.....what are you doing here and what is this young lady doing here, this is a restricted area!"   Rainbow Girl - Part 2 - Escape? by Alys

The press of the crowd was pushing me towards the exits. They were sure to find the camera and once they looked at the pictures on it my goose would be well and truly cooked. I began to panic and looked around for a way of avoiding discovery and my certain fate. I had heard many stories from my parents about people just disappearing.

Salvation appeared. I took off my cap and let my shoulder length hair down and then dashed into the women's toilets. I locked myself into a cubicle and sat on the seat breathing a huge sigh of relief. I looked around to ensure that I wasn't in the view of any cameras. I then changed back to my girls' clothes and packed my boys' clothes back in the vacuum compartment in my bag. I adjusted my bra and noticed that it felt quite tight on my boobs.

"Time for a larger size again, those damn hormones, I'll have to try and get a lower dose", I said to myself, slightly exasperated, as I finished dressing. As if I didn't have enough to think about.

After reapplying my subtle makeup I went through the door back onto the main platform. I needed someone to sit and assess my prospects of leaving the railway station without being arrested. The cafe looked a good option to consider my options so I went in and sat down with a largecappuchino. Suddenly the romantic afternoon film on the Cafe large TV screen was interrupted with a scrolling banner headline...

*NEWSFLASH*****NEW HOPE DEPUTY LEADER FOUND DEAD****NEWSFLASH***

A very smart, young woman announcer, dressed all in black, appeared.

"This an urgent newsflash from New Hope 1, Tuesday November 5th. This is Fiona Watkins. Downing Street has just announced that Gordon Brown, deputy leader of New Hope, has been found dead, apparently murdered. The police aided by New Hope militia are conducting a vigorous search for those responsible for this crime against the whole British people. Already the finger has been pointed at the Mudiad terror group. Over to our spokesperson on terrorism........."

A picture of Gordon Brown, the murdered deputy leader was flashed on the screen. I sat there transfixed. As I stared at the familiar features of the man, who had once been Prime Minister and then had left the Labour Party to set up New Hope with theBlairs, I recognised the assassination victim of less than an hour ago.

As I slowly sipped the last of my coffee the whole conundrum struck me, if the militia knew about my camera taking pictures of the crime then they must have committed it themselves and therefore forces within New Hope must have killed their own deputy leader. Why?

I noticed that the numbers of New Hope militia. along with ordinary police on the station platforms had increased. I needed to get out of there quickly. But what to do with the camera and pictures. I came to a quick decision and, out of sight of anyone walking past, took my camera out and quickly uploaded the pictures to a secure photo website. I uploaded a message to my Myspace blog. A short sentence - "Visiting relatives today" - which meant that if three of my online friends didn't hear from me in 48 hours they were to access all my secure sites and distribute anything they might find there.

I took the memory card out of the camera and hard reset it to remove all details of my life from it. I then briefly reinserted the memory card and copied 3 of the pictures I had took onto it, making the one of Gordon Brown being murdered as the desktop. I removed the memory card again and concealing it in the lining of my bra.

A commuter train from Caerdydd pulled in and a lot of people alighted. I got up and joined the crowd making its way for the exits. I looked around for a suitable victim of my planned misdirection. I noticed a middle aged, rather obese with a florid complexion, party member striding through the slowly moving congregation of people. He obviously felt he was an important person as he pushed past people without bothering to apologise as he made his way forward. He brushed past me, looking ahead, giving me the opportunity that I needed.

I let myself follow the flow to the exit, unbuttoning the top of my blouse to expose my cleavage. Better cover as many bases as possible I thought to myself.

Ahead of me, Mr Self-Important had reached the checkpoint.

"Hello militiaman I need to get to an important party meeting in a few minutes please be as quick as possible. I don't know why you have to stop me, don't you know who I am?", he announced loudly in a superior tone.

"I'm really sorry, senior brother Thompson, but my orders are to search everyone, without exception. I will be as quick as I can", the young militiaman replied timidly.

The militiaman patted Mr Self-Important quickly starting with his shoulders. He continued down the coat quickly and then stopped after having tapped the pockets.

"Could you empty out your pocket please, sir"

"What do mean militiaman, I have nothing in my pocket that would be of interest to you. I will have a word with your superior. I am already late for a meeting because of yourinefficiency here"

"Please, empty out your pocket sir", insisted the militiaman.

This altercation had attracted the attention of some of the more senior police and militiamen who were supervising the searches.

"Sir, I must insist that you empty your pocket as militiaman Davies has asked", came the authoritative voice of a senior police inspector.

Mr Self-Important's arrogant attitude had created the perfect atmosphere of suspicion so that when he took out the planted camera, he had quite an audience.

"What's this?", blustered Mr Self-Important, as he looked at the contents of his hand, "I've never seen this before"

The senior police inspector took the camera and with a slight hesitation locating the switch, turned it on. He stared at the desktop picture for a few seconds and then after showing it to two senior militia members he nodded at a squad of burly looking policemen. The squad grabbed the still protesting Mr Self-Important.

"Take your hands off me!", shouted the arrested fool, continuing to worsen his situation. He struggled against the hold of the arresting policemen. His resistance was brief as some hard punches and blows on his body rendered him semi-unconscious.

Immediately the searching was suspended and I went through the exit with the rest of the relieved travellers.

I looked out at the taxi rank. I had to get word to my parents about these developments. They were in grave danger. Once the police checked the camera and its serial number and checked the movements of Mr Self-Important they would know my identity, as the camera owner. They would realise that their arrested man could not have been responsible. I had to warn them even if it risked exposing my identity as Enfys.

I opened the door of the first available taxi.

"Where to Miss", asked the driver.

"Langstone village, Manor Road, please", I replied.

The Sikh taxi driver nodded his head and eased his taxi out into the busy, afternoon, city traffic.

"Do you have a text screen I could use, please?", I asked.

"Yes no problem, although it's  £2 a message", said the driver apologetically. That was 10 times the usual price! But beggars can't be choosers I thought.

I wrote my Mother a message that she would understand.

"Wearing a yellow ribbon", I typed and sent. She would know the reference to prison and know she had to get out fast.

Fifteen minutes later we pulled into the street where my parents' house was. Ahead there was a huge commotion, the taxi driver pulled over to the side.

"Are you sure this is the right place love?", he asked, indicating the police cars and militia vehicles that were piling into the house's drive at that moment.

"No, I think I may a mistake sorry, can you take me back to Casnewydd, please"

The taxi turned slowly and was about to head back onto the main road when a police car suddenly swerved in front of us, blocking our exit. A tall, aggressive looking man in a police uniform, without any numbers or identification usually indicating the feared SPG*, walked quickly up to the taxi.

"Hey Singh what are you doing here and what is this young lady doing here, this is a restricted area!"

*SPG - Special Patrol Group - police group implicated in a number of murders and assaults