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SNAFU Part 29

by Angharad

This is a work of fiction any resemblance to anyone alive or dead is unintentional.

*****

I was in an anatomy class when there was an interruption. In walked Elspeth, Sheila Brice’s secretary. She spoke to the tutor, who responded with, “Can’t it wait?”

Apparently the answer was ‘no’, because a moment later she called, “Nurse Curtis can you go and see Captain Brice, immediately.”

My heart sank. It wasn’t going to be good news, whatever it was. I rose from my place next to Sharon, and as I walked to the door I heard the catcalls, “Quick Robin, it’s the bat phone.” Then, “Looks like a job for Supernurse.” “Bat nurse, you mean.”
I had done some strange things in my time but nursing a bat was not amongst them.

I followed Elspeth to the office. She would say nothing. I was shown in immediately.
At her desk sat Captain Brice, on the other side were sat a major and a man in an expensive suit. “Come in Jamie, no interruptions Elspeth.” I walked in and saluted my C.O. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the major smile as I did so.

“At ease Nurse Curtis. These gentlemen are from the intelligence services.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.” I thought to myself.

“Hello Curtis, I’m Major Kent, and this is Mr Bromham.” Said the officer standing up to shake my hand. “I’ve got your orders here.” He said proffering a sealed manila envelope.

“Orders?” I heard myself saying in a shocked voice. I looked at Sheila; who simply shrugged her shoulders, as if to say, ‘It’s out of my hands.’

“Please open them, and read them.” Continued the major, “We don’t have much time.”

“Look I’m sorry but I think you must have the wrong Curtis, or something.”

“They haven’t Jamie, please do as they ask.” Coming from Sheila, I had to comply without any further protest, but I was not happy.

Sullenly, I tore open the sealed envelope. Inside was a smaller sealed one. Jesus, this was like pass the bloody parcel. Finally, I found a piece of A5 paper. It was headed, ‘From the Prime Minister’s Office’.

It read:You are to accompany the two men to London, to help with a very serious incident. You will be given the temporary position of Acting Captain, and remunerated accordingly during your secondment. Do not speak to anyone about this matter. Neither of the two escorts have any further information. The Prime Minister personally recognises your contribution.
Signed. Sir John Franklin.
Undersecretary Joint Intelligence Committee.

“What if I refuse to comply?” I said looking at the three faces.

“Bad things Miss.” Said Bromham.

The other one nodded gravely in agreement. Sheila just shook her head and pleaded with her eyes.

“Acting Captain Curtis, we have been instructed to escort you to London. We will follow our orders, whether you agree or not. Please don’t use any of your hocus pocus, this is serious.” Said Major Kent.

“Acting Captain?” Gasped Sheila.

“Next time I’ll ask for brigadier.” I joked, but no one was laughing.

“If you two aren’t supposed to know anything about all this, how come you know about this Acting Captain stuff?” I asked then as we were driven away at speed.

“We were told you pick you up and get you to London, and that you would be assuming the rank of Acting Captain, SIS.”

“SIS?” I gasped in astonishment. That was John’s lot. What the hell is going on here?

“That’s all we know Captain Curtis. So unless you wish to talk about something else we won’t make too much conversation.” The car was really speeding along, with I suspected flashing headlights and probably small blue ones back and front. Whatever it was; it was important; very important. Suddenly the car turned into a small airfield, and a few minutes later we were on board a small helicopter and airborne.

In an hour we had landed on a helipad in central London. Ten minutes after that, I was being given a visitor pass to a building in Whitehall. We walked along endless marble corridors each with pass coded doors and frequently overseen by armed MOD police.

Since the bombings in London, they were taking no chances. Eventually, I was led into a reception office, where I was told to sit and wait. Mr Bromham waited with me.

“It’s okay, I won’t disappear or run off.” I said to him.

“I know.” He replied dryly, “I’m here to make sure of it.”

“Did you enjoy the guards? Coldstream wasn’t it?” I was starting to pick up on his past. “Then you transferred to intelligence and thence to MI6. How am I doing.”

He sat impassively, ignoring me, or trying to. He was guarded in his body language; obviously through training, but his eyes spoke a different dialect. “Let me see married to Emma, divorced last year. You have a daughter called…”

He was suddenly looming over me. I don’t care how you know all this, whether it’s from my records or some paranormal means, but if you don’t shut the fuck up I am going to rearrange your lovely face.” He then sat down.

I was shocked at his quiet threat. It conveyed immense menace. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Shut it.” He mouthed at me. I did as I was told. I saw him being hit by a car as he crossed a street and tried to warn him, but he made a threatening gesture to me; so I desisted. He had three more days to live. I tried again, but he stood up to come and hit me. At this moment a new face arrived.

“Captain Curtis, please come this way.” As I left with this obvious civil servant type, I did say, “Be careful crossing the road on Thursday.” His response was to run a finger across his throat. I did try.

“In here please, would you like some coffee.”

“Please, white no sugar. Any chance of a biscuit? I’m starving.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” Said the young man and hurried off.

As he disappeared so a large double door in polished mahogany opened and I was ushered in. “Captain Curtis, how kind of you to come. The PM speaks very highly of you, though I must admit you are younger than I expected.”

The puzzled look on my face must have conveyed a message. “Oh yes, forgive me. I’m Arthur Wilkins, assistant to Sir John. I sent you the note.”

I held up the piece of paper. “That’s it.” He led me into a large room with three men seated around a large table. There were one or two minions taking notes and acting as gofers. I was invited to sit opposite them. I felt as if I was about to take a viva exam before a board of eminent professors.

“The PM speaks very highly of you and your apparent skills. I believe a Mr Tuck said he was impressed with your skills.”

“Has he recovered?” I asked innocently, having last seen him under a desk I had dropped on him.

“I believe so. Now to business. I must say Captain Curtis, you look awfully young to be involved in this. It could be very dangerous.”

“You were saying about business.” I quipped.

“Quite so. We have a situation, as our American colleagues say. Actually they have one, as well. In a nutshell, the British Ambassador to Egypt has been kidnapped by terrorists. They are threatening to execute him and his bodyguard, a Sergeant Anderson. In a separate attack, they have also kidnapped the American Ambassador. We don’t know if they are the same group or even related. However, they did occur at about the same time in what appears to be coordinated attacks.”
I think I must have visibly shuddered when they mentioned John’s name. “Are you well captain?” Asked Sir John.

“I’m okay.” I said very quietly. It was a lie, I felt awful.

Another of the ‘professors’ spoke. “The US president asked for you to be involved, apparently she has seen you in action. Is this correct?”

“I have met her, yes.”

“For one so young, you move in august circles.”

“It’s a habit I’m trying to break.”

“Your flippancy is not appreciated here, Miss Curtis.”

“I’m sorry, but I didn’t ask to be seconded here. However, I am here. There are several men who are in grave danger while I’m sitting here with the outings committee from the Civil Service retirement club.”

“Your impertinence does not become you. Any further outbursts and I shall report you to your senior officer.” Snapped the final wise monkey.

“Go ahead, then see who’s going to save your ambassador. I think I’m finished here.” I stood and turned to leave the room. The third wise monkey walked very rapidly to intercept me.

“You will leave when we have finished, not before.” He stood glaring at me. The glare began to turn to fear as he suddenly began to levitate up to the ceiling being held against the wall.

I continued towards the door.

“Miss Curtis, please. We um.. need your help.” Sir John’s plumy tones came from behind me. “And would you please release Admiral Thomas, without harming him?”

“He can wait a moment. What do you want me to do.?”

“This is all top secret.” He began.

“Look; this is all very well but it’s a talking shop. Who is the person in operational charge?”

“Colonel Bell.”

“Please take me to him, and please have Sergeant Don Masters attend. He’s SIS, and a colleague of Anderson’s.”

“You know Sergeant Anderson?”

“You know I do. Or if you don’t you shouldn’t be here.”

“I should be here.”

“I’m glad to hear it, Sir John. Captain Pugwash, you can come down now.” With that he slid gently to the floor, whereupon, he was violently sick all over his expensive suit.”

I was led to Col. Bell’s office drinking my now cold cup of coffee and munching a digestive biscuit.

He was in a meeting, which we interrupted. He was addressing a whole table load of people. He therefore; didn’t take to kindly to our entrance. “Who the hell are you? I don’t need any schoolgirls here. Get rid of her.”

“Colonel, she’s the one who could just get our people out of this shit.” I recognised Don Masters.

“If you are messing with me sergeant, your arse is in a sling.”

“I’m not, sir, she found Anderson in Amsterdam.”

“I thought the Dutch special branch did.”

“She told them where to look.”

“Is this true?”

“Yes sir.” I didn’t like this man but for John’s sake I had to work with him.

“Okay everyone take five.” Said the colonel. “Right missy, if you ever interrupt a meeting of mine again, I’ll have your lovely arse roasted.”

I felt like sending this man through the wall, but decided any tricks would be counter-productive. For now at any rate.

“Sir, Jamie was Anderson’s girlfriend, she is also very psychic.”

“Jesus H Christ. You don’t believe in that crap. Get out of here child. Go now before I get angry.”

“You big, arrogant bully. You don’t care about those men you only care about yourself and your reputation.”

“Fuck off, deary, now!”

“Just like when you were in Iraq. You let men die so you could glory. Your own sergeant, Colin Titmarsh. You let him die.”

“Shut up, girly.” His face was red and the pulse in his forehead was throbbing.

“Tell Sergeant Titmarsh to shut up. He warned you about that house, but you ordered an attack. They were all killed weren’t they. You said they disobeyed your orders, but Titmarsh disagrees. You killed him and two others.”

“I’m not impressed by your games, girly. I’ve got plenty of blood on my hands.”

“I’m not frightened by your bluster. Unlike you colonel, I have killed enemy combatants. Come any closer and I shall add you to the list.”

“You impertinent little cow.” He said as he went to strike me.

“No sir, that’s Hathor, I’m Sekhmet.” I said as I was aware that I was suddenly looking down on someone who towered over me normally.

“What the blazes…” An appropriate turn of phrase as his clothes began to smoke. Only prompt action by Don Masters throwing water over him prevented his cremation.

He was shaking when they sat him down at a table. “What was that all about?” He eventually managed to ask.

“I have some extra skills which sadly people do not accept until something is demonstrated to them. Yours nearly cost you your life.”

“Look Curtis, I don’t know how you can help in all this, even with your flame throwing friend.”

“Carry on with your planning colonel, but please do not act without consulting me. Don and I will try to locate John and the ambassador. I need a photo of him and any of the Americans. By the way, all of you will forget what just happened, remembering only that I am very special to this case, and to be treated with respect by all of you. Remember I am here at the behest of the Prime Minister and the US President, I therefore give orders not take them. Understood?”

They had all developed a glazed look as they listened to me, and agreed my instruction. Then they snapped back into life as if nothing had happened.

“Masters, help Miss Curtis with anything she needs. Let me know if we can do anything from here? Thanks for coming so quickly.”

“Glad to be of assistance.” I smiled back, wondering how he was going to explain his singed pubic hair to his wife. But that was his problem.

Don and I went to a small office, he left me to concentrate on John while he went off in search of photos of the missing Americans. I sat quietly and tried to remember his eyes. I recalled the grey limpid pools, and as they grew in my mind I dived in and swam about in them.

He felt a long way off, he was drugged or unconscious; either injured or sick. His life force felt weak. I tried to send him a message, “Don’t give in. Hang on in there. I’ll find you wherever you are.”

Tears were dripping down my face, all I could sense from him was darkness. I knew he was still alive. Ironically, had he been dead it would be easier to make contact. Having said that, newly dead people tend to be traumatised and confused. So any info they gave me would be suspect or very vague.

Annoyingly; I could get into his head but not his body. I mean that I could play with his dreams but not gain any sense of where he was from his bodily sensations, because they weren’t feeding back to his mind. Had he been awake or conscious, then I would feel some of the things he felt or saw. But it was all blank. I was very worried, it looked very bleak.

I was trying not to get too angry. Terrorists happen everywhere and potentially to anyone. Their aims and objectives have no validity if they are backed by violence. Once an argument becomes violent; it is lost. At least that is my view.

The reason they use violence is because they are unable to argue. By this I mean using logic not emotion to win a point. Most of these sad individuals are operating on emotion. Thinking with their solar plexus rather than their minds. Exploited by cynical mindbenders, they are set up to sacrifice all for such a narrow vision of reality; I doubt it spans more than a single photon; the smallest amount of light detectable by the human eye.

These sad cannon-fodder run on anger and bitterness, primed by unprincipled radicals who care nothing about anything but what they want. If they killed John, would I become just as empty as these maniacs were?

If I did, the lives of many were at risk. I had the potential to waste lives on an unprecedented scale. If the Eye of Re, really got going whole nations could disappear. Then who would be the terrorist? I had to hang on to this idea, not to go ballistic if anything happens to John. Destroying every living thing in the middle east and north Africa, would resolve nothing. The excuse, “They pissed me off!” Sounds more Bart Simpson than a rational caring human. Even if part of me recognises that life is a continuum, this incarnation is but one of many; doesn’t give me the authority to send many into their next. The exception being those who have brought it upon their own heads by declaring war on me and mine. They will be cleansed, by fire!
I recognise and respect their god. They will perish through mine. Theirs and its jihads, are a modern concept like Christian crusades. Mine is ancient, as old as mankind itself. Gods are created by man. Before these manifest there is only energy or consciousness. It takes a second consciousness to make it manifest. Man provides that reflection, the rest simply happens.

“I am Sekhmet; the destroyer. Let the world be warned!” These words thundered in my head. I fought to keep control of myself, to keep those dark energies suppressed. It was like sitting on a gigantic nuclear weapon. Why had it happened to me? Why now?

I was brought back to this world as Don rushed in. “The bastards say they’re going to execute one of the Yanks. They say they’re going to do it live on the internet!”

“Where are the photos?”

“They’re sending them by fax.” He replied.

“Get them now, this instant. If I am to save this man I need to have a link with him. For God’s sake get them now.”

“Okay, Okay. I’m gone.” He ran out of the room. I drank some water and stretched.
Walking to the window I looked up at the sun. “Right; icon of the creator Re. I need your strength and wisdom. I want to save these lives which are threatened. I need you to control the passion within me. It is not my job to judge or punish those who threaten or harm them. Help me, your handmaiden, your instrument; to do what is right and to save these souls that they might use their experiences to make this a world closer to your plan. This I beg of you, my heavenly father.”

Part of the human in me was astonished. All of this prayer was said in a language which the pharaohs would not have understood. It predated them by millennia. Yet I understood it! It was primal, it was that old. An archetype now long forgotten except by the ancients who live inside us; trying to keep us to the plan which we seem to stray from so often.

I felt the warmth of the sun. It began to increase. It became hot, very hot. Inside I felt insulated against the heat. Around my head, a solar disk was firing up, with an intensity I had never felt before. I had made contact with Re, now I had to do his bidding. I prayed it was what I had asked for.

Don rushed in, waving some papers. They were pictures of the three missing Americans. The ambassador, a military attaché and a guard. On my asking, no one knew who the victim was to be.

They said they would do it at four pm, Greenwich time. It didn’t of course mean they would. In fact; their word meant nothing. My plan was simple – I was going to make it up as I went along.

Once we had communication with them, however tenuous, I might just be able to do something.

I got Don to arrange for us to have internet access, I needed to be able to see them. Then; I would try to distract the attackers and signal to the would-be rescuers. All in a day’s work for a superhero! Sadly, I’m not one. I’m a very frightened nineteen year old, who is going to try something as hazardous for me as the threat that is posed to the captives.

I have just realised that it could be dark when it happens. My solar cells will be depleted if this so. My own enemies could try their arm; aided by the darkness. The physical and mental effort to do what is necessary; might kill or injure me by itself. Or the forces with whom I am linked might just terminate me. I am; after all, a pawn in their larger game.

There are probably countless other threats; which I have not foreseen or mentioned. It is recklessness at its worst; so who wants to live forever?

Don arrived back with a laptop and began to plug it into a mains electric supply and then a phone line. In a few minutes he had it on and online. Now we had to wait.
I tried tuning into the energies of the pictures; sort of remote viewing from them, but they were too weak. Only the fact that I would know if they were dead; made me know they were still alive. Similar to the position with John.

I asked for a large scale map of Egypt and Cairo in particular. It was still on its way. I told Don what I intended to do. He shook his head, “You can’t do that girl. It ain’t possible.”

“I am going to try. Most of my life force will leave my body. If I succeed I will return. No one must touch me for at least an hour after it is over; however it ends. If there is no sign of life then, assume I didn’t make it back. If that happens please take my body back to my parents, but please throw this into the Nile.” I indicated the statuette of Sekhmet I had around my neck. “Please promise me that.”

“I’ll do it myself girl, if it’s necessary. But it won’t be. Remember you’ve gotta get John out too.” There was a tear in his eye as he spoke.

“When I give you the word, you send in the cavalry. Tell them to look for the lioness. They will see one, but they will have to be quick. Once the terrorists start to look as if they are going to kill the man, I need those choppers airborne. I doubt I’ll be able to stop things for long so will need a bit of help.

Col Bell called in to see us. “How are things?”

“I’ve hatched a plan with Don. Tell the Americans we have someone on the inside who is going to try and hold things up and also give them a sign. The sign will be ‘lioness’. They will need to be airborne and waiting for the sign. They will have just minutes if they are to save those men.”

“How are you planning on doing this? I need to see a plan, then it needs to be sanctioned.” Col Bell was a man of procedures and red tape. Convincing him was going to be difficult.

Oh well! “Don, can you get hold of the PM, then I want a link to the President. I need to speak to both of them.”

“What? Just call up Downing Street; like that.” He snapped his fingers as he spoke.

“Only if you have rapid dialling, Don. So stop messing and get calling.”

With wide open eyes, reinforced by his dark skin, he asked the call be put through.

“Tell them it’s Jamie; calling via Sir John Franklin’s office. They’ll take the call.”

Much to his astonishment they did. After I spoke to the PM and explained what I needed him to do, he agreed to do it. He also instructed Col Bell to cooperate. Bell argued, but the PM was adamant. I must have made quite an impression on him. I think it was the wings that did it.

Now we waited. I sat trying to link in with the energies of these men. There was little or nothing. They were alive; but how much and for how long?

Four o’clock came and went.

So did five.

Six.

Seven.

It would be dark in Egypt now. Things would be extra dangerous. I had to avoid thinking about it in case I gave signals to my detractors. Shit; you just can’t get a reliable terrorist these days. Lying bastards.

At eight there was a minor incident.

At nine it began.