End It With A Lie

by Peter M. Atkins

5.01 pm

  Ben seated himself in a chair that Sean had made available. Along with his colleagues he waited expectantly as each second stretched its way into the next, until finally the web clock stated its conclusion with a set of four zeros.

  Almost immediately the televisions screen became full of what appeared to be a small office. The cameras lighting was not of a professional standard, but it offered a clear picture of a shadowy figure who was reaching with extended arm towards the small room’s ceiling.

  Then, with a slow advance the camera operator moved closer to the side of the small room, all the while holding the shadowy figure in the cameras field of view.

  Suddenly a fluorescent light flickered into life. It flooded the small room’s interior with its glow, and exposed the shadowy figure as a man in an air tight chemical hazard suit. It seemed to hang baggily at the end of an umbilical airline which connected its helmet to the small rooms ceiling. Ben noted the silence that had engulfed the room about him. Then, along with his colleagues he realized, without surprise, that it was not only this immediate area that was being smothered by an invisible cloud of soundlessness.

  The silence had taken the whole building in its grasp. For some brief seconds he listened to a sound of silence that seemed to have depth. It was as if the office area had suddenly acquired the expanse of an outback plain. At that moment the suited figure turned around to face the camera. It stood like an alien life form as artificial lighting reflected in small sheets across the curved Perspex of its helmets visor.

  Ben gazed intently at the visor in an effort to pierce its shining barrier, but only met frustration at not being able to see the eyes of his aggressor. As if the camera sought to relieve him of his frustration, it offered his attention a substitute beacon by rotating in a short arc until it focused on the bulky steel, block like transformer.

  It hovered briefly before moving on again, to where a nest of six rats fidgeted behind the glass of a small aquarium. The silence was suddenly shattered by a low voice that Ben recognized as a poor imitation of a Hitchcock impersonation.

  “Good evening, world. Welcome to our version of reality T.V.”

  There was a brief pause before the voice continued.

  “I undoubtedly have your full attention, so I will come straight to the point. I am sure that by now all of you have a basic understanding of the potential of the device we have at our disposal. We decided that the world’s media was the most practical method to use, to inform you of the possible outcome if our weapon of mass destruction was actually detonated. Let me for a moment point out to those among you who believe that the media might at times exaggerate, or let us say in this instance, add colour to their reports. There is no need for exaggeration on their part in the case of this weapon. The media’s descriptions to date are, I assure you, entirely accurate. So accurate, that their reports may have caused some concern to those who have a weapon in their midst. With that thought in mind we felt it only proper to deliver the good news we have for them.”

  The voice paused again, as if the speaker played cat and mouse with his audience.

  “The good news is that we have no intention of detonating the weapon.” A light hearted chuckle that seemed to border on sarcasm escaped his lips before he said, “I thought you’d all be pleased to hear that little snippet of information. It might lighten the situation somewhat, before I explain to you the bad news?” His voice suddenly sunk to a ‘beware the bogey man’ tone, as he said, “Oh yes, there is bad news.”

  “The small room that you see before you holds within it the weapon of mass destruction. It also is the temporary home for some rodents. Their reason for existence in this case is to give visual proof of the weapons destructive power. They will prove the effects of 10X gas on living beings to the people who will be participating in the auction that will begin directly after the demonstration. For some months now, our agents have been busy finding underground organizations and individuals who have a passionate desire to attack the West. Those people who, since the major event of 9/11, have not had access to a weapon with huge potential, or more importantly, the means for its delivery to a populated target area. Where its use might emphasize their fervour in confronting the biased polices and attitudes of America and its allies.”

  Ben’s anger, which had begun its life as a seed at the beginning of the mono-toned delivery, had grown as the words grated on his eardrums. Each like single arrows, pierced the heart of the civilized side of his brain, and brought to life a primitive urge to take the voice by the throat and squeeze it quiet.

  “The success of our agents can only be described as outstanding. They have found no less than a score of different parties who have expressed their wish to take part in the auction. Hence, here is the bad news for those in the five affected countries.”

  “As I have already stated, we who are in possession of the weapons have no desire to detonate them. Unfortunately, we will have no control over the actions of those who are successful in their bids.”

  Ben was forced to wait through a long moment of silence. It was broken once by a low voiced venomous curse from amongst the ranks of his seated officers. He had the desire to look in the direction of its issue, but his mind would not allow him to take his eyes away from the fidgeting rats, as they searched with uncertainty each corner of the aquarium.

  Suddenly the voice started again. This time it came through with added annunciation, like that of an introduction to guests’ who were about to embark on a tour of an art gallery.

  “I think that it is now time to move on to the second part of our programming. It is mainly for the benefit of those who will be participants in the auction. For you, the general public, you should of course feel free to accept our invitation to sit back, relax and enjoy the show.”

  Ben watched closely as the camera panned the small room’s interior. It finally settled on the man behind the helmets visor, who stood motionless as if waiting for direction.

  It came with the voice’s introduction.

  “Our friend in the suit is Daniel.” Daniel gave a wave of his plastic encased arm in a sarcastically friendly manner, as if the viewers had caught him entertaining at a family BBQ.

  “We’ll call him Daniel for the time being. He’s the one in the lion’s den as it were, and in charge of the finer points of the demonstration. I think he is about ready to now start.”

  Daniel lowered his arm and made his way through the small room to the transformers squat form. He lifted a cordless drill that was fitted with a socket attachment and began to remove four nuts which held in place a rectangular shaped steel plate. He removed a fifth bolt which appeared to have no reason other than to fill a bolt hole.

  Another silent minute passed until he placed the rectangular plate onto the top of the transformer. As it clunked onto its new resting place, Ben wondered why it was necessary for such a plate that had no obvious purpose to be manufactured of such heavy steel.

  Its reason became obvious some seconds later, as Daniel moved a short step sideways. Allowing the camera direct access to the dark steel box to which the rectangular lid had been fitted.

  The voice, now without its sarcastic content, took its cue and began a description of the boxes contents. While Daniel’s gloved left open-palmed hand guided the viewer’s eyes to each individual object described.

  “The package that Daniel is now pointing to is a small amount of plastic explosive. Its blast force will be contained within the steel box for less than a second, before it breaks its way through a seal in the firing tube and propels before it a litre of our gas 10X.” Daniel pointed to the package, and then with a short wave of his gloved hand he invited the viewer’s eyes to the firing tube.

  Firstly, to the firing tubes entry point and then to a light gauge steel seal that lay flat on the top of the transformer. He held his hand palm side up, before lifting it upwards to express in mime the gases expulsion point.

  The voice changed tact, to one whose tone
carried like that of a person insulted.

  “I’m sure that some among you have noticed there are no wires or detonator attached to the explosive.”

  The camera focused again, closing in on the explosive package, while the voice allowed a brief moment of silence before it stated threateningly,

  “Be advised. We have overlooked nothing.”

  At that moment Daniel lifted a long bolt from the small tables top and held it up for the camera. The voice continued, its tone now suddenly back again to an attempted soft tongued charm.

  “The bolt that Daniel now reveals is in fact the weapons detonator.”

  Ben watched as Daniel gently slid the long bolt into the fifth bolt hole. He left it naked to the camera’s lens, where it appeared to be too long for the weapons requirements, until the voice healed all wounds of confusion.

  “The detonator is in the tip of the long bolt, and is at the moment resting on a light tin seal. This seal will be gently pierced by the bolt as it is wound into its thread and the detonator will be slowly embedded into the explosive material. The wires that you see at the head end of the bolt are those to which the power source will be connected.”

  The statement concluded with an attempt at sarcastic humour which accompanied a light chuckle that like the voice aggravated Ben’s ears.

  “We felt it necessary to transport the weapon in a disarmed state, in the interests of public safety.”

  The chuckle echoed hollowly in Ben’s ears. In stark contrast, and seemingly in direct competition with the ringing buzz, that still invasively issued its constant protest to the explosive power of Horton’s hand gun. Until some moments later it was replaced with a new vibration.

  “Now for the juicy part.” The voice cried out, like a miser who rubbed his hands together in glee. Then it suddenly dropped into a more explanatory tone, “I could go into the details of 10X history, but I think we are all interested in the present rather than the past. So without further ado, I’ll let Daniel take over at this point. His actions will undoubtedly speak a thousand words.” Ben watched Daniel remove a clear sided container from the firing tube. It appeared to be plastic and probably one litre in content. Daniel handled it very carefully as he turned toward the antics of the restless rodents.

  Having set the container on to the table’s top. He withdrew from a plastic pencil case a long stemmed glass tube that looked like an eye dropper, placing it within easy reach by the container.

  Ben wondered at the deftness of Daniel’s gloved fingers, as he watched him lift a rubber eye drop extraction cap from a small container. Then again, as he fitted it to the long stemmed glass tube and rested the single unit on the table’s top.

  For a short moment Daniel rested. His audience waited while he stretched to his full height within the baggy suit, seemingly to take a long deep breath. It expressed clearly, his understanding of the material in the litre container that he was about to uncap.

  Ben, like the rest of the world watched as Daniel finally began to unscrew the container’s lid with his right hand. While holding the containers base firmly onto the tables top with his left. Finally, after several short slow methodical turns he placed the lid lightly on the table top beside the open container.

  The clear sided container was full nearly to the base of its neck and Ben wondered at the need for such a long eye dropper. The thought just as quickly dissipated in his mind as his attention was drawn back to Daniel’s actions. Daniel lifted the eye dropper and for some seconds he allowed it to hover over the containers orifice, before he carefully dipped its tip into the leaf green liquid.

  As he withdrew it again, it appeared he’d only just wet the end of the dropper. Like a showman he held it to the camera as it zoomed in, capturing the presence of the tiny drop that occupied a small area just inside the eye dropper’s tip.

  Daniel placed the eyedropper at rest on the pencil case’s edge, and with great care replaced the lid onto the container, before again lifting the eye dropper.

  Ben watched closely and saw what appeared to be Latex stretch its way in to the aquarium space, before it was pierced by the eye dropper’s tip and it snapped back into its pre-probed place.

  Daniel’s left hand, whose palm edge rested on the aquarium’s lid, partially hid the stem of the glass eye dropper. It supported and made steady his right hand, whose finger tips held their pinching position lightly on the rubber extraction cap. Ben noticed a slight movement of Daniel’s glove which advertised the pinching of his fingertips, and his eyes went immediately to the tip of the long glass stem. There a tiny drop dangled for a brief second, before it escaped its hold and disappeared into the mess of litter and rat droppings on the aquarium’s floor.

  There was not time enough for a pregnant pause, before the rats realized that something was dreadfully wrong. Almost immediately there was a rush of activity as they bounded about the aquarium’s glass frontier. Seconds later they suddenly appeared to be moving in slow motion. The slow motion had begun as their muscles began to seize, and with it severe lockjaw. The seizure interfered with the flow of air into their lungs, but it did not restrict the flow of white coloured foam as it bubbled out from between their teeth.

  In seconds they lay on their sides, where it appeared they suddenly had an urge to stand on their toes as the seizure over took all and with outstretched quivering legs they died.

  Daniel appeared not to have noticed the consequences of his single minded action. He replaced the eyedropper into the pencil case, and then returned the clear plastic container and its contents to the firing tube.

  After replacing the steel plate, he produced two curved pieces of steel. They were shaped like suitcase handles, but with bolt holes in either of their ends. These bolt holes fitted the exposed ends of the steel plates threaded studs. He replaced the nuts and tightened the handles into place.

  The fifth bolt replaced the detonator bolt before he used the cordless drill again to remove four other same size bolts. Then with two free hands he grasped the recently installed steel handles, and without effort removed from its place within the transformer, a steel box. Ben grimaced, and one of his colleagues cursed as the conspicuous transformer weapon suddenly became an easily concealed small steel box. Daniel gently placed the steel box upon the small table, before he reached under the table and produced a medium sized common cardboard carton.

  He lifted the steel box and dropped it lightly into the cardboard box. It appeared to fit snugly, and as he placed the detonator inside with it the voice once again began its narrative.

  “I did point out earlier the importance of weapons delivery to its populated target area. To which the bulk of the transformer may have suggested a contradiction, but as you have all just seen by the removal of just four small bolts, the weapon has immediately become much easier to transport covertly, without interfering with its effectiveness.” The voice paused for breath before it continued.

  “As you have also seen, 10X is effective. In fact, it is the best there is, and if any one of you feels that its effectiveness was enhanced due to our furry friends confined space? Don’t be misled. It was designed to descend to ground level in open spaces, where moving masses might stir it up to nose and throat level, even days after its original dispersal.”

  “Oh! There are two other minor points that I should bring to your attention. Due to the restrictions placed upon us by the size of the firing tube, we took the liberty of using the 10X undiluted. That has allowed us to fit five litres of the original Russian militaries weapons grade 10X into a one litre container. We’ve also taken away its smell, so those who inhale it at least won’t know what hit them, and that is a good thing I think. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  There was another brief pause, before the voice spoke directly to those who were expected to take part in the auction.

  “Now that we’ve concluded our demonstration, the time has come to get down to business. Gentlemen, we have been informed by our sales teams that all interested
parties have been furnished with our web address to which to make your bids. The auction will begin now. It will run for two hours. After the successful bidder’s money transfer is confirmed, he will be notified of the weapons pick up point. Let the bidding begin.”

  Ben blinked as the television’s screen suddenly became blank and the voices transmission terminated. He looked over to Allan who tapped on his keyboard.

  “Nothing Sir, it appears they prefer to deal directly and privately with their bidders. We’ll know nothing other than what they’re prepared to tell us.” Ben had known from the outset that things could get worse, but he’d never envisaged that the weapon itself might become smaller than a needle in his city sized haystack.

  Before, they’d at least had the conspicuousness of the transformer on their side. Now, the situation became almost hopeless, and it rested heavily on his heart that they might lose the fight.

  Two hours, he thought as a telephone’s demand for attention wrestled with the constant hum in his ears for the right to be heard. Its sound stopped as its call was finally answered, and then he heard as if from a distance.

  “Call for you, Sir.”

  Ben looked up and saw Allan with a telephone hand piece held out toward him in an outstretched hand. He envisaged it to be the Police Commissioner.

  “Who is it, Allan?”

  Allan face registered a look of serious uncertainty as he replied.

  “It’s John Kane, Sir.”

  CHAPTER 23