Chapter 1 – “Lance Lands Back”

The cabin cruiser bobbed up and down on the waves.

On board, the leader opened the detonator case. From a compartment in the

lid, he removed two transmitter frequency components and carefully plugged them

into the sockets on the control panel. He switched on the set and the indicator showed

that the battery held sufficient charge. He unclipped the aerial, swung it into an

upright position, then pulled it out to its full telescopic height. It stood there looking

defiantly at the magnificent Kuwait Towers. The leader adjusted the rheostat till

optimum power output was shown on the meter. All he had to do now was remove

the protective guard from the RED button then press.

In the wheelhouse, a voice on the radio was spitting out volumes of venomous diatribe. Interspersed martial music was meant to stir up nationalist fervour among the listeners. The broadcast wouldbe interrupted any minute. The operator in the wheelhouse was standing by for an important communiqué from headquarters. This would set off a chain of events meticulously planned during the previous two weeks. Lance strained to free himself from the handcuffs that secured him to the rail. He reached out with his right leg and tried to knock over the detonator case. He failed to connect and collapsed onto the deck, in despair.

“YOU PIG!” shouted Lance at the leader. “You rotten murderin’ pig! You can’t kill all those innocent people.”

The past three days in Kuwait had been an absolute nightmare for him. Last month, he’d enjoyed a well-earned leave in the UK. Now he was about to witness a massacre.

28 July, 1990.

PING. “Mesdames et Messieurs. Nous approchons l’….”

Lance closed his eyes and tried hard to translate the announcement made by the Air France stewardess. The results of his efforts pleased him and he waited patiently for the English version, eager to give himself marks out of ten for this self-imposed listening test.

“Ladies and Gentlemen. We are now approaching Kuwait International Airport, where we will be landing in approximately fifteen minutes. Please extinguish your cigarettes and return your seats to the upright position. Fasten your seat belts…. remain seated…. hand luggage….”

She carried on with the usual spiel about disembarkation procedures, till finally she came to the part that Lance had been waiting for: “The temperature in Kuwait at the moment is twenty-eight degrees Celsius and the sea is calm. We hope you have enjoyed your flight with Air France and we look forward to seeing you again in the near future. Au revoir et bientôt.”

‘I have – and you will,’ thought Lance. “I always enjoytravelling Air France.”

The in-flight catering had been excellent and he’d enjoyed the red

wine especially. He recalled that on a previous flight he had been sitting next to a Frenchman, who was a wine buff. During the meal he’d informed Lance that wine is affected by altitude and pressure. As part of the selection process, various wines are flown up to an optimum height then, after a given period of time, the bottles are opened and the contents sampled by the airline’s experts. Many were rejected as being unsuitable for consumption with in-flight meals. Lance remembered visualizing at the time, that he would like to see a job description for such a position. A sort of wine-on-the-wing man. His degree in Hotel Catering & Institutional Management, followed by work experience in France, would have allowed him to apply for such a job.