Cainowrimo

[Cain]

Offices of the Ipswich Inquirer, 3:07 PM


"So are you coming or not then" Ryan asked, with a smile on his face.  He leant back on the desk, looking at her.

"Coming where?" Jessica replied.  She kept on typing for a moment, then looked up.  "Oh, come on now.  I am not going on another mystery trip with you, not after the last time!"

He stood up, dusting off his sleeves.  "Oh come on, it was fun, wasn't it?"  Noticing her stare, he decided to give in.  "OK, I'll level.  How about you and I spend a night alone in the woods, hanging around a joint US-UK air base?  It'll be good, I promise."

She raised an eyebrow.  "Why, what exactly have you heard about this air-base?  Its not another boring story on the UFO mystery is it?  That thing happened 30 years ago, we don't need to go to the woods to write yet another filler piece on an essentially unsolved mystery.  What are you hoping to find up there that's new, anyway."

"Ah ah, don't be so hasty now Jess.  As it happens, it is not anything to do with UFOs.  At least, I very much doubt it."  Ryan explained, "every Friday for the last two months, people have reported seeing strange lights in the sky over the woods.  Very fast, manoeuvrable lights, darting in and out around the base.  Sounds a little odd to me, a little too regular."

"Lights in the sky?" Jessica returned, skeptically.  "Lots of people see lights in the sky on Friday's you goofball, it's normally half of their weekly paycheck, spent on booze."

"Well yes, I originally thought that too.  But it apparently checks out.  I, uh, have a friend on the base-

"You mean some squaddie you got drunk in a bar once, of course."

"- and anyway, according to him, the alert status at the base hasn't changed once.  I think that is more than a little odd, since we're having a little crisis with the Russians right now, and last time that happened, they buzzed our coast with bombers."

"So what do you think it is?  And, more importantly, what's our angle?  I'm pretty sure spying on the military is, like, not something I want to brag about in print without a good reason."

"I'm glad you asked" Ryan smiled.  "To your first question, I think its an experimental military aircraft.  And as to our angle, beyond the noble pursuit of truth and the freedom of the press, is that I think the stress in my last sentence is on the "experimental part."  Scorch marks have been seen in the woods.  Lots more dead animals than is usual as well.  Could be nothing, of course.  But if this aircraft is involved, then there is significant risk involved in flying it so close to Ipswich.  I'd like to track its flight path, maybe for 3 Friday's in a row, and check those areas to see if it has an effect on wildlife, or leaves any scorch marks or anything."

"Makes sense.  Might even be a worthy story.  But one more question...why do you need me?"

"Well", he said, "I need someone else to talk to while hanging around the woods all night, or I'll get lonely.  Are you in?


Rendlesham Forest, 8:47 PM

"I can't believe I signed up for this" Jess said for the third time, as she changed the batteries in her torch.  "I could have been down at the Kings Arms for at least an hour by now, drinking gin and tonic until I threw up.  But no, I had to go out in the woods, and trudge through mud, in the dark..."

"Oh come on.  We'll be getting an entirely free light show in a few minutes, if I'm right" Ryan countered.

"Joy" Jess responded, less than enthusiastic.  She was on a bit of a downer, she supposed.  Only out of University for three years, and she was already a junior reporter, due to hard work and no amount of small luck.  Most of her friends were either still shuffling pieces of paper around in pointless office jobs.  Or doing something fancy and high-paying, but they hated.  At least she was working at what she always wanted to be, and enjoyed doing.  Well, mostly, with tonight being one of those few exceptions.

She looked over to Ryan.  He, of course, was loving every minute of this, she could tell, even with the dark mostly hiding his face.  He always did, that was half the problem.  He was like a kid in a candy store when it came to a story, no matter what it was.  The world endlessly fascinated him, and the only thing more fun than hearing about something new, was going out and finding it for himself.  It was infectious, but sometimes you really just wanted to punch him in the face.  And just then, as it started raining, she could feel that urge.

"So what time has this happened previously" she asked, hunching down next to him, behind an especially large tree which was protecting Ryan from the worst of the rain.  "Also, do you have the coffee flask?"

"Oh yes, here you are" he fished around in his backpack absently, then pulled it out.  Jess poured herself a cup, then drew a flask from her pocket and poured some liquid in as Ryan explained.  "The times have varied actually.  The earliest reports have been from just before 9pm, though most are either from around 11:30, or just after two.  That makes sense, I guess, since most people are going to be out on the streets at that time, so there is a greater chance of seeing something."  He paused a second.  "Did you just put scotch in that?"

"No, brandy.  So, what you are saying is that you think it could appear at any time now, but in actuality, we could be out here for another 5 hours before we see anything?"

"Yes" he said, a grin on his face.  "Now you know why I brought you along."

"I'm starting to wish you hadn't."  She sipped the warming drink, and resigned herself to waiting.  Luckily, for both of them, the wait was not too long.  It had been about three quarters of an hour, and Ryan was pouring himself another coffee, when he caught something in the corner of his eye.

"Did you see that?"

"What?"

"Get up, quickly!  Its over here, you see?"  Ryan extended a hand and helped Jess from where she had been crouching, then pointed off to the left from their current position.  It flickered, then vanished briefly, but very clearly in the night sky, there was a dancing light in the sky, quite separate from the dimly twinkling stars that formed the backdrop of the night.  He turned to Jess, a grin so wide it threatened to split his head in half on his face. 

"Don't get excited too soon, boy scout.  That could be anything up there.  Hey, I think its coming closer, do you want me to grab the camera?"

"Please, yes.  Thanks" he said, taking the handheld device and pointing it more or less at where the strange light was now zig-zagging.  "Its almost going too fast...hang on, got it!  And gone again.  Wait, I think that's it there."

"Its still heading this way, though pretty haphazardly.  Um, Ryan...?"

"Yes Jess?" Ryan asked, still distracted trying to track the light.

"Did you pick this spot knowing the...whatever it is up there, that it would be coming this way?"

"Yes.  Why?"

"Well, did it occur to you that something which may be causing animals to drop dead all over the woods might not be the best thing to have fly directly over our heads?"

"Uh, well, now you mention it, perhaps we should, uh, move out of the way or something.  Yes, we should definitely move.  Can you pass me my bag?"  Dropping the switched off camera into his bag, he pulled a strap over his shoulder and said "ready?  OK, lets go."



Rendlesham Forest, 10:15 PM

"Ryan, I can't help but notice we are not heading back to the car.  Is there a reason for this?"

"Yes, there is in fact.  And even better, its not because I'm lost."

"Well, I am certainly glad to hear that!" Jess replied dryly.  "So, what are we doing then?"

"Well, if I read this map correctly, there should be a road up here.  And once we cross past that, we should start going up to the small hill near where the camp site is.  With any luck, we should get some decent footage from there."  He looked up, both apprehensive and fascinated at the same time.    They had seen flashes of light, from one side or the other, but nothing directly overhead, to their relief.

The lights themselves were odd, though.  More often than not they appeared as sustained flashes, then vanished again.  Sometimes it was seamless, but at other times it seemed quite disjointed, as if it was not so much a flying vehicle up there as one which temporarily dislocated itself, only to reappear elsewhere moments later.  It was...unnatural, and so deeply disturbing, on an instinctual level.

True to his word, they hit the road only a minute later.  Bearing south, they planned to hit the camp site perimeter in only another five minutes.  But then, something quite unexpected happened.  Just as he and Jess had stopped to catch their breath, they heard a crack in the wood.  That in and of itself meant nothing.  Things went crack in the wood all the time.  Well, maybe not quite that often, but certainly enough for it to be normal.  However, the swiftly cut off swearing that followed probably had a human element.  Probably, thought Ryan.  Dear God I hate the way my brain thinks sometimes.  Then again, an alien wasn't likely to say "fucking hell" before being hushed by others.

He turned off the torch, and turned to Jess.  It was incredibly dark, but as his eyes adjusted, he realized he could use the starlight to see her.  The tree cover was not as heavy here, either.  He whispered "I guess you heard that?"

"Yes" she whispered back.  "It could be a camper, maybe?"  She sounded more hopeful and less convincing than she had meant to, and Ryan picked up on that.

"At this time of year?  Its nearly winter!"

[Cain]

Note: this may help

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rendlesham_Forest_Incident

The Rendlesham Forest Incident is the name given to a series of reported sightings of unexplained lights and the alleged landing of an extraterrestrial spacecraft in Rendlesham Forest, Suffolk, England in late December 1980. It is perhaps the most famous UFO event to have happened in Britain, ranking amongst the best-known UFO events worldwide. It has been compared to the Roswell UFO incident in the United States and is commonly referred to as "Britain's Roswell" or the "English Roswell".

Following the event, the Ministry of Defence (MoD) denied that it posed any threat to national security and stated that it was therefore never investigated as a security matter. Later evidence indicated that there was a substantial MoD file on the subject and this led to claims of a cover-up. Some interpreted this as part of a larger pattern of information suppression concerning the true nature of unidentified flying objects, by both the United States and British governments (see the UFO conspiracy theory). However, when the file was released in 2001 it turned out to consist mostly of internal correspondence and responses to inquiries from the public. The lack of any in-depth investigation confirmed that the case was never taken seriously by the MoD.

[Payne]

Sweet

[Cain]

"Alright then....it's a soldier.  RAF guys.  Whatever.  What do you want to do?"

He bit his lip and thought about it for a moment.  One on hand, being caught out by the military, with a camera and his press ID, was not appealing.  On the other hand, they were not on the base territory and their video was clearly not taking pictures of the base.  On the other other hand, they were military guys and it was dark.  Which left him with three hands, and images of strange alien creatures rising up in his mind again....oh dammit.

"We press on.  We're well within our rights to be out here, and besides, we're not far from the camping base now anyway.  With any luck, its just a few drunk squaddies heading back to base after a night out on the town.  Or something."

They started moving again, slower now, more cautious.  Whether through luck or skill, the voices of the presumed RAF men moved further away, the opposite direction from where the two reporters were heading.

Emerging out of the wood, Ryan spread his arms and spun around, taking momentary enjoyment in the relative freedom of this open space.  Jess emerged more cautiously, checking behind them to make sure the military men were not coming back this way.  By the time she had looked around, Ryan had his camera out again and was searching the night skies for a sighting of the...well, whatever it was they were actually after. She still wasn't totally sure on that point.  Something was happening, that much was clear.  But as to what that could be...well, nothing good could come from jumping to conclusions.

Though that was hard, especially in a dark wood like this, late at night.  Your imagination ran away with you, and wanted to conjure up every sort of dark and demented monster around every corner, behind every tree, under every stone.  The trick was to keep on top of it, keep a rational lid on your creativity and not even think about such things, because once you started, it was very hard to stop.  Like cigarettes, only marginally more healthy, she considered, having only just recently quit herself.  Anyway, the job of just Not Thinking About it would be made much easier if they were not videoing what appeared to be UFOs, and they were not in Rendlesham Forest.  Either alone would have been fine, but together, they were an unsettling combination.

"Hey, I think I got it" Ryan said, startling her for a second.  This was the first time either of them had spoken out loud, at normal volume, since hearing the RAF men.

"Hold on, let me get my binoculars out, I might be able to pick out some details up close."  She rummaged around the bag, finding the blasted things, typically, at the very bottom of the backpack.  "OK, got them" she called to Ryan.  "Now where am I looking?"

Breaking his concentration on the sky above for a moment, Ryan looked over to where Jess was.  "North slightly, uh, to the right.  You should see it, flitting about the trees, then vanishing over to the west somewhat, nearer to us."

She watched, intently.  It was tricky, because the light would appear for a second, then vanish, only to appear off somewhere else, where her binocular focus was off and it would not appear distinctly.  Trying to refocus, she pulled back, making her field of vision wider.  And that was when she noticed it.  It was only brief, and vanished as soon as it appeared.  But it was there, nonetheless.  Someone, or something, on the ground.  With a light, directly below where one had been spotted, above the trees.

"Ryan..." she said slowly, "I think there is something you should know."


Rendlesham Forest, 10:34 PM

"I...think...we're....nearly there.....now...." Ryan gasped, bent nearly double and leaning on a tree, trying to get his breath back.  He had fallen over once as well, so there was probably mud on his face too.

Jess was only just doing better.  She had slipped around where he did, and was now treading gingerly on her left ankle.  She was limping along behind him as fast as she could go, but it was obviously paining her.

Still, they would not have gone this way without her.  It had taken a few minutes to confirm it, but the younger journalist was right – there was lights at the ground level, directly below the UFOs.  As to what that may be, who knows?  Ryan's mind buzzed with the possibilities.  Military personnel, carrying out tests?  Some other form of observers?  Russian Special Forces, air-dropped into the country to carry out sabotage?  Aliens?  Each theory that presented itself seemed even more unlikely than the last, but there was most certainly something there, and he just had to know what it was.

Looking down the small depression, there was definitely someone, or several someones, down there.  He waited a moment crouched by a tree, for Jess to arrive.  As she gratefully slunk down beside him, he whispered "whatever they are, they're right down there.  I want you to take the camera, and watch me.  If anything happens, use this."  He held up his phone.  "Its state of the art, and put a painful dent in my pay-packet, but its worth it.  Link it up here" he demonstrated, holding out the feed, "and then send it to whoever you can trust to raise a massive ruckus with the media.  Never hurts to have precautions, right?"

"Right" she nodded.  "And of course, if you think you're going to get caught, don't do anything stupid.  Because I'm sure as hell not going to declare my undying love for you, or jump in front of a bullet when I can just limp away instead."

"Touching, as always.  Are you ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be.  Go on then...and be careful."

"Will do" he whispered in reply.  Staying low, using the various fallen branches and sparse bushes for cover, Ryan made his way down.  He could see that where the depression levelled off, there was a small cluster of trees that were built onto the slope.  From in there, a pale, sickly light bounced from tree to tree, and voices, though faint and distorted, could be heard.  Moving slowly, he rounded the first tree, then hesitated.  He tried to listen, but the breeze was going the wrong way, the voices just as unintelligible as they were before.  Sliding up to the second tree, he bent his body just around the corner, and got the shock of his life. 

Bulbous black eyes!  Leathery grey skin!  A lifeless, unnatural looking form!  He spun back around the tree and nearly fell over.  Aside from the voices and strange light, nothing.  How odd.  He had been startled, as soon as he saw the eyes, but the...whatever it was, had been looking right at him.  Ryan took a deep breath, and steadied himself.  Regardless of what lay beyond, he could not back out now.  He had a duty, to the truth, to find out what lay beyond the next tree.  Steeling himself, he spun around.

And there was the creature again!  Only now, expecting it, he was not shocked or horrified.  And so this time, he had a good long look at the creature, and noted how it appeared to be a head, mounted on a stick, and made of rubber.  Either that, or it was a very dead, skull-less and hollow alien head.  He walked up to it, and poked it.  He then took it off the stick in question, and moved it from side to side, testing it aimlessly, while thinking this all through.  Ha, and to think he had been frightened by that.  Beyond the next tree, he knew he would find the owners of the voices, and find out exactly what link they had to the lights in the sky.  Though, with the rubber mask found, it seemed that the answer was pretty certain.

Pranksters, and damn good ones, but pranksters still.  And he had been so excited.  Still, it was newsworthy, if not exactly a career-making story, which was a damn shame given its potential.  He did wonder how they had done the trick with the night lights, that was no mean feat.  He'd ask them, of course, but there was no guarantee they would tell him.  They could be funny about that, pranksters.  Some were just dying to show you how smart they were, while others defended their tradecraft like it were more important than state secrets.  No longer bothering to lurk, he stood up straight, made as much noise as he felt like, and strode straight into the small circle of space that was bounded by trees.

In front of him was a guy in what looked like a rather corny, if effective spacesuit, giving directions down a mobile phone.  In an Irish-tinged English accent.  Well that just clinched it.  No deity was unforgiving enough to unleash the Irish across the Universe before any other people had a shot at space travel.  There was another guy with a computer, and a young woman bouncing a stick off of another unoccupied alien rubber mask.  Finally, there was a low but steady hum coming from one of the trees behind him.  They all seemed very intent on what they were doing, and hadn't even noticed his entrance.  Or if they had, they pretended not to care, or even pay attention.

He stood there for a moment, feeling foolish.  They continued on with their previous activities, taking no notice of him.  Then, deciding this had gone on for long enough, he cleared his throat, then spoke.

"Um, hi, excuse me?  Sorry to interrupt, but my name is Ryan Linford and I'm with the Ipswitch Enquirer.  I was wondering if-" and he felt a massive weight come down on his back and knock him to the ground, and then it was all dark.

[Cain]

Aporia Inc. offices, Kensington, London, 11:03 PM

Alexander Fleck knew it was late, but that had long ceased to bother him.  This project, though nearly 6 months old, was so time-consuming, so important and yet so fascinating, working overtime on it was more of a pressure on his wife and friends than it ever was for him.  He almost disliked coming home from the office now, having to shift his thinking back from the concerns and deadlines and expected targets back to things like small talk, the latest television shows and intimate moments.

Though he certainly didn't mind the last of those things, he thought with a sly grin on his face.  But no, work came first.  Especially important work, and nowadays, all work was important.  Standing up from his desk, he decided it was time to do the rounds.  See who else was stupid enough to be here at this hour, and if they had anything useful to report, beyond the usual monitoring.  He walked to the door, twisted, then threw his pen, managing to land it in his now empty coffee mug.  Perfect, and from nearly 20 feet as well.  He smiled again, as he left the office marked, not entirely incorrectly, but somewhat misleadingly as Head of Marketing.

Taking the elevator down to the next floor, he saw a few lights were still on, especially in the field operations and research and development sections of the building, part of his personal empire within the corporate giant that was Aporia Inc.  He decided on R&D first.  They had a better coffee machine in there, for starters.  Walking in, he looked around.  This office was always a minefield of the bizarre, the exotic and just plain odd.  Which was to be expected, he thought to himself, given what their primary and overriding function was now.

He kicked a squash ball out of the way, and cleared what appeared to be some stage props from a magicians show, before making his way to the minor electronics lab at the end of this section of the building.  If one were to watch him pass, they would see doors with names such as "Memetic Targeting Unit" and "Pataphysical Research Lab" as he walked down the corridor adjoining the R&D common room, where usually most of the useful research and theories were stumbled upon, much to the chagrin of the management.

Slipping into the electronics testing room, he watched as what appeared to be a flower, in a sealed plastic chamber, was made to emit a bright pink gas.  A mouse, which he had not previously seen, then darted out from behind some blocks that had been left in the chamber, abruptly falling over.  "And what is this, exactly?" he asked.  The three technicians present spun around, obviously not expecting anyone else in the room.  "Oh...sorry sir, we mustn't have heard you there" said the project leader, while another turned down the radio on the desk.
"No problems" he replied easily.  "I know its late, and besides, I have a soft tread.  But what is this that you're working on?"  He indicated the plant again.
"Oh, this is an ersatz plant.  Its going to be a delivery system, for various airborne or contact compounds."
"Oh, of course, Plan B" he said vaguely, waving his hand.  While this was only a part of the research Aporia was currently doing, there had been concerns that, despite the incredible resources already poured in, the current methods they had been using were not efficient or fast enough.  Therefore, the management had overseen the creation of a backup plan, in case the rate of habituation was too slow.  If they could not achieve what was necessary through legal, if questionable, methods, than outright illegal ones would be considered.  Such as randomly dosing the population with hallucinogens, Fleck thought.  Lets hope it doesn't come to that.
"Excellent stuff" he said out loud, more to deflect from his wandering thoughts than anything else.  "Is there anything else the labs are working on right now?"
Another of the technicians spoke up "we're working with the Memetic Targeting Unit to look at unconventional deployment methods we may not have considered before.  There's not much yet, but as soon as we have anything workable, I'm sure you and Operations will receive our plans and projected results, for further testing."

Fleck considered that for a moment.  "Alright then.  Thank you for your time, gentlemen.  I'll let myself out, and keep up the good work." He smiled again, then left.  Walking up to the coffee machine, he got himself a cappuccino, then sighed.  It wasn't as good as the shop just down the road.  Starbucks or Costa or whatever it was.  One of those big, interchangeable chains.  Either way, all of them, without fail, could make coffee better than this machine.  Not that the machine was bad, just that it was late, and he needed something that would give him a jolt, really keep him going.  Well, at least he could console himself with the fact it was Friday.  He could take the weekend off, once he finished his rounds and actually got home.  Not too long now, of course.  Taking a second sip, he decided to check out Field Operations, or as the rest of the company had started to refer to it, "ops".  Sounded a little too military, and sinister for Fleck, though when he thought about it, Field Operations was not much better.

Back in the day, when he had started with Aporia, ops had been nothing more than a few dedicated screw-offs, who used unconventional marketing techniques, such as online games, viral videos, word of mouth internet whispers, pranks and other events to draw attention to their various clients.  They had been quite good too, considering the oddballs that were involved.  Anyway, it had been tiny.  Less than 10 people, and usually closer to five.  But now, now...

They had hit the 100 mark last week.  And that was just the start.  Once the current training cycle had finished and the newest members had a few successful operations under their belt, then they would start approving and opening regional offices.  North America's was already being expanded massively in preparation, and offices in Russia, Beijing, Sydney, Tel Aviv and other locations were also going through a similar upheaval.

It was going to be a nightmare to keep track of, Fleck knew.  Hell, it was nearly bad enough now.  Fortunately, more personnel and funding were being slated for his department, which would help.  Still, this would require him to either devote all his time to operations and promote others to oversee R&D and other departments, or else massively over-extend himself.  He didn't really like either of those options, though he knew which one was more sensible.  Shaking his head, he walked into operations.

At this time of night, there were less than 20 people here, in total.  Most were manning phones or desks, either making calls and providing information, or else typing into screens, tracking and recording information which would hopefully be useful in the future.  Others were doing more arcane things, such as plotting lines on maps, or else reading books and making notes.  He grabbed the nearest person, who happened to be a map plotter.

"Excuse me" he said pleasantly, "but who's currently supervising this section?"
The man started to speak, but was interrupted by a woman furiously typing into a computer.  "That would be me, sir", she called.  "If I can just have a minute to finish this entry..."
"Take all the time you need, I'll be waiting" he replied.  She took a few more seconds, slammed a couple of keys, then relaxed, standing up.
"Sorry about that sir" she said, walking over and shaking his hand.  "Alice Band, current supervisor to this motley crew."
"Of course, Ms Band.  I'm just passing through, looking for an update.  Don't worry about anything too formal.  How are things?" he asked.
"Not too bad" she replied.  "Of course, its always a little more hectic at nights, because we have less people, and half of the sort of people who are willing to work the night shift are loonies of one sort or another-"
"Including you?" he asked with a sly grin?
"Especially me.  I'm in it for the money" she laughed "and if willing to forego what little light we get nowadays for some extra pay isn't a sign of lunacy I don't know what is."
She was right, of course.  They advertised for night staff especially, instead of instituting shift work patterns on the department.  Which was fair, it made for more motivated workers, but it also meant you had to put up with the sort of person willing to work all night and sleep all day, in contradiction to what 90% of the world did. 
"But apart from that, all is good."
"Mostly," she said, nodding.  "Our teams in South London, Edinburgh, Bristol and Liverpool have all clocked off for the night.  Manchester is still ongoing, but they check in every half hour or so.  They've got some very good material actually, I'm sure you'll be impressed with the video quality and exposure.  Oh, there is one minor problem though..."
"And what might that be?"
"Ipswich hasn't reported in yet.  That's not totally unexpected, they're working close to the base there, so they may just be not taking any risks.  But they did miss their last deadline, which was nearly 15 minutes ago."
"Well, I'm sure its nothing" he said.  "Though no doubt you know the procedure to follow should the team not break radio silence in the next 6 hours."
"Got it down clean, no worries."
"Incidentally...is Martin around?  I haven't seen him lately, it would be good to catch up on the old times."  Martin had been one of the original operations guys, a genius at guerrilla marketing and virtual legend within his own select sphere of expertise.  However, with the company expansion of late, he hadn't had much of a chance to talk to him, or pick his brains about recent events.
"Sir...Martin is with the Ipswich team, the one currently operating in Rendlesham Forest."

[Cain]

'Safe' house, Khartoum, Sudan.

"You see, many people think this job is easy, but it isn't" Richard Keele explained, as he finished the knot tying the man's hands.  He was still bleeding from the head, and moaning slightly, so it is doubtful he appreciated the other man's efforts to show his difficulty.
"I mean, for example, being hired to kill a man" he went on, as he put the finishing touches on the second knot, and took a filthy rag out of his pocket.  "Think of it this way: even your average thug can whack a man.  Killing is easy, after all.  Knife to the kidney, bullet to the heart, whack 'em around the head with a steel baseball bat twenty or thirty times...the act in and of itself is not very hard to accomplish."  He gagged the man, then stood up.
"I bet even you've done it a few times, right?"  The man didn't respond, only to moan again.  "Yeah, thought so.  The problem, you see, is not eliminating the target."  Leaving the man, he opened a case, setting up a tripod by the window.  It was early afternoon, and the sun was blazing through the cracks in the blinder that was there.
"The problem" he said, as he continued to set up the mount "is being in a position to do that in the first place."  Blowing some dust off the top, he then proceeded to assemble the rifle he intended to attach to the tripod.
"For instance, consider this little jaunt.  I had to bribe a guy at the finance to find out the names and homes of everyone in the departments which would be chosen for such a mission.  Finding the right guy was a challenge in and of itself, but fortunately my employers managed to drag him up from somewhere."  Finishing the construction of the rifle, he reached for his scope.
"Once I found out the names, I had to carry out surveillance to find out whose face matched up with whose name.  And that was not easy, let me tell you.  A guy with my skin colour, he tends to stand out in a place like this.  So I had to fake some IDs for various aid agencies, and use street urchins, petty criminals and the like to feed me the right information."  He finished with the scope, then took one look down the sight.  Perfect.
"And then there was the matter of finding the right guy to betray you.  That's always tricky.  There are signs, naturally.  Expensive tastes beyond his paycheck, a mistress, family in dire straits...all sort of things can suggest this.  But half of Sudanese security is on the take anyway, so that doesn't help much.  But anyway, I find one of the guy's on your team is willing to tell me about this place, in return for suitable compensation.  Too bad he's never going to collect."  He sighed, then chambered a round.
"But that is the business we are in, my friend.  We do the nasty things in dark places that others do not care to think about.  You, for example, were charged with protecting the Foreign Minister.  Unfortunately, he has earned the ire of certain important people and, regrettably, must snuff it.  Thus we are at cross purposes."  The tied man, now feeling considerably less dizzy and, following the last sentence, considerably more alert, lets out a muffled cry of concern.
"Do be quiet while I'm calculating the shot, there's a good chap" Keele asked, finally opening the blind a crack.  He looked down into the dusty, unkempt Khartoum street.  According to his other informant, in the foreign ministry, he should be passing this way in half an hour, having received an urgent call from Sudan's own contacts within the organization known as Al-Qaeda in the Horn of Africa.  Since the Sudanese government is bankrolling the group, though admittedly on the pain of pain, and they are asking for him specifically, he has little choice but to find out what the crazies want this time.  Naturally, the man making the call is a double agent, on the payroll of people who would like to see both Al-Qaeda in the Horn of Africa in difficult financial conditions, and sponsors of state terror caught in conflict with their previous friends.

And Keele?  He wanted greenbacks, and plenty of them.  Or whichever currency was stable and trading well at the moment.  Euros and the Yen would do, in a pinch.  Diamonds too, depending on location.  Drugs, not so much, and certainly not any of the national currencies of the Dark Continent, Middle East or Central Asia, where he usually plied his trade.

He sighed again, looking along his scope.  He had already checked his watch, he knew it would only be another couple of minutes.  He hummed to himself, watching out the window.  That may have been his mistake, since had he been watching the man he had mercifully tied up, instead of killing, then he might have noticed that he was squirming around.  Unknown to Keele, the man had concealed a knife in an easy to reach place, in case of events such as this.  And now he was slowly, but surely cutting through the bonds which held him in place.

Keele continued with his humming.  It occurred to him that he had not listened to a radio in ages, except the sort one found on planes or military installations, usually calling for him to be shot down or terminated with extreme prejudice.  Perhaps he should consider that, once he got back to something passing for civilization.  He had heard Sudanese music once, and while it may appeal to some people, that was more than enough for him.  Ah, it should be time.  He slowly placed a finger on the trigger, and waited.

At this precise moment, two things happened.  First, the Sudanese security officer managed to cut through the bonds holding his feet together, and got up from the floor, spitting out the gag whilst doing so. Secondly, the car in which the Sudanese foreign minster travelled around the city appeared, slowed down considerably by the nature of the street.  It was still the quickest through-fare to the Ministry itself, but there was no doubting it was slow, thanks to various stalls and markets and old people with death wishes and cattle being sold.

Keele swore, then pulled a pistol from his waistband.  "I didn't want to have to do this" he said, firing two rounds into the man's chest.  He then dropped the pistol, took half a second to collect himself, then fired the rifle.  The first round slammed through the car window, taking the foreign minister in the head.  Keele followed with a second round, just to make sure.  Then he turned around and knelt down next to the Sudanese security agent.  "You should know...before you die.  All of your team were willing to betray you, for the right price.  That's why I killed the rest of them, and not you.  It didn't seem fair, really.  But then, you had to play the hero.  Still, what is done is done and cannot be undone.  Goodbye, brave agent."  He then raised the pistol to the man's head.

Two hours later...

Keele swore, again.  The Sudanese had put the city into a lockdown, and with good reason.  Five security agents and the Foreign Minister were all dead.  Seven Al-Qaeda in the Horn of Africa representatives had soon followed, swift retaliation for the terrorists' 'treachery'.  He had only just made it to one of the hotels where westerners were welcomed, and where he had booked under the guise of an aid worker.  Going to his room, he intended to pick up his passport and leave the country as soon as possible.  His passport was clean, and he certainly had enough money to charter a private flight, not to mention the perfect cover.  After all, aerial maps were so unreliable in this part of the world, and aid drops do need to be considered carefully.

He allowed himself a moment on the bed to recover.  And that was when his cell started to ring.  His very private, "business" cell.  Swearing once more, he took the call. 
"This isn't really a good time, please call back later."
"Oh, is this a bad time?  I suppose with your particular clients, 5 million sterling is only small fry and hardly worthy of your consideration.  Good day to y-"
"Oh look at that, I suddenly have the time to speak.  Asking for details would be foolish, but an outline of the proposed job would interest me."
"Of course.  Its a national security issue, as you might imagine, though many of our current politicians do not see it that way.  A certain man is disseminating dangerous technology to what we believe are radical groups, aiming at undermining the country.  As such, he needs to be removed, preferably by a professional from outside the traditional security structure."
The mercenary smiled.  "You got my interest.  Where do we meet?"
"Are you available to come to London?"
"Give it a couple of days, but yes, I am.  I'm also going to need some contact details."
They conferred for another half minute, then Keele hung up.  Well well well.  London it was, then.  It would be nice, working somewhere he could drink the water, for once.  And maybe even listen to the goddamn radio, now and again.  Maybe this job wouldn't be so bad, after all, he considered.

[Cain]

Rendlesham Forest, time unknown

Ryan was relaxed.  He wasn't quite sure what was going on, but everything was nice and soft and easy.  He looked around.  It was fuzzy, indistinct.  He was trying to remember something, something important...nope, it had slipped him again.  But it didn't matter now, because Cheryl Tweedy was here.  His dreams were always better once she showed up.

Dreams?

"Wake up Ryan", she said.
"What?"
"Wake up."  She was gone now, but he could still hear her voice.  Teasing little minx.
"I am awa-" he said, then opened his eyes.

The first thing he saw was a face above him.  Not wasting a second he screamed "don't you dare use those fucking anal probes on me, you little gray bastards!"
"Yep, he's awake" the upside down woman's head said.  "If a little confused."
"Oh, that's right" he said.  His memories had just come rushing back.  And so did the pain to his head.  "Ow, what the fuck did you do to me?"
"Sorry about that" said another voice, male, from somewhere to his side.  "I was up in the trees, directing the lights when I saw you.  I didn't know if you were a soldier boy, so I decided to not take any chances."
"You jumped on me from a tree?"  He tried to get up, then slumped back down again, feeling dizzy and nauseous.  "Oh shit, I think I'll stay down here for a moment."  His mind then decided to remind him of another problem.  "Uuuh, did you find Jessica anywhere?"
"Jessica?" the girl with the upside down face asked, looking puzzled for a second.  "Oh, the girl.  Yes, we found here.  Wouldn't tell us her name though, even when he gave her some of our coffee."
"Yeah, that sounds like her.  Can I have a hand up?"
"Sure" she extended her hand and he managed to, with some help, drag himself up onto his feet.  He blinked a few times, hoping the lights would eventually go away, but it wasn't working.  The nausea had decided to move to the pit of his stomach as well, and was sitting there, waiting to jump out on him.
"Oh jeez, maybe I should have stayed on the floor."
"Ryan, is that you?"  It was Jessica, sounding a little muffled.  She then rounded a couple of trees, and ran up to him.  "What the hell happened to you?"
"Later.  I want to ask questions, before my dinner comes back up.  Man my head feels bad."  He bent double for a second, letting the blood flow to his head.  The euphoria took the edge off the nausea.  Then he stood back up.
"OK then."  He fixed the guy who had jumped on him with a stare.  He looked to be in his late twenties, done up in self-bought camouflage gear and twiddling with something that looked like a portable projector device.  "Let me guess" he started, you use that, somehow, to give the appearance of some sort of aircraft flying over the base?"
"Pretty much" he grinned.  "Its a little more complex than that though.  You see, the thing is-"
"The thing is, you need something to reflect off up there."  Ryan turned to face the Irish voice that had completed the sentence.  Another man had stepped out, from behind the trees.  He vaguely recognized him as the guy from earlier, who had been speaking orders into his mobile.
"Hi I'm Martin, how d'you do?" he asked, coming up and shaking Ryan by the hand.  He then sat back on a log and lit up a cigarette, not even waiting for a response.
"Uh, I'm Ryan, Ryan Linford.  I work for..."
"Yeah, the local paper, I remember hearing it just before you nearly got your head opened back there."
"Would you mind telling more by what you meant?  What are you using up there, to reflect the light?"
"Coloured gas, with tiny crystal particles" he answered.  "We were totally stumped for a while as to how to do this well, without having something up there which would show up on radar.  We used kites and the like as well, but they can be tricky, depending on the wind.  Well, so can this, but the idea is to get a steady stream of gas being put out and then aiming the light through it, to give the impression of a moving object.  With five or six different output machines, we can make it look like the night sky is being invaded by some sort of bizarre, fast moving, light emitting object.  Pretty clever, eh?"
"Very" Ryan replied, feeling totally lost.  He looked to Jess, then started with another question.  "Martin, if you don't mind me asking...what on earth is all this for?  I mean, is it a protest over tensions with Russia, some sort of anti-militarism thing, is it for kicks or something else entirely?  It seems a lot of work, not to mention somewhat dangerous, to be doing this out here."
Martin looked him in the eye, then answered.  "Well, now is not a good time to tell you.  Not now generally" he hastened to add, seeing Ryan's expression, "I mean here, right now, in the woods.  Y'see, we're just packing up ourselves.  Most of the gas-pump operators have already buggered off for the night, and in fact the only reason we were hanging around was waiting for you to wake up."
"OK, but I don't see the problem..."
"The problem is, Ryan, that it looks like the base may have wind of our being out here.  That was what my last call was about."  He waved his mobile, as if to make a point.  "Now technically, we're in the right here.  This part of the wood ain't on the base, and there are no laws against pretending to fly things over RAF bases.  However..."
"However the law tends to mean little to men with guns." Ryan concluded.
"Ah, I could tell you were a perceptive man.  Yes, that is indeed part of the problem.  There might be something else, too though.  I'm not rightly sure what it is myself, and if I told you my suspicions you'd think me crazy.  At least, until I could give you my explanation.  Suffice to say, some odd stuff has been happening in these woods, and my people have had nothing to do with it.  We're probably OK here, for the moment, but we should get a move on.  I'd be grateful if you and the other reporter could give us a hand packing up our gear.

Ryan nodded his approval, and moved to work quickly, helping disassemble and pack away the complicated machinery and remove any rubbish from the hastily made camp site.  He noticed that Martin's team members, whoever they were and whatever their purpose, seemed to be working quieter now, after his chat with them.  Presumably they too knew about the possibility of soldiers on the way, and wanted to get out as quickly as possible.  Within a few minutes, the work was completed and Martin gathered the team, plus Jess and Ryan, back around again.

"OK what I want to do is split us up" he whispered.  "Better chance of getting out without being seen.  I want you" he said pointing at the man in the trees, "to go with Alex and Lucy and take Route F out of here.  No torches, and keep the noise to a minimum.  If you need to call me, do so.  And remember, meeting point 3 afterwards, then back home if there is a no show."  The man nodded, then set off.

Martin, now alone, turned to Jess and Ryan.  "And that leaves me with both of you" he whispered.  "I know a fairly quick way out, but unfortunately it runs close to the base.  I have a safer route, but its much longer and will be much more tiring.  Do you think you're both up to the former?"  Jess nodded immediately, whereas Ryan took a second to think about it.  He was feeling better, no doubt, but not entirely well.  Still, if he had to...he also nodded.
"Great" Martin whispered.  "Please, follow me."

They set off at a brisk pace into the woods.  Ryan and Jess looked at each other briefly, as if to convey the oddness of their situation to each, and followed Martin's lead.  It was hard going, without a light, and more than once did the reporters in the group stumble.  Their new leader, on the other hand, seemed to know the territory very well, and managed his way past the stones, hidden ditches, roots, branches and other annoyances with ease, nimbly sidestepping or jumping over them.  After almost 10 minutes of solid walking he stopped, then moved behind a thicker cluster of trees, beckoning Ryan and Jess to follow.  As soon as they followed him around, he crouched down low, near the floor and whispered at them.  "I think I've fucked up badly" he said, so lowly it was almost unintelligible.  "I dunno if you can hear that, but I think we're near a bunch of troops."
A patrol?, Jess mouthed at him.  He shook his head.
"No, not a patrol.  This is different.  We're going to need to crawl through the bushes to get past this."  He pointed through the undergrowth to his intended pathway.  "And another thing", he said, almost reluctantly.  "I need to get close enough to at least see what is going on."  He fished around and pulled out a camera phone.  "Company policy" he smiled, almost sadly.  "Well, no use avoiding it, we may as well get on with this farce.  Follow me."

Keeping low, they moved from tree to tree, then, once in the bushes, crawled along the ground, pausing momentarily in order for their now troubled guide to listen out for movement, or get his bearings.  At first, Ryan couldn't hear the noises that the Irishman had been talking about, but now...now he could.  He heard low voices, likely carried on the wind.  And something else he couldn't quite place...

[Reginald Ret]

dammit! i want to know what happens next!

[wade]

i think it will be russian paratroopers...