Thursday, April 30, 2009
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
In the 1600s the teachings of enlightened scientists and artists were regarded as a threat to the existence of the church which preferred to govern its followers through fear and strict adherence to dogma, the scientists were hounded for their radical theories and free rein of thought, for instance when Galileo proclaimed to the world that the planets were in rotation around the sun he was placed under house arrest.
Looking for a way to meet and share their ideas and discoveries the scientists formed the Illuminati sect and met secretly at a lair whose location remained known only to a select few, here they hatch plans to achieve their quest: the destruction of the church.
Fast forward to present day and science has come up with a discovery that threatens to annihilate the human race. Buried deep under a research facility in Switzerland an Italian physicist has succeeded at an unfathomable, mind boggling experiment. Using energy he has created matter, for those familiar with physics matter can’t be created, all matter in the universe was created during genesis if you’re religious or during the big bang if you’re the scientific type. There is one twist however, the physicist created antimatter; this refers to matter whose electric charges are opposite to those found in normal matter.
Anyway to avoid sounding like the physics teacher whose classes you hated in O’level let me move on to something that might get your attention for real.
Antimatter is highly unstable it ignites when it comes into contact with absolutely anything even air. A single gram of antimatter contains the energy of a 20-kiloton nuclear bomb.how largehow
The physicist is found murdered and a small canister containing his only specimen of highly volatile antimatter capable of vaporizing anything within a half mile radius is missing. With all clues pointing to the Illuminati the canister somehow turns up in the Vatican, where it is visible on a live feed security monitor, but its location is unknown and its battery power can last only six hours before the vacuum suspending the antimatter dies, only six hours before the entire Vatican city is reduced to rubble.
Time is running out, the conclave is convened to elect a new pope and the entire top leadership of the church is sitting on a time bomb, and that’s not even the half of it, the top four favorites for pope are missing, kidnapped by an Illuminati assassin who threatens to execute a cardinal every hour, the Illuminati have no demands, they ask for nothing they are about to achieve their centuries old goal.
Enter Robert Langdon a Havard university professor of religious symbology whose extensive research on the Illuminati may be the only resource capable of unraveling the mystery of the ancient sect, the sworn enemy of the Catholic Church.
The book is a fabulous read that keeps you glued from the first page to the last, the plot is well spun in spell binding fashion. Langdon finds himself in the midst of a hair raising adventure as he hurtles across Rome a city that prides itself for preserving its ancient architecture that’s as beautiful as its history is mystical and hidden within this architecture are clues and riddles, riddles that contain the answer to solving the conundrum facing the church, before it’s too late.
And yes Tumwi, you were wrong.
Friday, April 24, 2009
The characters in this story are purely fictional they bear no relation or connection to persons living or deceased.
He stood up with the rest of the VIPs and shifted uncomfortably on his feet, he watched intently as the VP led the president to one of the armchairs. The president stood before the chair and faced the crowd while the VP and army chief took their positions on either side of him.
Everyone remained at attention while a police band played the national anthem.
Inside the G-series Capt. Rusoze keying away furiously on his laptop completed a second infra red sweep of the pavilion aided by an FLIR (Forward looking Infra Red) lense built into the roof of the Benz, the lense could detect anything from concealed weapons to bomb materials.
The anthem soon ended and the guests shuffled into their seats, soon after wards a march past of various trade unions and cooperative societies ensued, the marchers carried banners praising the government and president.
Seated four chairs to the left behind the president he could even hear snippets of a conversation between the president and the VP he caught the words ‘Nairobi’ and ‘Summit’ and surmised they were discussing the forthcoming East African federation meet in Nairobi. The earpiece felt quite uncomfortable in his left ear and he wondered how soon he’d receive the signal, all he wanted to do was to get this over with and reunite with his wife and kids. As if on cue the earpiece came to life, “Julius Caesar” said a female voice.
His heart resumed it’s thumping, nervously he glanced around him ‘was he being watched?’ suddenly his hands started twitching uncontrollably the way they always did when he panicked,
He knew he had to get up and complete his assignment but he felt a crippling paralysis take over his entire body, was he doing the right thing for his family? He asked himself for the hundredth time that day. “Julius Caesar” the female voice crackled again in his ear, shocking him out of his stupor.
He fingered the pen that was placed in his coat pocket for a few seconds, then he slowly removed it and twirled it between his fingers and all the while he thought of his family.
Inside the radio shack Rwakitata’s face was a contorted mass of anger and frustration.
“Send out an orange alert to the Bravo team” he ordered the sergeant, “tell them to stand by for a ‘Tsunami’ this was the PGB code for an immediate evac of the president to a safety zone, all resistance met was to be termed as deadly and swiftly eliminated, simply put, you didn’t want to be in the PGB’s way during a Tsunami.
The sergeant punched a few keys and spoke into a mic protruding from his earpiece
“Bravo, Alpha team this is command center, defcon Orange, acknowledge and confirm.”
“Command center this is Bravo command, confirm Zulu Zero Delta,” A voice responded on the radio speakers. “Command center this is Alpha command, confirm Zulu Omega Delta” another voice crackled on the speakers.
“Bravo and Alpha moving into position sir,” Sgt. Kagonyera announced.
He had to get up now, or else he’d never find the nerve, he placed the pen in between his thighs and stood up leaving it on the chair, slowly he shuffled his way past the guests in his row and found his way out of the pavilion. He approached the soldier who had taken his briefcase earlier.
“I need to retrieve a speech for the minister from my briefcase,” He lied, trying to sound less terrified than he felt.
“Tag please,” the soldier barked.
He handed over his location tag wishing the ground would swallow him up that instant.
“Follow me sir,” the soldier beckoned.
Back in the pavilion on the seat he had just vacated lay his pen, a seemingly innocuous piece of stationary, but it was no ordinary pen.
The fountain pen was an ingeniously designed killing machine.
The pen was in fact a hollow casing that held a liquid known as nitroglycerin; this particular pen had been designed to hold about 500 millilitres of the substance.
At the cover end of the pen was encased an electronic receiver that had been programmed to detect a certain radio frequency emanating from a transmitter within a 300 meter radius.
In a separate compartment separated from the first by an aluminum foil was 10 milliliters of methyl nitrate.
Two minutes after detection of the frequency the electronic receiver was designed to heat up and in the process cause the aluminum foil to melt in turn releasing the 10 milliliters of methyl nitrate.
Both nitroglycerin and methyl nitrate are relatively harmless substances, but combined they form a highly volatile and combustible substance that boils to temperatures reaching 95 degrees Celsius and within 3 minutes of mixing explode with devastating effect.
He followed the soldier to a tent that held various items from cameras to phones, items that had obviously been kept from the guests for security reasons.
The soldier located his briefcase and handed it over to him, “you have two minutes sir.”
“I’ll be quick,” he replied.
Quickly he flipped open the briefcase and pretended to leaf through the papers.
Built into the bottom of the briefcase was a small blue button that when pressed would initiate a tiny electronic signal on a frequency capable of being read by the electronic receiver on the killing machine he had left on the chair. He was the unwilling assassin, his was the finger to pull the trigger, all he had to do was press that button and walk away, walk back to his family.
He closed his eyes and applied pressure on the button.
At that very moment in the radio shack Sergeant Kagonyera sat up with a start, “what the bloody hell?”
“What is it soldier?” Rwakitata asked, obviously alarmed.
“It’s a low frequency sir, and it’s not ours, a few seconds ago someone transmitted a signal less than 200 meters from here.”
“Can you locate the sender?” Rwakitata was visibly shaken.
“No sir, it’s a signal that reroutes the source ID through various channels, it’s virtually untraceable, this kind of toy is very new stuff.”
The electronic receiver melted away the aluminum foil and the methyl nitrate started seeping through the foil creating a hissing sound as the two liquids started to mix.
“Holy mother of god,” Sgt. Kagonyera was beside himself.
“Talk to me soldier,” Rwakitata screamed.
“I….I….I used an advanced triangulation programme to reengineer all possible signal reception,” Kagonyera looked like he had just seen a ghost.
“And...?” the colonel grabbed Kagonyera by the scruff of the neck.
“It was picked up by a receiver in the pavilion,” Kagonyera spoke like the world was about to come to an end.
And indeed it was, their entire lives were about to change forever. Both men were aware that all it took to detonate a bomb was a minute signal and as they stared at each other in shock they also knew they had very little time if any to avert a possible threat.
The two liquids began to boil with such intensity the pen shook and rolled off the chair onto the floor.
The march past was almost complete, soon the MC would stride up to the mic and invite the guest of honor to address the people.
“Commence Tsunami, all units proceed as designated,” Rwakitata was screaming into his mic furiously. Just my luck he cursed, just bloody perfect. “Alpha team, secure ‘Rabbit’ and prepare for evac.”
Rwakitata bundled out of the shack and raced towards the pavilion gun in hand , even as he labored to cross the 50 feet separating him and the pavilion commando units had sprung to life and were tearing into the pavilion brushing aside anything and anyone in their way as they closed in on president Mubeseni.
The sound of a helicopter caused him to look up and he felt a sense of relief as he watched an Mi-78 chopper bunk toward the center of the field attempting a safe landing.
The Alpha team would hand over ‘Rabbit’ as the president was called to the Bravo team who would spirit him away to one of many secure locations.
Rwakitata neared the pavilion, he was hoping a human shield had already been formed around ‘Rabbit’ time was of the essence.
He pressed his earpiece and connected with Capt. Rusoze, “You’re on point, perform post op analysis and mop up, I am leaving with Rabbi…………..
The explosion was loud and deafening, the sheer force of the detonation lifted Rwakitata off the ground and threw him 5 feet back, as he landed on his back he sighted a huge ball of fire and smoke envelop the entire pavilion.
Pandemonium broke out, there were screams everywhere as people collided with each other attempting to find a way out of the field.
Dazed and shaken Rwakitata got to his feet and stared, “Sweet Mary” he muttered.
The canvas roof was a tattered mess as smoke billowed from the pavilion and the floor was a mass of mangled bodies and chairs. The president was lying somewhere in that mess.
The Colonel sunk to his knees.
Thanks for reading
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
This is the first award I have received ever since I started blogging and I would like to tell you guys that I appreciate this gesture very much.
The only problem that comes with the Honest Scrap award is well the honesty, 10 things? damn. I am so screwed.
But once I start I guess the rest wil fall in place.
These aren’t weaknesses, no, I just happen to have both X and Y chromosomes, hell it ain’t my fault.
- I love food more than humans, my mouth waters every time the scent of Pilawo and chicken fills my nostrils.
- Next to food comes the most important invention of mankind BEER.
- Now for number three, I am so lazy it’s annoying, I wouldn’t clean my living room to save my life.
- Now this one is indeed a weakness, it’s a certain creature that’s descendant from a being who once cavorted with Lucifer in the form a serpent in a certain garden a long long time ago, this creature has been responsible for meting out to me both pleasure and pain in equal measure, it is most commonly known as woman but I prefer to call it enigma.
- My conceit stems from my father he was always suspicious of any one lowly or inferior, so don’t blame me.
- I am a one woman man (for Lulu’s benefit) I am very capable of fidelity.
- I would love to travel the world except for the one teenie weenie problem, my thin bank account.
- I would love to give to charity, if only to assuage my guilt of shoving beggars aside every time they accost me on the street (nodesix think of bloggers AID fund)
- I don’t have a bible can some one donate, donors I can think of: - Ug girl, Lulu, Nevender, B2B, Apr9…….
- Of all the female bloggers I have met or the photos I have seen, Chanel’s lips are the most kissable.
Now for the blogs that make me laugh and sigh
Erique: get back soon you bastard, miss the mess.
Emi: keep writing your shit.
Cheri: you need to get your butt back to the keyboard pronto.
Chanel: you so killed me with naked football, keep those lips shiny.
Tumwi: you are killer.
Antipop: you are dope.
UG girl: you are a sobering, calming influence in this mad world
Carlo: keep complaining love your bitching.
And now the instructions.
1.You must brag about the award.
2.You must include the name of the blogger who bestowed the award on you and link back to the blogger
3.You must choose a minimum of seven (7) blogs that you find brilliant in content or design.
4.Show their names and links and leave a comment informing them that they were prized with Honest Weblog.
5.List at least ten (10) honest things about yourself.Then pass it on with the instructions!
Thursday, April 16, 2009
The characters in this story are purely fictional they bear no relation or connection to persons living or deceased.
Col. Rwakitata watched as Lieutenant Mugabe led the rather anxious VIP to his seat, he consulted the sector by sector security detail that he had committed to memory which if it served him correctly said Lieutenant Mugabe was head of sector D situated outside the field. He stepped down from the hood of the G-series and proceeded to the ‘radio shack’, this was actually a mobile com van that contained some of the most sophisticated communications control apparatus from assigning satellite protocols to electronic frequency monitors.
Inside the shack seated behind a wall of computer screens and radio equipment was a young Seargeant who didn’t even turn when the colonel entered, his eyes remained glued to the screen as he monitored frequencies and coms.
“Sergeant Kagonyera, who ordered sector swaps for D?” he barked.
The Sergeant punched a few keys and without taking his eyes of the screens said “Maj. Kutale ordered the swaps he moved Lt. Mugabe to A and assigned captain Kakande to D”
“What happened to Mugisha in D?”
“Got the big M” still his eyes never left the screens.
“Son of a bitch” Rwakitata cursed under his breath, “put me through to Kutale”
The sergeant punched some more keys and in a few seconds Maj. Kutale’s voice boomed on the speakers “Kutale here.”
“Did you authorized sector swaps?” Rwakitata spat.
“Yes, Lieutenant Mugisha’s got malaria, he’s at IHK.”
“Very well, next time run all swaps by me first”
The pressure of the revolver pressed against his temple eased and he turned his head to look at his captor through his half open swollen eyes, his entire body ached from the torture he had had to endure for the past….he had lost track of time. His tormentor kept the gun aimed at his head.
Maj. Kutale was strapped into a chair and could barely move his arms and legs, he spoke through his bloody lips, “you got what you wanted now let me go.”
“Not just yet Major not just yet” his captor replied through the ski mask.
Rwakitata was now on edge, he still couldn’t put a finger on what was wrong but his gut told him that his well laid security plan was under threat, though there was no plausible reason why, Maj. Kutale was one of his most trusted men, he’d hand picked the man himself.
As he was stepping out of the shack the young Sergeant let out a muffled shout “Colonel”
The Colonel paused in his tracks turning his head “What” he said irritably.
“The combat analyzer programme just detected a duress code in the phone call”
“Impossible,” Rwakitata retorted, “I know all duress codes by heart”
“Sir” the sergeant said emphatically, “this wasn’t a PGB code.”
“What?” the colonel was now visibly irritated.
"It was RPA." Sgt. Kagonyera replied.
“Rwandan army? Are you playing games with me sergeant?”
“No, sir”, the sergeant replied nervously, his usually unruffled manner gone, “take a look.”
The combat analyzer programme had indeed picked up an RPA duress code and Rwakitata had missed it because he was of course PGB.
According to the sergeant, in the RPA the use of abbreviations like IHK and addressing superior officers by their titles instead of ‘sir’ was a clear indication that they were communicating under duress.
"But why RPA?" Rwakitata mused.
"He could have intel that PGB is compromised."
“Call him up again.”
The sergeant pressed a key on one of his numerous keyboards which redialed Kutale’s number, after a few brief seconds a busy tone sounded on the speakers.
The convoy snaked onto the School field moving at a slow 4kph, soldiers scurried into position as they assumed their security roles. A handful of government officials headed by the army commander and the VP stood at attention before the VIP pavilion.
As the convoy came to a halt several plain clothed bodyguards hopped out of the land cruisers and stood in formation around the lead limousine, one of them hurried to open the door.
President Mubeseni stepped out of the limo and walked slowly to the welcoming committee, he was dressed in a grey suit and perched on his head was the trade mark hat of the same color.
The president shook hands with the VP and exchanged salutes with the army commander, after exchanging a few pleasantries with the welcoming committee he was led to the pavilion where two large arm chairs were waiting in the front row, the rest of the guests already seated inside the pavilion stood up respectfully as the president was led to his seat.
Rwakitata cursed again and ordered the sergeant to redial but they kept getting the same irritating busy tone.
He pressed a button on his earpiece “Captain, give me status.”
Captain Rusoze who sat in the G-series with a lap top replied, “President seated with Lt. Baguma and Lt. Kavuma right behind him, Sat photos indicate field secure and infra red reconfirmation sweep completes in 3 minutes.
“Keep me updated and assign somemone from the Alpha team to watch Mugabe, if he so much as farts I wan't to know it.”
Rwakitata was one hundred percent certain no one could get anywhere near the president without alerting suspicion, but why would they hold Kutale or switch sector heads? And if the PGB was indeed compromised as sergeant Kagonyera had implied then he had some cleaning up to do but that would come later, right now he had scant little to go on, all he had was a duress code that wasn’t even Ugandan and a Major he couldn’t reach. There were more questions than he had answers for and he painfully knew that if there was indeed a threat on the president’s life he had to evacuate immediately but that came with its downside, mainly if the threat proved to be false he might find his promising career taking a nosedive.
Final Episode webs on Monday at 4:00pm
Monday, April 13, 2009
Power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely
The characters in this story are purely fictional they bear no relation or connection to persons living or deceased.
His sweaty palm gripped the briefcase handle tightly, he scanned the crowd looking for his contact, he did it any way even though he didn’t know who that would be. All he had been told was that he would be reached. His navy blue suit was a tight fit and it made him feel naked and exposed, he was almost certain everyone present could hear his heart thumping loudly inside his chest, his breath came in quick short bursts and his brow glistened with sweat, beads of perspiration continued to pour down his face despite his constant attempts to dab them away with a white handkerchief that he held in his left hand, and all the while his right hand tightly clutched the briefcase.
The president’s motorcade left Columbus lane turning right to join the Lule Motorway that led to the school. The motorway was lined with hundreds of cheering people who waved the thumbs up sign to the motorcade and no one in particular since both limousines that cruised past had all windows tinted out with black as was the case for the accompanying land cruisers that formed a protective shield on either end of the convoy.
He pocketed the hanky and proceeded to the entry point, the school field was swarming with PGB soldiers their blue berets visible form every corner of the area, policemen in their rather unsightly brown uniforms formed a cordon all around the football field, large crowds of eager spectators and curious children swarmed back and forth pressing against the cops, eager to watch and wait to catch a glimpse of the president. He proceeded to the VIP entrance gate nervously fingering the VIP pass pinned to his lapel, he fell in line behind a rotund and loud Major General who was constantly bitching about the slow movement of the line he recognized the officer as Kalinza Ofalire one of the historicals, his heart raced and he swallowed hard to stop his head from throbbing, a quick glance behind him revealed a very impatient Akama Mukabazi, security minister who adjusted his spects every five seconds. That was when it hit him, his was a class ‘A’ VIP pass, his knowledge of protocol told him that he would be seated right behind the president. He closed his eyes and thought of his wife and son, the man had told him they wouldn’t be harmed, he just had to do as asked.
Col. Moses Rwakitata stared out of his black Raybans and scanned the entire area for the umpteenth time, his eyes alert and unblinking took in every detail, from his vantage position atop the army green G series benz nothing escaped his attention. Parked next to the VIP pavilion Rwakitata had only one task to execute ‘protect president Baguta Mubeseni at all costs’ next to him sat Captain Rusoze whose hand constantly caressed the butt of his holstered Colt 45.
The motorcade sped on along Lule Motorway, crowds lined up by the road side cheering as the convoy flew past towards its destination..
“Confirm status” Rwakitata ordered, his eyes never left the crowd.
Rusoze whipped out a walkie and started a routine security check with security personnel planted all over the area.
“Status 1330, this is Eagle, come in sector A” Rusoze spoke into his walkie.
After a crackle and some military gibberish to the untrained ear a voice finally confirmed “Sector A all clear”
Capt. Rusoze repeated the process with sectors B, C, D, and E.
“All clear in sectors A to E” he relayed to Rwakitata.
Rwakitata nodded perfunctorily, his eyes never leaving the crowd, everything was going according to plan yet his gut told him something was amiss, after 20 years in the army he had come to trust his instincts and his never lied.
By the time he stepped up to the metal detector his stomach had turned into a painful knot, it was all he could do to keep from bending over, he was hoping that the tension and anxiety wasn’t plainly showing on his face. He passed his brief case onto the soldier on his right and stepped through the arch of the metal detector.
“Could you open this Mr. Mulunuzi”
He stared at the soldier for a brief second and wondered why he was being called……..
He then remembered that that was the name on his VIP pass.
“Of course” he offered.
But before he could flip it open a tall and broad shouldered PGB Lieutenant arrived and curtly announced.
“Mr. Mulunuzi is with the foreign affairs detail I’ll take him to his seat”
He stared and swallowed hard. His contact, A PGB Lieutenant?
“We need to check that”, the soldier insisted.
“Very well”, the Lieutenant snapped, but make it quick will you, the president arrives in fifteen minutes.
The briefcase turned out to contain a sheaf of documents printed on government of Uganda coat of arms letterheads.
“Clear” announced the soldier.
The lieutenant led him by the arm and whispered in his ear “Do exactly as I say and you will see your family again”
“Please don’t hurt them I’ll do anything……”
“Shut up” hissed the lieutenant “put this in your ear when you hear the words 'Julius Caesar' you will proceed as instructed” the lieutenant handed him a miniature ear piece.
They crossed the field and proceeded to the VIP pavilion.
Another soldier stopped them at the steps to the pavilion and held out his hand for the briefcase.
“This stays outside the pavilion you’ll retrieve it at the end of the function”
He received a location tag for the briefcase and climbed the steps that led him into the pavilion.
“Over here Mr. Mulunuzi” the lieutenant smiled and waved him to a chair in the second row, behind the phony smile the soldiers cold eyes bore into him ominously.
Episode 2 webs at 2:00pm on thursday