The Portal of the Beast

by J. A. Hailey

  “Caesar,” replied Grietzmann. “Took me into the desert.”

  “They got hold of somebody, then, a body?”

  “The head of security in here.”

  The King and the Sheikh instantly pulled out pistols, and began looking for someone to kill.

  “No urgency, now,” said Grietzmann, waving at them to stop pointing their guns. “The attack is over, and they had no goal of killing any of us anyway. I have smashed that device, which is how they got in here.

  “It is complex, and we have to ensure that we create new security systems and routines to prevent repeats. We’ll get into it from tomorrow. The danger, for now, is completely over.”

  39

  The attack on the palace would have left the King’s entire structure in a shambles of fear, suspicion and uncertainty for many weeks, but Grietzmann’s return, and his information about the means of ingress, and the virtual world’s extremely limited goals of the assault, began bringing a sense of calm back into the demonic realm of the King.

  After meeting him, on his return to the palace, subsequent to his session with Caesar in the desert, the King decided that ‘Ibrahim’ was best placed to unravel the secrets of the astonishing raid, and so handed cleanup and security matters into his command.

  “You know what was done, Ibrahim, and you will best be able to direct security to prevent it being done again.”

  Grietzmann accordingly took charge, and first had the corpses segregated by type, so that bodies of security forces, the ones that had been shot dead, could be separately examined. He had been an eyewitness, and expected surveillance cameras to have recorded the astonishing assault in great detail. Thus he sent for footage from those cameras, deputing a relatively bright looking young officer to scan through them and find what he described.

  On the corpse front, it was as he had partly seen and completely expected. Every corpse of a security man had just one bullet wound, and every single bullet wound was to the head and to the head alone.

  “What does that mean?” asked the King, stupidly.

  “Probably that these computer people are sharpshooters,” suggested the Sheikh, equally stupidly.

  “You are right, Sheikh,” said Grietzmann, condescendingly. “But have a look at this. It will help you to gain some perspective on who and what we are going to be up against, if it ever boils down to a full-fledged shooting war.”

  Then, with mouths hanging open, they watched as Grietzmann put on a movie show of the action, as captured on a number of security cameras, checked and brought to him by the young officer.

  “That’s Esmeralda,” said Gales. “The one who was in my room. We know the girl, Sabine, very well; we have met her often in Paris. I saw her on the wire, pointed her out to a soldier with a rifle, because it was long range, and we actually hit her. But she shot the shooter dead. At the time, she was sitting on the wire, and the distance may have been at the extreme limit of the kill range for a pistol. But it still was a head shot. The soldier shot dead was right next to us. We are eyewitnesses.”

  “Look at her now running on the wire, and shooting at the same time,” said Grietzmann.

  “Very good,” said the Sheikh, grudgingly. “A bit like the circus.”

  “Except for one thing, Sheikh Abdul,” said Grietzmann, in a superior tone. “You can see, by the angle of the gun, that she is shooting directly into the crowd on the ground. And as you know, we have had the corpses, lying piled up over there, inspected.”

  “Yes, it’s amazing,” said Sagan. “Every single bullet is inside the head of a security force person; not one bullet has hit any other part of the body - only the head.”

  “While running on a wire, and under fire. Amazing!” said Gales.

  “With proof that every single shot was a head shot, whichever of the three virtuals fired it, we simply have to assume that none of her bullets hit any other person, except the security person she was aiming at. Obviously,” said Grietzmann.

  “But how did they get hold of the colonel?” asked the King.

  “We’ll get to the bottom of it,” said Grietzmann. “These are the loopholes in our security systems, and we’d better move fast to block them. Especially now that we have confirmation that these people of screenside are no longer barred from killing humans, and that they are more than ready to attack us here.”

  Grietzmann made a signal to an attendant to come forward, which the cowering man did, shaking like a leaf in terror. “Go, find Colonel Abood Dawah, and tell him to run here to us.”

  It did not take long at all, and now the colonel, in his turn shaking like a leaf, was standing in front of them. Grietzmann knew what had happened, because Caesar had explicitly told him so. “Screenside has implanted a chip in this man’s head,” said he. “That’s how they were able to use him to get into the palace - with weapons. We need to find out how a chip made its way inside his head.

  He addressed Abood Dawah. “Colonel, you will not understand what we are talking about, but we need this question answered without any ambiguity. Do you sometimes, perhaps as part of your duties even, leave the area of this palace? Do you go somewhere far from here?”

  “Yes, yes, yes, sir,” stuttered the terrified man. “Every day we have a duty, the three of us, that takes us to the airport in Al Abyad.”

  “What is, and where is, Al Abyad?”

  “It is a very small town, sir, and we use it to operate daily flights, small aircraft only, to ferry fresh food items from the big cities in for his Highness, my lord, the King. You may have noticed a small propeller aircraft on the airstrip here, which is the plane we fly in to Al Abyad, to collect the food parcels. It is our system of security, to ensure that no aircraft outside our control comes near this palace, where our most precious lord and master is in residence.”

  “You said three. What do you mean by three of us?

  “We do it in rotation, sir. We are three colonels of the same seniority here, all subjects of our mighty and merciful lord, committed to give our lives for the protection of the great one, chosen by God.

  “Every day, one of us goes in the plane from here, to ensure that security is tightly maintained.”

  “That must be it, then. Speak truthfully. There is a loophole in what you are doing. What is it?”

  The King entered the discussion now, with a dire warning. “Your tongue and your life are both hanging in the balance, dog. You have done something to endanger me. Patrick, have a look at his head.”

  “I have a couple of cuts that I can feel with my fingers, but I don’t remember how I got them, master of the universe, the kindest lord, and giver of life,” stammered the quivering colonel.

  He lowered his head, so that Sagan could inspect it. Sagan felt it with his fingers. “Yes, it is as Abe has said. Two cuts, in the exact spots. He has a loop and a chip in his head.”

  “Dog. How is it that you have managed to get a chip into your head?” snarled the King.

  “Most merciful master, I do not understand what is in my head.”

  “It is inside, the chip,” said Grietzmann. “But as there is no signal in this area, we are quite safe from this man being used by them again. They had brought small devices that they carried for the purpose of amplification of satellite signals. The one on the person of this colonel was destroyed by me in the desert itself, before returning. It is the one on the table, which I brought back to show you.

  “We have to find out how it was done; else they will do it over and over again. Even right now, all they have to do is to fly a little model airplane with one of those satellite signal amplifiers to just outside the boundary of the palace. If they land it in the desert, they could have control over this man again, and shoot us dead where we are.”

  “Ibrahim, what do we do?” squawked the Sheikh. “We must create our eternal selves immediately. You think it through, and even if we have to introduce a thousand new security measures, and shoot dead thousands of these
bastards, like this colonel, we will do it. Once we have eternal, we will need not fear; the same as Patrick and Michael have no fear.”

  “There is very serious testing to do, Sheikh,” said the King, ominously. “We do not yet know how Patrick and Michael will be alive when they are dead in this world. Maybe it is a fraud, and perhaps even they do not know that they are functioning in the computer only because they are alive in this world. Maybe it is not life which is independent of real life at all.”

  “Yes, we must test everything,” said the Sheikh, nodding in agreement.

  “Let us start by going to this little town called Al Abyad,” said Grietzmann. “We will leave tomorrow morning, in one of the jets outside.”

  “It has to be one of mine,” said the King. “Those computer programs have stolen Sheikh Abdul’s private jet.”

  “It is now on its way to Japan,” said the Sheikh. “My people are tracking it through its flight plans and paths. We’ll be able to repossess it when it lands in Tokyo.”

  “In the meantime, put this colonel in a secure cell,” said Grietzmann. “So that they cannot show up and use him again. Give orders to instantly shoot him dead if he tries to get out. There should be many armed guards around him, alert at all times.

  “If he somehow, anyhow, gets out of detention, he will kill us all. It will mean that he is in the control of one of the computer people, and, as you have seen, they are unstoppable. We need to personally check on the arrangements.”

  A security in-charge to supervise the detention was created on the spot, and they took the colonel to a small dingy cell in the depths of the palace itself.

  “Four guards are to sit and watch him all night. He is to be shot dead through the bars, if he shows any signs of activity,” ordered the Sheikh. “I will wander around at night and unexpectedly look in here. If any guard is sleeping or non-alert, I will shoot him dead.

  “You, colonel. Go and sit on that plastic stool in the centre of the cell. You are to sit without moving from there, all night. Give him a couple of plastic bottles for urination. He cannot be taken out to any bathroom. Guard him with your lives.”

  It was a secure enough arrangement, and the rulers and Americans were able to sleep comfortably, after all.

  40

  In the morning, King, Sheikh, Sagan, Gales and Grietzmann drove to the airstrip and got into one of the two jets. The Sheikh took on piloting duties. All three colonels were ordered to get into the propeller aircraft, and to make their way immediately to Al Abyad.

  On seeing the King emerge from the jet, the little Al Abyad airport went into uproar, and every worker there came running as fast as he or she could, to fall at the King’s feet, placing heads onto his shoes, and even nudging his leg up to place the sole of his shoe on top of their heads. ‘Giver of life; lord of heaven’, and other such nonsense, came out of their mouths in a steady stream.

  Then, someone senior screamed, “Everybody, run into the terminal building, and clean it and switch on the air conditioning for the angel of God!”

  But the King stopped them doing that, by saying, “Here. We will sit here, outside, on this tarmac, in the shadow of that tree next to the building. Get seating.”

  “You heard that,” shouted the senior man. “The messenger of heaven has spoken. Do it. And, as usual, you three guards, keep your weapons ready, and ready your souls to protect the personage from heaven with your lives.”

  In a short while, seating and bits of necessary furniture had been dragged out of the terminal building, and workers had taken positions to serve the mighty group, organizing a supply chain, for cold drinks from the refrigerator in the King’s jet.

  “Sheikh Abdul,” said the King. “You conduct the questioning. Your techniques for getting to the root of every matter are very well known to be the best in the world.”

  Sheikh Abdul, the city Sheikh of the Arabian Peninsula, sometimes also referred to as the Pimp of Arabia, was known to be the most heartless man on the planet, specializing in the abuse of children as young as three years of age, first torturing and tormenting them foully, and then killing them in public camel races.

  His heart was so stony that even the most grievously injured children in those races, often with backs broken, would not be given treatment, or even pain relief. Most would be thrown into little trucks following behind the racing camels, their broken bodies piled one on top of the other, and often buried while still breathing.

  He nodded that he would take up the interrogation personally, and then everyone looked into the distance, to where a little aircraft could just about be seen, lining up with the runway.

  Ten minutes later, the propeller aircraft had landed and taxied to a point near enough for the three colonels in it to jump out and run to the little court that had been set up on the tarmac. Uttering loud exclamations of extravagant praise, the threesome fell at the King’s feet.

  “Give your answers to Sheikh Abdul,” said the King. “As is usual, be sure that instant death awaits you, if we consider your answers to be untruthful or to be evasive. If you are lucky, it will not be prolonged and painful death.”

  The investigation commenced.

  “You.” The Sheikh looked at one of the guards from the Al Abyad airport. “We know that one of these three colonels makes a trip to this place every day, and that it is a different colonel daily, by rotation. They come here, pick up food items brought from a big city by another aircraft that comes only to this airport, and then they leave. Or what?”

  “They do that, my Lord,” answered the guard, his body stooped and his eyes on the ground. “Except…”

  “Ah, ha, except. Except what?”

  “That camper van, on the side of the building, my lord. It looks like a derelict, because it is covered in dust and sand. But it is not derelict at all, and is fully functional inside. We have orders to not clean the outside, so that it blends in with the surroundings.”

  “A running van,” mused the Sheikh. “But it does not move. What is it for?”

  “My Lord, it belongs to these three colonels, and they meet their wives or girlfriends in it, women from outside, for some part of the time they spend here. A couple of hours, my Lord. The ladies come from somewhere else when the colonels fly in. Then, after spending a couple of hours together inside the van, the rendezvous is ended, and everyone leaves and goes their separate ways.”

  “It is surely not allowed,” said the Sheikh, sternly. “Why did you not inform your commanding officer?”

  “Send for him,” screamed the King, in agitation. “He will die now, and right here. Dereliction of duty, to his lord and master?”

  “My Lord, my King, the owner of my soul, we have no other commanding officer. These three colonels are our commanders, and this airport is part of their charge. All of it, Lord.”

  “You two.” The Sheikh pointed at the two colonels, excluding Abood Dawah. “Go to that doctor and show him your heads.”

  Sagan felt the heads of the two trembling colonels, and nodded ‘no’. “These two have not been tampered with. There is nothing inside their heads.”

  “For only a moment,” said the King, chuckling. “They are in need of something inside their heads. Come here, both of you.”

  The two ashen-faced colonels crawled on all fours to the King, who now had a bejeweled golden pistol in his hand.

  “Today I am feeling very kind,” said he, as the two colonels kissed his shoes. “I am going to let you have a last look at the sky, before I give you something in your heads to take to God. Tell Him your lord was generous. Look up.”

  The two men turned hopeless eyes towards the sky, and the King shot them dead at point-blank range. “Remove, remove. They have gone to God with something in their heads,” he joked. He waved at their corpses, like garbage that needed to be taken away, and a few workers ran forward and took the bodies to the other side of the camper van.

  “These people are going to be here with chips
in them. The woman can be equally dangerous.” said Grietzmann. “Mobile phone companies have to be instructed to immediately disconnect all signals from towers within a couple of hundred miles of here. Immediately.

  “We could be suddenly faced with extremely violent virtuals who have taken control of them. Handcuff the colonel behind his back, and be ready to shoot him if he seems to be making any moves that are dangerous to us.”

  The King gave the order, and in five minutes, all mobile signals had disappeared from phones in the hands of airport staff.

  41

  “You,” said the Sheikh, to the kneeling and handcuffed living colonel. “Where resides this woman who comes to meet you here? We want her to present herself to your lord, right now.”

  The King got involved, and in a couple of minutes they had name and address, and the King instructed someone to get hold of the Syrian second wife, and to transport her without delay to them at the airport.

  “It will take about one hour, and I think that time will be better spent, and more comfortably, if we take the trouble to get back into the jet,” suggested the Sheikh.

  The handcuffed Colonel Abood Dawah was left kneeling outside, while King, Sheikh and the three Americans went into the aircraft.

  In less than one hour, an Air Force jet landed, and the pretty, young, second wife of the colonel was brought to them. Things had become a bit more organized at the airport, and a couple of vehicles were now running around inside, so the military plane disgorged its frightened human cargo on the runway itself.

  There was absolutely no manner of kindness and mercy available, and the girl, as soon as she arrived, was told by the Sheikh, “Go to that man. He is a doctor, and he will examine your head.”

  She was terrified, and shook visibly while lowering her head, for Sagan to run his fingers through her hair.

  “Yes,” he said. “Exact spots, the incisions. She has a loop and a chip in her head.”