nownovels Chapter 4 I Have a Plan
Chapter 4 I Have a Plan
Martin's first reaction was disbelief.
The other students on the lawn, like him, burst into laughter. Some asked him how he could do that and how he could avoid being suspected by the police.
After a moment's thought, the student smiled and said:
"I can demonstrate. You'll see,"
He said, "In a few minutes, five red balloons will rise into the sky carrying his suicide tools, which I have provided. Once the balloons are up, you will soon hear the news of his death."
His tone remained gentle and polite, which made Martin think even more like a joke made by a bored young man.
No one believed him. After the students finished laughing, they continued to gossip about politics, mocking the government from head to toe. Martin, as a member of the government, stood leisurely under the shade of a tree, watching the new branches sway in the breeze, feeling a sense of inexplicable ease.
Time flies, and five minutes have passed in the blink of an eye.
Martin looked up casually and suddenly noticed several red balloons slowly and neatly rising from the other end of the building, as if pulled by some invisible thread, flying straight into the overly clean and flawless blue sky above people's heads.
The student who had previously uttered those arrogant words remained silent, not uttering a single syllable.
……
Fifteen years have passed in a flash, and today, when Martin recalls this incident, he can still feel a chill emanating from the depths of his soul.
But he couldn't help but wonder about one thing:
Why didn't I check back then whether that "reformist" was really dead?
How could I have let this matter just pass like that? What was I thinking back then?
Humans are indeed incapable of empathizing with others, even if that person is their former self.
But he can at least confirm that Winston Wheeler is a loyal person to the Queen, who dares to express clear opinions, and judging from his campaign manifesto, he still retains some of his original intentions to this day.
This unexpectedly stirred a sense of kinship between Martin and Winston deep within him, reminding him of Winston's earlier question: "Besides appointing ministers, what else urgently needs my attention?"
This time, Martin didn't hesitate and asked directly, "Have you heard about the recent esoteric incident that's been making headlines all over London?"
"What?" Winston asked, "Is it about me fainting during my inauguration?"
He couldn't understand how Martin's loyalty had been so high. He was so focused on figuring out the secrets of the "brainwashing room" that he almost forgot about the public opinion in the newspapers. But Martin was right, the Prime Minister's personal image was indeed very important...
"No, it has nothing to do with the government," Martin said, somewhat puzzled. "I'm talking about Tantric Buddhism, the secret religious order, don't you know it?"
Oh my god!
He was referring to genuine Tantric Buddhism, not the British government!
Winston had almost been led astray by the system. Realizing what had happened, he awkwardly touched his nose and solemnly asked, "What happened? Explain it to me."
"Scotland Yard received a tip that a group of heretics were planning a large-scale terrorist attack," Martin replied. "The police were trying to gather manpower to investigate secretly, but somehow the news leaked out, and the media rushed to report it. One group accused Scotland Yard of incompetence, while another group, fearing that the world was not chaotic enough, fabricated all sorts of inside stories and the possible time and place of the terrorist attack, causing widespread panic. Ordinary residents are now afraid to even leave their homes, and food and daily necessities in grocery stores are sold out as soon as they hit the shelves."
"I've heard about it."
Winston frowned. Having inherited the original owner's memories, he had naturally heard about such a significant event. "But didn't they say a couple of days ago that they had already caught the suspect?"
"That was a week ago, and you were unconscious for three days," Martin reminded him. "There's been some new news lately that Scotland Yard arrested the wrong person."
Winston couldn't help but show a look of utter despair; he could already imagine the bloodshed and carnage that would ensue among the common people.
"Your fainting spell has actually been a good thing for Scotland Yard," Martin said. "The authorities are probably relieved that the media is paying attention to you and ignoring them."
“That won’t do,” Winston said, frowning. “If this blows up, the media will start making snide remarks about me again.”
"Hmm..." Martin shrugged. "You're the Prime Minister, aren't you?"
In theory, this matter was not really Winston's responsibility. Before becoming prime minister, he had only spent a few weeks in the cabinet, and his party was like lukewarm water sandwiched between major parties. Winston suddenly gained the support of the majority of parliament, so the success of the election was like a pie falling from the sky. No one could have predicted it in advance, including Winston himself.
Under such circumstances, it was impossible for him to be fully aware of the progress of the government's work as soon as he took office. Moreover, the person in charge of police affairs and domestic security should be the Home Secretary, whose powers and responsibilities are different. Winston knew nothing about the secret society, and he only heard about it from the newspaper.
So where did the Home Secretary from the previous cabinet go?
"He's dead," Martin said. "As I mentioned before, he died on his way to be recalled to his post by the Queen."
Winston: "..."
House seemingly endless rain!
With the former Home Secretary dead, Scotland Yard and the Metropolitan Police, which was behind it, had no one to report to. It was Winston's turn to appoint the new cabinet, but he happened to faint during the inauguration ceremony...
"So now it's all my fault?" Winston asked.
Martin said tactfully, "Of course it's not entirely your fault... I mean, you're not at all at fault, but since you're already in this position, you might as well come up with a way to resolve this matter as soon as possible, so that the whole country will think you are wise and intelligent..."
"I understand, I understand," Winston said repeatedly, rubbing his head. "Let me think about it. Let's get the discharge papers sorted out first."
For a prime minister, getting discharged from the hospital is a piece of cake. Winston wasn't worried about being blocked at the hospital gate because he had done a good job of keeping his hospitalization a secret—no one would have guessed that he, as prime minister, hadn't hired a private doctor but had gone to St. Bartholomew's Hospital.
Before leaving the hospital, Winston thought of the "brainwashing room" again.
He asked Martin, "Are there many people staying in this ward usually? If there's a shortage of rooms, that's fine. But if there isn't, could you ask the hospital to reserve it for me? I might come here often in the future."
Martin pushed up his glasses in a daze: "What? Oh, well, Prime Minister, if you insist, I'll send a telegram to the hospital after we get back to Downing Street."
Winston nodded in satisfaction, then put on his coat, bowler hat, and umbrella, and walked out of the hospital one after the other with Martin Grayling. The damp air of 19th-century London, mixed with the smell of coal smoke, hit them. The sky above was overcast, and a light rain was falling. In the distance, Winston could vaguely see Big Ben, a landmark he was familiar with, indicating the only connection between the parallel universe and the world before his time travel.
Martin waved to a passing black horse-drawn carriage and said to Winston, "Downing Street is a good two miles away, let's take the carriage!"
Winston had no problem with it; these days, the prime minister's travels are so simple, and the legendary security agencies that specifically protect political figures haven't even appeared yet.
As soon as the carriage door closed, the chilly wind and rain of London vanished, and Winston, amidst the clatter of hooves, began to ponder the issues of esoteric Buddhism and terrorist attacks once more.
How would you normally eliminate a cult lurking in the city?
That would definitely involve sending investigators.
But first and foremost, the investigators' hometown, the prestigious Miskatonic University, is in the United States.
Secondly, Winston did not know any investigators or related professionals. As the system stated, his 275 peripheral followers had very limited expertise and job types; they were either politicians or politicians.
Finally, Winston himself is a genuine cult leader! If he hired a traditional investigator, wouldn't the latter arrest him right off the bat...?
"I have a plan." Just then, the system suddenly appeared. "Since you are the Prime Minister of this country, why not set up a special intelligence organization to deal with these cult members scattered among the people? You remember a TV series called... what was it again? Liu Ma, right? Why don't you imitate them and create an MI5?"