Page 66 of A Face in the Crowd
‘The train crash was faked,’ he replies.
I struggle not to sigh at this. From the moment he mentioned the government, I feared this was what was coming.
‘How do you fake a train crash?’ I reply. ‘I saw the wreckage. Everyone did – it was all over the news. There was a helicopter beaming live footage. There were photographers on the ground.’
‘The crash was real,’ Steven replies, ‘it was the reasons that were faked.’
‘What reasons?’
‘They said it was an issue with the signalling; then the lights and the brakes – but our research shows there was a Russian spy on board. It was an undercover job to kill the spy and make everything elselooklike an accident. Everyone who died was collateral damage.’
I turn to stare at him, but he gazes back at me with such earnest certainty that I have to look away again.
‘It was an undercover job to make itlooklike an accident,’ he adds.
‘You believe the moon landings were faked, don’t you?’ I reply.
‘They were!’
‘And that 9/11 was staged. That the London bombings in 2005 were an MI6 plot.’
‘MI5,’ he corrects.
It’s hard not to sigh again. I rub my forehead, but Steven seems oblivious to my scepticism.
‘Why are you telling me this?’ I ask. ‘Twenty-five people died in the crash and I only knew two of them.’
Steven shrugs. ‘Alphabetical order. A for Alex, B for Ben. The police weren’t listening and nobody was visiting my website. What else was I supposed to do?’
‘Leave it?’ I reply.
‘That’s what they want people to do.’
‘Of course they do.’
Steven doesn’t pick up on the sarcasm or exasperation.
‘How did you know where I live?’ I ask.
‘Google and the electoral roll. I’m going to talk to everyone eventually.’
He holds up his phone to illustrate the point and I resolve that, as soon as I’m done here, I’ll put my first post on the secret Facebook page to warn people. I didn’t realise people’s addresses could be found so easily simply because they’d registered to vote. That’s assuming he’s telling the truth.
I figure I might as well get the full story from him in order to pass it on.
‘You’re saying “they” deliberately staged a train crash in order to assassinate a Russian agent?’ I ask.
‘Exactly! They say the driver died in the crash, but our sources have him living in Venezuela. He was in on the whole thing.’
‘Who’s “they”?’ I ask.
‘The government, the MSM, the NWO. All of them.’
‘And why is the driver in Venezuela?’
‘We’ve not been able to get proof of that yet.’
I don’t ask about the ‘we’ to whom he’s referring, nor what MSM or NWO stand for. I could probably check the internet – but I’m guessing that’s where many of Steven’s theories have come from. I should probably leave. The number of cars and people passing has slowed to a minimum and we’re in the shadows. It’s not that I feel unsafe, more uneasy. I wish Billy was here, if only as comfort.
