I touched down somewhere in what I judged to be East Anglia. Just like in Spain, I had to get moving very quickly. I still had the best part of two days to get to the CSNCD, but I knew that I had to get there much sooner than that to scope out the immediate vicinity.
I had no idea if Patrick had any affiliation or influence with the CSNCD and I was not going to take any chances. He would certainly be gathering operatives to ensure that it would be practically impossible for me to make this transition.
Now that he was fully aware of my powers, I assumed that there would be additional heavy support in order to stop me. I already knew how I was going to approach this and once again it would be all down to meticulous timing, something that I was becoming quite accustomed to.
I had plenty of time to kill and a whole list of things that I wanted to do before I attempted the risky transition. The problem with everything on this list is that if would put family and friends in danger. Family and friends that would have done all their grieving for me nearly ten years ago. I would be but a photograph on the mantelpiece now, a few newspaper clippings. A collection of possessions distributed to charity shops. To them, I would be a nobody.
If this was ever over, then perhaps that would be the time to haunt them. To tell them that it was me that saved humanity from Stasis. Now was not the time or the place, no matter how much my heart wanted to take what little time I had and utilise it with difficult and painful reunions.
I pushed on to London using the skills that I had picked up over the last few days, no longer feeling any pangs of guilt for my actions. No longer trying to hide my face from anyone.