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Friday evening Robert Turner pays my father and me a visit. My assistance has been requested in bringing the cult down. All the intelligence collected points to a meeting of senior figures. The person suspected of being Number Two is being tailed by plain-clothes detectives. However, he is exceedingly cautious and difficult to follow.

Attempts to try to listen in on conversations or use bugs have so far failed. The suspect regularly sweeps for electronic devices in his home, office and cars. He is also employing electronic countermeasures to prevent anybody from listening in. Even his phone calls are encrypted.

Given the lengths to which he is going, my talents may be the only thing that can penetrate what is happening.

After discussion of exactly what I am and am not prepared to do, we come to an agreement as to what will happen. I have agreed to act as a spy. However, nothing I hear or see can necessarily be used in evidence. Anything I find out will be treated as an anonymous tip off that the police can then act on to gather further, more solid evidence by means of search warrants. I won’t project myself into the situation unless there is an absolute need. I don’t mind using violence, but I want to aviod causing serious injury. I certainly do not want to be responsible for killing anybody.

I have seen death close up already at the bank heist. That time a police sniper did the deed. Although I did help in bringing the situation about, I was not actually the one to pull the trigger, and despite only being a subtle difference, it’s enough for me to be able to cope.

After an early night, I get up at seven in the morning to get ready for the day ahead. With Susan and Aunt Janice’s help, I am taking some additional precautions this morning. Although I intend to wear the burka again to hide my appearance, it may be necessary to remove it. It isn’t the most comfortable of garments and can be quite warm. I have therefore decided to change my look in case I need to remove it at any point.

“Mr Turner’s idea to dress you up in a burka was a good one,” my aunt states, “but we can make you look quite different with the help of some temporary hair dye and makeup.”

I have never really been into the girly activities of constant beauty treatments. Simple hairstyles and a little makeup is more my style.

“Now you will really know what it feels like for a girl,” Susan adds, picking up her large makeup case, grinning, “When I was little, this used to be my playground.”

I groan, look skywards and mutter, “Oh, father, rescue me!” I like being a girl, but I am still a tomboy compared to Susan when she gets started. “Hey, you need to keep in mind that I need to look average, not like some Hollywood material girl off the cover of Vogue.”

“I’ll remember,” Susan replies as she starts on her beauty routine.

My aunt has provided us with a temporary hair dye from the local drugstore, as well as some coloured contact lenses. It takes a while, but I soon have my red hair and eyebrows tinted almost black. I am using a long-lasting foundation to cover my freckles. My true blue eyes are now green and I add subtle makeup to them to make them look a different size to normal. The effect makes me look older, more like eighteen than fourteen.

I am wearing black jeans and a long-sleeved black blouse. I have a black bra and camisole. I decide for practicality and put on my hiking boots in case I need to leave the van and hike after the target. I don’t know what ground I may need to go over so these are the most sensible option. Having changed my appearance so that I am not easily recognised, I put the black burka on over the top so that the only parts of me visible are my hands and eyes. My eyebrows are a different colour from usual, not that they can be seen very well through the fine mesh veil in the eye slit.

Tom Millward may have an idea who I am, but we have deliberately kept my identity secret, with his agreement, for my own protection. The rest of the police force doesn’t know anything about me, and I intend to keep it that way.

My father drives me to Mr Turner’s office. The CD playing in the car’s stereo changes from ‘Like a virgin’ to ‘Die another day’. I am getting into the groove when my father reaches over and turns the music down.

“What you are doing is very honourable,” my father states, “but don’t let them take advantage of you, or let them put you in danger.”

“Papa, don’t preach,” I reply, giggling. He casts me a funny look as I point to the Madonna CD case sitting between us. “I have no intention of placing myself in the spotlight. I am well aware of the danger in using my powers, but I can’t stand by and let these people get away with their evil when I have a chance to make a difference.”

“Sorry,” he replies, the look of love in his eyes, “I am just worried about you my Angel.” We pull up at Robert’s office and I get out. “Bye Bye Baby,” my father calls as he drives off. Mr Turner is waiting for me inside.

Chief Millward picks Robert Turner and me up shortly after half past nine. We are using the surveillance van from before. Lieutenant Scudder is once more our driver.

We drive out of town and park in a lay-by on the edge of the highway. Our target for observation is a small log cabin about three quarters of a mile from our current location. This is within range for my remote vision. It’s slightly past the limit of my projection ability, but hopefully that won’t be needed anyway.

I will be using the trick I discovered back in Chief Millward’s office. I project myself into the van, once again as Alice in Wonderland. I am reproducing an exact likeness of Mia Wasikowska from the latest film adaptation. On my lap, I am holding a small flat screen TV. This is part of my projection, and it is showing what I can see remotely.

A video camera has been set up pointing at me to record what happens. Although it could never be used in a court of law, it might prove useful. While not easy to accomplish it is better than trying to do a running commentary of what is going on. I could easily miss details that the others can pick up with their own eyes and ears.

The log cabin is in the woodland in the surrounding area. The one noticeable feature about New England countryside is the amount of trees we have. The cabin appears to be unused most of the time. It is situated on a bend in a river. The meandering of the water makes it almost on an island. The cabin can only be approached from one direction, making it easy to guard. It seems to be referred to by cult members by the codename ‘La Isla Bonita’.

There is a single SUV parked in the clearing. It belongs to our prime suspect, Jonathon Walker. Mr Walker is a local businessperson, running a small manufacturing company constructing wooden garden furniture. There is nobody else present yet.

He is noted for refusing to employ any coloured workers. He has recently been sued for discrimination. The case against him failed, as he was able to demonstrate other reasons for not employing the person in question.

After a wait of four minutes, a second vehicle turns up. I recognise the two people who get out. Mrs Little, Alison’s mother, codename thirteen is one person. The other is a young male I recognise as Jessie Little. He graduated from school last year having been a member of our football team. I believe he is a cousin to Alison.

Mr Walker gets a metal detector out of his vehicle and waves it over the two newcomers before handing it to Jessie. Mr Walker then takes out a Revolver and hands it to him. All three of them don Ceremonial robes. These are in the style of the Ku Klux Klan with pointed hoods with holes cut in for the eyes. The only difference is the colour, instead of white these are blood red. Hung round their necks are chains with numbered metal plaques. Walker has the number two, Mrs Little has thirteen, and Jessie 45.

Jessie stands guard at the door while the other two enter. I follow them inside, however they are sitting in silence.

During the next twenty minutes, more vehicles arrive with members. Each of them is already wearing a hood covering their face. They are all checked with the detector, presumably so no listening devices can be sneaked in. All arrivals give Jessie a codeword, which he checks against a list to verify each person’s identity.

The vehicles seem to turn up at almost exactly two-minute intervals. This does not appear to be accidental.

Soon there is a crowd present in the log cabin, sitting round on beanbags in a semi-circle around Walker. Everybody remains silent while waiting for the last people to arrive.

The last to arrive is Number One. When he enters the room, everyone rises from their seats to take a bow before returning to where they are sitting. In total eighteen people, numbered from one to twenty, excluding sixteen and seventeen, are present in the cabin. Jessie remains on guard outside whistling the tune ‘Don’t cry for me Argentina’.

The leader opens this get together by reciting a rather disturbing incantation that could be described as something like a prayer - asking god to smite all those inferior in his eyes and do not conform to their ideal design for American life. I can’t see his face, but from the look of the skin on his hand, he appears to be quite old. He is talking with a slight German accent and I wonder if he has some connection to the Hitler youth. He might be old enough to have been a member of that organisation.

It would appear from the opening speech that these meetings only happen once every two months.

They then get down to business. The first thing on the agenda is the capture of sixteen and seventeen. From the conversation, it is obvious they are talking about the couple arrested when Donald was rescued. It seems that they are concerned about a possible security breach. Mrs Little is questioned as to if Alison could have been responsible. Mrs Little denies that this is likely as Alison doesn’t have enough information to be able to identify anybody else, and she wouldn’t dare repeat anything anyway.

Alison is congratulated on removing an undesirable, me, from the population, a point for celebration, but is heavily criticised for the method and being caught. She is considered a security risk and an order goes out for her to be permanently silenced. Mrs Little begs for her to be given one more chance, and instead she will receive a reminder of her duty to keep quiet, or she may not live to tell the authorities any information.

Twelve volunteers to take care of this. He has the same tattoo round his wrist as Damien Spencer and friends. He points out that several members of his gang have been arrested, and could end up in the same institution as Alison. If this happens then they will arrange for Alison to be attacked. It is suggested this could be an opportunity to further the breeding program, whether Alison agrees to any hanky panky or not.

Mrs Little objects, but is reminded that because of her daughter and her involvement in the kidnapping, she herself is wanted by the police and is in a dangerous position.

“You express yourself well, and are only here due to your past successes. You need to open your heart to the truth. You have been compromised. It would be crazy for you to remain here,” Number One explains, “Dear Jessie will be taking you on a permanent holiday across the borderline into Canada. There you can be hidden until such a time as the heat has disappeared. I am not a gambler. I cannot risk you staying here.”

The more senior figures don’t seem pleased but drop the subject. There is then some discussion as to who might replace the two missing numbers. Various other higher numbers are mentioned. No names are spoken, but the conversation does include clues to their identities.

Twenty-six will become the new seventeen. This person is referred to using female pronouns and it is mentioned that she owns a boat, the Lucky Star, which may come in useful for future operations.

Her brother, number thirty-one, will be promoted to eighteen. He works for Walker as one of the furniture makers. Eight recommends him highly as he has just made her pregnant as part of the breeding program. It would appear that eight’s husband is unaware that his wife is pregnant by another man.

Various plans for furthering their cause are discussed. Another two schemes for kidnapping are considered and rejected before a third is finally approved. The target is a young black girl living in a trailer park on the south side of town. The daughter of number nine regularly babysits the girl and can take care of the collection. The plan intended for Donald will then be executed. The child will be dismembered on video and the clip sent round to the local news media and displayed on the internet.

Now we know the next target and the time of the attack, so I can be there in the girl’s place. Instead of being read a bedtime story, I will be abducted. Once I have been snatched, I will signal the police to come and arrest whoever has me in their possession. I intend to wait until the last moment to be rescued, meaning that the maximum number of arrests can be made for kidnapping.

A bombing is planned for the gay pride march to happen next month in a town in the neighbouring state. Nineteen already has the explosives prepared. He will execute the plan, hiding the bomb and detonating it remotely using a mobile telephone.

Although exact details are not discussed, there is sufficient information for the police to be able to foil the plans. On several occasions it is mentioned that number two will finalise exact points where needed so that the full group aren’t aware of enough information should any of them be caught.

The whole organisation seems paranoid about security. It is no wonder that they have been so successful so far. However, that is all about to end. Our little operation will soon rain on their parade.

The meeting finishes mid-morning. Each person or group of people where sharing vehicles, leave at two-minute intervals. I follow them as they progress down the dirt track to the road. As each vehicle approaches the end of the private track, the hoods and robes are taken off to reveal the faces beneath. By the time they have all left we have photographs of all the participants and half of them have already been identified.

The number plates have already been run through the police computer system. Several are hire cars, and some are using fake number plates. Chief Millward has requested a few highway patrol officers to be positioned on routes back into town. The cars using fake plates will be stopped and the occupants arrested. This will allow search warrants to be issued and further evidence collected. It will be pure coincidence that they just happen to be coming back from the meeting when they are stopped. We don’t want to take them down too quickly and spook the others into going to ground.

One of the people, identified as number four, is a court clerk. The police have suspected a leak for some time and this person’s presence explains why some police raids have failed to find evidence. He must have been tipping off those who have warrants issued against them by the court.

It’s been tiring, but the outcome of the morning has been very successful. Four people are about to be arrested for driving around in vehicles with fake number plates. Plans are already being drawn up to stop the kidnapping, and the bomber will be monitored and arrested once the police have located where he is hiding the explosives.

Lieutenant Scudder pulls the van out of the lay-by and we head back towards the town. As we near the outskirts, Chief Millward receives a call on his phone.

“Lieutenant Scudder, get the blue light out, there is a terrorist attack happening near the waterworks,” he instructs our driver after the phone is hung up. “Homeland Security has tracked a group of terrorists to a warehouse nearby and a fire fight has broken out. They are calling for backup from local police to isolate the area while they deal with the threat. Get us there as fast as you can. Alice, your talents may come in handy for finding out what’s going on.”

Lieutenant Scudder pulls a light out of the glove box, reaches out the window, and sticks it to the roof. A siren is switched on and we accelerate towards the town.

We are only a few miles away so our target will soon be in range of my remote vision.

I concentrate and focus on our destination. I soon locate it by the number of police and military officers running around. They are surrounding a warehouse next to the waterworks. I look inside the building and can soon see what is causing a commotion.

A teenage girl is lying on the ground in the middle of the floor. The beautiful stranger is surrounded by fire. Her clothes are scorched, but she seems unaffected by the flames that are burning up the surrounding crates.

A teenage boy in a military uniform walks up to her and stretches out his arm. As he raises his hand, the girl floats off the ground. As she levitates upwards, I can’t see any visible means of support.

He is joined by a second teenager, a girl, her uniform showing the rank of warrant officer. The sound of gunfire causes them to jump. A mercenary opens fire on them. The boy holds his hands up and the bullets travelling towards them stop in mid air. The girl shoots lightning from her fingertips, electrocuting their attacker. A second mercenary attacks them, and is again dispatched with a ray of light.

Two more teenagers in uniform rush to assist their comrades. Suddenly they all fall to their knees, clutching their heads in pain. The levitating girl gently returns to the ground. The boy waves his arm sending his friends sliding across the floor. Two more mercenaries run up and start dragging the now barely conscious boy and scorched girl in the opposite direction. I follow them back to the other end of the warehouse. A woman and teenage girl are standing at an exit, holding hands.

The woman is in her late forties, and wearing a business suit. The girl she is holding hands with is in her late teens and has bright blue hair.

I am looking down on the scene from about nine feet in the air. As they turn to leave, the blue haired girl stops, letting go of the woman’s hand. She then looks directly into my eyes and grins.

“You’re not supposed to be here, Alice,” the sound of her voice thunders through my head, but she doesn’t actually speak, “Bad girl! You’ll see me later, Goodbye!”

The power of ‘Goodbye’ kicks my vision backwards away from the scene. The encounter leaves me dizzy and I am no longer able to see the warehouse.

After a short distance, we pull into the car park of a diner on the edge of the main road.

“Lieutenant Scudder, why are we stopping here?” Chief Millward calls out to the driver.

“The steering feels weird. I am just going to check to see if we have a slow puncture,” he replies as he gets out of the van.

Two round objects bounce into the back of the vehicle. There is a blinding flash and an ear-splitting bang as the first object explodes. I’m disorientated and can’t see or hear. Instead, I try using remote vision.

I can see the second device thrown at us. It appears to be hissing, releasing gas. I try to focus on it to throw it out of the van, but my limbs are becoming heavy and I can’t reach it. I begin to cough wildly. I try projecting myself next to it, but it is too late and I start to pass out. Unable to keep it together, I can feel myself falling deeper and deeper into unconsciousness.