The first thing I remember seeing was the terrible, thick choking cloud of black smoke carrying flying debris from the direction of next-door through the acrid air. Frozen to the spot, I had temporarily forgotten about my six-year-old son Daniel upstairs. Seeing a window frame in the road and a car pull over with its windscreen apparently blown out, obviously by a massive explosion, I was startled into action. Unsure if the upstairs windows were closed I ran frantically upstairs thinking, thank god Paul is with his mother tonight.

Daniel’s room was on the opposite side of the house, my heartbeat was like a jackhammer on my eardrums as I opened his bedroom door. The light was on, but Daniel was completely still. As I approached his bed right below the window I could see Daniel was breathing and although the window frame was badly bent, the window was intact and amazingly Daniel had apparently slept right through it. I thought about waking him but decided first to make sure the emergency services were on the way. On my way downstairs I was shocked by my watch, I heard sirens and vehicles stopping outside and only five minutes had passed. I wanted to rush straight out and see if my fears about it being next door were correct, but I couldn’t leave Daniel.

It took over five minutes to rouse Daniel and once he was awake he jumped out of bed, immediately trying to tell me something. I put my hand on his lips and said, “There is something I have to tell you first Daniel.” As I told Daniel about the explosion he kept trying to interrupt with a strange look on his face, but not one of disbelief like you would expect. He looked upset but the strange thing was he didn’t seem that shocked, as though he knew something I didn’t. Intrigued I decided I better let him speak.

Daniel told me an unbelievable story while he got dressed. “I got woke up by the gate slamming. I looked out the window and saw a stranger dressed in black walk down the path and between the houses. I went to the back window but he’d disappeared. A little while later I heard a gate open. I jumped back up to my window and saw him close the front gate and start along the street, when a black sports car drew up at speed, he got in and the car wheel-spun away. I must have nodded off after that.” I didn’t know what to think, the story sounded unbelievable but I was sure Daniel wouldn’t make something like that up and I usually knew when he was lying, my instinct said it was true. “Okay son, we’ll talk about it later.”

“Do you think Amish is dead?” Amish and Daniel became best friends shortly after the family moved in six months ago. I answered diplomatically, “I don’t know yet what happened or if it’s next door.” not wanting to upset Daniel anymore “I said I thought it was but we have to go and see so hurry up.”

Daniel had dressed in old clothes as I told him so we went outside to watch the action. My fears were confirmed when I opened the door and realised it was next door. The destruction was immense, the living room window had been replaced by part of a burning armchair, the smoking charred front door was lying on the doorstep and the chimney pot smashed all over the pathway. I thought this must have been some explosion. The air was thick with different smells, burning plastic, wood, fabric, and a tinge of burning human flesh made me want to go back inside. As I surveyed the devastation and became momentarily mesmerised by the flames, Daniel shed the vice tight grip I had on his hand. My heart was pounding as he ran towards the fire. I thought he might go into the house to save Amish but he stopped at the first policeman and started pulling at him. I caught up quickly to save the bemused looking constable, assuming Daniel would be asking questions. Daniel was telling his eye-witness story ten to the dozen, I thought surely it must be true if he’s approaching the police as I pulled Daniel away saying, “The police have too much to do now Daniel, we’ll go see them tomorrow.” as we walked away the policeman said. “Hold on sir, the gas-board have told us to evacuate the street and wait till they get here, so I’m afraid I can’t let you go back inside just yet.”

We stood at the end of our street with all our neighbours for over two hours, before the gas-board told the police to give us the all clear and we all trudged back to our houses. As we passed the constable again I stopped to ask, “Do you know what happened?” nonchalantly.

“Gas explosion, no survivors I’m afraid.”

He didn’t care; to him it was only asylum seekers and therefore less trouble to deal with. I would have persisted but the policeman’s blunt manner had upset Daniel quite severely, I walked on trying to comfort Daniel. We passed more policemen, two detectives standing having a smoke, the taller of the two said, “What do you make of the broken lock on that gas box?” Shortie caught me listening and said, “ It didn’t look recent to me, probably like that for a while.” Lanky started, “I don’t know so much.” before finally seeing the look he was getting from Shortie and clamping up. Daniel said, “The police are wrong dad, it wasn’t a gas explosion that guy did it, I just know it.”

I had always brought my sons up to respect the law. The police came to our house regarding a hoax 999 call Daniel had made, and Daniel looked absolutely petrified as the mean Sergeant read him the riot act. Since then if Daniel did something illegal or dangerous I reminded him of the Sergeant and he fell quickly into line. Amish had been quite a bad influence the past couple of months, but thinking about it further as we walked back to our house I decided, considering Amish’s influence Daniel might lie to the police if backed into a corner, but not I was sure without good reason. I also thought more about the gas box lock being broken and came to the conclusion Daniel may or may not be right but he’s definitely telling the truth, as I closed the door behind us. I took Daniel back up to bed, as I tucked him in he asked, “You do believe me don’t you Dad?”

“Yes, of course I do son.”

“Are we really going to see the police tomorrow?”

“Yes son, after school if you still want to.”

Daniel started to cry as Amish’s death hit him properly, he said through the tears, “ I do dad, I know that man had something to do with what happened. I saw it in his eyes.” My heart rate matched the rev-counter on a formula one car at maximum speed.

“What do you mean son, did he see you?”

“Yes dad, looking back as he walked away. He looked right at me.” My heart played syncopated rhythms on my eardrums as I composed myself to ask, “ Was your light on son?”

“Yes dad, you know I can’t sleep without it. Why?”

“Oh, no reason son.” I decided to keep Daniel off school and go see the police first thing, not wanting to worry Daniel I kept my decision to myself.

Chapter Two

I was up at seven the next morning having hardly slept anyway. I was giving Daniel a lie in but by eight my anxiety had really taken hold and I went to wake him. Half an hour later Daniel was up and dressed, following breakfast and another fifteen minutes question time we left for the police station. I was not looking forward to this one bit, although I now whole-heartedly believed Daniel, I knew our cynical local police force would be much harder to convince. I didn’t know it would be impossible.

We walked through the police station main door at ten past nine greeted by a cliché fat desk sergeant eating a ham and cheese sandwich. We told him we had information about the explosion at 5 Windermere Lane. The sergeant looked at me patronisingly as he said, “What kind of information sir?”

“Well my son saw a man going into the back garden before the explosion.”

“That is as maybe sir but it was a gas explosion, didn’t you see the local news?”

“Look, I don’t want to be rude but the man saw my son, I’m worried and I would like to speak to someone in authority.”

“Okay sir, if you insist on making a fool of yourself. What’s the name?”

“Harding, Steve Harding.”

“Thank you sir, take a seat.”

I was fuming at the way I’d been spoken to, but knowing how easy it was to get arrested and not wanting to make a fool of myself anymore in front of my son, we sat impatiently on the tiny uncomfortable blue seats in the waiting room for over an hour.

At ten twenty a short, sexy female detective came through a door from upstairs and beckoning us into a small room opening off the waiting area said “If you want to go in and take a seat, I’ll be right with you.” rather impetuously. I took Daniel and did as she said. We were able to hear the detective’s laughter as the fat sergeant filled her in making me extremely upset and even angrier. She came in shortly after with a file in her hand and said, “Hello, Mr Harding, I’m Detective Sergeant Nixon and I’m in charge of the investigation into the explosion at number 5 Windermere Lane, I’m told you have information for me?”

“Yes, shortly before the explosion my son saw a man acting suspiciously and going into the back garden, the man got a look at my son before being picked up in a black sports car.”

“Now, I can see why you’re worried Mr Harding but there are a number of reasons why the man could have been there, not to mention the pile of evidence the fire investigators have given us to support an accidental gas explosion.”

The young female detective was very good looking but unfortunately equally as arrogant.

“I’m sure you’re right, there are lots of reasons for the man being there. Just none that are legal, and isn’t it even a possibility that someone made it look like a gas explosion, I mean what about the broken lock on the gas box?”

“Yes, of course it’s a possibility but given the degree of contradictory evidence found sir, very unlikely and if you expect me to go against the word of an experienced fire investigation team, I’ll need a lot more than a broken lock and the word of a child, no offence.” I was dismayed as I began to realise I didn’t know my son as well as I thought, or even as well as I should.

I looked sternly at Daniel as I said, “I’m sorry I wasted your time.” Daniel realised I was cross and was whining,

“I’m telling the truth dad.” as I stood up and yanked him from the chair.

Detective Nixon said, “It’s quite all right, thank you.” I dragged Daniel out the door and said, “Okay, goodbye.” to the voluptuous Detective Nixon.

Daniel kept up the charade on the journey home despite severe grief and the worst threats from me, he was still protesting when we arrived. What was left of No 5 was an even more unbelievable sight in daylight, the roof was completely gone and all that remained of the outside walls were a few awkward gravestones, the highest around twelve feet surrounding a ten feet pile of rubble. We went down the side to have a look in the back garden but the police had put a new lock on the gate. I climbed up to peak over, the devastation was even more severe at the back suggesting the explosion had originated there, this proved nothing however as the gas box was beside the back door. Daniel was beginning to irritate me with his incessant protesting so I had no choice but to send him to his room indefinitely, his brother would be back home after school perhaps he could talk some sense into him.

Daniel and his brother Paul had always been close but since the army wife-style became too much for their mum and I had to quit the army when she left me, they were almost inseparable except when Paul was at school, unfortunately where Amish came in. Daniel was constantly downstairs protesting innocence all afternoon so I was almost at breaking point when his big brother Paul came in at 4.15pm. I quickly filled him in and sent him upstairs to talk to Daniel. I heard no more about it that night seeing both of my children only briefly when we all sat down as we did every night to eat a meal together. I went to bed that night convinced Daniel had given up on it. This lasted till about 6.30pm the following evening, I shouted them for tea and down they came in record time, Daniel with a big grin and Paul with some papers. Having been thick as thieves on Paul’s computer since last night they proudly presented me with pictures of the deceased family taken in Pakistan, but it was only when I paid closer attention that I noticed why they were so proud. The picture was inset an official looking Inter-Services intelligence report about an operation involving the father of the family Ahmad Omar Sheikh, head of covert ops for the Pakistan’s Inter-Services intelligence. The operation was hailed a massive success with the largest single haul of chemical weapons and home made nuclear devices being recovered. Surrounded by controversy however, as three of Al Qaeda’s top chemical weapon scientists who had previously escaped conviction when caught in similar circumstances, were killed during the operation after being accidentally infected with the virus they created. The family had then apparently been given asylum in this country possibly a deal for taking part in the operation. I began to worry what we had become involved in and fearing my family’s safety decided to go back to the police.

Chapter Three

It was eight thirty pm when I phoned the police station, gave my name and asked for Detective Nixon. Only to be met, first with a giggle then an unbelievably long silence before, “She’s off shift, phone back in the morning.”
I started to reply but was cut short by their end being hung up. I was angry and made a drastic decision, in hindsight probably not one of my best. I got the phone numbers for my local paper, then a national broadsheet, and a tabloid to arrange a meeting with a reporter from each as soon as possible, all agreed to the next day as I wanted no payment for such a potentially big story. I sent the boys upstairs, locked all the doors and settled down on the couch where I planned to stay alert until my meeting with the reporters.

I started to doze off at around 1:30am and thinking my family would be safe, switched off the T.V. It wasn’t even cold when two vehicles screeched to a halt at the front of our house. I identified them as vans from the racket of the side doors sliding open and shut, before that sunk in the front door crashed into the hall with a terrible clatter. I jumped up. A small projectile was thrown into the living room and I took four steps toward the door, when the projectile exploded with a deafening bang and a flash of astounding light. I was blind, the terrible white haze prevented me from seeing anything at first and my head shook from the awful ringing in my ears. I wasn’t injured by the blast, just severely incapacitated as I reckoned on about a dozen men came running through the front door, I heard some of them going up the stairs but everything was a blur. My sight was better as six of them came into the living room, I recognised the black jumpsuits, respirators and MP5’s from my time in Northern Ireland, before one of them put a bag over my head and fixed my hands together. The bag smelled like canvas and the straps holding my arms felt like cable ties. I could hear the kids moaning as they were ushered downstairs and into the living room. The ringing had almost stopped when a blow to the side of the head knocked me unconscious.

I woke up in a small confined space, as my head began to clear I realised it was moving. Fast. The bag was still over my head, my hands and feet were now both tied and I could hear what I soon recognised as Daniel crying. Paul was trying to calm him down saying. “It’s ok Daniel, I won’t let them harm you, my dad will get us out of here.”

I said, “That’s right Paul, Daniel just try and take deep breath’s son and we’ll be out of here in no time.” I was lying of course; I had no idea when we would be out of this surreal situation and spoke mainly to let the boys know I was ok and with them.

“What is going on dad? What’s going to happen to us?” I could hear the fear in Paul’s voice despite his best efforts to conceal it.

“I don’t know son, but from the uniforms and gear I think we’ll be fine. They’re wearing black overalls with hoods, suede vests, gas masks, their weapons are MP5’s and before they entered our house they threw in what I think was a flash-bang grenade, all S.A.S hostage recovery issue so I think we’ll be alright, but we will be interrogated and probably tortured if we don’t tell the truth, so tell me something, Paul. Where did you find that article you showed me; you weren’t—what do they call it—hacking were you?”

“NO DAD I was not! You know I haven’t done that since I got suspended from school that time.”

We stopped suddenly, side doors again crashed open like a great ocean against its coastline in a storm and I was bundled out of the vehicle. I had only forcibly walked two steps when I heard a scuffle like someone small falling behind me, the ogres sounded angry. I turned quickly and saw bright yellow trainers through the gap at the sack’s bottom. Daniel was being manhandled, it sounded awful. I struggled to go to his aid but was hit by what felt like the butt of an MP5, this time to the small of my back, hard.

Daniel was crying uncontrollably as I was quickly pulled back up from the ground, and one of the ogres in front of me growled. “Shut up kid.” I thought there’s American in that accent, my captor made a sharp movement and I heard a slapping sound in front, as he snapped. “You shut up.”

We were taken through what sounded like two heavy gates into judging by the echo a large hall like room. I could hear water dripping and it was as cold as outside so I thought, it must be a derelict warehouse or something. I was halted suddenly. Daniel’s crying started getting further away, I began to protest, was thumped hard in the stomach, wrestled, winded into a chair and my arms and feet tied in place. They put two tubes across my chest, metal plates on my ring and index finger, and attached a blood pressure cuff to my upper arm. I knew before my captor, whom I had mentally nicknamed Leader, as he seemed to be the head of the group told me.

“You have just been interfaced with a digital polygraph machine. We are now going to ask you some questions and we will know if you lie.” I heard him walking away and another man approached, because of the chairs angle I noticed he was wearing civilian trousers and a long white coat as he sat down across from me. I thought the examiner and said.

“Shouldn’t you remove the sack before the test it’s causing me stress, which will surely give you an inaccurate reading?” The examiner got back up and walked over to Leader, I heard whispering then he came back and removed the sack before sitting back down. After a couple of seconds my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I thought definitely S.A.S and, derelict warehouse is about right. The sack was pointless anyway they were still wearing respirators.

The examiner said. “I’m going to ask you a few questions and I want you to answer them truthfully. Okay?”

“Where are my children?” Grunt approached me, again threateningly brandishing his favourite toy, the examiner waved his hand and he stopped dead. The examiner said in the same stony calm tone.

“They are safe as long as you do as you are told. Now, is your name Steve Harding?”

“Yes.” The examiner made some scribbles on his pad.

“Do you live at six Windermere Lane?”

“Yes.” Scribbling frantically again, no change in expression or tone.

“Are the Pakistani family who lived at number eight dead?”

“Yes.” He looked pleased by this answer.

“Are you actively involved with any terrorist organisations?”

“No.” More scribbling, he looked puzzled briefly then angry.

“Have you ever hacked the Inter-Services Intelligence mainframe?”

“No.” I knew I was telling the truth but I could see the examiner becoming aggravated.

“Have you ever posed or aided a threat to national security?”

“No.” The examiner threw his pen onto the desk as he got up, walked over to Leader and again began whispering to him. A door opened to the left and another white coat came in and joined the discussion, I heard my children briefly before the door closed.

The examiner came across and disconnected me from the machine before asking. “Why did you contact the press about the explosion at number eight Windermere Lane?”

“Because the police wouldn’t listen and my youngest son saw someone acting suspiciously before the explosion.”

White coat number two ran back through the door. Leader walked over to me and said, “The polygraph says you are telling the truth, but when we hacked the PNC and saw the report we started monitoring your phone and computer activity. I know you hacked the ISI mainframe because I watched you, so you obviously know how to beat a polygraph.” He kicked my chair over backwards and pulled me back up shouting,

“WHO DO YOU WORK FOR?” into my face.

“NOBODY!”

WALLOP!! Leader punched me in the mouth and continued to shout in my face. “Why did you hack ISI?” White coat number two came running back in and straight up to Leader, following more whispering White coat two took off again and Leader came back into my face shouting. “So, it was your son who hacked ISI, why the interest in a dead Pakistani family?”

“Because his brother was friends with the child and like I told you he saw someone.” He beckoned to all the men to join in a huddle, when he came out he asked. “Have you told anyone, apart from the newspapers you telephoned about this?”

As I said, “No.” and the men began removing their gas masks a pang of fear shot up my back. Leader said, “Bring them in.” into a walkie-talkie.

A door creaking open at the back of the great empty hall echoed loudly as I turned around. The dead Pakistani family looked extremely distressed as they were cajoled towards us by yet more ogres. Grunt came over and eagerly put the barrel of his MP5 to my stomach as Leader began. “As you won’t be leaving this place alive I will tell you how our brilliant plan has worked so well. In case you haven’t guessed yet we’re not the S.A.S, we’re CIA. Four years ago the agency began placing intermittent sound activated transmitters on all government officials phone lines, then extended the programme to cover MI5 and 6 agents, ex soldiers, high profile traders, and entrepreneurs.” I was dying to interrupt, he was so smug but Grunt actually seemed excited, he couldn’t wait to shoot me so I kept my mouth shut. “We now have one on almost every phone line in the capital, including yours and the number grows everyday, so when we picked up a transmission regarding the family of one Al Qaeda’s most wanted ISI agents, we saw an opportunity to catch one of our most wanted that could not be missed. The family will be traded for Al Qaeda’s third in command as soon as we get rid of you.”

Lightning flashed close behind me followed instantly by a deafening bang. A flash-bang grenade had landed between where I was sitting and the sheikh family yards behind me, so when it exploded two seconds later it blinded and deafened all the CIA agents and unfortunately the sheikh family, fortunately I was only deafened. I’ll never forget watching the S.A.S enter the building, secure all the incapacitated C.I.A operatives and release both families, all inside two minutes. Speaking to a young S.A.S soldier after I had secured the boys tightly to my side, I realised we were very lucky to be alive as he told me. “M.I.5 checked the explosion site and found nothing out of the ordinary, but getting back into their van they noticed a transmitter had been activated on an unused C.I.A frequency while they were inside, tracing the signal to an ex-soldiers house next door, they pulled up the road a bit to wait for a monitoring van to arrive. When the van arrived an M.I.5 technology expert snuck up and placed an experimental, new, undetectable transponder on the chassis, it hadn’t been field tested so luckily for you it worked and the rest is history.” My head raced with questions but he was already walking away so I left it.

It would take us a long time to get over our ordeal, but receiving a commendation for our bravery in uncovering a major threat to national security, in return for never telling another living soul about what happened helped a little. The boys returned to school in a fortnight gutted they could tell no one they were heroes.