The Nationalist Read Free Page A

today were the start of a war – a war against apathy, a war against foreign influence on our day-to-day lives, a war against a powerless British state. We were strongest when we stood together and we must stand strong now. Today I made the ultimate sacrifice for my country. I hope to have taken the lives of those complicit in shaping the mindset of our country. If we have forgotten the lessons of my war then we must start to ask ourselves some far-reaching questions. In the name of our god, I, Jock Smith, have today struck the first blow against nationalism. Scotland must unite with our British brothers and defeat this scourge. There can only be one winner.”
    Jock continued to stare at the camera and then saluted. He was trembling. A graphic came up on the screen and the video stopped. The picture which ended the film made them distinctly uncomfortable. It depicted the Britannia figure – an elegant woman in roman garb, wearing a thick red flumed Corinthian helmet. She was standing, trident in hand, between two lions, under the words ‘Unite or die.’
    “The two lions,” Norrie Smith said. Arbogast nodded, “It’s a depiction of the Cenotaph. This is just the start.

5
     
     
    Away from the investigation the attack had ignited public opinion. The ongoing conflicts in Iraq and Afghanistan had made the sacrifice of war much more real to the current generation. The old soldiers of WW2 no longer seemed like the real focus of Remembrance Day. Now, instead of old men in wheelchairs, there were young men with prosthetic limbs, eye patches, and visible scars. Homecoming troops were paraded on the national news while outgoing tours were held up as evidence of the continued battle against the so-called war of terror. That anyone could have had the audacity to target a peaceful memorial simply did not compute. Not to Bob Malcolm anyway.
    “I mean my brother’s out there now – in Afghanistan. And then you get these bastard Muslims bringing their holy war to us.”
    His friend, Dax Cameron, didn’t get it, “Aye but we’re not looking at an Arab attack.”
    “Wake up – who else would it be? Remember the airport attack. They were bloody doctors.”
    “The guy on the telly said the police had been chasing a white guy.”
    “Well it’s the wrong guy then. There’s loads of pictures on Twitter. I was looking at the front line and there were a few of them in there.”
    “A few of who?”
    “They fucking terrorists.”
    “You need to watch what you’re saying man. There’s police all over the place. You’ll get lifted talking like that.”
    “Bullshit. We’re letting these asylum seekers in up at the Red Road. They get everything but they’re still living like pigs. I’ve been up there. I’ve seen them – flinging their rubbish out the 20th floor; dirty nappies and everything. That’s shit we’ve paid for. They’re fucking animals. They’re not like us.”
    “Whatever you say, Bob.”
    “Don’t patronise me, ya prick. My brother’s putting his life on the line for these guys. Christ, when he’s back he’s like...well I barely recognise him. He just drinks vodka by the bottle. He doesn’t speak. Just drinks and stares. It scares me man. I don’t know him anymore. I don’t know my own brother.”
    Bob was getting himself worked up. Dax could see his friend was agitated, getting angrier. They had been out the night before and hadn’t stopped drinking. When the news of the attack came in, Bob said he wanted to go down and help – to do something. But when they got down town, the square was already blocked off, and they were told to go home. That had made Bob even angrier. They were on Duke Street in the East End, walking back to Royston.
    “Listen Bob, let’s calm down a bit. I need some fags. Wait here a minute, I’ll be back.” Dax left Bob standing in the streets and went into ‘News and Booze’. He glanced at the paper rack but the front pages were all out of date. It was all