THE SOUTH BANK

CENTRAL LONDON

JULY 10 2008

Constable Jenkins removed his rain spattered helmet and rubbed his forehead with the thumb of his left hand.  

In his broad West country accent he tried to sound cool,  calm and collected, though the plethora of television  cameras and microphone weilding media hounds assembled at the scene of the latest disappearance, detected tones that sounded anything but.

" Oi downt roightly know wass 'appnin 'ere,  thass fer sure "

With the tide firmly on the inward bound leg of it's daily cycle, phorensic investigators were feverishly attempting to take moulds of the mysterious footprints left in the glistening golden sands of St Angelie beach,  and preserve all traces of evidence for later annalysis at clinically efficient government laboratories back in the big city.

Locals had by now gathered to witness the story unfolding, their minds stretching back to the first of the vanishings back in March when old Farmer Giles left nothing behind but his green wellington boots,  and cocked but unfired double barrell shotgun in the lower roo farm that had for generations accomodated his family and ancestors.   Two weeks later and Sally,  the buxom hostess with the mostess from behind the bar at the 'Cock & Bull' public house had gone for a Balti take away and was never seen again....   only the Cardamon seeds and discarded silver aluminium foil trays from her order were ever discovered, along with her mobile phone and a last number redial to the local Police!

One month later,  local business man and self styled entrepeneur,  Giles Smyth,  an outsider who had moved to the village from the big smoke following his successful plundering of stocks and shares in London,  left only his prized blood red Ferarri F40 supercar,  engine still running and drivers door open, as clues to his vanishing!  With his cash stuffed wallet on the passenger seat and a compact disc compilation of Abba's greatest hits still playing,  the Police were baffled by the strange vanishing.

And now Father David Ormeroid,  local parish vicar at the St Mary the virgin church,  had become the latest victim in this chilling and unexplained series of mysterious vanishings. 

" Constable Jenkins,  can you confirm that vital evidence has been located at the scene of the incident,  and taken for testing? ", 

The dulcit tones of 'BMS Now news' (that's Channel 65 on Freeview boxes),  reporter Shelley McNabb, a woman so intent on stardom and the lure of a contract with Sky TV, that she would leave no stone unturned nor avenue unexplored in her persuit of the prime time power spot,  broke the officers train of thought.

" Well,  oi can confurm that Farther Jenkins' white dog collar and a copy of the contrervershial novel 'The Davinci Code'  by author Dan Brown, were neatly placed on the sarnd, just over thar.  And these 'ere footprints leading off in the direction of the warters edge,  are all thass lef of the good man "

Shelley pushed the bright orange foam covered microphone closer to the officers mouth and leaned inwards towards him

" And can you also confirm speculation that the recent meteor storm which sent the community running for their lives, and the subsequent finding of a large, unidentidied rock from outer space, is behind this shocking recent spate of vanishings?  "

Constable Jenkins paused for a second and rubbed his chin with his thumb and index finger,  looking momentarily in the direction of the neatly suited gentleman situated just left of the media pack.  The man, arms folded across his chest,  discreetly gave a shake of the head,  before Constable Jenkins gave a measured response

" No comment,  moy luvverly "