# Mr. Smith (2)

(continuation)

He was in Copenhagen for two days, counting on the journey, and returned at the end of the second day. He arrived at Heathrow, twelve minutes past nine o'clock. He was tired of the two days of meetings he had had, though happy. When you disabled your phone's "flight mode" system, it verified that you had five incoming calls. He looked at them. Four of his co-workers and one of his mother. He called a taxi and on the way home called his mother, giving him the good news. As for the employees, they could wait for the next day.


At that moment, Paul, he really wanted to get home and take a rejuvenating shower. Thirty-five minutes later, he was inside his tub, soaked in a soaking bath with a glass of whiskey on the side.


Ten of the employees of Import.inc's commercial department arrived at the Bar at 8:30 am. They were all very excited and proud that their leader and friend, Mr. smith, had made progress in his career with such an honorable promotion. They wanted to fraternize with him and, with him, share this great moment of his life and career.

The Chili Peper Bar opened every day, since its inauguration ten years ago, the doors at five o'clock in the morning, closing them at twenty-three hours. The space was about thirty square meters available to the public; There was a U-shaped balcony, a table area, a giant screen where it projected the broadcast of a generalist television channel during the day, replaced by the passage of music videos of the VH1 music channel.

To the left of the person who was coming in, an arrow-maker served as an incentive to some groups of customers passing by and was the main artifact in the tournaments held twice a year. The walls of the Bar were black, which gave them a more intimate air, ornamented by some original screens, offered to the space by artists unknown to the public. These works, there hung, gave a greater depth to the room.

Religiously, every day, Paul Smith and ten of his associates and friends, before they went to the office, were there. They sat at the counter, drank a black coffee, exchanged a few words, and then went up to work.

Smith's friends were gathered and awaited his arrival to congratulate him when suddenly they heard two huge explosions and a huge shake. The glass of the establishment shattered, having been projected inland. The fright was great, causing everyone to rush outside. The same happened to so many other people from other commercial spaces or who simply walked in the street. They tried to figure out what the explosions would have been when they noticed a huge column of smoke rising in the sky from the side of St. Pancras Station. Everyone rushed inside the Bar, focusing on the news that began to appear in the media, notably Sky News that had put on the air a heli to report on the location of the explosions, St. Pancras Railway Station.

According to reporter Rachel Hunt - it is devastating the state where thousands of people pass, on access to London, or on their way out. - His story continued, as the image operator caught the macabre images of total chaos from a destroyed train station.

He continued to report - there are hundreds of bodies lying in the rubble ... - describing the catastrophe - ... and at the last minute ... - she said, while on the floor of the television was passing this information - ... Al-Jazeera reports that it is a terrorist attack claimed by DAESH. - continuing - It is atrocious what you see. This was a brutal and surgical attack. The famous 8:39 clock time from St. Pancras Station was chosen by the terrorists to carry out this massive massacre. We recall that it is exactly at 8:39 am that the three train compositions containing hundreds of passengers and the two subway lines are at St. Pancras. The journalist's face was panicky.

Joe, one of Paul Smith's associates at Import, Inc., had remembered in a grave tone and a lost countenance:

- The 8:39 clock, it's Mr. Smith's train.

There was a mournful silence, broken five seconds later with the voice of Helena, an Irish-speaking woman of little more than half a century:

- Call Paul! Call Paul!

While Sky News was streaming live footage of the chaos that was set in a true war scenario, with fire and police crews flocking to the scene, people running around with no definite direction and apathetic people in shock , In the Bar desperately tried to get in touch with Paul.

- It's calling! Come on, come on! - she was talking to the phone, desperate - The call went to the answering machine! - She informed him.
- Try again! - Insisted John.
- Come on, come on, come on! - Kate was pacing uneasily. - Shit, shit, shit ...
- Anything?
- No, nothing! Continues to go to the answering machine.
- Keep trying. - said a desperate Arthur - Do not give up!

- This is not possible, this is not possible! - said Mary, who had sat at the huge screen, elbows on her knees, hands on her head. The air of concern and consternation was general, with eyes on the images Sky News was broadcasting. An hour had gone by about the explosions. Paul had not answered any of the calls, and the cell phone had stopped ringing.

Suddenly, as Sky News filmed the hustle and bustle of the rescue and rescue teams at the scene of the bombing, a violent explosion occurred, exponentially increasing terror and devastation. A second attack had just occurred with the explosion of a third artifact, exactly when the place was full of firefighters, policemen, rescuers and doctors.

The flooding tears streamed down the faces of the people in Chilli Peper, a mixture of feelings ranging from pain and anguish of loss, to impotence over such blistering attacks, to rage and anger toward this race of terrorist people who does not respect the lives of others. The desperation was enormous.

The clock was ticking now at 11:48 am and everyone was at the bar. Some were crying, while others were trying to comfort them. The office was empty and closed.

- Chilli Peper! - said the Bar employee, answering the phone in a distant, sad voice.
- Elizabeth?
- Yes! - she answered in a choked voice.
- Can you do me a favor? - asked.
- Yes! - the young woman just said.
- Yesterday I got tired of a trip, I forgot to put the mobile phone to the load and I ran out of battery. The alarm clock did not ring. I fell asleep. I just woke up now. I've been calling the office, but no one answers. Could you please go and tell someone to pick up the phone, please ?!
- Just a moment! - she asked, turning to the living room and looking at everyone in the room. - Can someone come and pick up the phone for Mr. Smith?