Free Catalyst by Michael Knaggs Page B

image on the screen changed to one showing a section of an aircraft carrier deck which began to move downwards as the Harrier rose vertically. The ocean horizon came into view and quickly into focus then swung rapidly round and tilted as the jet turned towards land. For five minutes the audience were treated to a breathtaking sequence showing a simulated attack on a munitions storage centre on a remote island. As the carrier deck came into view again, rising as the plane landed, Arnold steeped in front of the screen and bowed theatrically to his audience.
    â€œThank you,” he boomed.
    The group broke into spontaneous applause, the majority rising to their feet. As the noise died down, the Branch President rose from his chair and walked to the front to shake the speaker’s hand.
    â€œThank you so much, Arnold, for that amazing talk,” said George Holland, as Arnold left the small stage and returned to sit with the rest of the group. “Not sure how anyone could follow that, but we must try because we have another exciting item before we get our prescriptions filled at the Dog and Duck. Any other business. Has anybody got anything?”
    There were a few calls of ‘no’ around the room as people started to rise from their seats. George held up both hands to stop the exodus.
    â€œJust a moment, please. I have just one item. Thank you.”
    They all sat down again, some with muted grumblings.
    â€œIrene and I would just like to share with you our experience in Cullen Field today.” Irene joined him on the stage and they sat down on a couple of chairs facing the group. “We won’t take more than a few minutes of your time, but we think this is important.” He turned to his wife. “Do you want to start?”
    Irene nodded. “Okay. Well, we went to the mall this morning to do our two-week shop and, in a nutshell, we just didn’t recognise the place. People were friendly and open; the precinct was just full of shoppers; coach loads of them, all lively and happy. The Food Hall was full as well, and people were taking their time – there was none of that rushing in and out. It was like a different place. We’re planning to go back later this week when we can spend more time there – perhaps a full day.”
    â€œSo the press weren’t exaggerating,” said someone at the back. “It really is like a street party?”
    â€œWell, we only went to the shopping centre today,” said George. “But we had a good look round in there. Usually, like most of us in the room I think, we just get what’s on our list from the Food Hall then get out quick. But today we went right through to the other end where they’ve got cafes and craft shops and a village green, no less.”
    â€œAnd we met some really nice people,” put in Irene. “A couple in the Food Hall then some more in the café. In fact, the place was full when we went in, so these four people on this table invited us to pull up a couple of chairs and join them.”
    â€œAnd is this all because they’ve got rid of these three brothers?” asked someone else.
    â€œIt would seem so,” said George.
    There was silence for a few moments, followed by a number of whispered side conversations.
    â€œWe just thought we’d let you know,” said George. “It seems like it’s not a no-go area any more, just a really nice place to shop and look around. Questions, comments, anyone?”
    â€œAre you saying, George, that the people on the estate are actually glad about these murders?” The question came from Clive Taylor, the 3AF Treasurer.
    â€œI think, Clive, they are glad these three lads are no longer around, so if that’s the same thing, then I guess the answer’s ‘yes’.”
    â€œBut that’s barbaric!” said a lady at the back of the room, and then, suddenly doubting herself, “isn’t it?”
    â€œI