face. Someone said they could be ISIS, which meant big trouble for all of them.

“So, what’s next, kid?” Jay whispered as he kept one eye on the guard at the other end of the carriage.

Tom pulled his cell from his back pocket and pressed the on button. He’d turned it off just before he let off the firecracker in the station. He was pleased that he’d thought of everything. Not that anyone rang him anymore, but if they had, he wouldn’t have wanted it to ring and give them away. “I’m going to phone the feds.”

Jay reached out and grabbed his hand, covering it with his own. “If you’ve got messages waiting, it’ll ring you. Then we’ve had it.”

He quickly turned it off again. Jay had a point. "Okay. I've got a couple of seconds before it rings. I'll go straight into set-up and turn the sound off…put it on vibrate."

“Well, you’d better make it quick, kid. I don’t fancy getting fried by these bastards.”

Tom nodded and once more turned on the phone. As the display came up, he moved his fingers expertly, going to the correct call mode to change the ring to vibrate only.

As an afterthought, Jay spoke. "Hey, why didn't you just turn the volume down on the side?"

Tom stared at him with wide eyes. “I didn’t think of it.”

“Man! Here I am…a sittin’ duck with a friggin’ technology expert.”

Tom glowered. “This is new for me too, you know. I can’t think of everything.”

Jay cast a glance at the guard with the gun. “Just get on with it.” He looked back and saw Tom pausing. “What’s wrong now?”

“What’s the number for the Feds?”

“For god’s sake. Just dial 911.”

Downing Street, London

When Alice burton made a privat
e
call to The President of the United States
,
it had been simply to offer encouragement. As it turned out, the call took nearly an hour, the longest she’d ever spoken to him since she’d taken office.

Alice,” he said when the call was put through. She imagined him sitting in the oval office behind his desk, rocking in his chair as she too rocked in her chair. Alice had never been to the White House and so far, she hadn’t been asked. Maybe now, with her second term in office, he’d see fit to extend an invitation.

“Good evening, Mr President,” Alice said. “I wanted to ring and offer my support during this awful time.”

“That’s very good of you, Alice. We’re working through it.”

“I’m told you have six different sieges across America.”

“That’s right, ma’am. Five of them in main train stations; New York, Los Angeles Union, Union Station Chicago, Cincinnati Union Terminal and right here in Washington DC.”

“Terrible.”

“Yes, ma’am. The latest has come from our airport in Jacksonville, Florida. We have a lot of cleaning up to do.”

“Of course. If there is anything I can do.”

“Appreciate it.”

“ISIS is spinning out of control.”

“Yes, ma’am. But my people aren’t sure they’re ISIS.”

“Oh!?”

“Iranian extremists we fear, but we’ll have more news on that later. In the meantime, we’re trying to contain each location. The hostages…”

“Anyone important?”

“No, thank God,” he guffawed. She knew what he meant. If they were average citizens they were expendable, but someone with a high profile…now that was a different matter altogether.

“While I have you, Mr President, our other matter…” Alice looked towards the closed door of her office. The ‘other matter’ was as classified as any matter could get.

“I’m not sure if I have the time…perhaps we could reschedule another call.”

“Yes, of course. Perhaps tomorrow.

“Yes, tomorrow.” Then he hung up.

Alice empathised with the Americans. They were going through an even rougher time than Britain and the rest of Europe. She was confident the UK could never get as bad as the States, but frankly, it may not even matter anymore. She recalled a story she heard once about the Great Fire of London. The city had become so rat and plague infested, so disgustingly unliveable, the royal society conspired to have it burned to the ground. It had been the only way to wipe out the stench and the disease. By destroying it, they had something to build on, but first, sacrifices had to be made.

A bit like the sacrifices the people would be making in 2028, if everything went according to plan.

Wiltshire

One hour after her meetin
g
with the watchers, Mia was soaking in a hot bath thinking about the most spiritually defining moment of her entire life.

After sitting on the damp grass for a whole hour, she’d requested they stand. She’d watched Uriel lift himself off the ground, using just the muscles in his legs as if he was weightless, or an athlete, fit, strong and healthy. He’d offered her his hand. She paused only briefly before she reached out, and then she gasped as their fingers connected. His skin was smooth and warm, his touch gentle and loving as if his fingers were caressing hers like a lover’s touch. He pulled her to her feet as if she was weightless.

Mia shook away her fantastical emotions; like she was in love with him, as if she had been seduced. Was that the way of the Angels, to love? And was that the way of humans; to misinterpret that love? She didn’t know. She just knew she was confused. She stretched her legs and then bent down to brush the grass off the back of her jeans. “Earlier, you said your mother had left messages for us. What did you mean? What sort of messages?”

Uriel moved away from her and walked to one of the great stones supporting the giant lintel above it. He lifted his hand and touched it, as if it was a living breathing thing. “There are messages all over the planet, etched by her. Have you heard of the drawings on the Nazca Plains?” He turned to face her.

"Yes…I mean…kind of." She recalled a coffee-table book she'd seen at her aunt's. It showed giant drawings etched upon the rocky plains in Peru, in an area of about 37 miles long. An assortment of perfectly straight lines, many running parallel, as others intersected, formed a grand geometric form. In and around the lines were strange symbols and pictures of birds and beasts all etched on a giant scale, which could only be appreciated from the sky. They weren't widely known until the 1930's when an aircraft spotted them and claimed a striking resemblance to a modern airport. They had been constructed around 200 BC. “What is the message?”

“Simply that the Angels were there to protect the earth, man and every living creature upon it. The central image depicts a primitive drawing of an Angel, but the explorers labelled it a condor.”

“Incredible.”

“The most modern messages are the crop circles your people call fake. They are created by the mother. Her message there is clear, yet your people do not see. They complicate the simplicity that is before their eyes. Man is blind.”

“What are the messages?”

He turned back towards her. “You can see for yourself. That is why we chose you.”

“You chose me? Why?”

“You have great psychic energy. You are one with the Earth. You can prosper and flourish when you walk the lines…the ley lines. You are one of many, but tonight this meeting is for you. There will be no other until we send for you.”

She was about to speak. She couldn’t bear not to see them again.

He stopped her. “You won’t know when or where, but when we send for you, you must come. The moment is imminent.”

“I want more than anything to know more and to be with you again, even though I can’t imagine why you chose…”

“Not you. One other. A woman. She can help us.”

“Who is she?”

“You will know soon.”

“Can I contact you?”

“It is possible, but it would be rare for us to respond. Many have tried and failed. We are not to be used for your purpose. What we do, we do of our own accord. We answer to no man.”

“But how could I contact you…if I wanted to? Just as a matter of interest.”

“Use the ley lines as others have. Find a dousing rod, a stick that has fallen to the ground. You may not tear it from the tree. Concentrate your mind on your message and we may connect with it. Or we may not.”

Uriel pulled back from her as the Watchers under the lintels stepped further away into the blackness. The meeting was over.

“Wait.”

“You have one more question.”

“Yes.”

“You want to know the message of the stones. This place you call Stonehenge.”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“It was built to collect the Kudos?”

“I don’t understand.”

“It is one thing to look farther than you see, but it is another to look too far.” He regarded the stones at the side of his magnificent form. “Your people are either too blind, or you read more into things than is required. This is a symbol of that. The Henge marks the place between life and death, what is real and what is not. It is the middle ground, infinity; it is nothing. It is everything.”

“Please…” she stepped forward two paces. “Tell me what is going to happen? What were the messages for? Is it the end for us…?”

“Farewell, Lakey.”

“Wait, my name’s not Lake…”

But they were gone.

Now, at two AM
,
despite her soothing hot bath, Mia was on edge. She tightened her robe and gazed with longing at her soft bed. She wanted more than anything to slide beneath the sheets and sleep forever. Instead, she went to her desk in the corner of the room. She turned on her PC and waited for it to fire up. “Come on, come on…” She strummed her fingernails on the side of the keyboard. There. She typed in her password,
Watcher1
. A picture of Tom larking about in Times Square flashed onto the screen. She was in.

She checked her IMS for a message from him. Nothing!

She did the calculation. She hadn’t had any contact with Tom since yesterday morning.

“Where are you, Stoney?” Mia muttered to herself. “Where are you?”

Tom could feel his cell phon
e
vibrate.
Text message from Mia
it said on the display. The guard was only a short distance away. He should ignore it. He had more important things on his mind that didn't involve chatting with Mia for hours about the Watchers. He could tell her about the siege, and where he was right at that moment, but she'd only freak out. He didn't want to put her through that.

Only moments before, he’d sent a text to his contact at The Star. Tom had told him to get in touch with the feds, or whoever was dealing with the siege, and tell them that he was on the train, awaiting instruction. They still hadn’t called back and that was five minutes ago. Earlier, when he’d called 911, he couldn’t hear or be heard over the noise of the train, so he’d had no choice but to hang up. So far, the benefit of having the only cell phone on the train was no benefit whatsoever.

He saw Jay peer around the seat. Everyone in the carriage was silent. The only noise was coming from the motion of the train as it made its way through the city. They had already figured they were heading West, Pennsylvania way.

Tom touched the cell cradled in the palm of his hand, willing it to come to life. His thumb moved across the screen. View message from Mia. ‘
Where the hell are you?
’ It read as if the words were screaming.

His thumb worked efficiently across the screen on his cell. Reply Mia. He tapped in a quick message.
‘Can’t talk now…L8er’
Then he pressed send. He quickly checked his battery and the signal. Both were looking good.

A reply came almost immediately ‘
Where r u?
’

He touched reply. She wouldn’t let up.
‘On a train…NY siege…Hiding…Watchers no show!
’ He pressed send.

Her reply came back almost instantly.
‘OMG,'
it read.

Mia wasted no tim
e
when she received Tom's message. She knew exactly what she needed to do. The realisation that Stoney was caught up with the siege in the States had blown her mind. Only a few hours before, Uriel had told her they could do nothing to save the hostages being held by the Iranians in America. Nothing!

Earlier, after she’d left the Watchers and travelled home from Stonehenge in the dead of night, Mia had turned on the car radio. The soothing night-time music was supposed to calm her; take her mind everything, but instead, she’d listened to the news channel, to hear an update of the drama unfolding in the States.

‘…negotiations. The hostages are now boarding the train…’

Mia listened as they spoke of the terrorists who had requested a train to take them out of New York City and other places around the states, but there was something else…they were demanding US troops leave Afghanistan. It was an impossible condition, yet they had threatened to kill one hostage every fifteen minutes if their demands were not met. Within two minutes, she’d switched the channel back to Radio One.

Now, while her parents slept in the room down the hall, unaware of their only daughter's plight, Mia ran from the house and across the large garden towards the wall that separated their land from open fields. She jumped, as she had jumped many times before, and sat above it before she pulled her legs over and landed on the other side. She ran across the open field, over rough soil with wheat stalks, lashing her bare legs and keeping her eyes focused on the glade beyond. The moon was full and its light guided her, but as she got closer to the trees and it covered the natural light, she switched on her torch and shone it to the ground.

She slowed to almost a crawling pace just inside the woods, searching the ground for the one thing that would connect her to the Watchers
.
She shone her torch, and the beam pinpointed a branch that had fallen from a tree.
There!
She picked it up and tested its strength.

“Perfect,” she whispered.

The branch was large, but it wasn’t heavy. She held it out in front of her with each hand clutching the Y-shaped prongs as the single protrusion pointed out in front of her. She decided it was the best she could find, so she began to run once more, towards the nearby village of Avebury, where the circle of stones would act as her very own spiritual telephone exchange.

Taking the shortcut across the fields, with the branch cradled in her arms, she recalled Tom’s text when he told her he was on the train. Then she remembered Uriel telling her the innocents of the siege in America could not be saved. At that point, the Watchers had assumed the hostages and the terrorists were still inside the station. But, now they were out in the open, so, as far as Mia was concerned, the rules had changed.

Earlier, when she was waited for Tom to respond to her text, she had searched the internet, Google, the only server open to them now. Many people avoided it, since it was claimed that when they were staring at the screen reading Google, someone was watching them back. Two years ago a writer had been arrested by MI5 after he'd searched for some data for his new book. He'd Googled ‘terrorist', ‘Iran', ‘nuclear bombs', ‘revolution' and suddenly they were breaking down his door. He'd finished his book in prison after they'd banged him up for nine months for resisting arrest and perverting the course of Justice when he went online and complained. That was the world they lived in now. Nobody trusted anyone.

Mia took a chance on Google and typed in Ley Lines. Only two posts appeared a paper from a geology student somewhere in Coventry and another, a fact sheet in National Geographic. She picked that one. She read up about the alleged ley lines and learned they were magnetic currents of energy. Real in every sense of the word, scientifically. A graph appeared showing geological locations of the lines interlocking and spreading in their abundance across English soil and beyond, across the channel to France and further. In Cornwall, from St. Michael's mount, two ley lines called Michael and Mary threaded their way across the South of England, crossing at a point near where she lived, the ancient village of Avebury, where a site of stones stood in two circles within a circle of green mounds.

That why she was heading there now. It was her only chance. She slowed down to a fast walk, as a pain in her side threatened to knock the wind out of her. When she saw the sign up ahead, ‘Avebury’, she picked up her pace, and like a trooper, ignoring the pain, she carried on. She hurried along the main route lined with ancient stones, to the inner circle she had visited many times before. There, with little breath left in her lungs to sustain her, she came to a standstill and almost collapsed in a heap of exhaustion.

Mia allowed herself a moment to catch her breath before she once more got to her feet. The dousing rod, otherwise known as a branch from a tree, lay abandoned on the grass, between her parted legs. The moon was bright overhead, its luminous glow spreading itself across the green, making the shadow on the stones stretch across the lawn like giant tables. She had seen the Avebury stone formations many times before, but never in the middle of the night and certainly never when she was alone.

As her breath began to function in a slower rhythm and despite the adrenalin still coursing through her veins, her thoughts went to Tom when he told her he was in trouble. It was enough to ignite her energy once more. She leaned down and picked up the stick and holding the two protrusions in her hand while the third pointed directly out in front of her, she took a deep breath and then she closed her eyes and began to concentrate.

After a minute she still felt nothing. It wasn’t working. There was no spiritual or physical connection. She wasn’t going to connect with the Watchers and save Tom. It had all been a waste of time.