And when Zak spoke softly to her, she realized that it was a subtly different experience from the usual sensation of hearing, as though his voice was being generated inside her head: OK, Shireen, listen to me because this is very important: there isn’t any way the outside world can make contact with the Mag-8 Mind once Lockdown has been initiated, so it’ll be up to the Mind to find you, not the other way round.
I’m ready. Shireen could hear her own voice ‘in her head’ but wasn’t sure if her lips had moved in the lab. However, her thought had clearly been transmitted to Zak because he immediately responded. Good. Everything seems in order from this end. Now we just wait.
42
Tuesday, 17 September – 11:00, Mag-8, Amman
Sarah couldn’t just give up now. She might be locked in with this monster, but she was still recording his confession. She needed to know what he had planned. I have to play for time. Keep him talking. Let him think he’s won.
‘So, tell me, Senator. Make me understand. What would motivate you to want to do this?’
‘There’s that amateur psychologist again,’ laughed Hogan. He seemed to relax a little and stepped back from her, as though he felt he had all the time in the world and was having second thoughts about terminating their conversation just yet. ‘Maybe I need to lie down on a couch if we’re going to do this properly. OK then, Dr Maitlin, it’s only a few hours till the end of the world, so why not? In any case, I don’t plan for you personally to even live that long. Let’s see if you have the intellectual capacity to understand.’
Jesus, he’s going to confess his entire warped ideology to me. Then he’s going to kill me. Her back was pressed hard against the electron beam pipe. The metal felt cold. She stole a quick glance behind her to see if there was anything she could use as a weapon, hoping he hadn’t noticed. What if he does? He must know I’m not going down without a fight. There was nothing. But she needed to keep him talking, get him to reveal something.
‘Any evolutionary psychologist will tell you that your feelings of altruism – your empathy and compassion towards fellow human beings – is an evolved trait. You’re not nice because you choose to be – it was in our ancestors’ interests, going back a hundred thousand years, to show kindness, to cooperate. Or maybe you try to be good because some holy book says you had better be, otherwise you’ll incur the displeasure of some Divine Creator. But on an individual basis, what use do we have for altruism other than to make us feel better about ourselves? What if you could turn off that switch? You would be liberated. Free from the desire – the need – to make others happy.’
‘And you feel liberated, do you, Hogan? Is that it? But that’s not enough for you, is it? Being ambivalent towards fellow humans is one thing, but your empty, psychopathic antipathy … I mean, that takes a special kind of insanity.’
Hogan didn’t look remotely unsettled.
‘The truth is I can’t really remember when my feelings towards my fellow man … and, ah, woman … sorry … actually began. Did you know I read the work of Immanuel Kant as a student? Back then I thought I understood who I was – what I was – no different from a million other young men. A misanthrope. Only the more I read, the more I came to realize that men like Kant, or writers like Gustave Flaubert, or even geniuses like Michelangelo and Newton, all supposedly famous misanthropes, were just loners who didn’t like being around other people – nothing more than a social phobia that led them to dislike everyone around them. They were weak, pathetic sociopaths, Sarah, and I grew to despise them even more than the rest of humanity.’ He smiled that smile again. The dead smile that made her want to retch.
‘You know, I really did try to rationalize my feelings, to understand my nihilism. And I think I did, in the end.’ He paused, and looked away, as though trying to invoke human emotions. But he quickly snapped his attention back to Sarah and the cold sharp focus was back in his eyes.
‘You do know we’ve brought this all on ourselves, don’t you?’ His voice was suddenly louder. ‘How long have we been destroying our planet? And how long did you think it would be before the planet fought back? We changed its climate, we plundered its resources, we poisoned the land, the oceans and the atmosphere. Finally, Mother Earth has had enough. Is that so difficult to comprehend?’ Flecks of spittle had appeared around the corners of his mouth.
My God, he really is totally, utterly mad. She tried to keep her face expressionless. In this new spirit of openness, would he finally reveal what she needed?
‘It wasn’t so difficult to take on the persona of Maksoob, either. People find the notion of a respected US senator leading such a double life so unlikely as to be laughable. And Maksoob is such a comic-book villain, isn’t he? In my late twenties—’ He paused, tilting his head to one side. ‘By the way, you don’t mind me telling you all this, do you? I mean, I hope you didn’t have anywhere else you needed to be? Any other “pressing” engagements? Only, it’s so lovely to be able to chat so candidly. And so close to the end of days. Anyway, as I was saying, in my late twenties, I was spending a lot of time in the Arabian Gulf advising governments on a proposed new clean energy programme. One day, I was driven out to the Eastern Desert, where I met with disaffected Bedouin tribesmen. Many of them had grown up in the wealthiest countries in the world, with every conceivable luxury at their disposal. But with the oil crash of ’28 coinciding with the new breakthroughs in solar energy tech it became clear that the world had lost its appetite for fossil fuels. Almost overnight, once-rich Gulf nations were plunged into deep poverty. It’s not surprising they became bitter and angry.
‘Easy pickings. I began recruiting on the dark web, first from the Middle East and gradually from every corner of the globe. But I was given an Arabic name, Maksoob, which I believe means “Recruited One”. Bless them for thinking they had recruited me to their cause. I gave them the cause.’
He sighed. ‘And there you have it, Sarah, now you know me. But I still don’t suppose you can see why this is all necessary, can you?’
There was a madness in his eyes now that she hadn’t seen before. As though he’d spent his life suppressing it in order to appear normal, to appear human. And now he could afford to let the mask slip, to reveal the monster beneath.
‘Why what is necessary, Hogan?’
‘Oh, I’m quite enjoying this. You want me to tell you what I have planned. Well, let’s just say that it is deliciously simple – a basic oversight that everyone will be kicking themselves for missing, for the entire remainder of their lives, which I believe will be around ten minutes after Ignition.’
The table next to him was littered with an array of electronic detritus – discarded tools, components and dust-covered display pads. Hogan looked down and selected an ugly-looking spanner, testing its heft by moving it from one hand to the other and back again.
Shit. Was this it? Sarah felt a chill ripple through her. Hogan was bigger and physically stronger, and he was about to bludgeon her to death as if this was a nightmarish game of Cluedo. A whimper of fear escaped her lips and he grinned. It seemed to please him. He stepped towards her. Incredibly, she heard him humming to himself.
His sheer arrogance and over-confidence meant that he was still looking down at the spanner when she struck. With a war cry of rage, she leapt at him, channelling all her fear, her rage into her right arm. She punched forward, locking it just before impact. ‘FUCK YOU, HOGAN,’ she screamed as the palm of her hand connected hard with his nose. She heard the crunch of breaking cartilage and the look of surprise on his face became a rictus of pain as his nose exploded in a fountain of blood. He was thrown backwards, tripping over thick cables, arms scrabbling to find a handhold as his head thudded against the edge of a steel casing protruding from the side of the booster ring.
He was unconscious before he hit the ground.
Adrenalin pumping, Sarah turned and ran back towards the winding corridor that led to the exit. She had no idea how she would get out. Hogan had said he’d locked the do
or remotely from within so presumably it could be opened from the inside. Reaching the steel door, she slammed her hand against the large EXIT button on the wall. Nothing happened.
Letting out a feral scream of frustration and rage that echoed around her, Sarah began hammering on the door. She had the proof that they so desperately needed that the Purifiers were planning something, but couldn’t do anything with it. What were Marc and Shireen doing? Less than two hours till Lockdown and she had no connection with the outside world.
Pushing back a growing panic, Sarah wondered whether there was another way out, then remembered the e-pad that Hogan had been looking at when he’d stepped out of the shadows. Of course, that had to be how he had locked the door remotely.
She retraced her steps to the accelerator hall.
A streak of blood glittered wetly on the floor, but Hogan was nowhere to be seen. And neither was the e-pad he’d left on the table.
43
Tuesday, 17 September – 11:30, Mag-8, Amman
Marc sprinted back to the main Mag-8 building. No time to formulate a plan. If Aguda had locked Sarah inside the electron booster hall then surely that was evidence not only of his guilt, but that he was planning something and wanted her out of the way. But would he be stupid enough to think that she was working alone? This wasn’t a scenario they had contemplated.
All he knew was that he had no choice now but to confront the geologist.
Shireen had said that Gabriel Aguda was somewhere in the main building, but he wasn’t among the rest of the dignitaries in the main viewing gallery. Trying to appear calm and not draw attention to himself, Marc ran through his options. He didn’t have many. Well, this was it, no more cloak and dagger heroics. He needed to alert security.
Marc couldn’t claim to know General Hussain Hassan, a retired army general, well but he knew enough to suggest that Hassan was the sort of man used to dishing out orders, not taking them. And Marc had no reason not to trust him.
He took the stairs down to the ground floor three at a time. Outside the general’s office, he flashed his ID at the two guards who moved to block him. Too late: the door was open and the general waved him in.
The head of security at Mag-8 sat behind a large mahogany desk and in front of an even larger framed photograph of the King of Jordan. There were several others present, including a couple of UN officials Marc recognized, all engaged in an animated conversation.
Marc didn’t have time for pleasantries and launched straight in.
‘General, apologies for interrupting things but what I am about to tell you is critical, and you must believe me because we don’t have much time.’
The general stared at him, his face unreadable.
‘I have reason to believe that Dr Aguda is a dangerous man,’ Marc continued, ‘and we need to speak with him urgently.’
‘Why do you say that, Professor?’ The general’s voice betrayed no emotion and, Marc thought, he didn’t look particularly surprised. Did he already know about Aguda? If so, why wasn’t Ignition being aborted?
Hassan didn’t wait for a response from Marc. Instead he continued, ‘You’re late to the party, Professor Bruckner. We have this in hand.’
Marc was stunned. What the fuck was going on?
‘Listen to me, goddammit, the Project itself is in jeopardy.’ He slammed his fist on the desk and leaned towards the general. ‘Gabriel Aguda is not who you think he is. He’s plotting something, and we need to find him pretty damn quickly.’
‘And I just told you,’ Hassan said, his voice measured, ‘that we have it under control.’
Kicking back his chair, the general stood and walked round from behind his desk. He nodded at the others in the room. ‘Excuse me, everyone. Come with me, Professor.’
Baffled, Marc was led out of the office and down the corridor to the far end of the building. A pair of Jordanian soldiers stood guard outside what Marc assumed must have been one of the many administrative offices. He could hear murmured conversation coming from within.
The soldiers jumped to attention, one opening the door.
Whatever it was that Marc expected to see, it wasn’t this. A group of men and women parted to let the general and Marc through. That’s when Marc saw Gabriel Aguda. In the far corner of the room, he sat at a terminal table, his head thrown forward and resting in a pool of slowly congealing blood. His glassy stare seemed to be directed straight at Marc. In his hand, hanging limply to one side, was a gun. He looked quite dead.
As he approached, Marc could see a neat hole above Aguda’s ear where the bullet must have entered.
He felt bile rise up in his gorge. The general was speaking, and he forced himself to look away, to focus.
‘We found out about Dr Aguda’s involvement in a plot here at Mag-8 just under an hour ago. Within minutes, we found him here. We were warned that he would try something. The man was clearly unhinged and desperate to sabotage the Project.’
‘But … what happened here?’ muttered Marc, gesturing in the direction of the geologist’s corpse. ‘This looks like a suicide.’
‘It would indeed appear so. Especially since he has conveniently left us a message.’ The general raised a bushy eyebrow.
Was this Aguda’s parting shot? Set whatever plan he had in motion, then, because he knew his cover had been blown, take his own life to keep it secret?
‘So why have you not stopped Ignition?’ Marc shouted.
‘As I said, Professor, we have it in hand. Aguda was planning to set off an explosive device timed for the moment of Ignition. It would have destroyed Mag-8 just as the dark-matter beam arrived from CERN.’
Marc stared at the general. ‘And how do you know all this?’
‘Because, Professor Bruckner, we were tipped off, by the same source who alerted us to Aguda. The information was indeed reliable. We found the device hidden in the basement, just where we were told it would be, and defused it.’
Marc’s mind was reeling. There was something not quite right here.
‘But … How? … I thought security around all the sites was meant to be so tight you couldn’t smuggle in a cheese sandwich without it raising the threat level. So, who … who told you all this?’
‘If you must know, it came from the very top. Senator Hogan himself had been alerted and he informed me. Now if you’ll excuse me, Professor, I need to find the Senator, who also seems to have gone missing.’
The general turned to leave the conference room, then slowed down and turned back to Marc.
‘Actually, Professor Bruckner, I meant to ask you, how did you come by this information? Have you spoken to the Senator today?’
‘What?’ Marc tried to make sense of all this. Somehow Hogan must have received his own intelligence at the same time as Shireen. Was that coincidence? He doubted it.
‘I’ll explain in a few minutes. But if you’re sure the danger is over, I need a few of your men to come with me to help open the locked door of the booster hall. Aguda has locked Dr Maitlin in there.’
The general stared at Marc for a few seconds, then signalled to the two armed guards to go with him.
As Marc hurried across the compound flanked by the two silent soldiers, he tried to piece things together. Something was bugging him. The timing was all wrong. He checked the time as he ran. It had been forty-five minutes since he’d lost contact with Sarah. She’d been locked inside just after that. But if Hassan was right and Aguda had shot himself an hour ago, then he couldn’t have been the one who had locked Sarah in.
It took just a few minutes for the soldiers to deactivate the electronic locking device hidden behind a wall panel and pull the large steel door open manually. As soon as there was enough of a gap, Marc pushed past them before they could stop him. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light inside he saw Sarah running towards him, shielding her eyes from the harsh glare of sunlight as she did so. He threw his arms around her. She was shaking.
‘Marc, thank God,’ she sobbed, but then suddenl
y pushed herself away from him. ‘We don’t have much time left.’
‘It’s OK, Sarah. They’ve found a device. And Aguda’s dead. Shot himself.’
‘Aguda’s dead? Yes, that figures. Marc, it’s not Aguda. It never was. It’s Hogan. He’s Maksoob. And he’s completely crazy.’ Then she added, ‘And it’s not over. Not by a long shot.’
Everything suddenly dropped into place. Of course it was Hogan. How could he have been so slow? This whole charade was set up by Hogan. Did he have Aguda killed? Did he do it himself?
‘Marc, Hogan’s in there somewhere.’ Sarah turned and pointed back into the darkness. ‘He was going to—’ Her voice cracked and she paused, composing herself. ‘He’s hurt. I hit him and he fell but now I can’t find him. We need to get to the control room and abort Ignition, now!’
Seeing the look of desperation in her face, he didn’t ask any more questions.
‘OK, we need to go. Tell me what you know on the way.’
But as he turned to go, he came face to face with the two soldiers, weapons aimed straight at him and Sarah.
‘We are sorry, Professor,’ said one. He looked almost apologetic. They were the first words he’d spoken. ‘But General Hassan has ordered us to keep you and Dr Maitlin here until Lockdown.’
‘What the fuck?’ Sarah moved towards the door. ‘This is insane. Did you not just hear us? Senator Hogan is the one you should be worried about, and he’s somewhere in there and planning something that will kill you and everyone you love.’
The other, older soldier stepped forward and shoved Sarah back. Marc tensed, and grabbed Sarah’s hand before she could retaliate. The younger man continued: ‘General Hassan said you would accuse the American, Hogan. Now please, step back from this entrance. We have orders to shoot if you do not comply.’
As if to emphasize his point, he moved his gun from Sarah to Marc. For a brief second, Marc contemplated rushing them, but this wasn’t a fight he could win.
Sunfall Page 33