Revolution Read Free Page B

glean that there had been a vicious civil war raging within the mountainous country ever since a spectacular attempted military coup by a deranged Air Force General, Mikhail Rameron. Megan noted various reports of incidences of ‘ethnic–cleansing’, along with military movements by Islamist insurgents against the beleaguered government forces centred around the Mordanian capital city, Thessalia. The Russians were watching the events with “extreme concern”, rattling their sabres and threatening major troop movements in opposition to United Nations discussions over a proposed peace–keeping force.
    ‘There’s no clue as to what Amy was researching, and presumably she didn’t tell anyone because she felt that she might have had a scoop,’ Frank said. ‘On the other hand, she might just have felt that the Mordanian situation was under–reported and wanted to take a chance.’
    ‘It’s possible,’ Megan nodded, ‘Amy can be quite an impulsive girl. What’s been happening out there in Mordania?’
    ‘Don’t you watch the news?’ Frank asked, gesturing to the plasma–screen. ‘If I had a television that big I’d never leave my apartment.’
    ‘Not if I can help it,’ Megan muttered, focusing on the news clippings and story fragments on the table before her.
    From the corner of her eye she saw Frank looking out of the windows of the apartment and then around the place itself, noting the tastefully expensive furniture and the general exclusivity of the abode. The American eyed a row of empty liquor bottles visible on the counter in the kitchen.
    ‘Amy’s folks told me that you spent literally every penny you had during a search in Mexico,’ Frank observed quietly. ‘You look like you bounced back real fast.’
    ‘I worked hard,’ Megan said without looking at the American.
    ‘Jeez, well, if your papers pay as well as this I’m hot–tailing it over here right now.’
    ‘I earned it all freelance.’
    ‘Care to share?’
    ‘It’s a long story.’
    ‘Thought so.’
    Megan gestured to the news prints that Frank had gathered together.
    ‘You say that she disappeared on the 14th?’
    ‘There or thereabouts – her last contact was the day before.’
    ‘Two days later, the ban on foreign journalists travelling in Mordania started.’
    Frank nodded.
    ‘That’s what I thought – maybe she found something she shouldn’t have, got busted, and they decided to clamp down on people nosing around in Mordanian affairs.’
    Megan frowned, looking at the different cuttings on the coffee table.
    ‘And you were prevented from broadcasting her disappearance?’
    ‘GNN told me that they’d look into it, but I’ve heard nothing. It’s unheard of for journalists to be abandoned in such a way by their employers – it’s as if they don’t want to know what’s happened to her.’
    Megan nodded, but did not reply. She turned off the television and walked across to the broad windows of her apartment, looking south across the city at the afternoon sun reflecting off the densely packed rooftops. In the distance she could see the London Eye rotating slowly, the windows of the carriages sparkling in the sunlight. Everything was peaceful and calm, so far away from the horrific slaughter that Megan knew was occurring right at that very moment in any number of countries around the world. Megan rarely watched the news or read the papers any more. The ceaseless barrage of pain, loss, hardship, misery and then more misery still had long since dulled her senses until she cared no more. There was nothing out there, nothing that Megan wanted to be a part of, nothing that she wanted to see and nobody that she wanted to meet. Nothing and nobody out there, love. Megan, by careful planning and determination, had vacuum–sealed herself in a bubble of solitude.
    She did not want the peace that she had finally found, after so long, to end.
    She turned back to the coffee table and picked up the photograph of Amy O’Hara. The