There were rumours that something wondrous had happened. Odd: things seemed pretty normal for this time of year. Too many visitors, not enough accommodation and difficulty of sleeping because of that wretched bright star in the sky. But as an aspiring reporter there was no way he was going to miss a scoop; his friend Benji who delivered pizzas in Bethlehem said the three old guys who ordered last night seemed pretty smart and wanted to pay him in gold. And there was an odd smell around their tent. And it wasn’t just the camels. That’s where he would start.
The square was washed with sun. The officer paced and yawned: another few minutes and ‘shift over’. An old Wings tune – was it Band on the Run? – was playing somewhere. The jeep made a dusty entrance as the girl stepped out to explain that they were looking for the Old Monastery. As the officer began to walk toward the vehicle, he realised he’d fallen for the oldest scam: distraction. Behind him an explosion ripped the prison door out and four men hurtled into the back of the 4 by 4. The thing is: everyone wants to be home for Christmas.