Director Howard White looked around at the sheer desolation around him. What had once been a respected and well known airport in the local community was now no more than ruination and wreckage. A man with thinning grey hair and an old but well kept suit stood up right next to White. “You can see why I’m concerned,” the man said. White nodded in response. “Still no sign of the bomb that caused this?” the man asked. White shook his head now, “Not yet. I have some of my best agents looking into it.” The man paused in thought before responding: “I want North on this case.” White looked at him sceptically for a moment, not used to being told how to do his job. “...I’ll see what I can do,” he said after a long and awkward moment of silence.
Scott Jenkins stood by the window-door to his garden, looking wistfully into the night sky with a half-empty glass of wine in his hand. The room behind him was well lit and full of people he barely knew. He felt as though his house was being invaded. A beautiful blonde woman tapped his shoulder, a stern expression on her face. “Scott, this is our party, at least try to look interested!” she snapped at him angrily. Scott sighed, “I’m sorry Lara...” he kissed his wife gently. He turned away from the window only for something to catch his eye. He spun back around to see the snarling face of Richard Cassidy at the window. Cassidy had been Scott’s partner but had betrayed him to an enemy they could barely comprehend then subsequently been killed. His face was not welcome at Scott’s window. Scott blinked. Richard was gone. Scott turned back to his party in silence and tried to shake the image from his mind. He couldn’t. It had been a figment of his imagination, hadn’t it?
Nathan Shawn Stevens, owner of the Anonymous Chicken Agency (ACA), glanced at the man next to him through the dark tinted lenses. The scenario he was in was rather disconcerting but necessary. The gas mask was a tight fit but concealed his identity. The rest of the large hall’s occupants were also clad in gas masks, including the auctioneer on the stage who held up the large tattered book. The auctioneer was distinctly feminine in shape. Nate estimated she couldn’t more than 30. “Finally I may present what you have all been waiting for,” she called across the room, “the book of Arbius Iucunduc. Unopened in 3225 years, it is here for your pleasure. We will start the bidding at five million euro’s” she called out in Danish but with a distinctly French accent. The bidding took the price up to way above the five million it started at. When it came to a close the lucky winner was a crouched over man with grey hair and a frail overweight body. His face remained hidden by his gas mask however. “Gotcha...” Nate muttered.
The university professor ran through the dark and dirty sewer with his briefcase clutched to his chest tightly. He was tired, panting and looked just about ready to collapse. Surely he had to have lost them by now. He ducked around a corner and pressed himself to the wall, desperately trying to catch his breath. What felt like hours but were undoubtedly just minutes passed. He forced himself away from the wall and stepped back into the main passageway. Immediately a light shone into his face blinding him. His eyes watered as he blinked rapidly as the silhouetted figure in the long trench coat approached him, illuminated by the light behind it. “Dr Brownings, did you really think we wouldn’t notice your little ‘experiments?” the calm confident voice carried across. “Please...” Brownings begged. The figure shook its head. “You’re under arrest,” Edward North declared as he pushed the handcuffs onto the doctor’s wrists.
As the men in the black suits took Brownings away back up top, North felt his phone start to vibrate in his inside pocket. He reached into his jacket and pulled the small rectangle to his ear, flipping it open as he did so. The van screeched as it veered into life, driving Brownings away to a life in a secret government prison without trial or hearing. “Director?” North spoke into the phone. “Sure, give me the address and I can be there in an hour and a half...”