Pamela Tailor trudged into her office cubicle and sat at her desk. With cool grey eyes she looked around at her small but ordered world, decorated in official tan and black mono tones. Everything was as she had left it - clean, unclutted, impersonal.

Impersonal as the woman herself. If pressed you might be able to describe Pamela Tailor as a nondescript forty year old woman with mouse brown hair, of average height, of average weight. She was dressed in a crisply pressed blue grey business suit and had carried in a plain briefcase that she had slid under the desk to rest at her feet. An average business woman on an average day sitting at her average work station.

Besides from the light from the uncurtained window the room's only bright spot was a child's dummy. The cleaning crew had presented it to her after witnessing her tirade against one of their own that she had found hovering around her filing cabinets. Though 'presented' to her was stretching the truth a little, they had left the child's pacifier and a card saying 'congratulations on one fine dummy spit' on her desk.

The woman her office colleagues had nicknamed 'Killer' had smiled grimly, attached the dummy by a hangman's noose to a length of string and taped it to the side of her bookshelf, in full view of the doorway. Not as a sign of approval for the joke, but as a warning. The meddling cleaner had been fired.

With neatly manicured hands Pamela reached over and pulled her tape recorder across the desk towards her. She pressed a button and placed in a tape that she took from her jacket's pocket. With detached calm she pressed play. Leaning back Pamela listened to the voice of Daniel Linn, a man with some very interesting ideas.

"And I say to you, shinning ones, that the price of freedom is struggle, the price of liberation is pain. If we sit doing nothing then we are as bad as our oppressors are! They look to the troubled masses for their opponents, but we are the true warriors in this fight. We, the average men and women who work and sweat to pay for the very slavery that keeps us chained to our desks. And don't be fooled - economic slavery is every bit as degrading as the wearing of chains and brands. We are the downtrodden and we are the people who must act.

Yes, we must act! But not where they expect us to. We are not predictable little sheep, doing what the others that struggle for our cause have done. No, we will make such a noise that the earth itself will tremble, and all that oppose us will fall to their knees in dread.

You have been hand picked, each of you, for your skills and access to key points. The process of selection has been long, but we needed to be sure that your hearts were loyal. Now is the time for us to discuss strategy, now that we have our team of dedicated fighters. For I may reveal to you now that the 14th is the date of our deliverance, the bleeding and crying of our enemies will be begun, a time when our voices will be heard around the globe and for our cause it will be, a perfect day."

Pamela 'Killer' Tailor of the Australian Stingers Police Force clicked off the tape and leaned back in her nondescript office chair. She looked out the window to the busy street below, full of hurrying, oblivious civilians. Civilians that would all be a lot safer now that Daniel Linn had been caught on tape and prosecuted for his planned crimes. Turning her grey eyes heavenwards Pamela Tailor looked at the blue cloudless sky and smiled with true amusement. Today was the 14th. And it was, as predicted, a perfect day.