Project Phoenix: The Rise

Chapter 25 - People in high places

As Liam's mind remained burdened and fatigued from the debriefing session with the Army, police, and intelligence services, he found solace in silence. Although a few days had passed since his rescue, he couldn't bring himself to discuss Kathy and the farm. His shattered thoughts, however, were soon eclipsed by the limelight of his heroism.

Television screens flickered to life, broadcasting reconstructions of the daring farm rescue. The images showcased special forces operators storming the building, swiftly neutralizing hostile fighters and well-armed terrorists. With each airing, offers for television shows and social media interviews flooded in. The government and military seized the opportunity, capitalizing on the rescue by featuring it in Army recruitment advertisements. And as Liam's popularity soared, so did his new life as a celebrity.

Now living in the lap of luxury, Liam resided in a lavish room at the Strand Hotel, costing a staggering £1000 per night. He was pampered and attended to by a staff catering to his every whim, while the intelligence services closely monitored his every move. He possessed all the trappings of wealth, receiving extravagant gifts and indulging in the finest food and drink money could buy. But amidst this opulence, he was confined, watched over by an armed guard, and restricted in his freedom to travel.

Liam's existence had transformed into that of a prisoner once again, albeit a gilded one. His cell was adorned with champagne and air conditioning, and he was granted freedom only when his new masters permitted it. Wherever he went, a security detail trailed behind him, their presence akin to a leash around his neck.

"Today's schedule is packed, first we have 'This Morning with Ant and Dec,' followed by lunch with the Home Secretary at Manor Grove," the personal assistant recited from her clipboard, flipping through a stack of printed papers. Liam nodded absentmindedly, feeling the weight of his obligations. "That's great, more hobnobbing. Just what I need," he murmured wearily.

The morning interviews unfolded predictably, with the same banal questions and faux concern from the presenters, who prioritized ratings over genuine understanding. Liam had been instructed to toe the line and follow the scripted narrative, even though he knew the truth. Once again, he had become a puppet for the establishment, a cog in the government's propaganda machine.

As the interview drew to a close, Liam was swiftly escorted out of the studio and into an armoured transport van by his armed protection team. The blacked-out windows of the Mercedes Sprinter shielded him from the lenses of the paparazzi and opportunistic journalists, who scavenged for scandalous titbits to satiate the media giants.

"Sierra 12, this is Transport 15. Package is secure and en route to your location, ETA three zero, I repeat, three zero, over," the driver relayed the details of their estimated time of arrival to command.

"Hello Transport 15, this is Sierra 12. I acknowledge your message, out," a stern female voice echoed through the security team's earpieces. Liam settled into the Kevlar-reinforced leather seat, gazing out of the window at the verdant fields and towering trees, reminiscing about a time when he had truly been free. The journey to Manor Grove passed in near silence, broken only by sporadic communications chatter.

Suddenly, the security team sprang into action, preparing themselves for the arrival as the van passed through the imposing iron gates of the old Tudor Manor. The once-grand gatehouse and gamekeeper's cottage now housed state-of-the-art surveillance equipment, manned by heavily armed private paramilitary contractors at the security checkpoint. The driver slowed the van to a halt, opening the heavy driver's door. "Phoenix is here. Please notify the Home Secretary." The driver handed over his credentials and ID.

The guard approached him with a biometrics scanner to read the drivers implant. " Put your arm here, old pal. You know the score, green for go, red for dead!" After a short pause and a beep, the display turned green. "You're good to go."