Free Revolution by Dean Crawford Page A

Callum, who in turn looked at Sigby. Before Megan could react the Scotsman had taken two long paces and grabbed the correspondent by the throat, almost lifting him off the ground.
    ‘You wouldn’t dare,’ Callum hissed as Sigby’s puny arms wind–milled in futility against him.
    ‘Callum, let him go!’ Megan moved alongside, watching as Sigby’s panicked face began to turn an unhealthy shade of purple.
    ‘Why?’ Callum demanded, still crushing Sigby’s throat.
    ‘I didn’t mean that!’ Sigby gasped, his eyes bulging.
    Megan rested her hand gently on Callum’s massive forearm. The Scotsman relaxed his grip, Sigby staggering backward and massaging his throat as he fought for air.
    ‘What did you mean?’ Megan demanded.
    Sigby’s voice rasped as he coughed a few meagre sentences.
    ‘If you shoot frames inside the country…, then everyone will know that you’ve been there…., and you’ll be expelled anyway, if not arrested.’
    Megan hesitated, glancing again at Callum. The Scotsman shrugged.
    ‘The footage could have been made by Medcines Sans Frontiers staff, or Red Cross,’ he said.
    Sigby shook his head, regaining his breath.
    ‘Then they’d prevent them from entering the country too, you damned fool! You’d be denying people inside the country what little aid they get.’
    Megan thought for a moment.
    ‘If you want Mordania so bad, you can have it. You’re the face on the television, Martin. You’re the anchor here for GNN. Whatever we shoot, you can use.’
    Sigby looked at her, struggling to make rapid calculations despite the lack of oxygen reaching his brain.
    ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘What I mean,’ Megan replied, ‘is that we’ll shoot whatever is happening in Mordania’s interior and you can use the footage as your own. You’ll never have to leave the safety of the compound, you’ll never be under suspicion and yet you’ll get the story of the month, maybe even the year.’
    ‘What’s the catch?’ Sigby uttered.
    ‘You tell nobody who is doing the filming, and you use your connections to research anything that I deem appropriate, no questions asked. Got it?’
    Sigby sucked on his cheeks for a moment. ‘Understood.’
    Megan jabbed a thumb in Callum’s direction.
    ‘If you let me down, I’ll make sure there’s nobody around to see what he does to you.’
    With that, Megan walked away into the camp. Callum moved alongside her, glancing back in Sigby’s direction as the squat little man watched them depart.
    ‘Either you’re a genius or insane, Callum said. ‘He can’t be trusted and this little ploy of yours might not work.’
    ‘As long as he’s gaining something, he’ll help. He won’t let us down as long as we can get shots inside the country and what’s going on there. As soon as we find Amy, we’re out of here and Sigby can go whistle for his stories.’
    A large lorry emblazoned with a red cross was parked alongside the back of the MSF tent, nurses and volunteers loading heavy sacks of grain, bedding and medical supplies on board. Megan and Callum worked their way around the edge of the volunteers and found Sophie Vernoux checking manifests on an upturned box, trying to write whilst wearing thick gloves and with her face partly concealed behind a fur–lined hood.
    ‘Bonjour, mademoiselle,’ Megan intoned laconically. ‘Ca va?’
    Sophie looked up and gestured with a curt nod toward the trucks.
    ‘Bonjour. Help them load the vehicles and try not to get in the way. We have a timetable to keep.’
    ‘We’re fine, thanks for asking, bonne passé le journee.’
    Megan and Callum began helping the volunteers finish loading the sacks into the lorry. After perhaps half an hour’s worth of labour the lorry was full.
    Two UN jeeps pulled up alongside the lorry as they were finishing, each with a manned machine–gun attached to the rear. Following them was a larger troop carrier with a dozen British soldiers cradling SA–80 rifles and wearing light blue UN