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They came at dawn. My nightmare begins

Tudor Rickards

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I awake  to the rumbling of a large vehicle pulling up outside my front drive. My bedside alarm says 5.30am. 
Had my cover been blown? 
I had been expecting something every day for months since my messages to one address remain unanswered.

My pretence of ignoring visible security measures in a neighbourhood of otherwise securely-barricaded houses had always been no more than a hopeful option.

I retreat into the bathroom and out of my bed clothes. I dress in the sports kit I had set out for my morning tennis match and pocket the emergency pack of medication, and phone...

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