The Jagged Edge

by AJ Frazer

  Dominic leaned forward. “Why? To what end?”

  “First to get you to do what he needed of you. But also to remind you that you’re still alive. He said you were once a great journalist, an incredible war correspondent. One who put himself in harm’s way with little or no regard to his personal wellbeing. You were passionate about the truth and telling the stories of those who could not tell their own. He wanted to remind you that you were still that man. A man of adventure, of passion, of drive, and of virtue.”

  Dominic nodded, unsure how to accept everything she was telling him. It was like a compliment thinly veiled in horrific deceit.

  “You have to understand, Dominic, he chose you because he believed in you. He knew you could tell his story the way no one else could.”

  He looked down at the table and shook his head in disbelief. “So I was played—right from the start?”

  “Yes. But to Victor, the end always justified the means.”

  “And you? How were you involved in all this?”

  “Guilt by association. You have to believe me. I was not part of the planning or actioning of any of this. He protected me from that side of things for the most part. Actually, I think he used me as much as he used you. I was just another naïve pawn in his elaborate game.”

  Dominic watched her closely, looking for the slightest hint that she might be lying. He clocked nothing. Perhaps, because he desperately wanted her to be telling the truth. “So I guess we’ve all been played by Sagen. That goes for the entire world, doesn’t it? No one asked to have Biblical thrust on them like Big Brother.”

  “No they didn’t. But it doesn’t mean we don’t need it.” There was a hint of venom in her voice.

  “I suppose so. It’s all academic now, given that Biblical, need it or not, is our new guardian.”

  “The truth is I didn’t know his ultimate plan for Biblical. I just thought he was out to destroy all digital infrastructure around the world.”

  “I meant what I said before. I will do everything I can to get you out of here and ensure people know the role you played in trying to stop Biblical.”

  “Thank you.” She bowed her head.

  He stood to leave. “I’ll come back again soon.”

  “Please do. I feel like I’m losing my mind in here.”

  “We’ll get you out of here. Don’t lose hope.”

  She sniffed and nodded her head.

  Dominic left Belmarsh Prison confused and conflicted. Was he so easy to play? He’d always prided himself on being able to spot a con. Was he getting slow and dull with age? Perhaps. Did he still feel the same way toward Zhen? Yes, he did. He couldn’t blame her for what had happened. Would he help her? Absolutely—with both barrels blazing.

  He had left Sagen at the hands of those animals on the Canberra. He wouldn’t fail Zhen. He would fight MI6, the government, the CIA, whoever was in the firing line. And this time, he’d use Jagged Edge Media—the most powerful news organization on the planet—like a hammer on the fingers of anyone who got in his way.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Months had passed and winter refused to end. The short dreary days made heavy by fog and misty drizzle inspired mornings spent in the kitchen and afternoons in the local country pub. Six months after the Biblical event, Dominic’s life had not returned to normal. Not in the slightest. But that was a good thing.

  The acquisition of Veda Analytics had been announced and the draining of the swamp completed. That, combined with Jagged Edge’s perceived immunity to Biblical, meant that the share price had multiplied many times over. Jagged Edge Media was now well on its way to becoming the most valuable company in the world. Dominic had stepped down as chairman, but retained his significant shareholding. He couldn’t see the point in selling his shares for something as innocuous as extra zeros in a digitized bank account. And frankly, after just seven days of Biblical being unleashed, he didn’t see the value or sense of money in a bank.

  Only to himself would he admit to feeling a kind of financial survivor’s guilt. He’d profited greatly because he knew about Biblical before it was released. A profit that was made while many others experienced loss, suffering, and death. Knowing this gave him a resolve to invest everything in the only thing of value. Which was the people and companies that were doing the most to tackle the world’s environmental challenges.

  He had become the biggest personal investor in the burgeoning clean energy and eco-tech industries, especially in the science of nuclear fusion. Scientists, policymakers, and environmentalists were all united in the belief that the only realistic way to address climate change, meet Biblical’s commandments, and create the energy needed to power civilization, was to make fusion energy a reality. The companies he had invested in were close now. Within the next ten years, fully functioning fusion plants would be piloted. Fusion promised the world a cheap, unlimited, and carbon-free energy. He was passionate about the success of the businesses he invested in and offered his time and counsel gratis.

  When he wasn’t spending time with these businesses, he was writing his book on Victor Sagen. The research was fascinating and gave him the chance to speak to others who had known him before his wife and child had died in the tragic Californian wildfire. The metamorphosis of the farmer into eco-terrorist was breathtaking and, in part, inspired Dominic to do more for the environment with his wealth. If one farmer could make such an indelible mark on the world, he knew he had to do more himself.

  For now, though, sitting in the old dark pub on a Saturday afternoon, he watched the distinct crowds around the room. The rain that day had kept many of the out-of-towners away. The groups of locals scattered around the bar were an eclectic mix, but one that suited him.

  Dominic sat in a small booth across from the bar, with a window that looked out over the large garden. The glass in the windows was old and warped, which distorted the drizzly view outside. He could while away an afternoon here very comfortably, warmed by the flames from the huge stone fireplace that occasionally belched smoke into the bar, creating a relaxed, warm atmosphere. The Cat Empire’s “Steal the Light” was playing over the sound system, which seemed incongruous, but then again, the only music fully congruent with an English pub this old would come from a lute.

  As he sat there reading the screen on his tablet, he noticed the main door opening. He didn’t look up, just made a mental note that someone had arrived. He clocked a shape in his peripheral vision standing in the middle of the room and then moving toward him. Slowly, he raised his eyes and focused. Slim, feminine legs in tight blue jeans beneath a long, black puffer coat. Dark black hair flowing across shoulders. A flash of perfect white teeth.

  “Well, fancy seeing you here,” said Zhen.

  Dominic smiled. “Creature of habit.”

  She bent down, laid her hand on his cheek, and kissed him on the lips. “Oh, I love your predictability. Safe is sexy.”

  “That’s what all the ladies say.” He smiled and cast aside his tablet.

  Zhen sat in the booth on the seat opposite him. “When can we escape this dreariness?” she said. “Thailand or Bali would be spectacular right now.”

  Dominic reached across the table and took her hand. “You know when. As soon as I’m done with this book, you and I will be taking the plane directly to whatever beachside hideaway your heart desires.”

  He couldn’t blame her for wanting to get away from this country. The government had been all too ready to extradite her to the US for questioning by the CIA. Dominic had fought it to the bitter end. Ultimately, he’d been forced to make a call to the prime minister and threaten to destroy her credibility and legacy. It had been a desperate and risky move, but one that was needed in order to save Zhen from a living hell.

  “I get it. And don’t worry,” she said. “I’ve got plenty still to do on the Earth Ghost Accord before it can be ratified.”

  “At the rate you’re moving, I’m quite certain you’ll be done corralling the G20 countries before I’m do
ne editing my first draft.”

  “God, isn’t it incredible?” said Zhen. “I mean, it’s unprecedented the way every major industrial country is getting behind the accord so quickly.” She rested her chin on her hand smiling at him.

  “To think that a few months ago you were in a supermax prison being kept indefinitely for supposed terrorism and about to be renditioned extraordinarily to a CIA black site. Now you’re negotiating the most significant climate-change agreement ever conceived.”

  She nodded. “I pinch myself every day.”

  “But what’s truly amazing is that you’d fall for an old geezer like me too.”

  “Must have been the trauma of prison life.” She squeezed his hand harder.

  “I’m not ashamed to take advantage of you in a weakened emotional state.”

  “Totally taken advantage of!”

  He leaned forward over the table and slid his hand behind her head to feel the softness of her hair run through his fingers. He kissed her lips gently. When he sat back down, his gaze never fell from her eyes. “So, do you want to have a read of the manuscript?”

  “I’m not reading it. Ever!” she exclaimed with a smile.

  “Come on. I could really do with your help.”

  “Not a chance. Never.”

  “OK, fine.”

  “But you can have a read over the Earth Ghost Accord for me.”

  “Not a chance. Never. I’d be asleep within minutes. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love the sentiment behind it—but all that legalese and enviro jargon? Not my forte.”

  “Don’t blame you, it’s heavy going,” said Zhen, laughing. “I had a call from Hale earlier,” she said, more seriously now.

  “What did she want?”

  “Just clarifying some details about Saint George. She seemed to think the CIA had a lead on him in South America.”

  “Really? Do you think they’re close?”

  “I doubt it. But then you can’t stay a step ahead of every major intelligence agency in the world forever, can you?”

  “He’s managed so far.”

  “Let’s hope for his sake, and that of the accord, that they don’t find him.”

  “I imagine any climate agreement would be torn up in a flash if they thought Biblical could be dismantled.”

  “Sad really, isn’t it? The world needs to be held at gunpoint for people to change and do what’s right.”

  “Human nature has never been a rational beast.”

  Zhen nodded and reflected momentarily before returning her gaze to Dominic. “Well, this human wants her beast to finish his beer, so we can go home and get natural,” she said, with a wicked grin.

  “You are a demanding creature.”

  They slid out from the booth and made their way out. The door to the old pub shut behind them, leaving the locals none the wiser as to who they were or what they had been involved in just a few months before.

  As they walked to the car, Dominic felt his phone vibrate in his jacket pocket. Fumbling with it, he looked at the screen. No Caller ID. He considered letting it go to voicemail, but changed his mind. “This is Dominic,” he answered, still walking.

  “Mr. Elliston … My name is George. We need to meet.”

  Acknowledgments

  “Thanks” is a great word, but it falls short when expressing the immense gratitude I have for the people who helped release this story into the wild. But, in the absence of a better word, I’d like to thank Rebecca Millar, Lauren Finger, Wendy Janes and Edward Handyside for all the editorial support and direction. There was nothing jagged about the editorial edge you brought to sharpening up this story. Thanks to Ivano Lago for bringing to life the cover design and imagery. Tim Flattery for the support and encouragement; and for challenging me to not be lazy with the details. And of course, Kamal Sarma, for the years of inspiration and being an unlikely muse.

  Writing is a family sport in our household and Kate, Mia, Frankie; your love, support and never-ending enthusiasm all contributed to my writing in ways I can’t fully explain, but are no less vital.

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