SEASON 4 EPISODE 1
THE PLASTIC RAIN
Written by GRANT FOXON
and SCOTT BURDITT
Prologue
The tube station was packed at Birmingham. Mostly gangs of students in woollen hats and T-Shirts featuring The Rolling Stones in reflective materials. Arun Jones an uptight banker looked at them with distain and disgust. He wondered to himself “How many Rolling Stones albums could they really name?
The train pulled into Birmingham a mere three minutes late but it was packed. Arun’s heartbeat rose as he suddenly noticed an aged television actor squashed in his seat, trying to read a newspaper. Arun wanted to say hello to him, a grin all over his face spreading uncontrollably, but what with the train as over crowded as it was, it just wasn’t the right time to start a conversation with a childhood hero. He would probably make a fool of himself anyway. What is it they say? You should never meet your hero as you will always be disappointed.
With all the people on board, squashed together cruelly like battery farm chickens, the train set off. It wasn’t long though, before people had begun to notice something strange was happening. A curious dripping sound was becoming more prominent. Arun looked around the carriage and could not believe what he was seeing. The plastics on the walls and the safety and promotional pictures for rail saving tickets were…dissolving? Maybe one of the teenagers had sprayed acid on them or acetone. It certainly wasn’t that hot enough on the train to melt plastic!
Arun coughed. He immediately dismissed such thoughts as pointless and irrational but they still lingered. Anyway, it wasn’t his problem, he would just try to move to another seat. He was keeping an eye on the stations when he noticed the train missing all of its stops and firing straight past every station. This was wierd. What the hell was going on? It wasn’t apparent at first, but chairs suddenly began to look distorted as they melted. He had to blink twice to take it in. Panic spread along the train in the next carriage a lot of loud exclamations could be heard.
The lights then went out briefly as people screamed and swore, banging on the door to the driver’s cabin. “What the hell is going on?” he said suddenly feeling the fear.
The youths in the Rolling Stones T-shirts were now pathetically crying as they had been beaten to the floor by a stampede of passengers. A woman holding her baby had dropped her son in the blind panic. She screamed as its young fragile body had been crushed to death in the rush of passengers making towards the doors. Some of the passengers fainted as the train began to rock from side as whole sections of the carriages began to melt away. A cold sweat dripped down Arun’s back.
People were being crushed as they banged on the drivers door. The door began to buckle under the force. The driver sat silently. Panic stricken, literally frozen in his seat in disbelief as the controls that stopped the train melted in his hands. The noise from the passengers was deafening and he was afraid to leave his seat, stricken in terror as he passed one red light, then another, then another…
One youth terrified for his life produced a knife and lashed out at nearby people to get them to move away from the doors. He lashed out at an elderly lady and sliced an artery in her arm. Blood flowed as her body fell to the floor but Darren Jenkins was getting off this train no matter who stood in his way. Soon the floor of the train was soaked in the old ladies blood. This caused even more panic and fear from the nearby passengers as they backed away from Darren. Darren flashed the blade as a warning and then tried to open the door with his bare hands as the nearby control box was now smashed, but inoperative. The button had melted and jammed. All the time the train appeared to be speeding up.
The door protecting the driver finally caved in. The driver sat still, not even daring to turnaround. Then, the angry and terrified mob panic stricken started to smash the windows with their bare hands to get out, screaming in terror at the sight they now saw approaching the out of control train.
Suddenly, the train that was ahead of his came closer and closer. In what felt like slow motion the two trains smashed into each other and the last carriage of the train in front buckled and slipped off the tracks and down the embankment. With it, the two trains fell in unison sending the passengers who had no safety protection out of windows and onto the ceiling of the train as it tumbled down the embankment flinging them all to their deaths. Four hundred people lay dead in a heap of twisted metal and dripping plastic.
PART ONE
Dezak Oil was unsinkable. The Oil Company was seriously rich. Occasionally, the Arabs would cause a headache but nothing the all encompassing Dezak Oil couldn’t cope with. In the Texan head office, Des Marker was a proud oil baron. Money was a toy and Houston was his plaything. He had everything. He sat in his luxurious office eyeing up Sally, his beautiful leggy blonde secretary as she dropped yet more yawn-worthy paperwork on his desk. The phone rang. Sally hit the intercom.
‘It’s Mr Mortimer, to see you Sir’.
‘Send him in.’
‘Good morning Mr Marker’ Mortimer looked worried.
‘Call me Des.’
They shook hands. Des noticed Mortimer’s sweaty palms.
‘I have some interesting news for you Sir.’
‘News?, what do you mean? Des wiped his hands on his jacket.
‘I have it on good authority that a threat to our somewhat extravagant lifestyle has reared its ugly head again.’
‘What are you talking about man?’ Des was listening now.
‘Have you ever heard of an Aminostyrene called Variant 14?’
‘Can’t say I have, but nothing crushes the spirit more than poverty Mr Mortimer.’
‘Quite. I have just spoken to our British colleague, Sir Nathaniel Graham M.P. In no uncertain terms I have told him to get the situation under control.’
‘What situation?’ Des was listening now.
‘We have had a number of threats from the terrorist group the L.C.F.
‘What’s this got to do with us?’
‘Let me explain. A Sir George Holroyd was the Minister in charge of a government department for the observation and measurement of scientific work back in the 70s, codenamed ‘Doomwatch’ They tackled an accidental outbreak of a virus called Variant 14 that specifically consumed plastic on contact. Recently, the department has been ordered to regroup under Sir Graham’s watchful eye as the British government is under pressure to tackle groups like the L.C.F using their best scientific minds as direct military action has proven long term to be ineffective. It looks like we could manipulate Sir Graham to get this new Doomwatch to work to our advantage without them even knowing it. He already has a Timmons from M.I.5 keeping this new group in check and he will report back to Sir Graham, who in turn will report back to us.’
‘So, What does the L.C.F want from us?’
‘Well, they want an end to mankind’s thoughtless destruction of the planet. They see companies like ours as a direct target, they…’ Des interrupted him. Des knew where this conversation was leading and it made him angry.
‘Good God man, I am sick of this line of thinking. These Luddite groups make me angry. Progress. We need oil and we need plastic. The modern world can’t cope without it.’ Oil is finite, but until the day it dries up we can tackle these people with whatever it takes. I don’t think they have thought this through. If they destroy large amounts of plastic, they are actually helping us!’
‘That’s exactly my point Mr Marker. Sir Graham has links with the L.C.F. He is going to allow them to hack Doomwatch’s computers to discover the formula for recreating the plastic eating virus Variant 14. In so doing, the L.C.F will invariably attack and large amounts of plastic will be destroyed. So, who do you think will ultimately benefit from all this destruction?’
‘We will. When they need to rebuild, our orders for oil will hit the roof. So, I suggest we raise our prices per barrel now in preparation and cash in.’
‘Brilliant. Mr Mortimer!. See that Sir Graham is well rewarded for this won’t you?’
‘Quite, besides the L.C.F are stupid. The public won’t stand for it, the people want their plastic. Try taking their mobile phones off them, their precious computers, see how long that lasts, they will soon come around then!’
PART TWO
The black and white television droned on quietly in the background, completely ignored. The wooden case that surrounded it was covered in stains from shot glasses that had for years been placed on top of it with no thought for any electrical safety or the protection of the wood. The television was in no danger of being polished either, even now a half full tumbler of single malt was precariously balanced on the edge of the set.
‘History. It has a habit of repeating itself. Man learns from his mistakes, but not all mistakes are remembered….’ The presenter Nigel Chanter, was having another rant on Channel 6. Yet another ‘Media Connections’ piece of Doom-mongering Adam thought. He wondered if anyone listened to this kind of stuff anymore. Surely people preferred to sit at home and do nothing and expect the government to sort everything out if it was that important.
It was a miserable July morning. A typical British July, it was pouring down. Adam Quist sat alone in his cottage staring out of a small window looking quite miserable watching the rain. A shadow of his former self, he had surrounded himself with books and artefacts of a time long since gone. At 37 he’d consigned himself to a life of solitude.
Enough had been set-aside in his father’s will for him to live the rest of his life. He stared at his father’s photograph.
His father Spencer Quist, had died a decade ago and Adam had suffered with depression, especially as he’d never joined Doomwatch when had the chance. Something he tried not to think about. The sheer weight and notoriety of his father’s scientific and academic legacy hung heavy over him. Unfortunately for Adam, he now sought solace in a bottle.
He always intended to follow in his father’s footsteps, but Doomwatch was dissolved shortly after his father died following the actions of a certain ‘radical’ member known as Clive Sellers. Clive Sellers had ruined everything for Adam. If Clive hadn’t attempted to go to the press over a now much covered up White Hall story and severe cutbacks, Doomwatch would probably still exist.
The road Adam was supposed to follow had been taken away from him. Drink. It was an obvious alternative road to take. A road that many had trodden before, wasting life’s opportunities. Why didn’t he just get over the fact that Doomwatch was gone and his father’s work was done. He’d given up. Even now , he still thought about his father, but could never bring himself to open the boxes that were given to him when he died. He’d put them in the attic. Maybe some day he’d look at them.
Adam was never going to be very close to his father. Spencer Quist was very forthright and was far too consumed with his work, spending long hours at the office. When he finally did come home he never really seemed to know how to express his love to Adam but Adam always knew his father was a good man even though his mother said a lot of his problems stemmed from his guilt over his involvement in the Manhattan Project and the death of his first wife for many years.
His father still felt like a hero to him. He cared about the planet and it felt like his father regularly tried save the world. If only he still had that purposeful road to follow.
‘If only…’ he would often say to himself as he took another swig of Whiskey straight out of the bottle.
It didn’t seem to matter now and the rain pouring down wasn’t helping his mood. Adam had shook hands with the devil. He had sold his soul and now lived alone with his books and his bottles. Desperate for a way out. Desperate to be able to feel like a useful member of the human race. His mother tried her best but Adam wanted to be left alone. He needed help and little did he know that salvation was indeed on its way.
The car sped through the countryside with ease. Faster and faster, the elderly driver showing no fear. The map that lay on the passenger seat suddenly flew off onto the floor as the driver braked sharply.
‘I love the country!’ he exclaimed.
The cow just looked at him and stood in the middle of the road unflinching. A quick blast of the horn had no effect. This was going to be fun. He wound down the window, stuck his head out and shooed the cow out of the way.
The weather didn’t improve, although in other ways the day did. At midday the doorbell rang and it startled Adam. An elderly flamboyant dressed man wearing a respectable colourful pink shirt, expensive suit and cravat was standing there sheltering from the rain in the porch. He was slightly gaunt but still had a fire in his eyes. He also had a walking stick and a mile wide grin.
‘Hello?’ said Adam. The elderly man didn’t reply straight away, instead he studied Adam.
‘Yes… Yes you’re Quist’s alright. No doubt about it’ He said.
A thought stuck Adam. This man knew his father so he must be a reporter or maybe someone more dangerous. Spencer Quist and Doomwatch had made many enemies. Adam decided to get rid of him quick.
‘Look, who ever you are I’m rather busy and…’
‘No you’re not’ interrupted Ridge. The man pointed with his stick to a three quarters empty whisky bottle on the table near the door. Adam felt a pang of shame go off like a firework in his stomach.
‘Look who are you?’ said Adam.
‘My name is Dr John Ridge. I worked with your father many, many years ago now. You may have heard of me?’ said Ridge proudly.
Adam couldn’t quite take it all in, he was acutely aware of a strong smell of Whiskey coming from him, so he quickly shook his head to clear it. He fumbled in his pockets for some mints. The man Ridge just smiled and made his own way into the cottage. He then sat down on an armchair while Adam stared at him in disbelief.
‘Very nice Adam, but a bit cluttered for my tastes’. Ridge said raising an eyebrow and rubbing his finger over the dusty coffee table.
‘Look, what do you want?’ Adam was annoyed. He knew the place needed tidying up but he just couldn’t be bothered, but all of a sudden he felt embarrassed.
Ridge looked up at Adam and realised for the first time Adam wasn’t happy to see him. ‘Me? Nothing. You on the other hand are in luck my friend’ said Ridge.
‘Luck? How? Have I won the lottery? I doubt it as I never play.’
‘Doomwatch. Now surely that rings a bell?.’
‘Of course.’
‘Well that’s something. As you know, it was officially incorporated into various ministry departments. However, its effectiveness and public awareness as moral crusaders for the truth is long since gone. But now we need it back more than ever and to do that we need you’.
‘You’re barking up the wrong tree. Now if you’ll kindly leave me alone I am busy.’
Ridge rubbed his forehead in frustration.
‘Listen you idiot, you studied science at Edinburgh. You are Spencer Quist’s son. You are a natural born leader, you can do this and we need you…’
Adam shook his head violently.
‘I’m getting old disgracefully, I’m probably an alcoholic and I have little in the way of people skills left.’
‘Excellent. Well you could be perfect for a local MP. But I think you are perfect for a new invigorated Doomwatch.’
Adam sighed. Was this guy for real? Turning up out of the blue claiming to be a friend of his deceased father, even though his mother had never mentioned him? Ok, so his mother never liked to discuss Doomwatch and even attributed the demise after his father’s death.
And yet something compelled Adam to listen to this man.
Ridge watched Adam intently. Studying him. Ridge thought ‘Was he ready? Just because he was the son of Quist was he really ready for the challenge? The files he had read confirmed it, but was Adam Quist too far gone…’ Neil Tannahill was assigned to another department but he was still available should he not be able to convince Adam. He decided to go nuclear.
‘What do you know of the L.C.F?’ Ridge studied Adam carefully. The words L.C.F resonated through Adam’s fuddled mind. Then he remembered.
‘The L.C.F, isn’t that…. Weren’t they responsible for the recent train crash on the news using a chemical weapon? Wasn’t it actually reported later as an acid attack?
Ridge sniffed and pulled a cigar out of his pocket and lit it up. Adam couldn’t believe the man. ‘Do you mind?’ he said.
‘Oh you don’t like smoking. I forgot, nowadays we’re the lowest of the low. Social lepers as it were!’ This comment had no effect on Ridge as he continued to smoke while Adam dumfounded, just listened to what Ridge had to say.
‘The L.C.F. It stands for Liberation Conservation Front. An organisation set up some time in the nineties. It’s run by a man I am ashamed to say I used to know, as did your father… Ridge paused.
‘Clive Sellers. I don’t suppose that rings a bell either?’
‘Yes. Yes that does. Wasn’t there some cover up, which led to Doomwatch being split up?’
‘Yes, officially. Clive attempted to go public with a story about a navy military operation that even now, cannot be openly discussed. The government threatened the paper’s editor and the story was suppressed. Word was put out quietly that if the story was printed, heads would literally roll. Clive was a liability. Clive was fired, denied a pension and some of his colleagues were put out of a job. Despite a tarnished reputation your father tried to help him. It was a case of train and de-train with Clive. I know how he felt. I had a breakdown in the seventies. I said and did some very stupid things which to this day I deeply regret, but I thought it was for the greater good. You can’t hold society to ransom, it doesn’t work and the L.C.F need to learn that too. Of course, they didn’t reckon on Clive’s darkest intentions. He wasn’t about to give up. He decided to take matters into his own hands. Usually by force. Clive is an impatient man and wanted his revenge. He travelled to somewhere in West Africa around 1992 and began gunrunning for quick profit. He founded the L.C.F. An extremist unaccountable to any government version of Doomwatch. The Liberation Conservation Front as they are known is a force to be reckoned with Adam. They are an efficient covert eco-terrorist organisation. They claim to believe in protecting the Earth above all else no matter what the human cost.’
‘Not exactly the good guy’s right?’ said Adam.
‘No. They believe in eugenics and Clive Sellers promotes himself as the idealistic founding leader of the L.C.F. Those closest to Clive obey him without question. His beliefs make him feel like a messiah amongst ordinary morally challenged people. Clive wants to protect the earth from the abuse of man and eco-terrorism seems the only direct and immediate way of doing it.
As I said, Clive was a previous team member at Doomwatch, but he proved himself to be too much an idealist to be trapped by restrictions of this government funded organisation. Form filling, bureaucrats created, auditors and officials were of no interest to him.
To Clive, our world is dying, raped of its mineral wealth and poisoned by man and his insatiable greed whatever the cost. Clive sees most of the people in this world as selfish ignorant sheep. The L.C.F is now a formidable worldwide organisation and is linked to many political murders spanning the globe. The F.B.I and C.I.A are particularly keen on crushing the leaders where Britain has shown little interest in their global affairs until now. All this would be easy that is, if we could actually find them. Word is, they are planning something big, some sort of spectacle, so they are vulnerable.
So far the damage they’ve done has totalled to millions. But it’s not just about the cost. People are sympathetic to their cause. They respect their independence. They have somewhere in the region of a million supporters world-wide through a large network if internet sites proxied through legitimate servers. This time Clive might be planning a mass murder.’
‘A virus?’ said Adam
‘Of sorts. That train accident wasn’t so a straight forward chemical attack as reported in the news. It was biological. We believe a plastic eating virus called Variant 14 might be playing a big part in his plans. The Virus itself is harmless to humans so we have no idea how they will be applying it. The train crash might simply have been a test.’
Adam sat back shocked. Ridge continued to puff on his cigar.
‘Anyway. I’ve said too much. Are you coming back with me old chap?’
‘No.’ Adam said to quickly.
Ridge suddenly looked crestfallen.
‘No? Are you mad? I’ve just contravened the official secrets act for you!’
‘Well I never asked you too.’
‘Don’t you crave adventure and excitement? You won’t find that in the bottom of a bottle Adam’
‘Now look!’
‘I supposed the apple fell a bit too far from the tree didn’t it?’ said Ridge getting up.
‘Just get out!’ Adam couldn’t take anymore and his head was still buzzing.
Adam staggered to the front door and held it open inviting Ridge to leave. Ridge slowly stood, checked himself in the dusty lounge mirror and slowly strolled to the front door. He looked at Adam once more and then strolled over to his bright red Jaguar S type and climbed in. He then drove off.
Adam’s heart sank. Yet again the opportunity to sort his life out had now gone. Why didn’t he jump at the chance? Maybe if he had a clear head, things would have been different. Slowly, Adam walked back into the living room. ‘What have I done?’ He decided to make himself a coffee and sober up. He hoped he actually had some coffee let alone any fresh milk. It was then he then noticed a small card on the coffee table. He picked it up.
Run out of cigars! Just popped to village to buy some more. Be back in half an hour, pack a bag old chap.
Ridge.
Adams heart beat began to rise as he found himself unable to suppress the smile.
PART THREE
The impressive mirrored glass media centre building reflected the bright sunshine over the passers by in London’s West Bank. Little did they know what darkness lay within this facade. From the humble beginnings of the women’s magazine ‘Lucy’, the company grew year on year, as it had done now for over a decade making its shareholders very wealthy. The Company transformed itself from print into broadcast media and it produced high profile adverts and documentaries for radio and television, whilst gaining an ever-increasing Internet audience for its many promotions. Media Connections is the dream place to work. It’s a high profile, effective media giant. It’s respected and loved by millions.
It’s also a perfect cover for the L.C.F.
Despite the poor economy, people still read and they still listened. The company was able to use this effective media front to put across its idealist messages. The message of conservation, preservation and working with nature, above all else was always strong. Always keen on anti pollution and the dangers of overpopulation stories, many listened. Those who followed spanned class, race and culture. They listened because they cared. There were even a few in the police force who were sympathetic and one very important British civil servant.
Clive knew that in the East they always had very little intention of helping in the plight to save the world. Indeed, their own people who were starving in there millions. The West was no better, there was still a huge amount of red tape to overcome, especially in the current health and safety-constructed nightmare that governments used to discuss issues to death while effectively doing nothing. Supporters of the L.C.F knew that they would always take swift and direct action. Indeed its membership was always on the rise. Members enjoyed the relative freedom to make a difference, no matter the cost.
Clive sat in his glass walled office staring intently at his computer monitor. The images of the documentary on the screen did not make for pleasant viewing. Nigel Chanter was as ever narrating.
….mankind is still destroying everything around it with little thought to the consequences of such actions. The Earth is going to become a gigantic slagheap. The virus called man is raping the Earth, all in the name of ‘technological progress’. In reality mankind is getting lazier and stupid. The populace have been weaned onto technology and its never-ending upgrade cycle and the mountains of rubbish this produces.
While you play with electronic gadgets and sit vegetating in front of the TV, the government has you exactly where they want you. In your own private ‘pen’, spied on using the internet. The world’s resources are continually shrinking under the human population boom and Plant and animals are disappearing. Nature has tried to cull human growth unsuccessfully with disease. But humans are clever at self-preservation, no matter what the consequences. People are living longer. Something needs to be done to address the balance and for man to live in harmony with the planet…
Clive was angry. This was a terrifying concept. It could only lead to inevitable annihilation. If mankind wanted to die amongst its own rubbish then let it. But the holocaust that would ensue would almost definitely kill all of the remaining life on the Earth. This ‘virus’ had no right.
Clive had taken this moral crusade on himself and was determined to find the answer. His team of scientists had tried to replicate the formula for the plastic eating virus he knew would wreak havoc. The test on the train was successful, but the virus died within minutes without finishing the job. This was no use for what Clive planned.
As ever, the answer lay hidden. One of the files dated back to 1970, which involved his long dead friend and social ally, Toby Wren. In this file contained details of a top secret virus labelled ‘Variant 14’ aka ‘The Plastic Eater’. The instructions to make it forgotten in a rusting filing cabinet. Forgotten by all. Except Clive.
The file documented in detail the circumstances out of which a virus created out of the desire to breakdown the plastic in waste products was produced. The problem was the virus was incredibly effective, too effective. It had an insatiable appetite for all plastic. It caused havoc. It had escaped accidentally a couple of times in the 70’s, resulting in an accidental plane crash. Which had given Sellers another idea that he couldn’t let go of.
Despite the outbreak, the virus was contained and ‘officially’ destroyed. In reality the bacterial council who dealt with these contagions rarely disposed of them. If there was the slightest chance it could be used as a weapon for defence of the realm it would be safely filed away. Variant 14 was much more effective than any mere missile or nuclear device and much cheaper too but far too uncontrollable and dangerous to deploy.
Sellers had an associate, Karl Womak. A loner all his life who didn’t understand people and instead sought pleasure in the artificial world of computers. He was a misunderstood genius. Clive saw his hidden potential and recruited him. Sellers gave him confidence and a point to his existence. Karl was an effective malleable ally.
With the information Karl had obtained, the L.C.F were able to hack into a little known supercomputer at the newly re-opened government Department for the Observation and Measurement of Scientific Work. ‘Doomwatch’ were originally setup to investigate any scientific research public or private which could possibly be harmful to man. The computer was also referred to simply as ‘Doomwatch’. The same codename given to the department. The Doomwatch computer was a machine originally built by Colin Bradley and his team in the beginning of the 70’s for predicted disaster. The machine was decades old but still proved to be an amazingly effective tool and stored a lot of legacy information that badly needed transferring.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t built to resist the attacks of Karl Womak. ‘Doomwatch’ was at one time attached to the military ARPA network of computers and it still had the information on its antique tape reels concerning Variant 14, until budget cuts and progress took over and the machine was simply turned off and stored for many years until its usefulness was properly realised. The computer was now reconnected and hooked up to a brand new Linux server nicknamed ‘Mainframe’ while all of the information was being transferred.
Karl had used his hacking skills to access Mainframe and discovered the location of the original Variant 14 microbiological research station at Beeston Laboratories and the files on the subsequent results from a secret test at Dungeness. Tonight, with the help of a team of trained L.C.F supporters he had he would steal the original chemical formula to recreate the virus.
The training of the men and women wasn’t hard. Clive had been in the military prior to Doomwatch. The recruits were passionate about fighting for a cause they believed in. One of tonight’s team was Clive’s closest associate and sometime lover Carly Whyte. A beautiful disillusioned 27 year old, she was smart and still in love with Clive and believed in his ideology. In fact she saw their relationship now as very much a master and his pupil.
Clive shut his computer down and closed his eyes. Mentally he was preparing himself for what must happen tonight. The laboratory in Beeston was deliberately unassuming in appearance. Security would be the key issue. There was no room for error. Therefore he had told his people and prepared them to shoot to kill. Tonight thirty people would be dead. More blood on Clive’s hands, but everyone had the blood of the world on theirs.
Clive’s conscience still hurt him. He would look into their eyes and pull the trigger. It was necessary. He had to. He has to change the world before it’s too late. Clive thoughts were interrupted by a shallow and weak knock at his door.
‘Come in’ he called.
Clive watched as Pete Wilks slinked into the room, his elbows up and his body language rather submissive. Clive was a good judge of character and knew that Pete was weak and immediately guessed he was attempting to back out of tonight’s attack. This was totally unacceptable.
‘Pete, hi how are you? What can I do for you?’ he smiled wryly.
Pete smiled in return nervously and hesitantly sat down.
‘Clive. It’s just…well I don’t know how to tell you this but, I can’t go tonight. I’m really sorry I thought I could but I, I just can’t do it.’
Clive paused a moment and then smiled.
‘No problem Pete. You of course won’t mention tonight to anyone?’
Pete vehemently nodded his head.
‘Oh God Clive, of course not. No, I’m with you 100% I just…can’t kill’.
‘Of course, after all the L.C.F cares about the world and its people. Now if you don’t mind, I’ve got work to do’.
Pete immediately stood up and offered his hand. Clive just smiled and opened the door. Pete nodded and headed outside. Clive then closed the door and walked over his phone he dialled Carly’s number.
‘Hello Clive?’
‘We have a little problem’.
Half an hour later and Pete had arrived home at his modest abode near central London. He walked in and collapsed on the settee. He wished he had the courage to follow Clive tonight into the fray and kill in the name of justice, but he just couldn’t, he felt like a failure.
Pete was too much of a coward and he hated himself for it. He looked down at his enormous rotund belly and then around his living room that echoed the word, ‘loner’. He was an empty shell of a being. Maybe it wasn’t too late to call Clive and say he had made a terrible error. Just then the phone rang. Pete answered it but the phone was immediately put down. Pete dropped the phone confused and walked into the kitchen heading towards the Sara Lee he had saved for tonight in the fridge. Just then there was a knock at the door. Pete walked over to it and answered it.
Pete recognised the beautiful lady standing before him. She was there with Clive at the training sessions. She smiled.
‘Hi, Pete isn’t it?’
‘Yeah. You were there at the training session’s right?’
Carly smiled at the recognition.
‘That’s right. I heard you can’t go through with tonight. Well, I can’t either. In fact I’m worried, can I show you something?’
Pete nodded and Carly led the way to her black Land Rover. She opened the boot. Pete peered inside. Without warning, she picked up a jack from inside the boot and clubbed Pete over the head with it. She then threw him into the boot with ease and then tied his hands together with rope and closed the boot. With a quick look around she then ran back to the house and locked the door using the keys she had grabbed from Pete’s pocket. After getting back in the Land Rover, she then removed her gloves and threw them into the glove box and drove off at great speed.
Slowly, Pete awoke just as the boot lid was opened. He recognised Carly standing over him. His head ached and he felt blood trickling down his face. She helped him out of the boot. He noticed he was in either a forest or woodland.
‘Wha.., What are you doing?’
‘Move this way’. Carly gripped Karl’s arm and led him through an area of the woodland at gunpoint. The pain cleared for a bit and he kept trying to engage her in conversation but she ignored him, shoving him most of the way. Finally Pete froze in terror as he saw the already dug hole in front of him. He tried to scream but Carly pushed him into the hole.
‘It’s no good screaming. There’s no one here’. As calmly as she spoke she walked away. Pete desperately tried to get out of the eight-foot hole. It was no good. He couldn’t. There wasn’t enough time for Pete to even scream before a bullet was fired into his head and he collapsed, dead.
It was 02:17 p.m.
All was ready. Slowly L.C.F’s team led by Clive in black clothes and balaclavas approached the perimeter. One solitary security guard paced the grounds. With the wire cutters Clive created a hole just large enough for his team to break in one by one. When the guard was close enough they grabbed him and forced him to the ground.
‘The access code for the terminal. What is it?’
Clive screamed as he held the knife to the guard’s throat.
‘I can’t tell you’.
‘What is it?’ Clive pressed the knife into the guard’s neck until it began to draw blood.
‘Alright! 684391 Delta’.
Clive signalled to an operative who ran to the terminal and entered the code the door then opened. Clive smiled and cut the guards throat. He then led his men inside into the complex as they hid the body among some nearby bushes. The operation was over in just 20 minutes. Taking each person by surprise with their brute force. The mission was easy.
Later, Clive sat down with a neat Vodka and ice. He was wrong. 47 people actually died that day. But he now possessed the correct formula for plastic virus Variant 14. All was ready.
PART FOUR
The car journey had proved fascinating. Ridge was pleasant company. Sardonic and slight eccentric, he had filled Adam in on his previous adventures. He also reminded Adam that he should be proud of his deceased father and that he was one of the greatest characters Ridge had ever met.
Adam had begun to wonder whether all this was because Ridge had made a promise to his father before his death. There certainly was a huge amount of respect between Ridge and his father. Ridge had also briefed Adam on the possible likelihood of Doomwatch being reformed as an independent body if the L.C.F where stopped.
‘So this virus. Are you going to tell me any more about it?’ Adam studied Ridge for a moment.
‘I’ve just received news that Variant 14 has recently been stolen and we believe it was the L.C.F who attacked, and killed everyone at Beeston and took the virus. A very efficient job it was too.
‘Do you think Sellers was there?’
‘Undoubtedly. He’s a control freak with military training. Probably paranoid too. He’d have to be.’
‘And this plastic eater. It attacks plastics, right?
‘You catch on fast don’t you Adam? Yes, all plastics and probably some other similar chemical structures are at risk.’
‘Then what happens?
‘It breaks them down on a molecular level. There were a couple of incidents in 1970 with passenger aircraft in San Pedro and Variant 14 was shelved. The chemical used on the train attack seems to be an attempt to recreate Variant 14, it obviously was supposed to cause more damage but the formula used was wrong’
‘But why wasn’t it just destroyed?’
‘Come on you’re not that naïve. If it can be used as a weapon by the military… anyway we’ve got an antidote that we think may work. However, the original virus is incredibly contagious and once it’s released it spreads like wildfire. Can you imagine what would happen to this modern world we live in? We are surrounded in the stuff, our entire world as we know it would melt around us in hours.’
‘That’s bad...’
‘Bad. Bad! It’s catastrophic! The recession has got nothing on this blighter. No, the L.C.F has to be stopped now, once and for all. Ridge was getting excited.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Take a look in that glove box there.’
Adam opened the glove box and was shocked to discover a gun and a case of bullets. Adam wasn’t familiar with guns but it looked like a high quality, but slightly antiquated weapon.
‘It’s a Colt 45’ Ridge smiled.
‘You’re not seriously going to use that are you?’
‘I don’t think you fully understand the gravity of the situation old boy. We’re talking about the end of the modern way of life and these people are absolute fanatics and you have to carry protection.’
Adam couldn’t take anymore. He was under the belief he was asked to assist to make a difference and to stop a corrupt organisation. Not become a killer. After all it was L.C.F who are the real killers. Not Doomwatch.
‘Stop the car. Stop the car! I want to get out, this is too much. You are too much!’
Ridge sighed and pulled over. Adam jumped out the car and looked around. Ridge emerged after a minute and lit up a cigar, then offered it to Adam. He declined.
‘Look, Adam there is no other way. They’re insane. Variant 14 was a mistake. You’re right, it should have been destroyed, but it wasn’t. Now the L.C.F has it and who knows how they will try and abuse it now they have the real thing.
‘Is it really such a bad thing?’
‘Come on you don’t mean that.’
‘But murder...’
‘Look this isn’t what Doomwatch stands for. But Sellers must be stopped.’
‘I thought he was a friend.’
‘You listen to me. Your father and Toby, two very dear friends I lost who would be appalled at murder. But they would agree that the stakes are just too high. It’s just the sort of thing your father would turn a blind eye to. It’s for the greater good.’
‘Isn’t that how the L.C.F justify their actions?’
‘For God’s sake I’m not justifying murder. It can never be justified.’
‘I thought terrorist organisations are like hydra? Cut the heads off and another crops up in its place...’
‘No, Sellers is the L.C.F. Believe me there is no other way and time is running out!
Adam was convinced. He climbed back into the car and it sped away down the road towards London and towards the new temporary headquarters for Doomwatch.
***
Karl Womak had really enjoyed poking around Mainframe’s files. He had created himself and invisible backdoor key and despite the computer regularly having security password and codex changes, each time Karl knew how to crack it with ease and was always straight back in.
It had already paid off as Clive now had access to the virus he said would always bring about L.C.F’s ultimate victory over the so-called ‘advanced’ world. Karl enjoyed this thought and that he, an ignored figure would ultimately play such a pivotal role in the reshaping of the human race.
***
The early 19th century building was rather unassuming. Inside it was very different. A state of the art laboratory was set up. Adam followed Ridge’s lead inside looking around in awe at all in front of him. He was then introduced to his new fellow scientists.
Ridge seemed to vanish distracted by a file he’d been given. Instead he met Paul, a smiling pleasant well-built man with a slight Manchurian accent. He shook Adam’s hand with quite some force. He immediately engaged Adam in a conversation about his thoughts on Variant 14 and explained he was a chemist/biologist and very proud that he graduated from Oxford with majors on atmospheric chemistry and synthetic biology.
Adam immediately felt inferior and embarrassed, but once again it seemed his father’s reputation preceded him and Paul was in perhaps more of an awe of Adam than the other way around.
At this point Ridge reappeared with another man. The man looked lean with an aggressive face, but a slightly camp voice. Adam would discover this was Timmons sent on detachment from a security section of M.I .5.
‘Are you sure?’ said Ridge
‘Yes. It’s seems that is how L.C.F found out about Variant 14.’ said Timmons
Ridge seemed worked up and annoyed.
‘Paul, shut down that infernal abacus! Do it now!’ Ridge ordered
‘What?’
‘Just do it man, pull the plug on that overgrown calculator right now!’
‘No, we don’t want them to know we tracked their entry point.’ replied Timmons
‘Entry point?’ said Adam
‘The L.C.F has broken into our super computer.’ said Ridge.
‘What?’ said Paul.
‘We’ll attempt to trace their geographically location.’ Timmons picked the phone up ready to dial.
‘Oh come on, they’re not going to advertise their presence man! They’ve been too clever. Unlike your department, Einstein.’ said Ridge
Timmons put the phone down and skulked away.
‘If we’re trying to get Doomwatch fully re-established should we really be upsetting him like that?’ said Paul.
‘Never mind him. Me, on the other hand, I’m going out. In the meantime look after Adam would you?’ said Ridge
‘Where are you going?’ Adam looked confused without looking back Ridge replied ‘Out’.
‘Don’t worry, he does that a lot. He is somewhat unorthodox.’ Paul rolled his eyes.
PART FIVE
Ridge stared down at the malt whisky in front of him. He was an enigmatic man but when there was no one around to impress, he became a prisoner of his own neurosis. He no longer felt great shame for his actions in 1972. Time was indeed a healer, and after all mental illness was no longer taboo. Despite that, it had made him feel weak. A weakness that still lurks in the shadows of his mind. Ridge never happily discussed his depression. Ridge knew Quist never looked and thought of him in the same way after threatening the world with phials of anthrax. But who could blame him? Thankfully, he had been stopped. The government paid for his private treatment and Ridge was saved. But he was no longer the same man. He had become damaged.
In future, Quist reconsidered certain assignments because he didn’t want to run the risk of sending Ridge in. Risk. The words echoed around Ridge’s mind like some evil black dead weight. Threatening to pull him under and drown him at any moment. Instead, Clive got the assignments. An idealist who was once school friends with Toby Wren. They had similar ideals and maybe because of the guilt Quist felt he put upon too much on Clive. Certain psychological mandatory examinations stated that Clive had suppressed sociological disorders and tendencies. He would even go on to make the same foolish mistake as Ridge. Only Clive would take it one step further.
One day, Clive would take too much interest in a file simply marked ‘Variant 14’.
***
Adam sat in the laboratory his mind in a thousand different places. None of them good. As yet, no one had any clue what to do next. Forensics confirmed Clive was present at the raid but no other DNA matches had yet to be discovered. The accomplices to the raid were believed to be foolish members of the public, fighting for a cause they really didn’t fully understand. Many of which probably never even returned a library book late.
There was no time to find them.
The L.C.F would already have the new batch of the virus prepared and they would certainly use it. It was only a matter of where and when, but no matter what transport was again a possible target. It worked once before, and Clive thought that there was nothing better than an encore.
The one hope would be if M.I.5 could trace the leak from the Doomwatch computer, but that was a small hope.
Clive Sellers details had been released across the country to police stations and to military barracks and was now classified as the countries most dangerous man on the loose. A press conference was due to be called this afternoon, however, no one dare tell the truth. A fake cover story was being prepared. Something, which hopefully would cause dissention in his own ranks. The story would link him with sexually molesting young boys and girls in the eighties and nineties. This would definitely lead to his capture.
Adam felt repulsed at the actions being taken by the government ‘for the greater good’ which is what Clive Sellers hated too. Adam decided he needed some air and made his excuses and headed outside.
The sun was shining and a mother was walking down the street with her two young children. A far away ice cream van could be heard playing ‘popeye the sailor man’. Adam wondered if wasn’t all a dream. Whether the virus really would change anything or whether he was just another insane fanatic. Was there really was any hope for the human race or human society? When the difference between the good guys and bad guys becomes blurred can Doomwatch really make the difference? Become a force for good like it was in the past? Adam was determined that in a sick society any heroes are desperately needed, regardless of the situation.
Adam’s thoughts then turned to Ridge then the gun and their conversation earlier.
Unbeknown to Adam, he was being watched. In a nearby car sat Carly. She studied Adam. She wasn’t at all impressed. Of course she had never known his father.
Clive was desperate to get this Adam involved. As if he craved Quist’s acceptance. What with Spencer Quist dead his son was the next best thing. He couldn’t believe his luck when Karl found Adam’s details on the Doomwatch computer.
Clive honestly believed Adam might join his cause. He wanted to rub Doomwatch’s nose in it. It was early days and recruiting Adam would do that perfectly. But Carly had different ideas. Maybe it was jealousy, maybe the thought of Clive trying to impress someone other than herself evoked jealous emotions? One thing for sure, Carly didn’t like this idea, especially with so much at stake. This was a time they had to be extra careful and involving Adam was just crazy. It would be easier to just kill him.
Adam was oblivious to Carly. He was too busy imagining what it would be like if society as we knew it was to simply melt away. So many of life’s luxuries would disappear, so much progress, and Adam wasn’t a Luddite. For every truly great accomplishment- an end to small pox, man landing on the moon, Penicillin, the list was endless, there were pointless wars, genocide and above all, pollution. Pollution of the planet and pollution of the mind.
The Variant 14 plastic virus was created as a biological weapon which actually had the power to do good. It could have helped to tackle the build up of plastic waste. The government creating their own chimera to stop another man made problem. Could there even be a future if society continued where it was going? And what of man? What monstrous, greedy demon would man become in 100 years? Whilst in the third world starvation, leprosy and dysentery kill in their millions, what of Western man? Will 80 or 90% of the population suffer from obesity, high cholesterol and heart disease? Teeth rotting in the mouth and AIDS on the increase? It was then that Adam doubted that maybe this had all been a big mistake. Maybe Ridge shouldn’t have contacted him. Adam started to believe that there was nothing that he could do. One man could not make a difference. Could he? So why try?
No. This was doing him no good at all. He very quickly pulled himself back from the abyss. You can’t think like this. This is illogical. In reality there is no black and white. Only grey. The L.C.F may be pure in their own beliefs but not their intent. Eco-terrorists profess to value all life. They don’t kill. But the L.C.F was something new. They had to be stopped. Clive Sellers was mad. The destruction of the world’s plastics would inevitably lead to millions dying and mass hysteria. Human society would not change without a significant prod in the right direction. It would just heal and carry on. Politicians are ineffective. Clive must believe that if something is to be done to bring about change, the L.C.F must do it and they must do it now. He had a point, but the wrong doers would still be in control and those in the right would still suffer. That would always be true. At least in the present climate Doomwatch could do some good. No, Clive Sellers had to be stopped like Ridge had said. No matter what…
***
‘What? Are you insane?’ Paul looked deep into Timmons eyes and saw he did indeed mean it.
‘The leak came from this department. It stands to reason that it’s Ridge’. Timmons replied with dedicated venom.
Paul and he suspected everyone else but knew very little about Ridge. He was the only remaining member of the original Doomwatch outfit. He still liaised with the government on certain matters. But he seemed so dedicated. Too dedicated surely?
‘You’re sure it was him?’ said Paul.
‘I have just got off the phone with Sir Nathaniel Graham MP and he assures me that Ridge looks like the guilty man. We’re currently tracing the hacker who got into Mainframe. As soon as we do, Ridge, Sellers and all the other eco-nutters will be locked away for a very, very long time’. Timmons looked pleased with himself.
‘What about Adam?’
Timmons pondered this before replying.
‘I don’t know. But we should assume that he is in on it with Ridge. I’ll send him away. A long flight I think to keep him out of the picture while we investigate’.
***
Ridge stared at himself in the mirror long and hard. He noticed he was looking particularly old. Living alone was not good for Ridge. He wasn’t a natural loner, but his old school values made him feel like a dinosaur in a modern age. He was actually beginning to feel like an extinct species. He reached for his jacket and decided to head back to Doomwatch headquarters. He had allowed himself too much time to waste and now he needed to get straight back into the thick of it. He had fulfilled his promise to Quist about his son and now he had a madman to stop. With that Ridge decided not too look at himself in the mirror again.
***
Clive Sellers was busy. His newfound infamy had neither particularly disgusted or worried him. His image was now being circulated as a dangerous paedophile that should not be approached. The affect on his fellow L.C.F members had backfired. They believed him more than ever now and less in the corrupt government that now ruled over him. He also suspected that the government would welcome some drunken, yobbish lynch mob who would murder him. He had gone into hiding in a laboratory he had set up a few years ago. He planned how the virus would be unleashed. ‘Variant 14’ was such a harmless name and he’d tried many times to recreate the formula. To man and other known living forms of life it was quite harmless.
Clive couldn’t wait to unleash Variant 14. The incredible contagious nature meant it would only be a matter of time before it spread across the country. It was an effective weapon that would spread havoc fast.
PART SIX
‘I’ve got it!’ shouted Paul as he looked up from his microscope, looking particularly pleased with himself. Adam who had been lost in thought suddenly snapped back into the real world.
‘Got what?’
‘We’ve been looking at this all wrong. Instead of worrying about stopping L.C.F, we should be concentrating on an anti-virus’.
Adam nodded in agreement.
‘Obviously. Does that sample help you?’
‘Yes, but it is going to take months, maybe years to find an effective antidote and even then, how do we go about deploying and preventing further attacks?
Adam thought for a moment. This was getting serious.
The silence was broken by a phone call. Adam answered the phone.
‘Hello?’
‘Adam, it’s Timmons. We have a problem. We have information that leads us to believe Sellers will attempt to use the virus on an airliner. That’s not all though, a certain oil company has been leaning on the government. This could cost the oil industry billions. We need a result fast’.
‘I think we’ve got something Timmons…. What? You’re sending me where?’
Adam left the room making his apologies.
Paul continued to stare down at the metal microscope at a metal dish containing a dead sample of Variant 14. He was making notes on a notepad with a pencil as Timmons entered in a fluster.
‘Well have you made progress?’ Timmons demanded.
Paul waited a moment before looking up from his microscope enjoying the moment.
‘Variant 14 attacks plastic on a molecular level. It seems to be made of various vinyl acetates, chlorofluorocarbons and maleric anhydride’.
Paul smiled at the blank expression on Timmons face.
‘Of course Mr Timmons I wouldn’t expect any of that to mean anything to you’.
Paul had succeeded in aggravating Timmons.
‘What do you mean by that?’ he said attempting to assert his authority.
‘Nothing Sir. You do know Adam is nothing to do with the L.C.F don’t you?’.
‘That leak came from mainframe’.
‘And I suppose it is inconceivable to you that the leak could have come from M.I.5?’
Timmons seemed even more annoyed by Paul’s implication that the leak could have come from his department. Paul couldn’t help but wonder if he had touched a raw nerve.
‘Maybe you’re right. Maybe some one else in this department was responsible. Would you like to own up to anything?’
‘Oh for God sake Timmons! Just go away. I’ve got an antidote to work on. Why don’t you make some optimistic plan about catching L.C.F and assist your M.P. friends in their expenses?’
Now Paul had really done it. Timmons got right into Paul’s face as he spoke softly and menacingly. ‘If you dare make a comment like that when Sir Graham is here I swear I shall have you in a cell’.
He then walked out the room in a huff. Paul wished he hadn’t pushed him so much. But there was no place in life for regrets and he had an important job to do.
***
Clive sat alone. The room was barely lit by energy saving bulbs. In front of him lay a collection of books. He was composing his thoughts. His mind was currently roaming an astral plane and thinking about the teachings of Hsi Yu Chi. The teachings of change. Modern life would change and L.C.F would force the entire globe into a greener way of life. Man has no right to treat the Earth as badly as it did. We do not own this planet we merely inhabit it as a disease might inhabit a host. If we continue to devour, then we too shall kill the host. When the Earth finally breaks apart man shall finally learn an important lesson. Too late. But the L.C.F can and will change all that. For decades, man could have put planned to take make steps to help save the planet. But he didn’t. Instead he let the problem worsen whilst he grew fat of the profits. He was a man obsessed.
***
Ridge arrived at Doomwatch. His I.D pass was refused by the guard.
‘Now wait a bloody minute!’ Ridge began to protest as Timmons appeared.
‘Ahh… Mr Ridge. I was wondering if we might have a word with you?’
‘Certainly. I’ve got two for you Timmons’.
The guard laughed but Timmons shot him a look.
‘I think you should come inside’.
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