Not uncommonly, Thomas was confused.
He felt he was safe now that he was in the custody of the British Embassy.
He didn't have to make any more decisions. His fate was no longer in his hands.
He knew the Egyptian police wanted him for questioning, but that the embassy had delayed them with technicalities whilst shoving him onto this plane.
It helped when he had told them who his father was.
He was still in it up to his neck, though.
Overheard whispers whilst at the embassy and on the ensuing flight had told him that there had been other explosions around Cairo.
He guessed that, like his intended target, they were major religious and political institutions.
He had been making his way to his intended target via a crowded marketplace when a confident thief decided to relieve him of the rucksack slung over his shoulder.
Thomas recalled the panic as the thief took the rucksack deeper into the crowded streets. He followed, calling after him, his tall, lean frame made good strides, but the thiefs knowledge of the area gave him an advantage. However Thomas was determined that he would not be undone from his target.
Unfortunately this got the attention of a couple of police officers who had been patrolling the stalls. Their vigilance rewarded when the culprit passed them by.
They gave chase and Thomas start to slow his run realising things were gettting out of control.
One of the officers, the more athletic one, caught hold of the thief and brought him down. The other caught up with him and wrenched the bag from his grasp and opened it, checking its contents.
The sudden change of body language and expression made Thomas stop in his tracks. They knew there was a bomb in there.
Raised voices carried to Thomas as the thief looked around desperately and saw him. A pointing finger locked onto him and the athletic police officer caught his eye.
Thomas started backing up. The officer called out to him. In response he turned and started pushing through the market which just seemed to have doubled in population. The officer put the bag down and followed him whilst his colleague started to handcuff the would-be criminal.
All Thomas remembered from then was the force that knocked him down flat in an instant and then nothing.
He must only have been out for a few minutes, but as he came to, the world was much quieter and peaceful.
Dragging himself to his feet all he could see was chaos.
Ahead of him people were thrown across the floor. There was smoke everywhere, debris floating in the breeze.
He saw some people coming towards him. They were checking the bodies. He couldn't tell if they were looking for signs of life or picking pockets.
Then he looked behind him. His mind wouldn't let him make sense of what he saw. He knew exactly what his eyes were trying to tell him but he refused to let it sink in. The terrible reality was more than his fragile mind could cope with.
Most people were prone on the floor, but one started to rise. It was the police officer.
Their eyes met again. Thomas' senses were starting to return so he was able to react first. He ran and didn't look back.
He ran to the only place he could think of. It had been his sole focus for the last two weeks. He knew as much as he could learn about it. He made for the safety of his original target.
The British Embassy.
How should he be feeling now?
Looking out of the window, high above the clouds, far removed from the world below, he wished he could just stay there.
He hadn't been able to look the diplomats in the eye the entire time he'd been in their protection.
Hours earlier, these had been the opppressors, the enemy. Yet now they were responsible for his freedom.
He was now benefiting from the same corruption and underhandedness that had angered him enough to take action.
He should be being brought to justice for his actions but, at the mention of his father's name, wheels had started turning to protect him.
The government of Egypt was ever subject to the promises of wealth and status the west usually enticed Muslim cultures with in order to weaken them.
The charter plane was due to land in the UK in just over an hour. He wanted to forget what he'd done. Take it back.
Those people in the market weren't the ones he was supposed to have killed. They were the ones he had been fighting to free. He had been willing to give his life for them.
It wasn't difficult for him to imagine the souls of those innocents now soaring among these clouds on their way to an infinitely better life.
He didn't know what paradise was, but it in his mind it was a place where we could exist in our ultimate form. Pure spirit. No physical or mental handicaps. Just the sum totality of what we could be.
Instead, here he was running away from the battle instead of standing tall like a soldier should.
Soon he would have to answer for his beliefs and his actions.
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