I have to finish what I have started. This is the most important lesson in life. To finish what you have started. I can right wrongs and change humanity for the better. There is always another answer, another way around a problem. All solutions lie hidden within the problem itself, if you have not found the solution then you must not understand the problem fully…
I woke with a start into a place somewhere between dreaming and reality, strange mantras slowly fading from my waking mind as the noise from inside the car dragged me into the early morning. A conference on the ageing populations of Europe had taken me to Oslo this weekend, and with things heating up back in England we hadn’t left until early this morning.
“God, I miss flying,” I grumbled across the car to Terry.
“I don’t miss economy class,” He replied, jovial as always.
Flights within Europe had all but been eliminated for the last two decades in an attempt to halt global warming. They continued across the Atlantic to North America but only the most urgent of circumstances warranted a flight internally within the two continents. Instead, a network of high-speed underground rail lines had been created, linking major capitals and regions across Europe.
“We’ve got four hours until the conference begins,” Terry said, scrolling over a schedule on his iPad. We drove into the daylight, emerging out of the Oslo fjord with the opera house on our left. Made to look like a shifting ice sheet, its once white clad exterior had greyed over time and now looked as though it was polluting the water it was sliding into. “We’ll drop you at the hotel, get you showered up and then go over the members of the conference today.”
“Can’t wait,” I replied, too tired to lay the sarcasm heavy this early in the morning. “A morning of measured smiles and platitudes.”
“You don’t think our ageing populations are important?” Terry queried.
“I don’t think anyone else does.” I snapped. “If they did, immigration wouldn’t be the latest hashtag.”
Since the Western Alliance had started to consider including Turkey as well as a number of North African countries into its fray, political factions within the alliance had begun to murmur of the dangers they may impose. Keep it pure, keep the environment stable. Change was bad, they muttered to one another. At least that’s how it began, muttering. Now they were shouting. Not just politicians, people from all walks of life were getting involved and the Western Alliance was slowly and painfully tearing apart.
“That’s not true you know.” Terry said, a wry smile curling at the corner of his lips. “Right now, ‘may the fourth be with you’ is the top trending hashtag. At least on Twitter. Pretty sure foodporn still tops Instagram”
“You sound old right now, you know that.”
***
Two suit clad men sat in the corner of a café in Oslo. Their suits were plain, grey in colour, white shirts, black ties. Both had shaved heads, one of them out of choice and the other with a visible stubble running from his ears round to the back of his head, leaving the top of his head a shiny dome.
In this case, genetics had some role to play thought Roth, as he studied them through the camera of his phone. They were accompanying Tawney Sanders’ son, placing themselves in what they at least believed was a conspicuous position close to wherever he went, and sipping slowly at a large cup of coffee.
Sitting at a small round table outside the café, Roth wore a navy-blue puffer jacket, that swamped his large frame, and a ribbed black beanie. It was still cold in Oslo, even in May, gravel covered the pavements and clumps of snow could still be seen pushed up against the sides of the roads. The cold bit at his exposed skin, on his face and hands, causing them to flare up red and angry. His target sat directly in front of him, his back turned towards him as he leaned against the glass of a large window inside the café. Roth knew he would only get one chance as chance meetings did not happen more than once. He was confident that it would work though, people were more relaxed here than most places and they did not often expect foul play.
Sander’s son, Richard was his name, had his laptop open in front of him and appeared to be working on a spreadsheet on excel, from what Roth could make out. Most likely something to do with his charity organisation, he suspected. The boy had founded the group immediately after he had finished university. With the morals and the financial backing of his mother he had thought it a good idea to try and help the few individuals given a change to enter into the Western Alliance that did not come through wealthy channels. A good cause thought Roth. Here was a man that believed in the debilitating effects of the environment and sought to heal its victims. The organisation was relatively large now but spread thin across Europe. Employing teachers and translators his organisation sought to help with the transition for those arriving in a Western Alliance country. Initially they would provide language courses and then seek to fill in any gaps in terms of their education and the qualifications needed to begin their life in their new-found country.
Today however he would further the world’s needs in another way.
Roth got up from his chair and unzipped his coat revealing a plain grey suit underneath, much like the one the body guards were wearing. He picked up a leather satchel that had been resting against the legs of the table he had been sitting at and pulled out a glasses case and a stack of flyers from it. He placed a pair of black acetate rimmed glasses on his nose and then picked up the flyers and satchel. He walked over to a woman sitting at a table next to the front door of the café, underneath a heating lamp with blanket lain over her legs.
“Hi, cold out right?” he said, in a perfect midwestern American accent. “I’m over here on a mission with the Church of Latter-day Saints from the states. I’m wondering if you’ve ever heard about the word of Joseph Smith?” Roth smiled a big smile, his eyes beady lifeless as he waited for her dismissal.
“Er, yes” She replied, with a slight accent and clearly not happy to have been disturbed by him. “But I’m not interested, I’m sorry.”
“That’s ok,” replied Roth. “Do you mind if I leave this leaflet with you though. It has all the information you need to know to save yourself.” He did not wait for an answer and just left it on the table and then continued into the café.
The bodyguards glanced up as he walked in, marking him on their radar. Roth began the rounds of the café, loudly pronouncing his mission and handing out leaflets to everyone. He carefully made sure to work his way over to the bodyguards before Sanders, so that they could discount him as a threat.
“Hello gentlemen,” Roth said.
“Not interested,” the one with a stubbly wreath immediately said. “Please, move on.”
“Ok, gentlemen, no problem. If I can just leave you with...”
“No sir, just move on,” The other snapped.
Roth moved on as requested and made his way down a row of small tables towards Richard Sanders.
“Hi,” Roth began, as he finally reached him. The bodyguards shot their eyes up at this but did not get up. “I’m here on a charitable mission with the Church of Latter-day Saints. We’re doing work to try and help those most in need from outside the Western Alliance with a place to stay.”
“Really,” said Sanders, his interest peaked at this fortuitous coincidence in purpose. “I dabble in the charity sector myself.” His voice was deep and rich. He wore a blue polo shirt under a plain black jumper. Blues eyes and brown hair, he was well built and handsome. “How exactly do you offer them shelter?”
“Oh really, that’s great to see others trying to help those in need.” Roth turned his lips up in another dead smile. “Everything you need to know is on this leaflet” he said, handing over the paper that half the café now possessed.
“Thanks,” Sanders said, “Well, I’m sorry, I better be getting back to work”
“Yes, of course, don’t let me keep you from doing some good in the world.”
With that Roth moved on. The bodyguards returned to looking at their coffees and Sanders continued scrawling down a spreadsheet.
Soon, thought Roth as he finally finished the rounds of the rest of the customers in the café, things will be set in motion. It was time to put Tawney Sanders’ out of her misery.
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