Eugenicus

By Paul S. Medland

what do we do when we find out that those we think we elect as our country’s leaders are in fact just pawns for some higher echelon? that they are in fact members of a centuries old and very secret organization whose main goal is to maintain the planet, keep control of population and their use of all its’ resources by any means that are necessary, even if these eugenic purifying and cleansing methods are murderous beyond belief.

when a ventilation engineer overhears a secret conversation, and when looking to see where the voices are coming from, even though he can hardly believe his eyes, espies exactly who it was behind such recognisable voices, he takes photographs and records their evil intentions.

those right at the very top were conspiring to purposely murder hundreds of thousands of british people by using a sunken wartime ship and make all it look accidental. and over in the united states the elimination of ninety percent of the population through chemical warfare, covering their actions by blaming it on war and terrorism. and on an even wider scale, to murder many billions of innocent people worldwide.

but when those arranging these murderous deeds are at the people in the highest of positions, just who can he tell to prevent it happening?

suddenly finding himself on the run for a murder he did not commit, his family; friends; colleagues, everyone close to him placed in extreme danger, he tries to alert the population of the impending disaster and save many lives.

laughed at and mocked by the media who do not believe him, he has to just sit and watch the worst disaster ever known in britain unfold before his very eyes.

just who were these strange men in black robes who were known as the ‘knights of silence’? and just how can he avoid being ‘cleansed’ by them as he tries to protect those he loves.

as he loses all those around him to these deadly assassins, he enlists the help of his wife’s sister to help him track down and try to expose this secret sect, and hopefully get back from them what they have taken from his family.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Paul S. Medland
• Release date: Apr 24, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301730148

Paul S. Medland

The author has a wide background in the medical and care fields, previously working as a Physiological Measurement Technician specialising in Audiology; a Operating Department Assistant in a busy operating theatre; and spending many years in both the NHS and Private Ambulance Services as a Emergency Medical Technician (EMT). He also has qualifications in Health & Safety and has extensive background knowledge of working with Abuse, Learning Disabilities and Autism.He enjoys writing about a variety of subjects, both factual and fictional, Following giving up work due to illness, he uses his factual books to teach and to share his gained knowledge and experiences with others.He also has interests in the Unknown and unexplainable.. UFOs / ghosts / conspiracies etc. and in his fictional books mixes both fact and fiction (Faction), creating fictional stories but based in real places or with real people and events. Written in a way to make you think, but leaving you to make up your own mind.

Book preview

EUGENICUS

Paul S. Medland

Copyright Paul S. Medland 2013

Published at Smashwords

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PREFACE

EUGENICUS

What do we do when we find out that those we think we elect as our country’s leaders are just pawns for some higher echelon? That they are in fact members of a centuries-old and very secret organization whose main goal is to maintain the planet, keep control of its’ population and all its’ resources by any necessary means, even if these eugenic purifying and cleansing methods are murderous beyond belief.

When a ventilation engineer working in a secret military base overhears a discreet conversation by familiar voices, he can hardly believe his eyes, as he espies exactly who it was, he takes photographs and records their intentions.

Those at the very top were conspiring to purposely murder hundreds of thousands of British people and make it look accidental. Similarly over in the United States plans were being made for the elimination of ninety per cent of the American population through chemical warfare, but covering their actions by blaming it on war and terrorism. On an even wider scale, they were planning to murder many billions of innocent people worldwide.

Of course, he wants to save his own family and try to save the billions of innocent people, but when those arranging these murderous deeds are people in the highest of positions, just who can he tell to prevent it happening?

He tries to alert the British population of the impending disaster but is laughed at and mocked by the media who do not believe him, all his efforts blocked by the same officials who are planning it. Suddenly finding himself on the run for a murder that he did not commit, it places his family, friends, colleagues and everyone close in extreme danger, he has to watch the worst disaster ever known in Britain unfold right before his very eyes.

Just who were these strange men in black robes who were known as the ‘Knights of Silence’? and just how can he avoid being ‘Cleansed’ by them as he loses all those around him to these deadly assassins, he enlists the help of his wife’s sister to help him track down and try to expose this secret sect, and hopefully get back from them what they have taken from his family.

INDEX TO CHAPTERS

Chapter 01 - Call Me Jonah

Chapter 02 – The Meeting of the chosen

Chapter 03 - Some Unusual Changes.

Chapter 04 - Surprising Visitors.

Chapter 05 - A Worrying Conversation.

Chapter 06 - Doomsday

Chapter 07 - Where are the Rescuers?.

Chapter 08 - Off the Grid!.

Chapter 09 - Searching for Knowledge.

Chapter 10 - Chasing the Expert.

Chapter 11 - The Professor.

Chapter 12 - The Attack.

Chapter 13 - Time To Vanish.

Chapter 14 - No Time For Grieving.

Chapter 15 - Needle In A Haystack.

Chapter 16 - Necessary Preparations.

Chapter 17 - The Attack On The Priory.

Chapter 18 - Time To Leave.

Chapter 19 - A New Life.

Other books in this series.

About the Author.

Other books by the same Author.

Extra Information.

Chapter One

CALL ME JONAH

Hank lifted the heavy glass jug and swigged back the last of his drink, the dark murky coloured pint tasted warm compared to the clear yellow beer that he was used to drinking back home in Kansas, but he made the most of it and savoured every drop knowing it would be many weeks before he had the chance of tasting another. Looking down at the small fob watch that his father had given him when he left home and set off for naval training on his nineteenth birthday, he saw it was almost time for him to leave. He dropped the last few coins that he had in his pocket on the bar as a tip and thanked Gloria the heavily made-up young girl behind the bar with the towering hairstyle, who had made him chuckle as she collected the used glasses with her dark gravy stained legs with a fake mascara seam drawn as straight as she could make it up the back of her calves. He threw his new kit bag holding the few basic clothes that he had been given by the hospital over his shoulder, and waving goodbye he left. Hank headed through the heavy torrential rain to find the misty dock, following the directions that he had been given on a small piece of paper, that was now quickly beginning to disintegrate in the very heavy downpour.

Only two weeks before, Hank had almost drowned when a U-Boat had attacked his ship with a torpedo, the rear of his ship had crumpled and within minutes the stern was underwater. He had barely made it up the narrow steps from deep below deck, and after jumping over the side of the ship he had swum like crazy to the nearest drifting life raft and exhaustedly heaved himself onboard, only seconds later his old ship gurgled its’ way down to the bottom of the cold ocean floor. The twelve survivors had been picked up in the darkness by a fishing trawler working out from Felixstowe, it had returned them to the British mainland later the next morning where it was met by Navy Ambulances. Hank had suffered some ingestion of seawater and pneumonia and was admitted to hospital for recovery. Several weeks later after being checked out of the hospital in Ipswich and spending a few days rest at a lodging house, he was then put on a train heading back towards London. Hank had already been reassigned to a new ship, away from his few remaining friends and this was to be his first day aboard her.

The small wooden launch sat bobbing at the misty quayside, there were two other sailors also waiting nearby, sitting on similar kit bags to his own and trying to keep themselves dry as they could under the eaves of the closed waterfront cafeteria. The restaurant looked uninviting, dusty and desolate, a note in the window informed them that it was ‘Closed due to the War’, it had not seen any customers for almost five years now and he wondered how long it would be, if ever before it served a customer in there again.

You for the old Monty Bud?, the tall thin sailor questioned him, Hank nodded. Trust our luck eh! Is this your first ship?. Hank told him about his previous ship and how it had been sunk by a German U-boat, and how they had been picked up by fishermen and returned to England. He told them how some had been flown back home to the States, but he had just been given new orders and assigned this new ship to work on.

And now they stick you on this tin crate of Dynamite, Jeez your name isn’t Jonah is it? the plumper sailor beside him said as he now joined in the conversation, offering Hank his hip flask. You do know what we are gonna be sleeping on don’t cha?. Hank had no idea, his orders were as basic as could be, just a time, location and the word ‘Montgomery’, obviously they did not want to give the exact details in case he was accosted by any passing German spies as if that happening was likely on the short journey between Ipswich and Southend. His face told them that he did not know and the tall man laid a patronising hand on his shoulder, squeezing it as he filled Hank in on all the details.

The Monty, it’s one of those Liberty Ships, packed full of big bombs and the like, one discarded match in the wrong place Bud, and Kaboom were off to that great big port way up in the sky!.

Hank felt sick, at the age of twenty-three he had already had enough of explosions, he had only just survived the last one and now they were making it so that if it happened again there would be no chance at all of him getting away, just one torpedo to a ship like that and it would be well and truly over.

A dark beige Austin Eight staff car pulled up beside them, the officer wound down the window and called them over to it, he did not want to get out into the heavy rain himself and get wet.

Gentlemen the river pilot will be here in twenty minutes, they are taking you out to meet the SS Richard Montgomery, it will not be coming up the river as it is due to tag on to the next convoy. Can you please ensure these orders get to the Captain securely on your arrival without fail. A thick envelope was passed out of the window and given to Hank, the window snapped shut and the female driver car swung the car around in an arc and drove off at speed.

***-***

As the small Harbour Launch chugged away from the wooden jetty immediately the strength of the waves became apparent to those on board, the small craft lurched as it moved away from the protection of the land and headed out towards the rough sea. A few other supply vessels were already sheltering in the wide Delta that led in towards the Thames, waiting for the armed escort ships that would try to get them safely across the English Channel to Cherbourg. The ‘Monty’ was steaming in towards them, and as it began to slow down the River Pilot swung the small launch around till it was travelling level beside her.

Ropes were thrown over the side of the ship and down into the launch, the three Sailors attached their kit bags which were then pulled back up, then a ladder was lowered and one by one they jumped for it, quickly climbing up onto the deck high above them. Immediately the three new crew members were escorted up to the bridge to meet their new Captain.

Captain Wilkie Sir, these are our new replacements. The smartly dressed Chief Officer saluted as the Captain turned around to face them. The Captain told them that they were just about to come under the control of the Harbour Master at Thames Naval Control at HMS Leigh, that he and the Chief Officer were going to be busy, so they should stow their bags and get some food from the galley then once berthed the Chief Officer would assign them their rota and list of duties. Hank handed Captain Wilkie the envelope containing the orders, and they were then marched back outside.

Eat your chow then take a quick look around and get to know the ship’s layout, then I suggest you get some shut-eye, you’re on night watch tonight. The Chief assigned bunks to each of them and found a junior ranking to show them around and fill them in with the procedures, then he left to join the Captain ready to turn the ship around and weigh anchor with the other ships waiting to join the convoy.

***-***

Captain, the Harbour Master has just instructed us to weigh anchor at the north edge of the Sheerness Middle Sands. The Chief Officer hastily told Captain Charles Wilkie as the Captain oversaw the turning of the four hundred and twenty-two-foot ship, to bring the bow to once again face out to sea in readiness for the convoy’s departure. Soon the ghostly rattle of the heavy chains vibrated throughout the ship as the heavy anchors fell towards the sea bed, the single screw stopped its churning of the muddy water and shortly after the dull whine and throbbing of the triple expansion 2,500hp steam engine slowly died away as it was shut down, just leaving the two boilers to tick over in readiness to provide the maximum 11-knot speed that they would need to keep up with the expected escort.

Hank laid on his hard bunk, even knowing he had a night watch to do he wasn’t ready to sleep, he chatted to another of the young crewman, learning that the ship which was only just a year old, had travelled across the Atlantic from Hog Island in Philadelphia with its payload of 6,127 tons of ammunition. There were forty-five crew on board and the three new men were to replace older staff who had become seriously ill on the journey over and previously been taken off.

So just how dangerous is this ship? Hank asked the tall skinny young lad, The other man I came aboard with said that it would only take a discarded match to blow us up to the heavens.

Oh did he now, another sailor laughed in his bunk, It would take a bloody big match to do that, but one of those big German metal ones might just do it though!. No bud, it’s perfectly safe, just as long as we keep well away from any action!.

Hank wondered to himself just how possible that was going to be, the Germans were only twenty-something miles away across the Channel, the same channel they would have to get across to get to Cherbourg, and even if the German U-boat’s did not catch them there was always the fighters and bombers that continuously flew back and forth and the heavy guns the German’s had now placed along the coastline. Hank pulled out his notepad from his belongings, finding his pencil and with shaky finger’s he began to write.

‘Dear Mom…’.

***-***

Hank was given a pair of binoculars and was shown up to his watch position in a circular gun emplacement on the starboard side of the ship. He pulled the rubber mackintosh tighter around his neck, not that it stopped him getting wet, but it did reduce the torrential rain from completely soaking him through. The rain ran off his helmet and dripped from the end of his nose as he shuffled from one foot to the other trying to keep warm, and every heavily expired breath sent out a shower of raindrops from his mouth. He wondered why he was even there, it was so dark, even the lights at Sheerness just a mile and a half away on the coast had all gone out, he had about as much chance of spotting an enemy submarine or aircraft as he did finding a small needle in a large haystack.

Making the most of a lull in the wind and rain, he pushed his back against the circular metal platform and shook the water from his hands, reaching under his waterproof cape his cold stiff fingers found his pocket and pulled out the packet of cigarettes, as he lit it behind his shielded hands, he wished that he had some American cigarettes, these British Woodbines were just awful, but he had lost his stash of Lucky Strike along with all his possessions when his old ship went down, only the encased fob watch and his trusty old Zippo lighter had survived the cold salty sea in his pocket.

As the wind and rain once again gained strength, the ship rocked on the waves, straining his eyes he could just barely make out the black outlines of the other ships in the distance, wondering if they too were carrying such a deadly cargo. Hank already had a bad feeling about this vessel, a worrying sickening feeling never felt before that chewed up his insides, a feeling of utter doom.

In the boredom of the cold and very wet Nightwatch, Hank went into almost a dream-like state, his thoughts drifting to back home in Kansas, the warm sunny days working on his parent’s farm, the clear night skies filled with a million stars, and the many secret forbidden adventures in the hay barn with Josie Crosby the pretty young girl from the next farm. Also, the occasional adventures that he had when she was not able to get away, around the back of the old saloon bar with ‘Busty Bessy’, a single and much older woman, who was very free and easy with her company as long as you bought her a drink. It was a very long way from this cold nightmare, and even the threat of Mr Crosby’s old shotgun seemed to pale in the situation he was now in. Even that old English story he was told about as a child, about Guy Fawkes and his attempt to blow up the Houses of Parliament now seemed mellow, after all, he was right now sitting on far more than just a mere barrel of gunpowder.

Hank wasn’t quite sure, but it felt to him as if the ship was moving, he was sure that the ship in the distance had been previously off the other side of the bow, and although far from being used to this new ship, he had thought he felt it move. Some other boats that were out of his range of vision began to sound their sirens, and just in case it was an alert of an approaching U-boat he quickly began scanning across the waters for any signs of a white bubbly wake.

A deep rumble reached his ears, and holding on to the curved metal sides of the platform he could feel it trembling under his glove, the ship leaned over a little then righted itself and once again the grumbling noise returned. The same tearing-like sound that he had heard when his last boat was struck with the torpedo filled his ears, the sound of metal ripping like a torn piece of paper, then the ship lurched violently yet again. Surely they had not been torpedoed he thought, surely if that was so he would have heard the loud explosion. Hank didn’t know what he should be doing, everybody now seemed to be running up on deck from below deck and were now hanging over the sides to look at whatever was below.

We have run aground! an unknown voice shouted at him as they ran past him in the darkness. The grating sound continued as the big ship was dragged across the shallow sandbank, suddenly stopping dead in its tracks.

***-***

It took three days to arrange for a stevedore company from Rochester which was miles further down the River Medway, to come to start to empty the ship, there were delays due to their demands of ‘Danger Money’ which at first nobody seemed willing to pay. Very little if anything was moved on their first day, ships were normally unloaded whilst safely at the Quayside, using cranes and vehicles to move the cargo, this was far from any land and at first, nobody was quite sure how to even accomplish the task.

On the stevedore’s second day the ships hull began to crack open, and several of the bow cargo holds had flooded with seawater. Over the following days, the ship had groaned even more, and with ear-splitting ripping sounds and terrifying jerks, the ship started to break into two. They now knew that it was definitely going to sink.

Hank and the other crew were taken off the ship on the 25th September, they were taken by a small boat down the River Medway to Chatham Naval Docks, where they were given bunks until the US Navy made up their minds what to do with them. Hank now definitely did feel as if he was a Jinx, that was his second ship now to sink, and he had not even been on board this last one twelve hours before things had begun to go so terribly wrong.

A very abrupt American Naval Officer had interviewed each of them in a detailed debriefing, asking them why Captain Wilkie had not been woken and roused from his bed when the ship started to move, especially as the other ships had been sounding their horns to try to warn them. Hank just didn’t know, even the Chief Officer could not explain that to them, and he too was given a thorough dressing down before he left. But the inquiry into the incident confirmed within the week, that the accident was really the fault of Harbour Master, who had assigned unsuitable anchorage and placed the ship in jeopardy. Captain Wilkie was instantly returned to full operational duty and briefly joined them in Chatham to await reassignment to another vessel.

Hank again wrote home.

‘Dear Mom, just in case you hear on the news grapevine, yes my new ship has also sunk, but do not worry about me, it was not through war action, we simply ran aground on a sandbank close to shore. We were not even on the ship when it completely broke in two and it went down. I am safe in England although I can not tell you where. Hope Sis is being good, with all those servicemen about in town I think you will have to lock her away for the duration. Hope someone is cleaning my old pick-up for me, and that Pop’s watching out for his back on the farm. Make sure you have made plenty of your cakes ready for when I return. Love Hank’.

Hank never wrote more than a few lines, although he wanted to reassure his mother of his safety, not being able to give any place names, any dates, or any information on where they had been, where they were now, where they were headed or even when they would get there, he found it very hard to write about his adventures when everything was so tightly monitored and audited. It was no holiday cruise, and he could hardly describe to her the places he had seen on his sea travels. His duties were quite mundane and would have been of no real interest to his family, they did not want to hear that he had mopped the deck for the thousandth time or that he had repainted yard after yard of metal reinforcing, and the rest he was just not allowed to talk about.

***-*** - ***-***

That was sixty-nine years ago son, and yet it seems like only yesterday, Hank sat in the sunny garden with his great-grandson, recounting his adventures as a sailor to the eager young lad who sat in awe beside him. But they never got me young Hank Junior, it would take more than that old Hitler to stop your Great Grandpops. Now go and see if your great grandmother’s finished making that Lemonade before we all die of thirst!.

Hank Junior ran up to the veranda, carefully taking the tray from the now plump and weathered lady who was slowly making her way outside. Josie Crosby had waited for the return of her illicit sailor boyfriend, and as a returning ‘war hero’ even her strict father had to put away his gun and give in to let her date him, as long as she always had her female friend as a companion and chaperone. Of course, once they were out of her father’s sight, her friend had always disappeared having her eye on a young man herself, and Josie and Hank were free to frolic just as they were before the war. They had later married and had never again left each other’s side in the many years since.

Downing the cool lemonade, Hank’s wheelchair was wheeled back inside and into the library, he instructed his great-grandson to fetch the old red leather-bound journal and the now well-worn shoebox that sat on the lower shelf below all the books. With Hank Junior again at his side, Hank Senior opened the hard leather cover and pointed out the photographs and many newspaper clippings that he and Josie had saved over the many years.

You see Hank, those stevedores hardly managed to take anything off that boat, it was far too dangerous and they were not being paid enough to risk their lives, so it went down with nearly all still inside her, and that is the way it has remained to this very day. The British government were a little ashamed that the Harbour Master had made such a big error, and then trying to put the minds of those people that lived nearby at rest, well they just lied and said that they had taken most of it off!. Hank turned the page to some newspaper articles that he had been sent over from England.

‘13,064 general-purpose 250lb bombs

9,022 cases of fragmenting bombs

7,739 semi-armour piercing bombs

1,522 cases of fuses

1,429 cases of phosphorous bombs

1,427 cases of 100lb demolition bombs

817 cases of small arms ammunition’

This is what they now say is still left at the bottom of the sea in the old wreck, but on that day we started with six thousand tons of high explosives on board, and no way did those stevedore’s manage to take even a fraction of that off before she cracked up and sank. If you ask me they never even managed to take off even one ton, they just didn’t have any suitable boats or jigs to do it, so despite what they tell everyone, there’s still near the six thousand ton of high explosives sitting down there waiting to go off at any minute!.

Gee Grandpops, would it be a big bang if it did? What if the Germans were to hit it with a torpedo now?. The wide-eyed boy looked through the many pictures and clippings to see if there was one that already showed it exploding.

No Hank, the war with Germany ended not long after the boat sank, they are not going to torpedo it now. But, if another boat were ever to hit it, or a big storm made it move, then maybe it would explode, and then yes son, it would be a very big bang indeed! Hank looked at the young lad, he was a bright kid and doing so very well at school and his history project on the war would no doubt be excellent, especially with all this information. If that ship was to explode Hank, it would give a bigger bang than the H bomb at Hiroshima, have you done about that at school yet?.

Yeah pops, we did all about that in history class, that was the Uranium bomb dropped by our planes wasn’t it, it was a B-29 Superfortress called the Enola Gay, and another one called the Bockscar was the one that dropped the same kind of bomb on Nagasaki. It made a big mushroom-shaped cloud and killed thousands of people.

That’s right son, well this would kill many thousands of people too, it would send a big tidal wave down the River Medway which would wipe out half of what they call the ‘Medway Towns’ in Kent, it would also send a Tsunami wave up the Thames into the centre of London and kill many many people on its route. Hank Junior was too young to fully understand the full devastation it would cause, but the thought of such loss of life almost had his great grandfather in tears.

So if it has been there for the last sixty-nine years pops, why haven’t the Brits emptied it and made it safe?.

Good question my boy, it should have been dealt with when it first happened, but instead they just buried their heads in the sand and hoped the problem would just go away, the longer they left it, the more dangerous it became to empty it. Over the years there have been many ideas of how to, yet that is all they remained, ideas, nothing has ever been done about it. One day she will surely blow, and many innocent people will die because of their ignorance!.

Can I copy all these Grandpops? Can I use them for my history project, we can use my father’s computer scanner. Hank didn’t know what a computer scanner was, come to that he wasn’t that sure about what even a computer was, but he had seen all the kids with these flat tablet-shaped things that could call up photographs and information, and what could even display the television, it was all far beyond him, the world had changed so much since his day. He handed over the big journal and showed Hank Junior the medals he kept in the shoebox, making him promise to return them once his school project had been completed.

You're not going on again about that war, are you? I hope you’re not filling that young lad’s head with all your war stories. Josie had now sat on the other side of Hank’s wheelchair, resting her walking stick over the wooden arm of the old high backed upright leather chair.

We were talking about that Mayor from London, the Boris chappie, the one who wants to build a new airport in the River Thames. I was just filling in young Hank Junior here and explaining that the end of his runway would have a nasty surprise waiting if a plane was ever to crash land. Anyway, he is doing it for his history class at school.

And you jumped at the chance to recount the whole of world war two no doubt, every little detail of all those boats you travelled on, and how most of them went down to the bottom!. Betty the boy’s mother, his Grand Daughter, added as she entered the room before telling Hank Junior to go and wash before bed. Hank ran over and waved a news clipping in front of her, trying to justify his actions for staying up late.

Well these damn idiots are placing all those lives at risk, we lost enough during the war, I know exactly what is down there, and it would be obvious to even a small child how stupid it would be to put a bloody big airport bang over the top of it!. But Hanks wise old words fell on a room full of deaf ears.

***-***

As the cold winter set in, Hank found breathing increasingly difficult, at ninety-two the Emphysema he had suffered with for the previous fifteen years had now become debilitating, the inhalers were now far less effective and the wheezing drained him of all his energy. For a man whose brain was still fully functional he found it so frustrating, and to make things worse he was now restricted to staying indoors, no longer able to sit outside watching the stars in the night sky of an evening, to clean his truck with little Hank Junior, or to be wheeled around the old farm where he had lived since his birth, now he had to remain in one room close to the Oxygen tank and his mask.

After a fall outside at the end of summer, Josie too was now unable to walk, she now used his old wheelchair to enable her to sit beside his bed and while away the very long days and long breathless nights. Josie sensed that her beloved Hank was on his last legs, and she also knew that he too was very aware that the inevitable was just around the corner. She prayed he would hang on for the family gathering due now in less than a week, His son Dwight was flying in from Salt Lake City, and his Grandson Charles was coming back from England along with his wife Daisy and their two boys for two weeks holiday, they were due to arrive out at the farm late on Friday afternoon and the family gathering along with Betty; Edward and Hank Junior was planned for the Saturday afternoon.

Dwight was Hank’s eldest boy, graduating from school he had trained as a constructional engineer, after ten years in the field he had set up his own company specializing in large ventilation projects and along with many military contracts, he also used his expertise in the building of many of the tall modern skyscrapers now found scattered across America. Dwight’s eldest son Charles had also followed in his father’s footsteps, starting work with him as soon as he left college, Charles had worked around the world on special projects and had moved to Britain for the building of the Channel Tunnel where he had later married Daisy. Since the tunnel’s completion, he had spent a lot of time in the City of London, there were many new