The True Athletes were becoming cocky. They had got their hostage, planted a few bombs, and as far as they knew, had left no trace.

A computer beeped somewhere in a dark recess. A voice called out to the room in general.

"They're trying to trace the email. Don't worry, they won't succeed."

"Good. Keep us updated." Replied a voice with a hint of leadership in it.

The recordings of last week's boxing match had been cruel but they deemed it necessary. One of them thought the pigs blood was going too far, but it was decided by the group that instilling fear would reduce the chance of escape. After all, who would try to escape from torturers?

The same one, with a bit of intelligence although not leadership qualities, thought it would only encourage escape...but he kept the thoughts to himself.

The next stage of the plan would be tricky. But they were all in agreement. Tonight, the night after the kidnap, they would once more drug the hostage and transport her to the Olympic Stadium, where the bombs were ready to be hooked up to her.

They had lied slightly in their email, the bombs were all stationed around the Olympic Stadium, a couple at the main entrances, rigged to timers, and one waiting for Ruth, armed with a detonator and back up timer.

They knew that MI5 would waste precious time on background legwork, trying to discover their weaknesses, so they had created false websites with some story or other. It hadn't taken long for Techy to set up.

Now they sat around in the basement, going over the details.

"The van is ready. It's got false plates and blacked out windows. No trouble there. It'll be dumped at the first opportunity of course. It might be hard getting close to the Hostage for the third time, she's bound to be wary by now, but it should be manageable. Once she's out we'll inject her to keep her out for longer, let's hope that MI5 are as clever as their reputation suggests." Said the Leader.

'What if they don't arrive in time and someone else finds her and calls the police?' Queried her Minder.

"Then the message will get back to them and they will live with the fact it wasn't them who found her..?" Answered Techy.

'No. The recording we're going to leave will direct anyone to call Harry Pierce directly. I wish you blockheads would remember the plan. This isn't a trip to the shops we're arranging. There are serious consequences if we screw this up.' Barked the Leader.

The other two were silent. Their part of the plan was largely completed now. They were just caught up in the process. Techy still had to monitor MI5's progress on tracking them down, without alerting them to his actions, but it was hardly rocket science, not for him at least.

He decided that this would be his last involvement with the group. Not all of their actions sat right with him. But there was no time for those thoughts. He went back to looking at the computer screens around him...

Minder was quite happy with his role, which he saw as looking after the Hostage, not keeping her against her will. He had just enough brains to understand the situation, but not enough to question the ethics. He rolled up a cigarette and lit it with satisfaction.

Leader wasn't sure about his men, but he had no choice now. He'd kill them when the job was over, provided they did what he asked in the meantime. He tugged at his jeans and felt the gun cold against his skin. It was just for insurance but the power was making him quite dizzy and unnaturally irritable.

He put his hands on his neck. Harry Pierce was going to pay for what he did. That thought settled Leader, and he smiled a crooked smile to himself in the gloom.

After a while, a distant clock struck eleven o'clock. It was dark and cloudy out, perfect cover for their mission.

Twenty minutes later, the abandoned house was deserted once more.