Here is installment number eight

Something for you to contemplate

While we all keenly await

The cast list, the BBC to indicate

So we can know CJs ongoing fate

And our anxiety alleviate

I hope the story I relate

Will divert while TV bosses deliberate

And in some small way compensate

If it does, please feel free to intimate

By reviewing, my ego to inflate

Or an obvious shortcoming to berate

While I stay up writing number nine til late.

After all I seem to have a coathanger reference to incorporate!

Yes, I know, my poetry sucks as much as my prose. Hope you are all well and enjoy the below.

James stared at the row upon row of empty seats in the near deserted concert hall and considered how accurately it reflected his feelings for the current mission. Normally he was full of energy and excitement on tour, working out what needed to be done to achieve the mission aims and how to do it with the resources he had at his disposal. However, the usual tight knot of energy and excitement in his belly was absent and he was left with a hollow feeling inside, a black hole which seemed to swallow all his drive and determination.

There had always been bad days on tour, days when it was a real effort to get up in the morning and start the usual routine. But those feelings had never lasted long and he would soon get back into the swing of things. This time though he just couldn't seem to shake a suffocating lethargy which sapped his energy and left him listless and vaguely irritable.

James tried valiantly to hide this from his men but they had started to sense their officers distraction and lack of conviction about the job in hand. Samuels and Kinders had done their best to keep the troops focussed on the mission but even their efforts had started to flag in the face of James' obvious want of focus and the two of them were increasingly sharing worried looks at their Major's lacklustre endeavours.

This lack of enthusiasm was nowhere more evident than in James' performance on stage. He simply went through the motions of the routine, reciting the words of the song with little regard for their meaning. At the last rehearsal Jonathan had frowned deeply at the spectacle and eventually waived his arms in frustration, causing the band to stutter to an uncertain halt.

"Charles" he had exclaimed "What is the matter dear?. I've seen more feeling from a class of seven year olds reciting their times table"

James ran his Fingers through his hair and looked into the distance "Nothing...I'm fine. I just need to...take five" and with that he had stalked off the stage leaving Jonathan staring after him in deep thought.

If James was honest with himself there were two main reasons for his rising disinterest. The first was a lack of evidence that the Russian zombies posed any real risk. Everyone had been struck at the reception by their docile, almost gentle nature and it seemed ridiculous to suggest that they could threaten anyone.

James had half hoped that the group would be illiminated in the semi-finals the previous evening, so as to ensure that the mission would finish early and the whole charade brought to an end. However, the Russians had sailed through to the competition and had been perfectly behaved throughout. James and his men had attended the event in case of any trouble but had ended up simply standing around for hours on end as the qualification for the main competition played out. Now James was left contemplating the prospect of participating in the live show in less than 24 hours time for apparently no good reason.

The second cause of his state of mind was Molly. His feeling of dread at their growing distance had mounted over the last few days, fuelled by his wife's seeming unwillingness to communicate with him. Molly had been due to return from a training exercise a few days ago and James had called her up that evening determined to have an honest conversation about the state of their marriage. However her mobile had gone straight to answer phone and when he called the base he had been told that she was unavailable. He had attempted to contact her several times since then but kept being transferred to her answer phone while the messages he had left remained unanswered.

James tried to think of rational reasons why Molly would not return his calls but kept coming back to the same conclusion: that she had found new purpose in her latest posting and realised that being with him was holding her back...

"Charles"

Struck by this realisation she had come to the decision to end their marriage...

"Charles dear, wakey wakey"

But she couldn't bring herself to tell him by phone and wanted to wait until he was back...

"Charles!"

James suddenly became aware of Jonathan standing in front of him, arms folded and with an expectant look on his face.

"Sorry" said James " Did you say something?"

Jonathan uncrossed his arms and placed his hands on his hips "You were doing one of those things again, weren't you?"

James frowned at his friend "What things?" He asked defensively

"One of those prolonged periods of introspection where you go over all that's happened in the last few days so everyone knows what's been going on and how you're feeling" said Jonathan

James shifted uneasily "No I wasn't"

"Yes you were" countered Jonathan

"OK, I might have been going over a few things in my head but how did you know?" Asked James

"Charles" began Jonathan "I have been a support character in these stories for long enough to know how these things work. Every now and again we have to stand around like lemons for ages while you look into the middle distance with your mouth open, dribbling"

"I do not dribble" protested James

"You really do sir" put in Samuels who walked up beside Jonathan and pointed to a large damp patch on the front of James' top

"That's just sweat" said the Major hurriedly dabbing the spot with a handkerchief. "Its very hot under these lights"

"Of course sir" replied the lieutenant flashing a quick glance at Jonathan before hurrying away.

"Shall we?" Asked Jonathan to James "I had to pull a lot of strings to get us another rehearsal in here"

"If we must" replied the Major and walked to the centre of the stage while the band members took up their instruments. Smurf tapped them in and the music filled the hall. James raised the mic and began to sing the familiar words.

"When I saw her lurching down the street

With her clawing fingers and her dragging feet

I looked into a face which was covered in snot

And thought that's a girl I could get to like a lot

She is our zombie girl..."

"I am his zombie girl"

"She puts me in a whirl..."

"I put him in a whirl"

James stopped singing suddenly, the band stuttering to a halt shortly after

"What's the matter?" Asked Jonathan

"I thought I heard something" replied James

"Heard what?" Said Jonathan

"It was like someone repeating my lines" explained James

Jonathan shrugged "Its probably a problem with the mic, just ignore it" he advised "Let's take it from the top everyone" he called

The music began again and James returned to the start of the song. All went well until he got to the chorus when the strange echo started again

"She is our zombie girl..."

"I am his zombie girl"

"She puts me in a whirl..."

"I put him in a whirl"

"I want a banner to unfurl..."

"Banner to unfurl"

"Which says: she is our zombie girl..."

"I am his zombie girl"

James tried to ignore the echo but he found the sound strangely affecting. It created a perfect counterpoint to his lines, adding an extra dimension to the song, and took him back to that frantic night in Camp Bastion when they had first encountered a zombie attack. Molly had been bitten and infected and James had worked frantically to administer the antidote before she turned.

So strong was the recollection that James experienced a powerful emotional reaction which caused him to add greater feeling to his singing. He became so caught up in the moment that it did not occur to him to wonder why the echo only occurred during the chorus. James launched in to the second chorus with gusto closing his eyes to focus on the meaning of the words.

"She is our zombie girl..."

"I am his zombie girl"

"She puts me in a whirl..."

"I put him in a whirl"

"I want a banner to unfurl..."

Banner to unfurl"

"Which says: she is our zombie girl..."

"I am his zombie girl"

As the music faded, James breathed out and opened his eyes to find a smiling Molly looking at him. James stared at his wife in wide mouthed disbelief.

"I knew it would work better as a duet" cried Jonathan in triumph, hurryng over to join them. "Said it right from the start."

James looked from his wife to his friend and then back again still speechless with shock.

"I'd close your mouth soon Charles" suggested Molly "you don't want any more dribble down your front"

"What...How...When?" Stuttered James

"Apparently its sweat, not saliva" Said Jonathan

"He always says that" grinned Molly

"Can I just interrupt?" Cut in James slowly recovering "What the hell is going on here?"

"I got Sherman to pull a few strings and get Molly flown over asap" replied Jonathan

"But why?" Asked James incredulously

Jonathan raised his eyebrows "Come on Charles, I'm not blind. I could see what was going on dear"

Just then someone cleared their throat loudly behind James. When the Major turned around he found Lieutenant Samuels smiling nervously. "Shall I have the men stand down sir?"

James looked from his second in command to the band and support crew who were milling around in the middle of the stage a little uncomfortably.

"Yes...yes of course Martin. Let's all take 5 minutes" replied James

Samuels nodded and gave the order and the troops walked off the stage, several waving or nodding to Molly as they passed.

James watched them retreat to the wings then turned back to Jonathan. "I don't understand. What have you seen going on?"

Jonathan shook his head "You've been morose and detached since we arrived. Its clear that you're mind has been elsewhere and its not too hard to guess why"

James bit his lip then rolled his tongue around his mouth before running his fingers through his hair "OK, ok I will admit to being a little preoccupied but I was working through it, and there was no need to drag Molly away from her new assignment...particularly when she was clearly relishing the challenge"

Jonathan looked at Molly then nodded towards James "Why don't I leave you to tell him all about your new posting Molly." He then walked over to join the others in the wings.

James turned to Molly immediately "He had no right to bring you in Molly. I had no idea what was going on. I promise you I would have stopped it if I'd known. I'll get you back to Aldershot on the next plane.."

Molly without warning reached over and drew James forceably towards her, then pressed her lips hard against his, thereby cutting off his flow of words. James, taken completely by surprise, stood frozen for a few moments before folding his wife in his arms and drinking her in. When they eventually parted Molly looked up at him with her deep green eyes "God, I've missed you" she whispered "Let's never stay apart again"

James smiled despite his confusion and felt moisture prick his eyes "But your new posting, I thought..."

"So did I" said Molly "But I was wrong. I didn't find something for me, I found something without you which was just...horrible."

"Oh Molly why didn't you say something?" asked James

" I thought that I just needed to stick it out, that it would pass..." Explained Molly "But it didn't. Then I realised I'd made a mistake but didn't want to admit it"

"It was no mistake" said James firmly "You wanted more from your career and weren't finding it here. It was perfectly reasonable for you to go looking elsewhere for it. The truth is that I am the one who made the mistake in realising your potential but not utilising it more effectively. I won't make that error again."

It was Molly's eyes that moistened this time and she drew close once more, snuggling into his warm embrace. From the wings a round of applause broke out which made them both turn and laugh as Jonathan and the others spilled out onto the stage before gathering round them to welcome Molly back properly.

When the back slapping and banter subsided Jonathan clapped his hands authoritatively "Right everyone, that's enough of that, we have a singing competition to win. Everyone take your places please and let's finish the reheasal." Then to Molly: "You stay right beside Charles, that's were you belong dear."...

Anatoly paced his hotel room impatiently while Vasily sat absently watching television, the volume turned down low. The boy had arrives a short while before, responding to his summons, which had been delivered in the agreed way, via the newsagents on Bergsgatan. They now waited together for the third and final person to arrive. They would then be ready to expose one of the biggest scandals in Eurovision history.

As he walked backwards and forwards Anatoly reflected on the events leading up to this moment. After his meeting with Vasily in the Stadshusparken, Anatoly had returned to the reception, the disc burning a whole in his inside pocket. He had slipped through the main hall almost unnoticed, most of the guests apparently drawn to some performance which had been taking place around the huge organ at one end of large space. He had then rejoined the rest of the delegation in the side room and lurked quietly in a corner while the Z Factor met a constant stream of wide eyed fans.

On the return trip to the hotel he had sat silently in the car while Glukov had recounted an unexpected meeting with the entry from the United Kingdom, although Anatoly had been too preoccupied to pay any real attention. Back at the hotel he had made his excuses and retired to his room, where he had moved immediately to the DVD player and placed the disc in the machine. The screen on his television set had initially showed a snow storm but then the picture flicked to a view of a pedestrian tunnel somewhere in the Moscow metro system. Along a length of tiled wall had stood five male musicians each holding various instruments.

Although the film had no sound it had been obvious that that they were playing and singing to the constant stream of commuters who walked passed, with many stopping to listen and leaving a few coins in an open guitar case which lay just in front of the group. Anatoly had drawn close to the screen and studied the faces of the buskers closely.

The camera had been some distance away from the group and their features were not well defined on the grainy image. Anatoly had not been sure if he recognised any of the individuals until the camera had suddenly zoomed in closer and their faces had been shown in greater detail. He had then gasped with recognition as the zombies he knew so well were revealed as the people they had once been. The television executive had stood, fascinated as he watched them mouth the words of a silent song, smiling and nodding as people dropped money, a far cry from the emotionless husks they had become.

Anatoly had let out a long breath then passed his hand across his forehead. Vasily had been right all along, the zombies werent victims of some civil war in far off Ukraine; until recently they had been resident in Moscow, making a living busking on the Metro. But how had they ended up near the Ukranian border and infected with the zombie pathogen?

As he was contemplating this, Anatoly had moved away from the screen to opened a small cabinet and pour himself a drink. When he had looked back at the television, the buskers had stopped singing and were in conversation with a man whose back was to the camera. The conversation had seemed amicable, the men laughing at something the new arrival had just said and accepting a card which he had pulled from his pocket. The stranger then shook hands with each of the buskers and had turned to leave, facing the camera full on for the first time.

Anatoly had gasped and spilled his drink at what he saw. There on the screen had been revealed the face of his government liaison, Glukov. Anatoly had rushed over to the DVD player and paused the playback then rewound and paused again to make sure he had seen what he thought he had seen. Sure enough the screen had shown the features of the man from the presidents office.

The Russian head of delegation had slumped in a chair and stared at the television for a long while trying to make sense of what he saw. Glukov had known the men before they were zombies. Why then had the man lied about their past? Anatoly had pondered this for a time but could come up with only one plausible explanation: that Glukov had been involved in some way in their transformation. Given that the man worked for the presidents office this would imply that he was acting for the government.

Anatoly had realised that the implications of such a conclusion were enormous and it left him in an agony of incedicion as to what to do. His first instinct had been to do nothing, to pretend that he had never seen the recording and carry on as normal. However, he had dismissed this idea almost immediately. Vasily had seen the recording and would expect him to do something, he couldn't just ignore the facts, he owed the boy more than that. The revelation had also made him certain of the danger the zombies posed to everyone around them, he had, therefore decided that he simply could not wash his hands of the matter.

His second thought had been to go to the Minister, but it was Barinov who had introduced Anatoly to Glukov in the first place. What if the minister was aware of the real story behind the zombies and what would he be prepares to do to keep it a secret? Anatoly had shuddered at the thought and concluded that he would have to find another way.

All that night and the following day the television executive had turned over the matter in his head. It had soon became clear that his only recourse was to go to the press with the evidence and force the government to explain itself. The obvious route was to approach the news department at his own channel and he had just been in the process of contacting the news director when a sudden thought had caused him to hang up hurriedly. His television company was partly state owned. There was a danger that someone higher up in the organisation could pass the information to the ministry, that it could be suppressed or discredited in some way before it was released. Anatoly could not take that chance, he had realised that he woild have to go to an independent Russian journalist there in Sweden.

That same evening Anatoly had sat in the hotel reception waiting impatiently. Every time someone had come through the revolving door from the street he had look up expectantly only to turn away in disappointment. He had been on the point of giving up for the evening when a grey haired man in a crumpled brown suit had shambled in and made a b line for the the door to the bar. Anatoly had jumped up and approached the figure before grabbing his elbow and whispering in his ear "Buy you a drink Vladimir?"

The journalist had visibly jumped in surprise but had them smiled "Anatoly, of course, I'm always up for free booze, you know that"

The two men had then entered the bar together and sought out a quiet corner, before ordering drinks from a passing waiter. After the drinks had arrived Anatoly was straight down to business. "Vladimir, I have some...information"

The journalist smiled "What kind of information?"

"Information about...the Z Factor" replied Anatoly

"OK" replied the journalist

The television man had paused, unsure how to proceed.

Vladimir had watched his companion impassively "You will have to give me a bit more to go on Anatoly. I don't think the headline 'TV Boss Knows Something' is going to sell many papers"

"Alright, alright" replied Anatoly "I've got evidence that the government has lied about where the zombies have come from"

The journalist, who had been on the point of taking a sip of his drink, paused with the glass in mid air. "I see" he replied before taking a gulp and returning the glass to the table. "May I take a look it?"

Anatoly had reached inside his jacket and pulled out the DVD case before passing it across the table. "Its all in there" he said.

The Journalist had looked at the case then tucked it into his pocket "Who else knows about this?"

"Just you and me and the person who obtained the recording" replied Anatoly

"And this person knew them before they...changed?" Continued Vladimir

"Yes"

Vladimir had downed his drink and risen from his seat "How can I reach you?"

"I'm in room 502"

The journalist had nodded "Don't do anything until I call" And with that he had walked out the bar.

Anatoly had heard nothing until the following morning when the journalist had called to say he had watched the recording and needed to meet his informant. The television man had been reluctant but Vladimir had insisted that without a second source he would not be able to run the story.

"Mr Alexandrov?"

So Anatoly had eventually agreed to arrange the meeting...

"Mr Alexandrov, is everything alright?"

...and now he and the boy were waiting for the journalist to arrive.

"Mr Alexandrov please, you're scaring me!"

Anatoly was suddenly dragged from his thoughts by someone shaking his shoulder urgently. He found Vasily standing in front of him with a concerned look on his face.

"Sorry?" Said the older man in confusion

"Are you OK sir?" Asked the boy

"Of course I am, why do you ask?" Replied Anatoly

"Its just that you've been standing stock still with your mouth open for the last five minutes." Explained the boy "When you started dribbling, I thought you'd had a stroke or something"

Anatoly looked down at the rivulet of spittle slowly spreading across his shirt front "No, I was just...errr...thinking" he said before starting to dab the saliva with a tissue.

Just then there was a knock at the door, and the two of them looked at each other. "Are you ready?" Asked Anatoly.

The boy nodded nervously.

"OK then" said the head of delegation before walking to the door and opening it to reveal a grinning Glukov.

Anatoly started in surprise before spluttering "Glukov, what do you want?"

The government man walked into the room and spread his hands "Good evening gentlemen, I bring apologies from my good friend Vladimir. I am afraid he will not be able to join you this evening."

"Vladimir?" Replied Anatoly nervously "We weren't expecting anyone called Vladimir"

"Oh come come Anatoly, please do not take me for a fool." Said Glukov " Vladimir and I are old friends and he knows the value of a senior source in the presidents office. He came to me last night with some interesting allegations which I was happy to refute to his satisfaction."

Anatoly was unable to hide his shock at the man's words and turned as pale as a sheet. Through a constricting throat he managed to croak "But we have evidence"

Glukov chuckled humourlessly "You mean the doctored recording? Oh, that has been destroyed and I don't imagine for one minute that you're young friend thought to produce a copy"

"Well, that's where you're wrong" countered Anatoly, gaining courage in the face of Glukov's smugness "This boy survived living on the streets of Moscow for years, he pulled himself up from the gutter to become one of Russia's most promising singing talents, he travelled half way across Europe on his own to bring the evidence to me, of course he thought of taking a copy, isn't that right Vasily?"

When his question was met with silence from the boy, Anatoly looked around to find him frowning deeply. "Oh bugger" muttered the television executive with feeling.

Another peel of laughter from Glukov prompted Anatoly to spin around and confront the government man "Well we don't need evidence" he proclaimed "Vasily knew the zombies before they transformed and I saw the recording. We will both swear on oath to those facts"

Glukov shook his head "Oh Anatoly, do you really think anyone will beleive a boy who was denied a place in the competition because of the Z Factor and his mentor? You both have good reason to bear a grudge against them and their huge popularity will mean people simply won't listen"

Anatoly glared at Glukov, his anger mounting "I don't care, I'll say it anyway. Someone, somewhere will eventually remember them and come forward to support our side"

The government man folded his arms "You could, but if you did I will make sure that you never work in television again and your protégé here can kiss his singing career good bye."

"You don't scare me" replied Anatoly squaring up to Glukov "There are some things more important than fame and fortune"

"There are" agreed Glukov "Like family, friends, reputation...But what if I could take all of those as well"

Anatoly sneared "How could you possibly do that?"

"Very simply" stated Glukov "By making it known that you and your young friend here have more than a professional relationship"

The head of delegation looked confused for a moment but then assumed an outraged expression as realisation dawned "That is disgusting. To even suggest..."

"Oh I would do more than suggest Anatoly" interrupted Glukov "I would present evidence that the boy travelled to Stockholm to see you for no apparent reason. I would bring forward witnesses that would confirm he visited you in your hotel room alone. I would present certain old acquaintances of Vasily's, friends from his past..."

"Enough!" Yelled the boy suddenly, then more quietly "That's enough. You win Mr Glukov, you win"

Anatoly stared at Vasily "But we can't..."

"No" asserted the boy "I won't let him do that to you. Its done Mr Alexandrov, its done. Let it go"

"Vasily, please..." Pleaded the older man but the boy just shook his head vigorously and turned away

Anatoly's shoulders slumped then after a long pause, he looked at Glukov "Ok you win. So what happens now?"

Glukov leered "You stay here until the competition is over. I will let it be known that you are feeling unwell and have passed responsibility for the delegation to me. On Sunday we will all fly home, do the usual press coverage and then return to our everyday lives while the Z Factor will do what most Eurovision acts do - slowly fade into obscurity. However I will be watching Anatoly, ready to divulge my information at the slightest provocation."

Anatoly slowly nodded then sat down and placed his head in his hands.

Glukov sighed "Well it has been a pleasure to meet you Vasily. Now I must be going, so will wish you both a pleasant evening" And with that the man turned and left the room, closing the door firmly behind him.

Vasily glanced uncertainly at Anatoly "I'm sorry" he said quietly

The older man looked up "Its OK. Its not your fault."

"What are we going to do now?" Asked the boy tentatively

Anatoly gazed blankly at the flickering images on the television at the other end of the room. "I have no idea" he mumbled.

On the screen a news programme was reviewing the events of Eurovision Week so far, ahead of the big final. Highlights of the now infamous press conference with the UK entry were being replayed, accompanied by the amused commentary of the newscaster. Anatoly suddenly straightened in his seat.

"What is it?" Said Vasily, catching the movement

"I think it might be time to talk to the experts" replied Anatoly.