Adventure in Brooklyn

Adventure in Brooklyn

Chapter 1

A Little Conspiracy Between Friends

"Conspiracy." He threw his hands in the air. "How is it that they have managed to condition us to automatically think "crazy" whenever we hear the word." He looked at Steve as if asking a question. Steve knew better than to answer though. He knew it was rhetorical. 

"Say the words 'Conspiracy Theory' and we automatically think of strange sociopaths with mental disorders and our first reaction is to disbelieve whatever comes next." Toby pointed his finger at Steve. "If I was to say to you, 'Hey, I have a conspiracy theory', what is your first thought?"

"Nut job?" Steve offered. "You know, like those guys from the X Files." Steve smiled and took a handful of chips out of the packet he was holding. He managed to fit them all in his mouth at once.

"Exactly." Toby was animated. Waving his hands in the air. "So then, if I say something about how the World Trade Centre buildings were taken down with controlled demolitions, your first thought is...?

Steve rolled his eyes back in his head. "Not this again."

"Exactly! Conditioning! We don't want to be seen to be different. We don't want to be seen as 'nut jobs' as you put it, so we say, 'You're crazy'. Gore Vidal was right on the money with that one" Toby said, pointing to the pile of novels scattered on his bedside table. 

Steve had known Toby almost all of his life and he had spent countless hours with him so he knew what was coming. Toby was about to go into one of his soliloquies and there was no use trying to stop him. It was easier to let him go and let him get it out of his system. Steve got comfortable. 

"And if you decide to check out the Internet on any conspiracy, you would find so many articles there that basically tell you 'You are a nut job. Stop looking at conspiracy theories. Are you a sociopath? Look, here is proof that you are crazy. Now get back to work and pay your taxes'. Toby was pacing back and forth. "You would have to trawl through page after page to find proper information because the truth is buried amongst so much data. A conspiracy linked to the World Trade Centre is put in with Lizard aliens, the Bernstein bears and prophecies of Larry the Loon. They condition us to think that if you believe that the WTC was a conspiracy then you must also believe that the Earth is flat!" Toby flopped on the bed.

"Think conspiracy, think paranoid, delusional, unintelligent freak wearing a tin foil hat!"

"You have to admit Toby, some conspiracy theories are pretty whacky. Thought up by those who are a sausage or two short of a barbecue."

"But the fact is Steve," Toby sat up and looked him in the eye, "almost everyone knows that the government lies, manipulates, spies, has secrets, even assassinates. We all know that. We are not that surprised when we watch a movie that shows the lengths that the government will go to, to cover up a secret or manipulate the public. We sit back and say 'yep, that's believable'. I mean, everyone knows now that there were no weapons of mass destruction in Iraq. They understand that the government lied so they could invade and destroy, create chaos and take control of the oil. We know that." Toby let out a long sigh.

"You finished? Steve said with a smile. 

"For now I guess..." Toby dropped back on the bed. 

"Good. Now grab your tin foil hat and your decoder ring. We are going out to have some fun."

Toby wasn't really in the mood to go out. He hadn't gone out much in the last 6 months. Not since his parents had died. And Steve could see the look on Toby's face. "Come on. It's your birthday. 21st birthdays are normally spent drunk and stupid. It's a tradition."

Toby sat up and looked at Steve. He was a good friend and had been for a long time. When his parents had died Steve spent weeks with him, helping him cook, shop, wash clothes. All the things that Toby hadn't needed to do before. His mum had always done that.

"OK." Toby reluctantly agreed. "But just a few drinks. Then I am coming home to watch movies."

Steve jumped up and grabbed his phone. "Deal." he said. "A few drinks then The Lone Gunman series." 

They left laughing. 

They entered the pub and scanned for a place to sit. It was a Friday night and the place was starting to get busy but they soon spotted a table across the room. "You grab that, Birthday Boy and I will get the beers." Steve weaved his way to the bar. It was nearly 5:00 and the were a lot of 'after work drinkers' standing in groups, sitting around tables or leaning on the bar 'people watching'. He bought the drinks and weaved his way over to the table where Toby was. With a pint of beer in each hand the journey was slow but he made it without incident though, without spilling any beer. He carefully put the beers on the table and fell back into the empty chair. 

"Where are the chips?" Toby raised his eyebrows. 

"I risk my life wading through the great unwashed to bring back two icy cold beers and all you say is 'where's the chips'! 

"Sorry mate. Thanks for the beer."

Steve reached down into his pocket and produced a small packet of chips. He threw them on the table. He reached into his other pocket and pulled out a packet of peanuts. He threw them on the table. "Happy?"

They both laughed and grabbed their beers. Steve raised his glass into the air and said "It has been a tough year but we have made it through. Happy birthday Toby." They spilt beer on the table as the tapped the two glasses together. They both took long drinks. Steve fumbled in his pocket, pulled out his phone and took a picture of Toby holding his beer. "One for the archives." It was a saying they used whenever there was a memorable moment. 

Toby took another drink and looked at Steve. "So now they will know exactly where we were."

Steve grabbed the packet of peanuts and tried to open them. "What?" he asked. 

"You ever hear of Creepy?"

"Nope!" Steve said, still fumbling with the packet of peanuts. 

"It's an app that uses the GPS data from your Smartphone pictures to pinpoint where you took the photo. It also picks up when it was taken so anyone can look up your photo from Twitter or Flickr and find out exactly where you were at the time the photo was taken and even how and when you uploaded it. All the pictures you take on that phone there Steve, have their own fingerprint data." 

"What I really need now," Steve said as he pulled at the packet, "is an app that tells me how to open these bloody peanuts."

Toby took the packet from Steve and ripped the packet with his teeth. He handed the pack back to Steve. "No app needed for that one."

Steve poured peanuts directly from the packet into his mouth. "Are you OK?" Toby said with a mouthful of peanuts.

"What do you mean?"

"We'll, you know. It's your birthday and you don't really seem to be in a birthday mood."

Toby took another mouthful of beer and leant forward. "I miss them still." He looked down at his glass, "I guess I miss them even more today."

"I understand" Steve was genuinely sympathetic. "It would be tough."

"They were pretty good parents you know." Toby still stared at his glass. "I have a lot of great memories."

"They were pretty good parents." Steve agreed. 

"You know, we used to have long conversations all the time. They taught me a lot about the world and a lot about life." Toby was in a melancholy mood. "But I think the best thing they taught me was to think for myself. Make my own opinions. They used to say to me 'Read the papers, watch TV, but don't let them tell you what to think.' They were the ones that got me looking around for answers to some of the big questions and I found a whole heap of places where you can find out what they don't tell you in the mainstream media. They are the ones who got me to realise we were being drip fed on what to think, what to do, what to wear and how to act. And they got me to realise that they don't tell you anything they don't want you to know." 

They sat in silence for a while. Steve knew that Toby must be going through a big range of emotions, although he couldn't quite imagine life without his own parents. That would be tough. He needed to change the subject or risk having Toby spend his 21st moping and sad. 

"Read any good books lately?" 

Toby looked up at Steve, "I did read something interesting the other day. Have you heard about the Tuskegee syphilis experiment?" 

Steve shook his head and emptied more peanuts into his mouth. 

"Back in the 1930's, the government offered free health care to Black Americans around Tuskegee in Alabama if they participated in a study. For forty years these people thought they were getting free health care but what was really happening, is that they were being experimented on. They were conducting studies on what happens if syphilis remains untreated," Toby downed the rest of his beer. "...so they studied these people with syphilis but didn't treat them. They all thought they were getting looked after by their government but they weren't being treated at all and they weren't even told that they had syphilis. For forty years this went on until someone blew the whistle."

"Are you making this shit up?" Steve had a half smile on his face.

"Absolutely not. Six hundred men took part in the study and four hundred of them had syphilis. Even when the rest of the world was being cured with penicillin, these four hundred weren't given any treatment. They were just told they had bad blood and so they went on to infect their wives and children. A lot of them died. And the only reason they stopped was because they got caught."

"Makes you think, doesn't it." Steve finished his beer with a gulp. "When was that a conspiracy theory, thought up by the tin foil hat guys, and when was it conspiracy fact? I can just imagine people saying that they suspected this was going on and they were all called conspiracy nutters. Then finally the truth comes out and in an instant it goes from Conspiracy Theory to Conspiracy Fact."

"Not only does it make me think," Toby held up his empty beer glass, "it also makes me thirsty." 

"It's your shout." Steve said with some indignation. "But I suppose, seeing as though its your birthday, I can make that perilous journey to the bar and back again." He picked up the glasses and disappeared into the crowd. 

Chapter 2

The Gift of Conspiracy

Toby woke to bright light shining in his eyes. He hadn't closed the curtains last night. He hadn't done much of anything last night. He remembered getting home, late, but he couldn't remember anything after struggling with his keys at the front door. His head pounded. He was thirsty. He now regretted all that beer. All those shots. The strip club. The late night souvlaki. 

He threw his sheets off and laid there. Head pounding. He slowly turned his head to see the clock by his bed and wondered how much sleep he had. It felt like 'not much'. It was 9:18 and there was still a strong taste of garlic and alcohol in his mouth. He felt ill. 

Slowly he got up, trying not to move his head too quickly. He sat on the side of his bed and wondered how Steve was feeling, secretly hoping that he felt as bad as he did. He managed to get himself to the kitchen and find the pain killers. He put three in his mouth and took a long drink of water. His stomach cramped a little. He shuffled into the lounge room, collapsed on his favourite chair and waited for the tablets to do their thing. He sat without moving for a long time. 

He was startled by the front door bell. The tablets had started to work and his headache was now a dull pain but his stomach felt empty and hollow. The door bell rang again. He got himself to the door and opened it slightly. A smiling man stood there in brown shorts, knee high socks, brown sneakers and a shirt that had "Quick n Easy Couriers" emblazoned across the front. He opened the door wider and said "Yes?" He suddenly realised he was standing there in his underwear and so moved behind the door and peered from the side. The courier seemed unperturbed by his state of undress.

"Toby Winston?" the courier said in a cheerful voice.

"Yep" was all Toby could manage. 

The courier handed him a small package and a small writing tablet. Toby signed the electronic device and handed it back to the courier. The courier gave a quick "Thank you sir" and like a flash, was walking down the driveway towards his van. Toby shut the door and headed back to his chair, shaking the small package as he walked. He didn't give much thought to who had sent it or what it could be. His hangover prevented him from doing any real thinking. He ripped the envelope open and removed an iPod box. "A present" he thought. He opened the box and a note was sitting on top of the iPod. 

"Listen to me" was written in blue ink. Nothing else. 

Toby put the box and envelope next to him. The last thing he felt like was loud music. He stood and shuffled to the kitchen. "OK stomach", he whispered, "lets see how you go with cornflakes." The garlic/alcohol taste in his mouth was fading and his headache had retreated into the background. He started to feel like himself again. Toby finished his cornflakes and poured himself a large glass of fruit juice. "Thank god it's Saturday" he said to himself as he went back into the lounge and flopped on his chair. He looked at the package next to him and wandered if he could handle music yet. After a moment he thought he would give it a try. "It might even help my hangover" he said. He connected the ear buds and put them in his ears, turned the iPod on and went to Playlists. There were 13 playlists simply numbered 1 to 13. "This better not be rap" he said as he pressed the button to play the first list.

"Hullo Toby and Happy 21st Birthday." Toby did not recognise the voice. It was a man's voice, maybe thirty something, well spoken and with no discernible accent. "The story you are about to hear may seem like fantasy but you will need to listen before you make up your mind. Only by hearing it all will you be able to make an informed decision on whether it is truth or fiction."

Toby paused the iPod. If this was going to be a conspiracy theory, he will need to get comfortable. He dragged the footstool over and moved the cushions to support his back and neck. Making sure he could reach the glass of juice on the table. He wiggled to get the cushions right and put his feet on the footstool. Finally satisfied he was as comfortable as he could get, he pressed the iPod to continue. "This better be good" he thought. 

"The world is not as it seems. You have suspected this for some time but you haven't been able to put your finger on what the problem is. You have also suspected that a small group of people were manipulating the rest of the world for their own gain. You suspect that the powers within governments, particularly the United States, have been manipulating the public, spying on them and lying to them. You know these things but you don't know what the purpose could be. 

"Their purpose will become clear soon. Their plans will become clear soon. I will try to explain certain plots that will seem inconceivable and yet you will know when you hear them that they are correct. 

"This iPod contains 13 sections and can only be played in that order. The first sections will explain the situation in general terms. The remainder will be more detailed and more specific. Each section should be completed before progressing to the next.

"Toby, as an introduction this has been a poor one. For that I apologise. I ask for your patience though as the information is so at odds with what you understand to be true, that it must be understood in small bites if it is to be understood at all. 

"This first section may help to explain why you have that feeling that the world is not what it seems."

There was silence for a few moments so Toby paused the recording. He sat in his chair trying to fathom what he had just heard. It reminded him of a variation of the old Twilight Zone series he had watched on late night TV years ago. The series theme sound went through his head:

Dodododo dodododo.

"This is fun" he said quietly to himself, "Steve has really gone to a lot of effort." Toby decided snacks were in order so he could savour the experience. 

As he was rummaging through the fridge and cupboards for snacks he wondered how Steve had managed to pull the recording together without him knowing. What a great birthday present. A Conspiracy Theory Communiqué. Very clever. 

Armed with savouries, sweets and drinks he made his way back to his chair, got comfortable, plugged in and turned on.

"Imagine space" the voice said. "Imagine the vastness of this universe and all the universes that follow. An eternity of space."

Toby closed his eyes and imagined. 

"And imagine beings that might inhabit that vastness. Multi dimensional beings not confined by space or time, of incredible intellect, free from the chains of flesh. They are eternal. They are powerful. They are something akin to what you would call 'gods'. There is no other earthly word to describe them. 

"These though, are still not perfect beings. Whilst the majority are pure, there are a number that use their powers for their own advancement instead of the advancement of the entire race. This is considered to be a serious crime and is punishable by imprisonment but as you might imagine, imprisoning beings such as this is a difficult task. The lack of any physical form and the immense power of these beings made the design of a prison a challenge. In time however, a prison was built and those who defied the laws of unity were sentenced to spend 'time' in this prison. You know this prison as Earth."

Toby reached down and paused the recording. He needed to reflect on what had been said. He had, of course, read many of these types of things before. The Internet is full of web pages, blogs, chat rooms and the like that are devoted to such bizarre subjects. It was one of Toby's frustrations that very plausible and fact driven theories were often included next to such outlandish claims. Perhaps, he thought, Steve has concocted such a mix in this birthday present for that precise reason. 

Toby grabbed a fistful of potato chips and leant back in his chair. "OK, I'm game" he said to no one and pressed Play. 

"Those who have been deemed by the Council to be guilty of actions against the progress towards a greater spiritual culture are sentenced to 'Life'. Their memories are wiped and they are placed in human flesh, to be born, to age and to die. The basic lessons need to be learned and understood again and by living a life they are provided with this opportunity. Once they have recognised those things that are important, they are released, their memories restored and they return to their previous spiritual existence. 

"For many thousands of earth years this has been seen as a suitable solution. Their existence on Earth is monitored and intervention happens only in extreme circumstances. Unfortunately Toby, circumstances are now extreme."

Silence. 

Toby sat for a few minutes waiting for the narrative to continue but there was only silence. He picked up the iPod to see if it was charged. Playlist one had ended. "Bugger!" Toby was hooked. He wanted to know where this was going. He scrolled to the second playlist and pressed. Nothing happened. He pressed again and again. Nothing. "You have stuffed that up, Steve." Toby was annoyed. He ripped out the earbuds and sat there. After a few minutes he decided that television was the best course of action. He grabbed the remote and switched it on. He scrolled through the channels looking for something interesting. Earth as a prison for gods. Interesting concept. He came to a channel showing an old episode of Fringe. He picked up the packet of chips and sat back. That seems appropriate, he thought. 

Chapter 3

Intervention 1

Toby had spent most of the day watching TV. Steve wouldn't be coming around until tomorrow as he had, what he called, family commitments. A visit to relatives on the other side of town. Toby was a little jealous though that Steve had relatives that he could visit. Toby had none. Not any more. 

Toby looked at his watch and realised the day had slipped by and it was dinner time. He needed a decent meal after the chips, Coke and various other treats he had consumed in front of the TV. "Chinese" he said as he jumped from his chair. He headed to the kitchen and picked up his mobile. His favourite takeaways were all on speed dial these days and no menu was needed. He was a creature of habit. 

He dialled, ordered the usual Chicken in Black Bean, large Special Fried Rice and steamed dim sims. "That's dinner done" he said aloud as he made his way back to the lounge. As he was about to sit, he noticed the iPod. He decided that he would give it one more go. "I really want to know what happens next" he said to the iPod. He plugged in and turned on, again. 

"Welcome back Toby"

Toby jumped. He wasn't expecting any sound. He quickly gathered his wits and sat back on his chair. 

"The information so far has been brief but I hope you can understand the concept. I am sure you have not taken anything I have said as the truth. You are not that type of person after all. In the end that is not important. The truth will reveal itself in good time. For now you only need have an open mind. 

"If what I have said previously is so, then it goes without saying that you yourself must also be a prisoner. The difference, in your case, is that you chose to become a prisoner. You were not tried nor convicted. You volunteered. You volunteered because any direct intervention would have disastrous ramifications. 

" Intervention has been required a number of times before and all previous interventions have had repercussions on the reality of those that inhabit the prison. Beings suddenly appearing and making adjustments tend to leave a lasting impression. Your histories include many of these interventions and civilisations retell versions these tales still. In the current era of Earth, any such direct intervention is too dangerous as it may unravel the prison itself. 

"Instead, it was agreed that it would be better to address the issues from within, and you Toby, agreed to be that intervention."

Toby held his breath. He felt the blood pumping through his temples. Goosebumps appeared on his arms and he felt a shiver through his shoulders. After a moment he took a deep breath, paused the recording and took out the ear buds. He heard the door bell. 

"Oh my god this is good. Steve, you are brilliant!" Toby was enjoying this. "Better than The X Files" he said as he rushed to the door to collect his dinner. 

Toby paid the delivery driver and took his dinner into the lounge. He dragged the small coffee table in front of him so he could eat and continue listening in the comfort of his chair. He put in his ear buds, grabbed a dim sim and sat back. 

"A small group of prisoners have been working for some time, on a plan that will give them ultimate power and control over the prison. In this way it is not so dissimilar to the prison systems on Earth but for the scale and impact. Their complex and detailed plans to gain power are well underway and you are the key to ensuring they fail. 

"Your parents have ensured that you have the skills and knowledge needed for these tasks. Key people have other resources required and they will be known to you at the appropriate times. I will be your guide, adviser and wherever possible, your protector. We have the ability to intervene in small ways but, as I have said, there are limitations to these interventions. 

"Your first task starts immediately.

"There is another watershed event in the final stages of preparation. The event is designed to distract people from the current issue of surveillance and to galvanise support for the war on terror. It is another event on the scale of 9 11. 

"As you are aware Toby, the destruction of the three World Trade Centre buildings paved the way for legislation that removed the freedoms of people all over the world. The capture and torture of any suspect is now legal. Human Rights have been eroded away until there is little left. Their access to all data on or via the Internet has allowed them to monitor whomever they feel necessary so they can maintain and grow their power. Support for invading countries grew and they had more freedom and control in destabilising the governments of countries and inserting those who support their cause into power. 

"But the media coverage surrounding their surveillance practices is eroding their support and many people are starting to question their control and their motives. Another major terrorist event is needed to avert scrutiny and gain more power and control. 

The target they have agreed on is the Brooklyn Bridge. The details we have at present are:

"NSA will uncover the plot through their surveillance and monitoring program;

"They will announce that they have discovered a terrorist plot that involves a bridge somewhere in New York but they have not yet determined which one;

"They will clear people off of every bridge but there isn't enough time to stop the plot;

"The Brooklyn Bridge will be demolished;

"This ensures that there will be limited loss of life but a major loss of an American icon.

"By following this plan they will have justified their surveillance programs and refocused their population back to the faceless enemy called 'Terrorism'. It will also pave the way for a tougher stance on Iran and more legislation will be introduced to remove people's freedom. And the people will rejoice. Legislation has already been drafted that will severely restrict airspace in key areas which assists them in some of their future projects. 

"The plan is to blame an Iranian trained terrorist who steals a tourist helicopter and packs it with explosives. This will be flown into one of the towers. The reality is that they are planting thermite as they did for the World Trade Centre buildings. 

"Toby, you need to get to New York. Tickets have been purchased in your name for Monday morning at 7:00 am and a man will meet you at Arrivals. Once there, you will receive a package with more information. 

"We are counting on you." 

The narrative stopped and there was silence. Toby sat there, staring at the wall. Staring at the picture hanging there. A framed photo of him with his parents taken last year. His mind was reeling. 

Chapter 4

A Trip To The Big Apple

Steve lifted the flower pot and took the key. He slipped it into the lock, opened the front door and quietly entered. The room was a mess. Empty packets of chips, cans of soft drink and the remains of an unidentifiable take away meal sat on a table surrounded by clumps of rice, dried sauce, and potato chip crumbs. The rice was also on the carpet, on the chair and on the remote. A photo album lay open on the floor and there were old tourism brochures scattered on the chairs. 

Steve made his way upstairs to Toby's room. Toby was sprawled on his bed amongst a tangle of sheets and blankets. He looked unconscious rather than sleeping. "Toby" Steve quietly called. "Toby". A little louder. "Toby!" Even louder. 

Toby rolled over and opened his eyes. "Urghhh" or something like that. 

"I'll go and make coffee. You get your shit together" Steve said as he retreated from the room. 

Steve pulled the mouldy black filter out of the machine and dumped it in the bin. A black, white and green mess that had an odour he couldn't describe. He rinsed the parts that needed rinsing, filled it with water, topped up the beans, inserted the plastic hose into a fresh milk and switched it on. He pressed Cappuccino Mug. The machine made its normal humming and whirring as it did its thing and Steve placed a mug under the dispenser. He grabbed the sugar and sat at the small kitchen table, waiting. 

Toby entered the kitchen just as the machine finished serving its second cup. Steve grabbed it and handed it to Toby. Toby took it and sat. 

"Big night?" Steve asked. 

"Bigger than you can imagine." Toby stared at his cup. "Did you give me an iPod?" he asked after a few minutes. 

"No.......why?"

"No reason." Toby tried to think of what to tell Steve. Last night he had decided to tell him everything and even let him listen to the iPod. This morning though he was having second thoughts. Telling Steve the story of aliens creating Earth as a prison didn't seem like a good way to start a conversation. He wasn't even sure he believed that anyway and he wasn't in the mood to argue the alien story anyway. He preferred to focus on the potential threat to the Brooklyn Bridge but he didn't know how to start that conversation either. Eventually he said, "How would you like to go to New York?"

"Love to" Steve said. "I have always wanted to see where the WTC was. And maybe a trip to the top of the Empire State. Why? You thinking of going?"

"Yep. Tomorrow." Toby was thinking on his feet. "Friends of my parents live in New York and they want me to visit. They have paid for the trip for my 21st."

"Wow. A bit sudden though, don't you think?"

"Well, there was a delay with the post or something. You want to come or not?"

"Hell yes!" Steve paused for a second. "I'll have to ask my parents first, but I think they'll be ok with it."

"Ring them now so we can book you in online. Just tell them that my parents' friends will pick us up from the airport and we will be staying with them for a week." Toby had checked late last night on his ticket. The fact that there was a ticket for him proved that there might be something to the Brooklyn Bridge story. Or it was a hell of an elaborate present from someone. Either way, he was going. But he wasn't going without his best friend. "And tell them we will email all the contact details as soon as we get there." He knew Steve's parents would want to know where he was at all times but hoped that the story was enough to get their ok. He did not want to do this without Steve. 

A few minutes later they were booking Steve a ticket. "This will be one for the archives" Steve said. 

"It certainly will be" Toby said quietly. "It certainly will be."

The rest of the day was spent talking about what they would do in New York and Toby avoiding all the questions Steve had about why these people wanted Toby to visit, who were they, how did they know his parents and lots of other sensible but unanswerable questions. By early afternoon they were both keen to do their packing so they ordered a cab for the morning and said their goodbyes. They were both excited. 

The next morning was a blur. The early morning flight meant getting up and ready well before the sun was up and neither of them were used to that. The lack of sleep did not dampen their enthusiasm though. They arrived at the airport earlier than they needed, checked in and headed into the duty free shops. They spent the hours looking through all of the shops, choosing books to read on their flight, having coffee and snacks at a little airport cafe and looking through all the New York tourist books they could find. Before no time they were being pushed back in their seats with the force of the take off. 

"So what do you think of the aircraft security these days?" Tony asked Steve as the planed levelled off. 

"OK, I guess." Steve pulled out the magazine from the seat pocket. "I hadn't really thought about it."

"But you agree that it is necessary though?"

Steve looked up from the magazine and turned to Toby. "Of course. They don't want people smuggling contraband or bombs on board, do they?"

Toby raised his eyebrows. "I suppose not. It's ok for them to search everyone and all their luggage so we don't have smugglers and bombers on board."

"Exactly!" Steve went back to his magazine. 

"And it's ok to test any driver to make sure they are not under the influence of drugs or alcohol when they are driving. Right?"

Steve looked up from his magazine again. It was clear that Toby had a point to make and there would be no time for reading until he made it. "Yes. It is ok to test people in charge of vehicles to make sure they are ok to drive."

"And people who work at schools or operate machinery or load ships, we should be able to check them for drug use as well."

Steve nodded.

"What about someone who they think might be carrying a weapon on the streets? They can stop and search them right? And to make sure people are safe at nights we should put cameras on every street corner. Is that ok?

And if we suspect that someone is making crystal meth in their house we should be able to go in and look." Toby looked at Steve and waited for an answer. 

"Yes Toby! Or if we think they are terrorists inside plotting to blow something up?"

"Yes, I suppose that's reasonable. Then there's the person who we know is going to commit a crime. We should be able to question him. Maybe take him to the police station to ask him questions. Maybe put some pressure on him because he is not cooperating or if we think he has information that we know will save some lives."

"Well, I suppose so. What's your point, Toby?"

"My point is that the line in the sand is moving fast these days and it won't be long before the laws, that we keep getting told are there to protect us, actually allow them to completely remove any freedom we have and any rights that we used to take for granted. And they say, but you only need to worry if you are actually going to commit a crime, right? These laws protect the good citizens, right? They don't impact us at all. We don't need to worry." Toby leant back in his seat. 

"Martin Niemöller," Toby said in a quieter voice, "wrote a poem which is just as relevant now as when he wrote it in Nazi Germany. It goes...

When the Nazis came for the communists,

I remained silent;

I was not a communist.

When they locked up the social democrats,

I remained silent;

I was not a social democrat.

When they came for the trade unionists,

I did not speak out;

I was not a trade unionist.

When they came for the Jews,

I remained silent;

I wasn't a Jew.

When they came for me,

There was no one left to speak out.

" I can't help but think that we are living that poem right now, Steve. And I am getting worried."

"I tend to agree with you Toby, but I also don't see that we can do too much about it." Steve looked directly at Toby. "You said to me the other day, that you thought the US government really underestimated the intelligence of the people by controlling the demolitions like that. You know, because it is so obvious to anyone who watches the buildings, built to withstand a 737 flying into them, falling down into themselves without damaging any other buildings around them. It has never happened in any other building fire or explosion in history and yet, that day, three buildings did exactly that."

Toby was nodding.

"So, you say that they underestimated the people. But I disagree, Toby. You are wrong. They actually estimated the intelligence of their people exactly. Look at what has happened. The vast majority of Americans, or the rest of the world for that matter, scoff at any mention of conspiracy and are happy to sign off on anything that the government wants to do to protect them from the faceless terrorist. They believe every part of the story. They believe they could fly through the most secure airspace on the planet, perform incredible manoeuvres, crash their planes into their targets killing everybody on board and they also believe that the people who hijacked the planes miraculously were not on the aircraft at all and so could be caught and prosecuted. They believe it. Hook, line and sinker."

Toby laughed. "You are so right. I hadn't thought of it that way but, Steve, you are right. They were blatant, but they got away with it. Maybe it's years of brainwashing and the persistent dumbing down of the population. They would rather believe the complete failure of the laws of physics rather than suspect that their government was capable of such an atrocity."

Steve smiled. "The dumbing down of the population is happening in most countries these days unfortunately. Maybe its part of their plan. The politicians always blame the economy but education has suffered terribly in the last few decades. No wonder so many people like watching Jersey Shore."

"Careful Steve." Toby leant over to Steve's ear. "They are showing an episode of Jersey Shore on this flight and I don't want to get beaten up by the other passengers. I want to make it to New York."

They whiled away the hours with banter, theories and the occasional intense discussion. Neither of them had read a single page of the novels they bought before the plane touched down in New York. 

Chapter 5

New York, New York

As they finally found their bags and made their way through customs Steve noticed a change in Toby. "You ok?"

"Yep"

"You don't look ok."

"I'm fine!"

"You look nervous. Worried. You haven't got something you shouldn't have in your bag, have you?"

"Of course not."

"Now I'm worried."

"Don't be."

They reached the Customs Officer who looked at them intently. "Cards."

They passed their arrival cards to the large dark skinned man in the crisp clean uniform. He looked at the cards, looked at them, looked at the cards again and looked at them. "If you could both just follow me please."

"Bugger" Steve muttered as they followed the man to an area with a table and not much else. 

"Bags up here please gentlemen."

They hoisted their bags onto the table and stood waiting. The usual customs type questions were asked and answered and they opened their bags, had them thoroughly searched and then tried to pack everything back into them. A task that was a lot more difficult than it should have been. The man called over a woman, dressed in a similar fashion. They spoke quietly between themselves and kept looking back at Steve and Toby. Eventually, and seemingly with the man's disapproval, they were waved onwards. They were free to exit to the Arrivals Hall. 

"You still look worried" said Steve. Toby didn't answer. He was carefully looking at every person, every sign being held up. Slowly they made their way towards the exit, still checking every name. Finally they saw a tall thin blonde man, probably 55 or older, holding a piece of cardboard with the name 'Toby'. 

"I'm Toby" Toby said pointing to the little hand written sign. "That's me."

The man looked curiously at Toby and then at Steve. "I wasn't expecting two" he mumbled. Despite whatever reservations he had about there being two of them, he deftly took the trolley Toby was wheeling. "This way." And they weaved their way through the chaos of the airport. 

"Do you have a package for me?" asked Toby as they followed the man wheeling Toby's trolley. There was no answer. 

"What package?" Steve asked. 

"Nothing. Nothing at all." Toby's heart was beating faster. They walked the rest of the way in silence. Steve was looking at every inch of every where they went, excited at being in New York. Toby was looking at the ground. 

They finally reached the car and their driver loaded the bags in the boot. They jumped in the back and got comfortable. "Where are we headed?" Steve asked with excitement. 

"You'll see" was all Toby said. 

The drive took almost an hour from the airport, through places that they seemed to know even though they had never been to New York before. Flushing Meadows, along the East River, past La Guardia Airport, signs showing the way to places like Broadway, Queens, Long Island. They spent the whole journey staring out their windows in amazement. 

The driver stopped. Steve looked up at the sign on the Hotel - New York Marriott. Within an instant their doors were being opened, their luggage taken inside, and they were being ushered to Reception. Toby turned to see their driver getting back into the car. "Do you have a package for me?" He almost shouted. The man looked at Toby then got into his car and drove off. 

Steve had kept walking and was now standing inside, marvelling at the domed ceiling painted like sky, the plants and flowers surrounding the escalator and the people buzzing around the huge lobby. Toby caught up and said "Pretty good so far?"

"Amazing" Steve was mesmerised. "Are we staying here?"

"Ahhh, wait here." Toby went over to the reception desk. 

"Welcome to the New York Marriott sir. Can I have your name please."

"Toby Winston."

"Here we are Mr. Winston" the receptionist said after rifling through documents behind the counter. "The account seems to be all set up for you. We have a suite for you on the 25th floor."

Toby was a little dazed. "There are umm two of us."

"That's fine Mr. Winston. There are two beds in the bedroom or we can join them together to make a king size if you prefer."

"No, no. Two beds is good."

"Here is your card sir. Your bags will be bought up shortly." She smiled a practiced smile. 

It was like a dream. Toby wasn't sure what to do now he was here. Had he made a mistake. Was this a bad decision. He turned to walk back to Steve.

"Mr. Winston."

Toby turned back to the receptionist. 

"I have a package for you."

Toby walked back and took the package. He stared at the receptionist. Unperturbed, she looked down at her desk and started shuffling papers, cards and key cards. He finally decided that she wasn't part of this and so went back to Steve. 

"2501" he said to Steve, holding up the key card. Steve looked at Toby with a wide grin. Speechless. 

They made their way to the elevator, exited at the 25th floor and eventually located 2501. They opened the door and walked in. Both gasped. 

The room was huge. There were three distinct settings in the large open area. At on end was a lounge setting with a large TV. In the centre of the space was a table surrounded by four designer leather chairs. At the far end was a wooden dining room table with six chairs and another large TV on the wall. The entire back wall was made up of large windows with a view looking across the buildings of Brooklyn. They didn't speak for a long time. 

There was a knock on the door. "Luggage sir" came the voice through the door. 

Toby opened the door and ushered the porter in. The porter took the bags into the bedroom and emerged a few moments later. "Anything else sir?"

"No thank you." Toby murmured. Steve walked up to the porter and handed him $5. The porter smiled, nodded and left. 

"I can't believe this." Steve was grinning from ear to ear. "These friends of your parents must be loaded."

Toby put his hand on Steve's shoulder. "I need to tell you something."

Steve looked at Toby and saw the seriousness in his face. "OK" he said. 

"We are here because of a conspiracy theory. There are no friends of my parents. I don't know who paid for this room. I don't know what we are supposed to do. We're here because a stranger told me the US government are planning another 9 11." Toby walked over to the lounge and sat. 

"Seriously?"

Toby thought for a moment. Should he tell Steve about the prison Earth scenario? He decided that it would be counter productive. Why muddy the already muddy waters with some weird theory that he himself didn't believe. "Yes. And we have this package." Toby held up the large bulky white envelope. 

"What's in there?" 

Toby shrugged his shoulders. "Let's look" he said as he tore open the envelope and emptied the contents on to the lounge chair next to him. 

Steve sat next to where Toby had emptied the envelope. He picked up five bundles of cash and looked at Toby. Toby just shrugged his shoulders. Steve put the cash aside in a stack and picked up a note that simply said 'Number Three'. Toby shrugged his shoulders. Steve picked up a map of New York, a key card and a tourist brochure for Helicopter Flight Services Tours. "I don't know" Toby said before Steve even looked at him. Steve examined the pile of cash.

"One hundred thousand dollars!" Steve almost screamed once he had finished counting. "And you just shrug your shoulders and say you don't know!"

"I really don't know Steve. All I know is this...."

Toby explained everything to Steve, except for any reference to prison Earth. Steve sat quietly and listened. He waited until Toby had completed the story and said "So the reference to Number Three must be the Playlist?"

Toby raised his eyebrows. "Of course. I am so glad I brought you Steve." He grabbed the iPod and connections and fiddled with the TV. Satisfied it was all connected properly he sat next to Steve. They looked at each other. Both had serious looks on their faces. 

Toby started Playlist 3. 

Chapter 6

A Trip to Iron Mountain

"Toby, the following has been designed to help answer the question of 'Why'"

"That's the voice I was talking about!" Toby said.

"Shhhhh!"

"In 1967 a book was published called 'Report from Iron Mountain on the Possibility and Desirability of Peace'. This book has been labelled a hoax, although the book itself states it was a secret report written by a special study group of 15 men under instructions from the US government. Later, Leonard Lewin claimed that he himself had written the book and that it was indeed a work of satirical fiction. This seems the likely truth, but that is not important. What is important is the content. 

"The report states 'The permanent possibility of war is the foundation for stable government. It supplies the basis for general acceptance of political authority.' Wars, the report explains, not only create the foundation for a stable government, they create an economic demand, further scientific achievement and provide a control mechanism for balancing population with available supplies. War also plays key social and cultural roles. The report concludes that peace is not in the best interests of society and wars should be maintained.

"The report clarifies:

'The war system not only has been essential to the existence of nations as independent political entities, but has been equally indispensable to their stable internal political structure. Without it, no government has ever been able to obtain acquiescence in its "legitimacy," or right to rule its society. The possibility of war provides the sense of external necessity without which no government can long remain in power. The historical record reveals one instance after another where the failure of a regime to maintain the credibility of a war threat led to its dissolution, by the forces of private interest, or reactions to social injustice, or of other disintegrative elements. The organization of a society for the possibility of war is its principal political stabiliser.'

"Most people have known this for a long time. A common enemy helps unite people. Gives them a common goal. Focusses their prejudices, their fears, their energies. It is a great distraction as well. Great changes happen during wars. Changes in leaders, changes in laws, validation of government spending and validation of shortages leading to price rises. It takes the blame away from governments and puts it squarely on the shoulders of the enemy. 

"The report put forward a number of recommendations that could be used as a substitute for war but concluded that there was no solution that could accomplish the task like a real war.

"In recent times the West has fought 3 major enemies. Each war brought tighter laws, more restrictions and a further erosion of human rights and freedom. 

"The first was Nazi Germany. This enemy was clearly identifiable, aggressive and caused fear among the masses. The governments of the US, Great Britain and their allies had incredible control during this time. The general population was compliant and were happy to trade their freedom for security. The advancement of the allies' governments, particularly the US government, was remarkable during this time. 

"The second enemy was Communism. Communism, it seemed, threatened to take away peoples belongings, force them to work at menial tasks, make them all wear the same clothes and basically take away their freedom. This enemy had many homes and the governments convinced the people that military intervention was needed. Unfortunately, Vietnam and Korea did not create as much fear as Nazi Germany and much of the population was against these wars. Despite this, the wars continued. Peace, after all, is not a viable option. 

"For many years the US Government continued to wage the war against Communism as they had no suitable alternative. In 1971, military analyst, Daniel Ellsberg, leaked the 7,000-page Pentagon Papers. These top-secret documents revealed that senior American leaders, including three presidents, knew the Vietnam War was unwinnable and showed that the government had lied to Congress and the public about the progress of the war so they could maintain a common enemy. Eventually though, the war against Communism ended with no apparent winner. 

"The third enemy of recent times is Terrorism. 

"Terrorism started to be talked about by the governments in the late 1990s. The Oklahoma City bombing of the Federal Building started the terrorism rhetoric but, because those blamed were US citizens, it was called an act of Domestic Terrorism. This terrorism did not clearly identify an enemy to justify a war. 

"The September 11, 2001 event however, was called simply 'an act of terrorism'. The blame was placed on various people, various nations, various religious sects and anyone who didn't support the US in every means possible. George W. Bush said in the September 20, 2001 Address to a Joint Session of Congress and the American People:

'We will pursue nations that provide aid or safe haven to terrorism. Every nation, in every region, now has a decision to make. Either you are with us, or you are with the terrorists. From this day forward, any nation that continues to harbor or support terrorism will be regarded by the United States as a hostile regime.'

"The third enemy had been created. It was faceless, without country and could be hiding any where in the world. It could be called upon to justify an invasion into Iraq, Afghanistan or any other country. The country could be in the Middle East, South America, Russia, Europe or any other country in the world. It could justify the capture and torture of anyone. It could be used to monitor, record and spy on anyone. It would require an enormous amount of funding and laws would need to be imposed that limit freedom but strengthen security. And there is no way of ever declaring a victory. 

"It is the perfect enemy."

Steve reached over and paused the iPod. "Room service?" 

Toby laughed. The tension that was growing seemed to disappear. He picked up the menu and they made their choices. A quick phone call was made and they settled back in their seats. Steve restarted the iPod. 

"Adrian Salbuchi, a political analyst and author in Argentina, proposed that there are five types of war used by Western governments:

"Military Invasion – The most easily understood method as used in Kuwait, Iraq and Afghanistan. Although it is usually associated with armed personnel entering the country by force, it also applies to the more subtle unmanned drone attacks that now occur almost daily. 

"Military Coup – Cases where the army takes control of the government, usually at the behest of a portion of the population following strikes, protests and general outcries; Egypt is the latest victim despite the careful avoidance of the word 'Coup';

"Financial Coup – Manipulating a country into excessive debt and using that leverage to assume a level of control or by generating economic hardship and financial collapse which leads to widespread social upheaval, fuelling regime change. Portugal, Greece and Spain are examples. 

"Social Coup – The financing and manipulation of political activists to bring about controlled regime change in the target country as in Libya and Egypt;

"Engineered Civil War – The financing, arming and supporting of militarised opposition groups against the target country’s on-going government such as Syria. 

"These five methods are being utilised to achieve two simple goals. A single world government and a single 'Reserve Bank' both of which will be controlled by the small but powerful minority that are controlling events today. 

"These events, coupled with the other wars previously mentioned, are part of the wider plans of the US hegemony to reach a single world government and single 'Global Reserve Bank.'

"To clarify, the 'Global Reserve Bank' would be responsible for manufacturing and releasing all currencies worldwide. It would control and print currencies then loan that currency to any country. By controlling the amount of cash available, it also controls interest rates and debt and therefore, the global economy. 

"This is the grand plan and one that has been unfolding over time. The events of 11 September, 2001 accelerated that plan and the next major 'terrorist' attack will result in further acceleration.

"If it is allowed to happen!"

Toby and Steve sat for a few minutes until it was clear that the playlist had finished. "Shall we do the next one?" Steve asked.

Toby didn't respond. He sat looking at the cash and other contents of the envelope still sitting on the chair next to him. "Well, what do we do now?" he eventually said. 

There was a knock at the door and they both jumped. "Room service" came from the other side. 

Steve hurried to the door. "Perfect timing" he said. "I'm starving."

Chapter 7

The Chance To Do Something

They ate their meals in silence. Only after they had completely finished did Toby speak. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"What do you think?"

Steve pushed the trolley with the remnants of their meal to the door. "We already knew most of that, didn't we."

"Yes, but what do you think we should do?" Toby looked at Steve with questioning eyes. He really didn't know what to do. 

"And you have no idea who this is from?" Steve said as he walked back to the lounge and sat next to Toby.

Toby just shook his head. 

"It sounds genuine to me and if you say these people are looking for help then I say 'why not'. We are here now, why wouldn't we at least look into it."

"Yesterday I thought that. Today I'm not so sure."

Steve put his hand on Toby's shoulder. "When we were talking on the plane coming over, you told me about that poem. You know, the one where they came for him and there was no one left to help him?"

"The Martin Niemöller poem? What about it?"

"And I said, but what can we do about it. Remember."

"Yep."

"Well maybe this is the chance to do something about it. We know how we're all being manipulated and lied to and spied on. We always say how most of the population don't seem to care and never do anything about it. Right?"

"Yeah...."

"Well this could be our chance to make a difference. I say let's go for it!"

Toby was smiling. What Steve said made a lot of sense. They now had a chance to do something. If it was real of course.

"Well?" Steve said, waiting for an answer. "Well?"

"Look out conspirators. Here we come!" Toby laughed.

"Alright!" Steve shouted and threw his arms around Toby. "Let's get 'em."

"We better play the next one then, so we know what we're supposed to do." Toby extricated himself from Steve's grasp and grabbed the iPod. He scrolled to the fourth playlist. 

Silence. 

Toby fiddled with the iPod controls. 

Silence. 

"This happened before" Toby said with a hint of worry. "I am not sure how or why but you can't go to the next playlist until....... I don't know. Maybe time or maybe you have to do something?"

"OK" Steve said, seemingly unperturbed. "Let's look at what we've got. A map, a key card and a brochure for helicopter tours." He took the items over to the table in the middle of the room. "The key card doesn't seem to have any markings on it. No clues as to what it opens. Any ideas?"

Toby shrugged his shoulders. "None that spring to mind."

Steve opened the brochure. "Nothing on the brochure either. I guess we can assume that this is related to the helicopter that will crash into the tower though."

Toby nodded. "Has to be."

Steve put the brochure aside and unfolded the map. They leant over and studied it carefully. "There's an X" Toby said pointing to a small mark near the edge of the East River, by the Manhattan Cruise Terminal. Toby looked at the brochure again. "This brochure says that helicopter tour place is near there."

"And here's a name written on the side. Khalid Mansour. That's gotta be another clue." They painstakingly studied the rest of the map but couldn't find anything else out of the ordinary. 

Steve refolded the map and put it in his pocket. He took the key card and brochure and handed them to Toby. "Fancy a walk?" He grinned. 

"We may as well, seeing as though we are here." Toby smiled back at Steve. 

"Let's put some of this money in the safe though. Walking around with a grand in our pockets is probably not the smartest thing to do in New York."

Toby nodded and took about three thousand dollars from the pile. He put the rest of it in the room safe and locked it with the combination 0911. "That's fitting, don't you think?" They both smiled and left the room. 

They made their way out of the hotel and onto the street. There it hit them. They were in a strange place with people everywhere. The smell of exhaust, food, sweat and perfumes all combined to give a unique odour. The sound of the city was loud. Horns honking, people talking, construction in the background, two people arguing loudly in a doorway. They were out of their comfort zones now. They were strangers in a strange land. In the hotel room they could easily see a way to get to where they wanted to go. Walk to the bridge, cross it, turn left onto the bike path, follow that until you reach the East River Piers, follow and there it is. Outside, in the real world, it was different. They had only taken a few steps and they were already unsure of which way to go. People were pushing past them in all directions. It was as if everyone in the city knew where they were going except for them. Toby started to feel anxious. After nearly a full minute of standing there, Steve grabbed Toby's shoulder and said "This way." He was always better at navigating so Toby just followed, happy to be going with a flow of people finally. He walked one step behind Steve. His head was turning left, right, left again, up and down. This was like nothing he had ever experienced. He put his hand on Steve's shoulder and let himself be led. It wasn't long before he heard Steve saying "Here's the bridge."

Toby looked at the huge structure. It was massive. Solid. Old. It was an incredible piece of architecture and Toby found himself thinking that it must have been a thing of beauty in its day. They were on the pedestrian and bike path, looking down at the steady flow of traffic on the bridge below them. It was busy. People hurriedly walking across, bikes zipping by and lots of tourists walking slowly or stopping to take pictures of themselves, their friends or the scenery beyond. He remembered reading that it was a 1.3 mile walk. They were walking briskly but not too fast and Toby calculated that their speed would be about 4 miles an hour. Twenty minutes to cross. Work their way to the bike path along the East River, another mile, another 20 minutes. It was now 2:30 in the afternoon so arrival time would be just around 3:10. He settled in for the walk. Maybe the views would help settle his nerves. 

They arrived at Helicopter Fight Services a little after 3. "What now?" Toby asked. 

"There's a seat over there. Let's wait and watch for a while. You know, like spies do." He laughed.

They sat waiting and watching. "I don't think we should joke like that" Toby said after a while. 

"Joke like what?"

"Joke about being spies."

"Are you OK?" Steve was genuinely concerned. 

"Not really. I'm worried." Toby looked at Steve. "What's going to happen if we get caught?

"I guess we'll have to blow the whistle somehow. You know, tell the media." Steve did not seem worried at all. 

"You think we'll get a chance to talk to anyone?" Toby said in a serious tone. "You know what they've done to the laws now. They can hold us forever with no phone calls, no visitors. Maybe we will end up in Guantanamo, getting water boarded or something."

"Don't be paranoid, Toby."

"And even if we did get a chance to tell someone before they dragged us away, do you know the difference between a whistleblower and a traitor?"

Steve didn't answer. 

"A whistleblower" Toby continued, "is someone who leaks information that the Russian government has a secret surveillance program that monitors ordinary citizens' emails, phone calls and Internet activity.

"But a traitor is someone who leaks information that the US government has a secret surveillance program that monitors ordinary citizens' emails, phone calls and Internet activity."

"We better be careful then." Steve smiled. 

"Ever heard of Thomas Drake?" Toby asked. 

"I don't think so."

"He was a senior executive at the NSA. He blew the whistle on the NSA's Trailblazer program in the mid 2000's, a $1.2 billion forerunner to Prism that broke the laws on people's privacy. Just like Prism. And do you know his reward? They charged him under the Espionage Act and threatened him with 35 years in prison."

"Look Toby" Steve said quietly, "none of that will happen to us."

"No? Look at Bradley Manning. He's on trial right now. He leaked documents and video that showed US air crew laughing after killing dozens of innocent reporters and civilians in an air strike. He gave us the records of the civilian death toll in Iraq showing that of the 109,000 deaths logged, over 66,000 were unarmed civilians! 

"He showed that US Soldiers were committing horrific acts of torture on Iraqi prisoners, and despite hundreds of filed complaints, they were never investigated. And he uncovered that a US defence contracting company was involved in child trafficking. Not only was DynCorp complicit in child trafficking but they even used boys, obtained by child traffickers, for entertainment at a party for Afghan security recruits.

"...and his reward for blowing the whistle? He is in prison. He is on trial facing 21 charges, including 'aiding the enemy' which comes with a life sentence! And you know what they are doing to try to get to Snowden. And you tell me not to worry!"

Toby was upset. Scared. Sitting at home listening to a recording is a lot different to being in New York investigating a major conspiracy. The reality was starting to hit. 

"I understand" Steve said. "I really do. But the thing that keeps going through my head is 'we can do something about it' and that, to me, is more important than worrying about what might happen if we get caught. We can make a difference Toby. You and me. Here, now."

Toby sat in silence and thought about what Steve was saying. He was right. They were always talking about conspiracies but they never did anything. Just talk. Yes, Steve was right.

Toby looked up and saw a short, dark skinned man exit the building they were watching. He looked like he could be Egyptian or Moroccan. He was around 30, wearing a baseball cap, jeans and a white polo shirt with an emblem on it. He couldn't see it clearly but it looked like the logo of the helicopter service. 

"There he is" Toby whispered to Steve. 

"Right, let's go." Steve was up and walking towards the man before Toby could say anything. "Khalid?" he called to the man. 

The man stopped and looked up at them. Toby instinctively waved and smiled. The man half waved back then stopped.

"Hi Khalid" Steve said when they reached him. "I'm Steve and this is Toby. Have you got a minute?"

"Sure." Khalid smiled widely. "You boys want a helicopter tour?"

"Not exactly", Toby said. "But maybe..."

"Sure. Sure." Khalid turned back to the building. "You want to come in and we can discuss."

"How about over here." Steve pointed to the seat where they had been sitting. 

"OK. No problems."

They walked over to the seat and sat down. 

"Khalid," Steve started, "We wanted to have a discussion about the trip you're planning soon."

"Trip?" Khalid was surprised. "What trip?"

"The special trip." Toby followed Steve's lead. "You know, the Brooklyn Bridge special trip."

Khalid's face changed instantly. "I already told you guys. I will do it. I will do that for you and you will get my family out. That's the deal right?"

"That's the deal?" Steve couldn't hide his surprise. 

"Look," Khalid was agitated, "I agreed with the other CIA guy that I would only help you if you get my wife and son out of Sudan and here with me. Are you saying you can't do that now?"

"No. No, we aren't saying that, are we Steve?" Toby was thinking fast. "We just want to make sure you know what to do. That's right Steve, isn't it?"

Steve nodded. 

Khalid looked around to make sure no one was nearby. "The other guy made it pretty clear you know. He gives me the packages and I wait for his signal, then I fly them to the base of the Brooklyn Bridge where someone will collect them. That's all he told me. I didn't ask any questions. But if the CIA wants me to deliver packages then I am guessing it is worth something. I am not stupid you know. And the price is to get my family safe."

"Deliver a package?" Steve was confused. "That's all?"

Khalid stiffened. "Who are you guys?" He stood up, ready to run. 

"Wait Khalid, wait a minute. We are here to help you." Toby grabbed Khalid's arm. "We are on your side." Toby pulled on his arm a little and Khalid eventually sat back down. "But I think you might be in trouble."

"What kind of trouble?" Khalid looked down at his arm, still being held by Toby.

"We think you are being set up, Khalid. We think they are planning something and they are going to blame you."

Khalid pulled his arm away from Toby's grasp. "What do you mean 'set up'. I am delivering packages. That's all!"

Toby looked at Steve. Steve took it as a cue to continue. "We think the packages are explosives."

Khalid put his head in his hands. "I knew it was too good to be true. They lied to me again. I will never see my wife and son again."

"Look Khalid." Steve leant over close to him, "Just don't take the packages, all right? We will think of something. Leave it to us."

Khalid nodded, head still in hands. 

Steve and Toby looked at each other. They weren't sure what to do and they needed to discuss options. They stood. Khalid still sat with his head in his hands. Steve thought he heard him sobbing. They both walked a few steps away, looked back, then started the walk back to the hotel. "Well, what now Toby"

Toby shrugged his shoulders. "It's getting late. I say we go back to the hotel and work out what to do next. "

They walked for a while in silence then Steve pulled out the map and stopped. "Wall Street is just down there." He pointed across the road. 

"And...."

"We are in New York so we should at least see Wall Street. They are the ones that gamble with all our money after all."

Toby needed time to think and walking down Wall Street was probably just as good for thinking as a hotel room. He nodded and followed Steve. 

They weaved their way through underpasses and streets. Toby was glad that he didn't have to remember the way back. Steve stopped. "He we are" he said. "Infamous Wall Street." He leant close to Toby and whispered, "I think we are being followed."

Toby whirled around. "Where. Who."

"Great job 007." Steve laughed. "You wouldn't last five minutes as an agent." He smiled. Toby pushed him away with both hands and started to walk off. 

"Excuse me..." A man in his thirties walked up to them. He was in jeans and a black tee shirt with a baseball cap that said 'Yankees'. "Can you help me?" 

They stopped and waited for him to walk over. As he got closer they could see tattoos on both arms. A tiger on one and a bear on the other. He stopped and smiled. A big toothy smile. He moved in closer. Uncomfortably close. "What did you say to Khalid Mansour?" The voice was calm, soft, menacing. They both felt a chill. 

"Who?" Steve always knew what to say. 

"What did you say to him to make him react that way?" They could tell from his voice that you did not want to mess with him. 

"Nothing" said Steve as calmly as he could. 

The man swung around and stared directly into Steve's eyes. "Nothing?"

The man had his back to Toby. Toby was sure the man had a gun in the back of his jeans. Without thinking he pushed him as hard as he could and shouted "Run!"

Steve reacted and ran, following Toby. They didn't look back. They kept running, turning down streets, crossing roads. They just ran. Toby ducked down an alley. Steve was right behind him. They stopped to catch their breath. Slowly Toby peered out of the alley to see if the man had followed them. He couldn't see him. He looked back at Steve who suddenly burst into laughter. 

"You idiot!" Steve couldn't stop laughing. "That poor man is probably laying there wondering what the hell happened." Toby started smiling. They waited a few moments to catch their breath and then started walking out of the alley. Out of the corner of Steve's eye, he saw him. Walking towards them. They turned back into the alley. It was narrow and dirty. Bins lined one side and the rubbish was overflowing into the alley. 

"What now?" Toby's smiled had disappeared and he had a worried look on his face.

Steve started walking further into the alley, looking for a way out. He could see the wall at the end now. Dead end. He looked back and saw the man at the alley entrance, walking slowly into the alley. He knew he had them cornered. They moved further and further into the alley. Toby could feel his heart thumping in his chest. Somehow he knew that they weren't going to be arrested. They weren't going to be whisked away to a small, dark, windowless cell somewhere. Toby knew that this was the end. 

The man reached behind his back and pulled out the gun. He reached into his pocket, took out a silencer and started screwing it onto the barrel. Toby wanted to run but his legs wouldn't move. He stood staring at the man approaching. 

"Toby!" Steve's yell made Toby jump. "Here!"

Steve had jumped onto a bin and was reaching for a fire escape ladder above. Twice he jumped and twice his fingers slipped from the bottom rung. Toby ran to Steve and somehow managed to jump onto the bin in one leap. Steve jumped a third time and managed to hold on to the rung. He quickly started to climb. Toby had to wait until Steve's feet were off of the bottom rung. He glanced back. The man was closer, he was raising his gun. Toby jumped. To his surprise he managed to grab the rung and hold on. He climbed as fast as he could, his hands grabbing each rung next to Steve's feet. Then Steve's feet were gone. He wasn't on the ladder any more. Toby kept climbing until he heard Steve's voice. 

"Here!"

Toby looked over and saw Steve on a small ledge, holding his hand out to help Toby across. Toby leapt. They were both now standing on the small ledge. The square column of the building hiding them from their pursuer. They shuffled their way along, backs against the wall, around another column. They came to a dead end. They were trapped in a small alcove between the column of the building and the building that blocked the alley. They had nowhere to go. Toby could feel the thumping in his ears as the blood rushed around his body. His chest felt like it was being squeezed and he struggled to breath. They stood there, backs against the building, on the small ledge. They had run out of options. 

"I am going to kill you both slowly for making me chase you, you snot nosed fucks!" They could tell he was close but they couldn't see him from their small alcove. They could hear his feet on the ladder. Toby held his breath. 

"Fuck!" They heard a rattle, a clunk and a thud. They waited. Silence. They did not dare to look around the building, they just stared straight ahead. Silence. 

Steve looked at Toby. They didn't speak but they knew they had to retrace their steps. There was no other way out. 

Slowly they shuffled back around the building towards the ladder. Finally they made it back and Toby reached out to the ladder. Carefully he swung his foot across and awkwardly scrambled on. He carefully descended and jumped onto the bin, then onto the ground. There he saw it. The body. The blood. His arms bent unnaturally and his head at a sharp angle. Toby knelt down and held his fingers to the man's neck. No pulse. He took his wrist. No pulse. "He's dead" Toby said, looking up at Steve now standing beside him. 

Steve knelt next to Toby and patted the man's jeans. 

"What are you doing." 

"We need to see who he was." Steve checked his other pocket and pulled out a key. It was a large iron key on a key ring, old fashioned, antique almost. Steve slipped it into his pocket. 

"He must have hit his head on the side of the bin when he fell" Toby said, looking at the fresh blood on the corner of the bin. 

"Let's get out of here." Steve stood up and put his hand on Toby's shoulder. "Come on Toby, someone will be coming and don't forget, he was going to kill us."

"We don't know that for sure," Toby said as he stood up, still staring at the lifeless body. 

"So that gun was just for show?" he said, pointing to the gun lying next to the bin. 

Steve led Toby back out of the alley. He looked around carefully to make sure no one had seen them or had heard the noise. There were lots of people but they were all going about their business. Heading home, heading out, going somewhere. Steve looked back into the alley. No one would see the body unless they walked down the alley and it was unlikely many people would do that unless they had to. He led Toby to the road and hailed a cab. Toby was in a type of dream state so Steve helped him into the cab. He jumped in next to him. "Marriott Brooklyn. Adams Street." The cab was off. Steve looked at Toby who was staring out the side window. "You've still got that cash, right?" They spent the rest of the journey in silence. 

Back in their room, they collapsed on the lounge. It was all surreal to them. 

"One for the archives" Steve said quietly. 

"Give me your phone" Toby said as he took his out and ripped the back off. He removed the battery and the SIM card and put all pieces on the small table. He took Steve's phone from him and did the same. "We don't want them tracking us."

"Let's order room service" was Steve's response. 

They ordered and waited, watching TV until it arrived. They ate their meals in silence and a short time later they were in bed with Steve changing TV channels every 10 seconds. Eventually he settled for a movie about cowboys and aliens. Toby didn't remember much after that. 

Chapter 8

The Bridge

Toby awoke to the sound of the door slamming. He looked over at Steve's empty bed and immediately leapt out of his bed and rushed into the other room. 

"Breakfast?" Steve said as he poured freshly brewed coffee into cups. "I thought bacon and eggs were needed after yesterday's adventure." He took the plates off the tray and set them up at the dining table next to the coffees. 

"What time is it?" Steve croaked. 

"It's after nine and I couldn't wait any longer. All that cloak and dagger has given me an appetite. Juice?" Steve held up a jug of orange juice he grabbed from the trolley. 

Toby nodded and sat down. He downed the juice and started eating his eggs. He hadn't realised how hungry he was. 

"Toast?" Steve took the plate of toast off the trolley and put it on the table. He grabbed the butter dish and the sachets of jam and tried to find room to put them. He shoved things around until he could put them down. He sat and started eating. They demolished the meal in a few minutes and leant back. Satisfied. 

"Have you got that key," Toby said as he poured himself another coffee. 

"I will give you the key if you go put some pants on."

Toby smiled and went back into the bedroom. He emerged wearing a fluffy white robe and white slippers. "Is that better?"

"Better than your underwear, yes." He threw the key to Toby who studied it. The key was large and heavy and looked like it might open an old cellar or something similar. The keyring was new, the type with the label under clear plastic. The label simply read '64'. There was no other clue as to what it could open. 

"I think I might know what this key might be for," he said, throwing the key back to Steve. 

"A dungeon?" Steve laughed as he looked over the key. "Cell number 64?"

"Close, but not quite." Toby said. "When we were driving back yesterday, over the bridge, I saw archways with windows bricked up and I remembered reading somewhere that the bridge used to house lots of businesses and factories."

"And...?"

"The doors, if they're still there, would probably have locks that this key would fit."

"And where would these doors be, do you think?" 

"Manhattan side."

Steve thought for a minute. It did make some sense. "It's possible I guess. Are we walking or cabbing?"

"Showers first," Toby said, "my teeth really need a clean."

"Agreed."

They showered, shaved, brushed their teeth and got ready for walking. As Toby was brushing his teeth he thought it was strange that they hadn't spoken about the events of yesterday. Not that he wanted to, it was just strange that neither of them had mentioned it. 

"Nothing on the morning news by the way" Steve said as he was brushing his hair. Toby decided not to answer. 

They left the hotel and made their way to the bridge. Toby followed Steve, trying to imagine what could be behind the door. And where could the door be? It was a wild guess that it was in the bridge but he couldn't think of anywhere else. If it wasn't in the bridge then he had no idea of what to do next. 

"So how do you know there are factories under the bridge?" Steve asked as they walked along the pedestrian path, towards the Manhattan side of the bridge. 

"I remember reading an article years ago. Workers were conducting an inspection of the bridge and they came across a room full of water drums, medical supplies, blankets, drugs and crackers from the 1950s in watertight metal canisters. It was like a secret store in the Cold War days just in case New York was bombed or something. But there are lots of rooms and passageways and they are huge. But now they are just forgotten."

"You're saying that in New York, under a bridge that thousands of people use every day, that there are old factories and no one knows about them?"

"Yep" Toby smiled, "strange but true."

"So, where are they hiding?"

"Under the main entrance ramp to the bridge. But we will need to sneak in I think. Bridge workers won't like people sniffing around down there."

They reached the ramp and worked their way carefully under, avoiding the few workers that were there. They finally found the doors. There were lots of them and they were big. Solid metal with huge studs and bolts in them. The windows were boarded up and they had old heavy iron bars across them. They were quite spectacular. And all hidden from the thousands of people above them. 

They made their way to the first door. It had a large sliding bolt across it with a very large padlock. 'Lanite Ales Co.' was painted across the door. Toby checked the padlock. The key wouldn't fit. 

The next door, in the centre of three arches, simply had 'Arches 789' written on the door. There was a large bar across it that fitted into two brackets on either side. A padlock went through the bar and the bracket, but it was fairly new. The key wouldn't fit. 

The next door had 'Ted Ficke' painted on the masonry. 'Receiving for D&C Trucking' was written on the side. The three arches had been completely bricked up and a new, solid steel door had been installed in the centre arch. The key wouldn't fit. 

They moved to the next door. The three arches had been boarded up with plywood and there was no writing visible. The wood covering the centre arch had been pulled away slightly, leaving a small gap where they could get inside. They looked at each other. Steve shrugged and squeezed through the gap to get inside. Toby was right behind. It was dark, damp and smelly. The smell was a mixture of mould, rot and animal urine. With it all boarded up there was nowhere for air and light to get in so it was stale and dark. They stood there for a moment, waiting for their eyes to adjust to the darkness. Slowly they made out shapes in the large room. Boxes and drums were stacked around the room and there were piles of something all over the floor. Steve moved to one of the piles closest to him and leant over. "Waddayawant!" The pile shouted at him. 

Steve and Toby jumped. The pile was moving. They looked around and other piles were moving now. Emerging from under rags and blankets and cardboard. There were at least a dozen of them and some were moving towards Steve and Toby. 

"Leave us alone." "Getouttahere." Grunts and groans. Toby and Steve scurried back to the opening. Dodging people, drums and boxes. They squeezed back through the board and back into daylight. 

"That was creepy" Steve said as they hurried along to the next door, looking back to make sure none of them were following. "Somehow I'm thinking that smell may not have been animal wee after all." 

Toby managed a smile, once he was sure they were safe. "There must have been twenty or more in there and they've been living in there for a long time by the look of it."

They reached the next door. 'Hide and Skin Trans Corp" was written on the large wooden sign. Beneath the sign was a smaller board with 64 painted on it. This one had only two arches where as the others had three. There was a door in the first arch and a window in the second. Thick iron bars covered the window and the glass was painted on the inside so you couldn't see in. Toby looked up. He hadn't noticed before but there were windows on the second level. . They must all be at least two stories high. Below the windows was a big painted sign but the paint had almost peeled off and he couldn’t make out the name.

He looked back at the door. An old solid steel door with no markings. The lock looked like it may suit the key. 

"Steve, try the key." Steve pulled the old key out of his pocket and slipped it into the lock. It fit. He looked at Toby and smiled. "Does it open?" Toby said impatiently. A little annoyed, Steve turned back to the lock and turned the key. There was a loud 'click' and the door started to open. Toby fumbled in his pockets and pulled out a book of Marriott matches. He lit one and followed Steve inside. The match didn't provide enough light to make anything out and after a few seconds it blew out. Toby went back outside and hunted around on the ground. There was a lot of rubbish laying around. Empty bottles, smashed glass, empty cups and cans, paper, cigarette butts. Toby found some cardboard and rolled it as tight as he could. He went back to the doorway where Steve was waiting, lit the cardboard and went back inside. 

They could just make out the room. Like the other one, this was dark and damp. Musty. There were tea chests, cardboard boxes and small tin barrels piled high, all around the room. There was a thin ray of light streaming in from a window. Steve stood on a box under the window and scraped off some more paint. More light shone through and they could see the room better. It was like a small warehouse with shelves lining some of the walls. On the shelves were smaller boxes and tins. There were old wooden kerosene boxes, small tins of tea, old lanterns, cardboard boxes stamped 1957 and an array of old supplies. This was what Toby had read about. Storage rooms of emergency supplies in case the unthinkable ever happened. But now they were long forgotten. 

Toby found a group of boxes on a shelf. Stamped on the side of the boxes was the word 'candles'. 

"Steve", he called. Steve came over as Toby was trying to rip the box open with one hand, makeshift cardboard torch in the other. Steve quickly ripped the box open, took out two short, fat candles and lit them from the burning cardboard. Toby stomped out his torch. With the candles' lights and the extra light from the window they could see most of the room. Steve tapped Toby on the shoulder and pointed to the corner. They moved closer with their candles and saw a door made of steel bars, a little like a prison door. They looked through and could see a long, dark, narrow passage leading into the darkness. 

"If you hadn't pulled our phones to pieces, we could be using them as torches" Steve said with an annoyed tone. 

Toby ignored the snide remark, put his candle on a pile of boxes next to the door and tried to turn the handle. It opened easily and he stepped inside. The floor was dirty, 50 plus years of dirty, and Toby could see footprints in the dust. Lots of them. Steve stepped in front and held up his candle so they could see the passageway. They could now make out a door at the far end. They slowly moved down the passage until they reached the solid steel door, welded not bolted and screwed like the others. There were no handles on the door and no key hole. 

"Bugger" Toby muttered. 

They looked around the edges of the door, looking for a latch or a lock. Nothing. 

"Toby" Steve said. "Have you still got that key card?" Steve was standing to the left of the door, pointing to a small black pad attached to the wall.

Toby searched his pockets and pulled out the key card. He handed it to Steve who held it against the black pad. 

"Click!" The door swung inwards to reveal a dark room. They entered slowly. Steve spotted a switch on the wall, flicked it and suddenly the room was flooded in light. 

The room was the size of their hotel room, virtually empty except for three tables lined up against one wall. On the tables were blue prints, in rolls and spread flat, a laptop, a bulky plastic case and various bits of wire, connectors, some small tools and soldering equipment. Steve opened the plastic case. Inside was a black control box. It had a yellow label marked 'Ignius' and two buttons, one labelled Arm/Disarm and the other labelled Fire. There was an empty compartment next to it. Toby looked around the room. In another corner was a small black box with a dozen or so wires connected at the back. The wires went in two directions, up the wall and through the ceiling or down through the floor. 

Toby went to the laptop, flicked it open and turned it on. After a moment or two a screen appeared with the word Login and a text box. He typed '0911', the screen refreshed. Nothing happened. He closed the laptop and walked over to Steve. "It doesn't look like much, does it?"

Steve shook his head. "I was expecting rows of computers and wires everywhere but I guess, these days, controlled demolitions are mostly wireless." He looked around the room. "I didn't notice that before" he said, pointing to a small flashing light above the doorway. "Umm, perhaps we should leave."

"Alarm" Toby said as he started for the door. They hurried down the narrow passageway and back into the storage room but froze as they saw a shadow enter the room from outside. A flashlight was turned on and the beam of light moved around the room. Toby and Steve ducked behind a pile of boxes and held their breaths. 

"See anything?" they heard a voice say. 

"Not yet" another voice replied. 

"You check this room and I'll check the control room."

Toby and Steve shuffled silently around the boxes. "Shit" Toby whispered. "The candle." Steve looked around and saw the candle burning where Toby had left it. Steve suddenly remembered he had left his candle burning in the control room as well. They inched around the piles, watching the flashlight and moving in the darkness. They shuffled towards the door as the flashlight moved towards where Toby had left the candle. They were now behind a pile of tins, only a few steps away from the door. Toby reached across and grabbed a tin laying on the ground. He could just make out the label by the light shining through the window. 'Survival Crackers'. 

"Get ready to run" Toby whispered to Steve. He took a deep breath and when he thought the flashlight was at the far end of the room he leapt to his feet, threw the tin as hard as he could and shouted "Run!" They ran to the door. As Toby was pushing the outside door shut he saw that he had hit his candle with the tin of crackers. He could see flames. He turned and ran. They ran as fast as they could for as long as they could, deep into New Your City. They ducked into shops through one door and out another. They pushed through pedestrians and ran across roads. They eventually stopped. They had to. They could hardly breath. Toby stuck his hand out, "Taxi!" and a taxi pulled up. They jumped in, slid down in their seats as far as they could and said, "Brooklyn Marriott please."

Chapter 9

News At Eleven

They were back in their hotel room. Steve was searching the mini bar and eventually pulled out two beers. He passed one to Toby and pulled the top. He drank and drank. He stopped. Belched. Then drank again. He moved over and sat on the lounge. Toby followed suit. 

"I think I might have grey hair now," Steve said.

"My heart is still trying to beat its way out of my chest" Toby said as he opened his beer and took a few mouthfuls. "Do you think they saw our faces?"

"I didn't see any cameras around there but I can't be sure. I think we need to get out of here soon."

Toby grabbed the remote and switched on the TV. 

"....and you can see the fire engines now, battling the blaze at the Brooklyn Bridge. The smoke is affecting traffic and they seem to be diverting cars..... I am getting word in now......yes......the bridge is closed until further notice so anyone out there who commutes over the bridge will need to make different plans. We now cross live to Chrissie who is on the scene. Chrissie?"

"Thanks Dick. I am here with Captain John Lindsay of the New York Fire Department. John, what can you tell us about this fire?"

"Chrissie, we have it under control now. The crew have managed to contain the fire to a small area and we expect that the clean up shouldn't take too long."

"And do you know the cause yet, John?"

"It's a little too early to say Chrissie, but we will have our fire investigators take a closer look as soon as we can enter the area."

"And what can you tell all the commuters out there, John? How long before the bridge will be open again?"

"Well Chrissie..." Toby changed the channel. He flicked the channels until he finally found one that wasn't talking about the fire. It was a movie. 

"What's this?" Steve asked.

"Who cares." Toby said. 

They sat and watched the movie without talking. For over an hour they sat watching the story of a young boy and his adventures living in a train station. They watched in silence. When the movie finished Toby flicked the channel again. 

"... I repeat, a major terrorist plot has been uncovered by authorities.. It is believed that the terrorists were planning to blow up the Brooklyn Bridge and it was only by the quick action by the FBI and NSA that they managed to stop, what could have been, a catastrophic event. The FBI are now hunting for known terrorist, Ramadan Abdullah Mohammad Shallah who has links to the international terrorist organisation known as the "Palestinian Islamic Jihad......" Toby turned off the TV.

"Do you think it might be over Steve?" Toby had a look of relief on his face. 

"Their secret is exposed so I am guessing they will be cleaning up their mess for a while at least." 

They sat staring at the blank TV. "That was a pretty scary adventure." Steve said eventually. 

"You know what's really scary?" Toby said with a half smile. 

"What?"

"There's another ten playlists."

End