Page 189 of The Examiner

Kiss-kiss.

Cameron

Kiss-kiss.

Royal Hastings, University of London Multimedia Art MA *Final Project*

Candidate name: Alyson Lang

Candidate number: 0883484

What went right:

Thorney Coffin isn’t just a museum. The old radios are a diversion. They give staff something to do when the whole point of the place is to do absolutely nothing. I doubt everyone who works there knows the truth. They probably bring visitors to look around from time to time. It helps to have people who can say, ‘Well, I was there and it was nothing out of the ordinary.’

We wanted to expose them. Shame them in front of the world. But plans change. What went right was that we got in and found the room. All thanks to our inside woman, whose alcoholism made her easy to manipulate. She got us the maps and codes we needed. It was easy. Way too easy.

What went wrong:

We’d been planning this for so long that, when I saw it there, tiny and innocent-looking, I couldn’t help myself. It suddenly felt pointless to take photographs, so I took the whole thing. A moment’s impulse. Why do I act like that? Always have. Was that the start, or had the chain of events already begun? Because we’d all been focused on the same thing, then that night in Somerset we spun off in different directions. Until the RD8 event, when we’ll come together again. But by the time you read this, Gela, we’ll be long gone.

Documents sent to me by Gela Nathaniel:

WhatsApp chat between Gela Nathaniel and Cameron Wesley, 16 January 2024:

Cameron

Jem, the little minx, has booked us all in one room!

Gela

I’ve asked and she says it’s a big room with six beds.

Cameron

A double and four bunks.

Gela

Oh no! Well, mistakes in online bookings are easily made, even if you’re not visually impaired.

Cameron

Mistake? Look, we’ll sort something out. It’ll be fine.

Royal Hastings, University of London Multimedia Art MA *Final Project*

Candidate name: Patrick Bright

Candidate number: 0883480

Finn and I spend the trip from Rosslare to Fishguard too scared to even feel seasick. What can we do? We assume every soul on board is there to spy on us, make sure we do the job. Are we being watched?

Finn says his da will be getting up for work now. He’d been surprised when Finn told him he was going to England, out of the blue like that, but when Finn said he was going with me, his da relaxed. Said, ‘OK, you do it, lads. Now or never. While you can.’ The last thing he said was, ‘Don’t get in trouble. Look after each other over there.’

I stand on the deck and watch the port get closer and closer with a fearsome nagging dread in my heart. When Finn’s shaking hand points to a row of police cars along the dock-front, it turns icy cold. Lined up. Like they’re waiting for a pair of soft fools to land their car full of weapons and explosives on British soil.

‘What you gonna do, Seany?’ Finn has lost the quiver in his voice.