PROMETHEAN SHADOWS
A novel by
PATRICK JEAN-JACQUES
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Text copyright © 2019 by Patrick Jean-Jacques
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Acknowledgements
Epigraph
Prologue
Chapter 1 Day of Days
Chapter 2 Things Long Gone
Chapter 3 Chance Encounters
Chapter 4 Digging Through Old S***
Chapter 5 Covert Operators
Chapter 6 Meet Maya Walker
Chapter 7 A Fool’s Errand
Chapter 8 Police Inquiry
Chapter 9 Out of Body
Chapter 10 What Will Found
Chapter 11 Graduation
Chapter 12 Vantage Points
Chapter 13 Action/Reaction
Chapter 14 Frenemy of My Enemy
Chapter 15 Compliance
Chapter 16 Chapelsfield
Chapter 17 Willpower
Chapter 18 Flashback
Chapter 19 Testing, Testing
Chapter 20 Father Figure
Chapter 21 Deviance
Chapter 22 Road Rage
Chapter 23 Best Laid Plans
Chapter 24 The Rising Son
Chapter 25 The Prodigal Son
Chapter 26 My Brother’s Keeper
Chapter 27 Penance
Epilogue
About the Author
DEDICATION
To my sons Ben and Brandon, your ideas are in there somewhere... 'some of them, promise!' I love you both (Yes, 50/50... so no arguments about it!).
To my family and friends who encouraged and
supported me... The work is done!
To anyone who's bought and read my book,
you’ve filled my heart with humility and gratitude.
Thank you all!
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Lao Tzu once said, “A journey of a thousand miles began with a single step.” If that’s so, then the journey of a novel begins with a single word or an opening sentence. Writing has been the most involved and exciting thing that I’ve ever undertaken. Well, it ranks right up there with running 26.2 miles along the streets of Dublin on a hot day (I think!).
My ‘first step’ began in 2003, as a Teaching Assistant at Westley Middle School, Bury St Edmunds. I worked alongside Katie Paffett, easily the best English teacher I’ve ever seen. As she taught literary magic through inspiring English lessons on creative writing, I realised I was also being schooled. This provided me with the initial spark for writing. Many thanks Katie!
So, if Katie was the spark, then author Bryony Allen (The Assembly Room, OTOLI) was definitely the trigger. Meeting and working alongside Bryony as a Teacher at Combs Middle School, Stowmarket in 2012 instigated the writing process. All the things I took from J.K. (jotting down concepts, characters and storylines, etc.) would’ve remained in that notepad. I’m extremely grateful to Bryony for the jumpstart and encouragement.
To the multi-published author, Julia Blake (The Book of Eve) you’re an amazing and generous person. It’s January 2017 and unbeknown to me, Julia had taken precious moments of her own time to edit my manuscript. She provided honest, constructive criticism that was needed at that time. And no, your feedback wasn’t brutal but ‘spot on’. I’m forever appreciative Julia!
To my family. To my sons, Ben and Brandon thanks for listening to my words and giving me your input. You guys have wisdom beyond your years. To my brothers, sister and cousin Liz thanks for your feedback – they all count. When you read the book, you’ll find that you’ve all made cameos in there. I just can’t say where or when… Spoilers!
To all my friends who supported and encouraged me, especially Shaks, Signe and Omar. My favourite words of wisdom will always be, “If you do what you’ve always done, you’ll have always got!” I get that! I’m eternally obliged for your friendship.
Finally, I want to give a special ‘shout out’ to a friend, no, a brother whom I haven’t seen in ages (My fault really!). Mr R.K., if you get to read this, thank you for teaching me to ‘see truth and clarity’ in everything. Thanks for teaching me how to find better versions of myself and not let chaos deter me. I miss our friendship and I’ll always have nothing but good thoughts for you and your family. I hope one day, we can catch-up and banter… I know I let you down but that’s on me. Remember, “To err is human, to forgive is divine!” but most of all, “Time is a teller of a great many truths.
Promethean (prəʹmi:☐rəm)
[Pruh-mee-thee-uhn]
- Adjective
Daring or inventive like Prometheus, a Titan in Greek myth who stole fire from the gods and gave it to humans; rebelling (or being a rebel) against a larger order; defying traditional moral categories.
- Noun
A person who acts in a Promethean manner
PROLOGUE
For Will Cox, it seemed like Groundhog Day because he’d experienced this same moment time and again. He twisted the key in the ignition and the engine of his car roared dramatically to life. In a short while, he was speeding towards the east coast of England.
Blurred images of people and buildings flashed by, as the motorway melted into dual roadways, then single carriageways and so on. Will took a deep inhalation of unpolluted air and embraced the peacefulness of the countryside. Upon reaching his destination, he looked upwards and smiled incongruously at the white spherical dome above the nuclear power plant.
Will had become strangely fascinated by the familiarity of his surroundings and the inescapable fate that awaited him. He walked into the café, stopped at the only thing selling what passed for coffee, a vending machine. Although, his drink was unsurprisingly insipid, he imagined that it actually tasted of real coffee and sat down deep in thought.
Suddenly, the sounds of stilettos clunking towards Will interrupted the quiet and caught his attention. Spellbound, his eyes worked their way from the ground upwards and found an attractive young woman with immaculate brunette hair standing before him.
The woman looked of a similar in age to Will and completely at ease in her surroundings. As their eyes met, she gave him a pleasant smile, which Will took as his cue to strike up conversation.
“Evening,” said Will timidly. The young woman replied with only a polite smile. At first, Will thought he’d misread the situation but boldly he persisted. “I’ve not seen you around before, have you worked here long?” Another courteous smile from the woman gave rise to an increased awkwardness. Will had felt as though he knew this woman but quickly dismissed the idea.
Suddenly without warning, the room filled with loud discordant sounds, as an explosion thundered through the room and shuddered through Will. Unusually, the young woman seemed unfazed and remained calmly in her seat. She sipped at her drink as though nothing was amiss.
When the walls erupted into a haze of debris and ash, Will promptly jumped to his feet. Amid the deafening chaos, he could barely hear his words as he vainly tried to convince the mysterious woman to leave. Gently, he tried to physically cajole her but upon tugging her wrist, found that she wouldn’t budge. “Come on, let’s go!” yelled Will.
“Go!
Go where?” she asked unemotionally. “This is your destiny.”
An icy chill ran down Will’s spine then self-preservation took over. Another deafening explosion rang out and the vibrations rippled through him. As he exited the café, the combination of flashing lights and the wailing alarms disorientated Will.
Will negotiated the debris and exploding machinery, as best he could. When he looked around, it dawned on him that the nuclear facility seemed abandoned. He had expected to see people screaming frantically amid the turmoil. Morbidly, he even expected to see the odd dead body or two.
Fearing another explosion, Will looked for the nearest fire exit. He traversed the debris with clumsy athleticism, evading one explosive console after the next. Occasionally, he glanced up and around in hope, looking for the exit, when suddenly he saw the mysterious young woman. She was on a gangway two levels up, beckoning him towards her.
“Wait!” pleaded Will. “Slow down!” By the time he reached the walkway, she was gone and there was no exit. Bemused, he instantly raced towards another exit on an adjacent walkway. When he got there, he was surprised to see the young woman already there with the doorway behind her.
Will looked down at himself disdainfully and saw that his clothes were greasy and tattered. He looked up at the woman and found it odd that she appeared extremely clean in her pristine white lab coat and highly polished stilettos. The unlikeliness of the situation made him smile curiously.
The woman smiled modestly at Will before she spoke, “This is your destiny William, this is our destiny,” her words echoed through the explosions.
He stood there briefly, stunned by the fact she knew his name. Yet a greater explosion was imminent and Will knew he needed to move. A more turbulent explosion rocked the entire building and suddenly the walkway lurched. Before Will could correct himself, he found himself falling backwards.
Desperately, he clung to the edge of the walkway but it was dangling almost perpendicular to its original position. He glanced down below and saw the large nuclear reactors underneath him, waiting to break his fall.
Without any words, the young woman crouched down and offered him her hand. Their eyes met, as Will extended his hands towards hers. Incredibly, she supported his full bodyweight but he ignored asking the obvious question.
Just as he felt secure, an unexpected sensation of falling overcame Will and he plummeted into the heart of the nuclear precipice. The last thing that he saw was a pair of unemotional hazel eyes staring at him indifferently, her voice piercing through him,
“This is your destiny William Cox! This is our destiny!” In milliseconds, there was a brilliant white flash before the intense flames devoured Will greedily and he was vaporised.
Will woke up abruptly, as his cries died out across the room. He sat up in his bed, breathing deeply and wiped the sweat from his face. The events in his dream felt more ominous and troubling to him. In the past, the events always played out the same: the long drive, entering the nuclear plant and the explosion. However, the unexpected new element of the woman bugged him.
Will closed his eyes and tried to recall as much as he could but there was one thing on his mind, ‘who was the woman?’ He grabbed his notebook and wrote down everything that he could remember, as had become the norm for him.
Later that morning, after a warm shower and some much-needed breakfast, Will grabbed his things and headed across the city to university. He thought the fresh air would do him some good, so he chose to cycle rather than drive. It wasn’t too long before he’d regret that decision.
With the images from his dreams still playing out in his mind, Will failed to see the black cab pulling out of the junction. Fortunately, the angry driver was highly experienced and brought his vehicle to a sudden stop. Mortified by his own stupidity, Will got back on his bicycle and continued on his journey with more awareness.
CHAPTER ONE
Day of Days
Present day, Cambridge 2008… Rowling College stood proudly on the Northeastern edge of the city, overlooking the River Cam. Fondly dubbed ‘the RC’, it was the latest addition to a revered institution. Although, unlike it’s more historically celebrated sister colleges, such as Corpus Christi and Emmanuel, the RC was in the infancy of its legend.
Growing-up as an orphan toughened Will. He wouldn’t admit as much but his friends saw more clearly than he did, as if he was carrying a billboard. Despite being successful in his private education, Will took time to adjust and find his true calling.
Since 1998, he’d spent several years carving out a career in health and fitness, which he enjoyed. A brief stint as a personal trainer nearly ended with him joining the army as a Fitness Training Instructor but he declined the invitation.
In the summer of 2004, a documentary on climate change and a fierce debate on Question Time turned Will’s head toward media and investigative journalism. The arguing politicians had highly irritated him as they evaded question after question.
Will wanted to chase big stories and peel away the layers of political deception, as he’d often put it. He dreamt about being at the forefront of writing cutting-edge headlines, which led to him pursuing a degree in Journalism. As he reached the steps, his best friend Adam greeted him with his customary joviality.
“Cox-y!” greeted Adam, with his arms wide apart. “You like crap, what’s up?”
“Not much,” replied Will offhandedly. Adam gave him the look, “Alright! I had another dream last night and then I nearly got t-boned by a cabbie on the way in.”
“What!” gasped Adam, “Can I do anything for you?”
“Well, as long as you’re feeling charitable, you can buy the coffees and I’ll tell you all,” smiled Will.
Adam Hinchcliffe and Will had been friends since they’d started at the RC together, some three years ago. Although, they followed different programmes, their paths crossed during common modules. Afterwards, they discovered that had shared interests, such as music and sport, and quickly developed a bond.
“What do you think?” asked Will.
“Well, at least there was a girl this time,” joked Adam. Will rubbed his weary eyes, “Seriously, I’m not really keen on the part where she let you down. What’s that all about?”
“I’m not sure,” shrugged Will. “At least I was back in the morning!”
“Your dreams seem to be getting more vivid, said Adam. “Do you have any ideas who this woman might be?” he asked.
“Not a Scooby!” said Will.
“Well, they do say that time is teller of many truths,” said Adam.
“They do, do they?” asked Will rhetorically. “That’s a bit profound for you,” he added, as he got up. “I’m off to lectures. Thanks for the coffee Ads!”
Adam looked at Will with concern, as he walked off, “You’re welcome!”
Will sat through morning lectures, which felt excruciatingly slower in pace than normal. Not even his beloved Media Studies could sever his thoughts about a beautiful young woman and nuclear explosions.
Journalism proved the exception. Professor Etienne MacDonald was wise as he was knowledgeable. He’d served many media and journalism faculties, both nationally and internationally before the RC made him an offer that he couldn’t refuse. A distinguished man of Caribbean descent, he was a sprightly person who looked younger than his age suggested. As soon as the Professor recognised Will’s potential, he mentored him and championed his progression.
With his vast experience, the Professor made Journalism Studies a hugely enjoyable module. He encouraged students to debate passionately over a wide range of subjects. They covered diverse topics such from ethics to politics, science and religion to sport and entertainment. The current debate was going to prove more important to Will than he could ever have imagined. It would shape his future in an affecting way and set him on course with his destiny.
The energy provision issue had been gathering momentum in the news. Household bills had commensurately increased with fuel prices. To make m
atters worse, the government was unyielding in adopting cheaper, alternative sources of energy that would have benefited consumers and the environment alike. The mood of the public was at an all-time low and people were becoming increasingly restless and agitated.
Will and his fellow students had argued with gusto throughout the entire debate. Some students heatedly stood for the use of alternative energy, some against. Some were heatedly pro-government, while others positioned themselves as anti-government. The debate was precisely the distraction Will needed. Afterwards, he walked the professor back to his office.
“Some very spirited arguing today, William,” observed Etienne MacDonald.
“Thanks Professor,” replied Will tentatively. “I think!”
“You seemed a bit more feral than usual,” said the Professor, studying his face. “Is everything okay?”
Will realised the Professor was looking for his reaction, so he told him the truth, “I didn’t sleep well,’ but not all of it.
Etienne MacDonald walked over to his desk, reached inside the drawer and pulled two whiskey glasses and a bottle of Jack Daniels. After pouring differing measures in each glass, he handed the small one to Will, “Nightcap!”
“A bit early for that, don’t you think Professor?” objected Will. “It’s barely lunchtime!”
“True but it’ll take the edge off whatever’s bugging you,” said the Professor knowingly. “Besides, you’re over twenty-one, right?” handing the glass over.
“Twenty-five,” Will said as he took the glass.
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