Escape From The Country - NEW CRIME FICTION Chapter 5

Right Wing Media Darling, Roberta Warren, Has A Plan.

Roberta Warren is on UK Truth TV ready to respond to a breaking news story but things start to go violently awry. If you enjoy this story then please consider taking out a subscription to my Substack, liking the piece and sharing it with your friends.

CHAPTER FIVE

The studio make-up chair was a calm island, high up and embracing, surrounded by movement. Roberta enjoyed being tenderly stroked and patted by soft brushes and luxurious pads handled with perfect delicacy by the wonderful Jamie. All around her people in black jeans wearing headsets and carrying clipboards wove in and out of cables, bulky TV cameras and each other. Words whispered into headsets were followed by the release of electrically charged chatter as the red studio light went off. None of these people knew what she knew, no-one had the faintest idea what was about to happen.

Aloof and detached in her perch, Roberta looked at the mechanical mundanity of live television tension like a cat on a table watching two dogs fighting over a bone. Jamie made her look sexy without appearing slutty (the perfect look for UK Truth TV’s audience), and she was ready to discuss news that had not yet been announced publicly. An innocent man released by the authorities for lack of evidence brutally attacked only steps away from Southampton Central Police station. Unverified social media video of the attack would be exclusively provided to UK Truth TV. There was always someone in the Police who was willing to help the cause and her source at Southampton was very close to the Italian woman Superintendent.

She checked the time on her phone. Ten minutes to go. She would be on-air when her team dropped the news and she would be the first to comment, to set the agenda.

Roberta had worked on her talking points for days: Questions to be asked about Police involvement in the attack and whether the female Superintendent in charge of the operation was up to the job. Then she would lob in a comment about Francesca Rossi ‘possibly’ being a diversity hire and how certain sources (which she could never reveal) had talked about a culture of fear and distrust in her team. Only eight minutes to go.

Stuart was surprised to be released just before 11:00am on Friday morning and bailed to appear in court in a weeks’ time. His brief gave him his train tickets home and directions to get to the station for the 11:30am train - change at Woking.

Stuart had never been to Southampton before and had no intention of hanging about. He stepped into the summer’s morning air already warmed by the sun and weighed down with fumes. Seagulls’ viciously squawked above as he picked his way across five lanes of traffic, navigating illuminated green men and filter systems on Southern Road outside the nick. His depleted, paranoid state made the journey complex and confusing. He looked around every couple of seconds, a nervous bird constantly evaluating his location and looking for threats. Within minutes he tasted hot liquid snot oozing onto his top lip which meant repeatedly sniffing and wiping his nose with the back of his hand. He was a fucking mess and thought he must look like a sad homeless mental case twitching and sniffing in the middle of the road.

Stepping off the kerb to cross Western Esplanade, he saw the red sign outside the white railway station. He didn’t see the giant articulated container lorry that had made a wrong turn. He heard the engine roar, the hiss of the air brakes and the moan of metallic stress as the truck suddenly decelerated. Stuart looked up at the looming radiator grill and into the driver’s furious eyes, then stepped back onto the pavement raising a hand in apology and receiving a barrage of Bulgarian cursing in return. The lorry’s gears ground and crunched as it jerked away.

Stuart was sure he was about to suffer a heart attack. He was sweating and weak and dizzy. He held onto a streetlamp to keep himself standing. Breath was now harder to come by and he was stuck on a traffic island in the middle of four lanes of city traffic.

He looked across the road and saw two men waiting to cross towards him. Normal guys in jeans and hoodies. Big lads, he thought, probably heading to the docks for work. When the lights changed the two men stepped off the curb and walked towards him. He stepped to one side because he didn’t want trouble today, not in this state and not anywhere near a fucking copshop. He made it to the other side and stood on the grass verge watching the two men walk towards the hotel behind the grey shopping centre.

He was almost home and dry. A couple of hundred yards down the hill, through the immigrant taxi rank and into the station. Stuart’s thoughts drifted to being on the train, in a comfy padded seat in a warm carriage where he could just sleep. As he walked he felt the draught of every vehicle that passed.

The shakes started as he staggered across the station concourse, weaving through waiting cars. He walked up the station’s entrance ramp and a blue Kia Sorrento stopped next to him. He didn’t notice the car or the four men that got out but he did see the woman with short brown hair rushing towards him with a gun in her hand. He heard tyres screeching behind him, shouts and screams surrounding him and the crack of a gunshot that filled his head to bursting as he fell to the cold concrete floor.

Roberta Warren was in her element on UK Truth TV. “Of course Jackie.” She sympathised with Thatcher-like earnestness. “We all feel sorry about deaths in the Channel but the French have to stop offloading these illegal fighting age men on us.” She sensed the interviewer had stopped listening to her as a new conversation sparked across the studio.

“Sorry to interrupt you Roberta but we’re getting some breaking news out of Southampton that involves a man arrested during the anti-immigration protests.”
Roberta put on her best surprised and interested expression. The TV host continued working the piecemeal information being fed through her earpiece.

“Local sources suggest that protestor Stuart Hill has been involved in a shooting incident at Southampton Central railway station.”

“Shooting?” Roberta was confused. This was not the plan. “Who has been shot?”

“We’re not yet sure. But we have video coming up. Do we?”

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