Alex Howard

Hanlon guessed it was somewhere out there in those cold, steely waters that the proposed island airport for London might one day take shape.

Not long, said Forrest. One of your lot told me the dog walker comes by every day and yesterday the door was chained and padlocked.

Society wanted an eye for an eye.

The compact, concrete shape of the World War Two gun emplacement crouched, hunkered down into the shallow, gravelly soil above the beach on the Essex side of the Thames Estuary near Southend.

The compact, concrete shape of the World War Two gun emplacement crouched, hunkered down into the shallow, gravelly soil above the beach on the Essex side of the Thames Estuary near Southend. It overlooked the wide, grey shallow waters on whose far side lay the Isle of Grain and Sheerness. Hanlon guessed it was somewhere out there in those cold, steely waters that the proposed island airport for London might one day take shape.

beautiful. She looked around her slowly, the sky above enormous after Londons claustrophobic

though its original purpose observation? Defence, maybe? was long forgotten or possibly preserved somewhere, buried deep in a government archive. Now it was being noted by officialdom again.
Hanlon peered in through the glassless window. Inside the hexagonal interior of the building she could see the two CSI men in their white disposable overalls, gloved and booted, masked, and in plastic caps, working in the blaze of two powerful arc lights powered by the generator outside. She watched as they carried