The Fuse

One murder after another, the Queen becomes assassinated. Now people on the streets are dying. Can people find the Plan behind the Plot?

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1. The Detective

It was chaos. Guards were everywhere. Warning sirens and car alarms were causing pain in my ears. Men with pistols and rifles were streaming into the place where the Crown Jewels were temporarily kept. The moon was gleaming upon the bonnet of the Queen’s limousine. Next to it was a carefully placed, blood-covered body. The body of the Queen.

 

A knock on the door of Detective Sam Johnston’s office always suggested that something odd was happening. No waiters or colleagues dared disturb the ‘master at work.’

“Come in.” Spoke the lowest, most authority-demanding voice the country had ever heard. In came an Irishman, Captain Paul Hillsborough. He took the seat in front of the detective, and slammed his hand in such force that the biggest book on the bookshelf smashed onto the floor beside him.

“I,” the captain started. After a long pause, and a quick stare around the office, he continued, “have a small problem regarding the Queen, and the Queen’s Crown Jewels.” He then frantically moved his arm to cover the headline of The Daily Mail, which was lying upright on the desk. The captain then slid a piece of paper to the detective, stood up, and walked out of the door, and slammed it. The wind from the door blew the newspaper straight into the detectives face.

 

Sam looked at the piece of paper he had been given. On it were only a few words;

Come to the Germany incident,

17:00 SHARP

Germany Intelligence Operations

 

“Get me my helicopter.” Were one set of the few phrases Sam spoke in upmost problematic times. He then put on a dark suit, with a red stripy tie and proceeded through the door. He turned around and locked all seventeen locks, preventing anybody access to the room, with keys of all shapes and sizes. He then blundered up the stairway and onto the helipad.

As he reached the helicopter, the wind took off his hat, and blew it into the distance. He then climbed in, and the helicopter raised to a height of 1 mile, and sped off into the distance.

 

At five o’clock sharp that evening, Detective Sam Johnston climbed out of the helicopter, and onto the scene of the Queen’s murder in Germany. Here he met Captain Paul Hillsborough and me. I glared deep into Sam’s eyes. He glared equally deep into mine.

 

“So?” called the detective, as he sniffed the air, lit only by the moon, and two streetlamps. He followed this by placing a stare on the chalk line around the Queen’s body, “What am I to first investigate?”

 

The captain handed Sam a 12 page document, titled ‘Investigation Sherbet Lolly’

Sam then quickly scanned the pages, then looked for any fingerprints. He then looked at his own, surgically removed fingerprints, and thought back to his third case, when removing fingerprints was relevant for the job. He then recalled the fingerprints he had once had, before folding the document, and placing it in his suit pocket.

Sam walked at great speed over to the Queen’s body, and analysed the blood on the floor. He then examined the seeping yellow liquid rising steadily from a hole in the Queen’s hand. Sam placed his index finger into the hole, soaking up only a little of the mixture, and carefully placed it onto the very tip of his tongue.

 

“Gymothene poison. Administered through the nose.” He concluded. He moved his lips in a way that made it look like a smug grin was going to appear, before he thought again about the case. He then pulled out a smartphone, and a laptop from the black bag he had been carrying. He then opened up a program which looked as if it had been pulled out of a spy movie, and took photos with the phone. The images were instantly placed into a ‘case Queen’ photo library on the computer, before the lid was closed, and both of the devices were returned to the bag.

 

Sam then returned to his feet, and wandered off to the de-mountable where the crown jewels were kept. He walked up three shiny glass steps, and through an air-sealed sliding glass door. Inside he swiped his ID card, and entered a PIN code. When the steel door finally opened, he walked in to see only the stand where the jewels had been stolen from. What he did notice, apart from the white powder scattered over the floor was a bomb. A bomb with an HD camera cable-tied to the top. A bomb with a fuse leading to an ant-sized hole in the steel wall. A fuse which must have been used to play it’s part in the crime. A red countdown clock flickered on in the corner. He heard the doors seal his exit. He gently stood, trapped, as the lights went out.

 

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