by Greg Krojac
“Yes thank you, sir.”
“Good. Well, now you’ve found your voice, how about telling me what’s so important?”
“A breakthrough, sir.”
“A breakthrough? What kind of breakthrough?”
“Sir. We’ve discovered an apparent correlation between Recarns and their birth circumstances.”
“Really? What correlation?”
“Well. It looks like being born on the calculated due date enhances the chance of you being born a Recarn. If you were already a Recarn in previous lives, that is.”
“Enhances to what extent?”
The professor knew that it would be foolhardy to suggest 100%, so he reduced the figure to 95%, which was still an inordinately high level of probability. He grimaced as he relayed the figure to the Businessman, who was now listening intently.
“95%? That’s pretty high, professor. You sure about that?”
“I’m sure, sir.”
“Thank you, professor. Thank you very much indeed. It was even worth interrupting my daiquiri for that news. In fact, you and Andrea should both take a seat and have a d with me.”
The professor didn’t actually like banana daiquiri but it wasn’t every day you got invited to have a drink with the Businessman, so he decided to grin and bear it. A chance like this would probably never arise again.
Cocktails drunk and a return to work beckoning, the Businessman asked Andrea to convene a special meeting of his advisory panel that evening at 18:00. There was a lot to talk about and there was a strategy to be decided in the light of the professor’s news.
The meeting that evening didn’t look like how one might imagine a high powered strategy meeting might appear. A group of twelve men and women (including the Businessman), dressed in casual wear. Very casual wear actually. It was still very warm, even though the sun was setting, and those present were dressed in what they had been dressed in during the day; a mixture of beach shorts, vests, bikinis and in one instance a naked chest. Some people may have considered this attire inappropriate for a discussion of such gravity as this would be, but this was how the Businessman liked to hold his meetings. It was important that his closest advisors should feel comfortable, and it was what was in their hearts and minds that was important, not what they were wearing. First names were the order of the day; all these men and women had been hand-picked by the Businessman and the confidence that he had in their confidentiality and trustworthiness was not misplaced. They would die rather than betray the cause of One Life, and this included fierce loyalty to the Businessman. Maurice probably didn’t realise what a small and elite group he was now a member of, having been given permission to use the Businessman’s first name back in September.
Chilled coconuts were sliced open and placed on the large patio table, drinking straws standing to attention whilst awaiting the arrival of the advisors. The Businessman leaned back in his executive beach-chair as the group arrived, standing up to greet his friends and colleagues.
“Wendy, Philip. Did you have a good afternoon?”
Wendy hugged the Businessman.
“Yes thank you, Douglas. We’re looking forward to hearing your news. Andrea didn’t tell us anything – of course – but we could sense a hint of excitement in her voice when she called us.”
“Yes. It’s very good news. Possibly the very best news we could ever have hoped for. Excuse me, the others have arrived. I’d best greet them.”
Wendy and her husband Philip sat down at the table as the other nine advisors arrived, all dressed as if they were going to a beach party. All except one, that is. The Businessman’s elderly father, Richard, was old school and insisted on wearing tropical whites; a white shirt, white flannel trousers and a white panama hat. He would have liked to wear a tie but conceded that that may be asking too much of himself as a ninety-four year old man in this tropical heat. He may have been approaching his century in years but his mind was as sharp as it had ever been, and he was surprisingly spritely too. He didn’t envy these youngsters having to contend with hot sunny days. His tropical whites were thermostatically controlled and, whatever the temperature was outside, he always felt comfortable.
The Businessman outlined what the professor had told him; that the research team believed that they had discovered a way to prevent Recarns from becoming Recarns. They would still be born, they would live normal lives, but without the baggage of previous life memories.
“So our immediate problem – if it is correct to call it a problem – is what we do with this information and, of course, how we go about putting into practice whatever we decide. I believe there are two things we must do. Firstly, we have to resolve the problem of Marcus Gallagher. Now, this should, of course, be a military resolution. He’s not exactly going to accept an invitation to hand himself in. And he has to be captured alive. There’s no point in going all gung-ho and killing him where he is – all that’ll do is set his soul free to take over another body and we won’t know who he’ll be or where he’ll be, for that matter. We need to capture him and contain him.”
Richard interjected.
“But isn’t that what this Marcus fellow did with the most recent Pindar, Douglas?”
“Yes, dad. That’s exactly what Marcus did. But now that we have this information, I have a much better idea.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
13:00 Monday 16 December 2069
Ethan sat on his black leather throne, surrounded by his followers and surveyed the scene in front of him. This was the day that they had all been waiting for since the beginning of November when the first batch of children had been transformed into adult clones of themselves. Whereas on that day he had been the only adult in a sea of children, he was now surrounded by nearly two hundred fully grown men and women, all aged around twenty-five years old. The whole process of transferring the children’s souls to their own adult clones had almost gone without a hitch. They had lost only one child, Philip Armstrong, the boy who had provided the stem cells for the body that Ethan now occupied. It had been a freak accident, a failure in the structural integrity of the airlock tube that connected the donating and receiving chambers. At least, that’s how it had been explained. Once the final transference had taken place, Ethan could set about regaining his rightful position as Pindar of the Illuminati. He had held this post for almost three hundred years, except for a few breaks, during which periods he died and reincarnated, necessitating the installation of a temporary Pindar. He had never had any problems before, the acting Pindar always standing aside when Ethan returned, but he had made an almost fatal error when choosing Thomas McCann to take over back in January 2051.
Now he was about to complete his army of loyal followers, with the transfer of the final ten children’s souls to their adult clones. He knew he could trust these people. It was they who had released him from the purgatory in which Marcus had imprisoned him. And they were only children then. Now they were adults they would be even more formidable and useful in bringing down Marcus’s regime.
Ethan’s plan was to do to Marcus what Marcus had done to him. He intended to attack the Illuminati headquarters, capture Marcus, and use the same equipment to extract his soul and to lock it, trapped for ever, in a similar vault to that in which he himself had been incarcerated five months earlier. However, planning to do something and executing that plan successfully were two entirely different things. It would take much more than his little army of clones to overpower Marcus. He would have to discover how strong his support was within the organisation. He was certain that there were still many members of the Illuminati who would show their support and loyalty when asked to do so.
He had been so naïve when he had entered the Illuminati complex as Érica, expecting Thomas to hand over power peacefully, as he had done with the previous acting Pindars. He discovered, too late, that he had marched into the lion’s den and was caught off guard. He had been complacent, thinking that, just because there had been no problems on previous handovers, Th
omas would provide no threat either. He hated that he had been so complacent and resolved not to make such a mistake again.
A cheer went up in the barn. The first of the final batch of clones had just climbed out of her receiving chamber and stood still as her nakedness was hurriedly covered with a dressing gown. She smiled at Ethan. The nine other clones hauled themselves out of their chambers and moved alongside the woman who was still smiling at Ethan. He found her attention a little overwhelming but decided that perhaps she was just pleased with her new body. There couldn’t be any other reason why she was smiling at him in such a way. Yes, she was probably pleased with her appearance. Ethan certainly was. She could thank him more intimately later.
He moved to a point between the rows of transference equipment and rested his hand on the lid of one of the chambers.
“Ladies and Gentlemen. Today is a historic day, the first of many historic days. For today is the day that we commence our return to The Order. You were mistreated by the usurper, Thomas and his new host, Marcus, but you will be mistreated no more. I appreciate your loyalty to me. Indeed, without you – all of you – I would not now be here, standing before you as we prepare to regain control of the Order. However, we must be patient. Alone, we are too few. We must evaluate our existing support within the Order and use it to our best advantage. Our time will come, sooner rather than later. And I can promise you, my friends, that I have a very good memory and will never forget what you have done for me. I shall repay your loyalty and perseverance tenfold.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
20:04 Tuesday 17 December 2069
Marcus was a man of habit, albeit a very well-protected man of habit. Every Tuesday night he would go to the same discreet Italian restaurant, for his evening meal. The restaurant was discreet but Marcus was not. He felt no need to be; his army of Defenders was feared throughout the country. The world had seen what they had done in October when they had massacred swathes of young children. The world was still in shock, waiting for a military response from One Life that, as yet, had not occurred. They had expected an almost immediate response, the crime against humanity being so heinous, and were starting to become disillusioned, wondering how this monster that now seemed to control their lives could be stopped.
But a continual cycle of attack, respond, attack, respond merely creates a vicious circle where nobody wins and nothing is resolved. Of course, diplomacy should be the preferred option but sometimes direct action of a different type is required. Even killing Marcus wouldn’t solve the problem. He would simply return a couple of decades later and attempt to regain control of the Order again. Killing him and allowing his soul to be reborn in the same way as it had always been would simply be putting a Band-Aid on a gaping wound and expecting it to heal.
The Businessman had a much more permanent solution in mind. To this end, a small unit of elite rebels was sent to capture the Pindar and bring him back to One Life HQ. Everybody understood that this was potentially a suicide mission as Marcus was not so foolish as to not have a heavily armed bodyguard with him, made up of the feared Defenders, but they were happy to be part of the plan to bring him down.
***
At 8 pm on Tuesday 17th December, a phalanx of sixteen One Life rebels approached the restaurant, moving slowly so as not to break the formation. The ten Defender guards watching a one hundred metre radius had no idea that they were even there, as each member of the perimeter of the formation had a portable VACS camouflage device clipped to their utility belt, creating a cloak of invisibility that engulfed the whole group.
The rebels kept their shape until they reached the double-door of the restaurant when they had no choice but to break formation, since there was no way that they could pass through the door otherwise. Marcus was just about to bite into a slice of garlic bread when he was suddenly faced with a group of rebels, all wearing Pulse Resistant body armour. He wasn’t unduly worried. Three pulse pistols were aimed at him, whilst thirteen others were pointed at his Defender bodyguards, who in turn had their pulse rifles trained on the intruders. Neither side had any interest in starting a bloodbath; the rebels didn’t want to risk Marcus escaping or even being killed (they knew the probable consequences of the latter) and the Defenders didn’t want to start something that could result in the death of their leader. Marcus wiped a few crumbs away from his mouth with an embroidered napkin.
“I would say that we have a rather delightful Mexican stand-off, wouldn’t you Caitlin?”
“I’m Philippa, not Caitlin.”
“Ah, yes. Sorry to confuse you with my other whore. You look just like her, being a clone. Well, I suppose you would really, wouldn’t you?”
Caitlin moved to the front of the group, to stand alongside Philippa.
“Marcus. You’re coming with us.”
“Oh look. Twins. Aren’t they a pretty pair? Now that would make an enchanting threesome, don’t you think? I’d like to be the meat in a Philippa and Caitlin sandwich.”
Marcus didn’t seem to understand the danger that he was in, or perhaps he was just supremely confident that his bodyguards could deal with the situation.
Caitlin strode over to where Marcus was sitting. He took a sip from the glass of Sauvignon Blanc that he had chosen to accompany his Lemon Ricotta Risotto with asparagus, peas, and Prosciutto. He refilled the glass and offered it to Caitlin
“Would you like some wine, Caitlin? See, I got it right that time. It’s rather delicious and goes really well with this particular meal.”
The twelve Defenders and rebels still watched each other, weapons at the ready but understanding the consequences of a fire-fight at such close quarters. Michelle watched Caitlin and Philippa, hoping that neither of them – especially Caitlin – would lose their cool and jeopardise the outcome of this stand-off. Caitlin took the glass from Marcus and slowly and deliberately poured it over his head.
“Now, that wasn’t very friendly was it, Caitlin? And a waste of a good wine too.”
“I’m not here to be friendly, you bastard. I’m here to see you never hurt anyone again.”
“And how, pray, do you intend to do that? You do understand that if you kill me, I’ll simply be reincarnated, memories intact. I’ll haunt your thoughts whilst you’re waiting for my return. You’ll never be at peace with yourself. You’ll never be able to relax. And then one day. Behold! They’re I’ll be. A wonderful combination of your worst memories and your worst nightmare.”
Caitlin raised her pistol and pointed it straight at Marcus’s forehead. Michelle looked at Philippa, worried at what her little sister might do. Marcus was losing some of his confidence and bluster. He had no plans to shuffle off this particular mortal coil just yet. He still had plans and things to do.
“Okay. You had your fun young lady. Guards. Cut them down. Caitlin first, of course.”
Nobody made a move. Marcus furrowed his brow. These Defenders were hand-picked. They were the elite of the elite. They had sworn an oath to the Illuminati, an oath to protect the Pindar and The Order, even to the point of sacrificing their own lives. Marcus repeated his order.
“Perhaps I didn’t make myself clear. Shall I spell it out for you? Kill Caitlin, that’s K-I-L-L Caitlin and then the rest of these rebels.”
The leader of Marcus’s unit of Defender bodyguards removed his gas mask and helmet. He didn’t look so threatening now, with his face revealed.
“Caitlin, my name is Major Daniel Driver. Danny. I know you want to kill this man now. I don’t know why but that’s none of my business. I don’t need to know why. We’ve all got a good reason to want this man dead. Some are better reasons than others. I’m sure. But you do understand that he’s a Recarn don’t you? He’ll just come back and try to pick up where he left off.”
“Do you think I’m going to let you take him back with you? You can negotiate for his life all you want, but he’s not leaving here with you.”
“We have no intention of taking him anywhere, Caitlin.”
&nbs
p; He looked over at the rest of his unit and they too removed their helmets and gas masks, lowering their weapons and resetting them to the ‘off’ position. Michelle lowered her pulse pistol and nodded to her colleagues to do the same. Marcus, Caitlin’s gun still pointing squarely at the middle of his forehead, felt nervous for the first time in this life.
“Would somebody please tell me what the hell is going on? Why am I not on my way back to HQ having been rescued by my trusty bodyguards?”
Danny stood alongside Caitlin and stared straight into Marcus’s eyes.
“Did you really think that you could get away with massacring thousands of young children? Do you not understand that many of us have families? We felt – we still feel –the grief of those mothers, fathers, brothers and sisters. We’re not machines. You may stick us in these uniforms and make us look menacing, like heavily armed robots, but inside these uniforms, inside these bodies, we’re human. We’re human. We have hearts. We have feelings. Sure there are Defenders who you were able to buy. A lot of them. But there are a lot of us too. Family men, who can imagine how it would feel to lose our children. Hell, you did kill some of our children. Well, fuck you, Mr All-fucking-mighty Pindar. Fuck you. One Life can have you, with our blessing.”
Marcus began clutching at straws, ignoring the truth of the situation he now found himself in.
“Beautiful speech, Major. A truly stirring speech. But aren’t you forgetting about the perimeter guards? You’ll never get past them alive.”
A voice called out from the back of the room.
“I think he means us.”
A group of ten more Defenders had slipped in unnoticed. Each had their guns lowered and heads uncovered. The Defender who had spoken continued.
“I’m Corporal Ricardo Dante. You don’t have to worry about us. We’re with my mate Danny.”
For the first time, at least in this life, Marcus was feeling a sensation that was foreign to him. For the first time, he didn’t feel in control of the situation he was in. He was top dog. He was the big cheese. Except that now, surrounded by thirty-eight hostile people, twenty-two of whom he would have previously trusted with his life, he was anything but. He felt vulnerable and he didn’t like the feeling. He looked at Caitlin who was still pointing her gun at him, the nozzle aiming directly between his eyes.