The Nephilim Protocol

by Stuart Killbourn

  “When I think of my father, I remember that he gave me my name. I am Omar son of James. Omar means that I will live a long time and I believe I have my father to thank for that.”

  Sarah had listened to Omar with rapture and Julia, herself, was thoroughly drawn into the story. Time! Omar had spoken for ten or twenty minutes – much longer than the five minute visit she had conceded to Sarah. It was time to leave. She nudged Sarah. “It's time to go.”

  Sarah turned back to Omar, “Did Julia tell you she's in love with you?” Omar's eyes widened in surprise. Julia felt anger at what Sarah had just said. She pushed Sarah more forcefully.

  “Come on, Sarah. We have to go.”

  Sarah stood up and turned to go but looked back, “She does, you know – she just hasn't admitted it yet.” Julia gave Sarah a furious look but Sarah just laughed and said Omar was cute and why should she not feel attraction and if Julia really was not interested then she, Sarah, might consider him. Faced with this ultimatum, Julia relented somewhat but sternly escorted Sarah out of the medical wing.

  Later, Julia found she could not sleep but ran and re-ran the images conjured by Omar's story. Julia reasoned that the men who came for Omar's father were likely American. That being the case, the archive records should contain reports. Even if they were not American, there would be something. Julia decided it was worth checking. Not for the first time since Omar arrived, Julia dragged herself from a warm bed to her data access console in search of answers.

  There were quite a number of CIA reports about James Campbell. Julia gained access to all of them. James was the only natural son of Doctor Campbell – that much Julia already knew. He was the subject of intense investigation especially when he started studying nuclear physics at Cambridge University. Mossad, the Israeli security service, flagged him as a person of interest at an early stage due to time spent in Pakistan attending school where he met and formed a close relationship with an Iranian girl, Zarina Ansari. She was young, attractive and politically motivated. Mossad had linked her to the Iranian nuclear program at Arak and concluded that she was sent to recruit bright western students as informants and spies. James' choice of career may have been influenced by Zarina as a means of gaining expertise to forward Iranian nuclear ambitions.

  Israel and America shared intelligence information and a link was made between Doctor Campbell and Iran. At that point suspicions became rampant. Doctor Campbell was advancing uranium enrichment technology secretly in Mozambique – a deal between the two was such a serious concern that, despite a lack of hard evidence, a move was made. Mossad tried to abduct James Campbell and US marines landed in Mozambique. Mossad failed when their agent, Rachel Cohen, was compromised. The outcome of invasion by marines was not clearly stated in any report.

  An intercepted transmission from India alerted the CIA to the presence of James Campbell in a remote village on the western seaboard near Mumbai. Julia followed the trail of reports and transmittals with an expert sense of where to go next. It took time though and, as the hours passed, she grew tired. Her instincts remained good but her mind seemed to play tricks. The trail went round in circles and she read and reread the same report. With an abrupt grunt of frustration which she hoped had awoken no one, she realised the reports were not consistent. It was obvious once she had spotted it. Julia shook her head in disbelief. It was almost as if some of the reports that might describe the investigation and what happened in India had been deleted and replaced by copies of earlier ones. Julia checked and rechecked but it was a dead end. The investigations into James Campbell, Omar's father went no further. Eventually, Julia gave up in defeat. On a final whim she keyed in Taj Mahal and was confronted by breath-taking photographs. A full orange sun hung ripe over a white marble palace set against a dusty haze. The intricate stone lattices spoke softly of deep affection. The sensual curves of each arch enticed a visitation. Julia longed to touch this place. She longed to feel its heat and solidity and breathe the fragrant aroma of its ancient love. She read the story of Shah Jahal and the death of his wife Mumtaz in childbirth and the construction of the mausoleum using materials gathered from across India and around the world. Julia reflected that, within the Ark, there was little grief to follow death. Did that mean that they knew but little love? Julia despaired of the answer.

  Chapter 33

  Beirut, Lebanon

  Doctor Campbell knocked and entered the room. He sat on the edge of the bed. Rachel felt excruciatingly exposed. She drew her knees up to her chin and clamped her arms around her legs. Her forehead rested on her knees. She barely looked at Doctor Campbell. She had woken feeling better – less sick. Patches of her hair were missing which was reminding and distressing her. After a few moments, Doctor Campbell spoke. At first he was uncertain and even nervous, possibly timid. He soon picked up the thread.

  “I first went to Mozambique for four weeks. I spent those weeks drilling water wells in remote villages up in the north. The experience radically changed me. You might say I found myself; it made a man of me. I became addicted to the challenges of the country and to the people. I freely admit, I loved the adventure and I began to hate the drudgery of life back home. In Mozambique, I was white and people noticed me. I was no longer the last picked to form the rugby team. I was somebody. At the time it was a good feeling.”

  “I returned to Scotland where I sold my house, my car – everything I had. I really was quite an idealist in those days. I booked a flight back to Mozambique almost immediately. Two days before I returned I went out for a drink in Edinburgh with a few friends – from the chess club – can you believe that? I was so bored but I saw a group of girls – six or seven of them – having a meal together. They were laughing – having fun. I didn't know it then but it was a birthday party. I did something I'd never done before and haven't done since. I walked up to the table of girls, interrupted their meal and introduced myself. I said something like, 'I just came over to say that you are all beautiful ladies and I'm very sorry to butt in. I'm going to live in Mozambique the day after tomorrow and … well...' I guess I fumbled my words, so the alpha-female – the spokeswoman, if you like – filled in for me. Even now it makes me laugh whenever I think about it. She said, 'So you want to get properly laid one last time before you go away forever? Yeah, I've heard that one before.' I must have looked utterly horrified. I might have blinked a dozen times before I managed to reply. 'No,' I said, 'I wondered if one of you had an adventurous spirit and some moral courage and would like to come with me?' I don't think they expected that. They didn't answer for a while. Eventually, one of them said, 'You're serious, aren't you?' I nodded and then she said, 'Valerie, what about you? You're into Amnesty International and you're always talking about this gap year and that gap year. Well, this is it.' I looked at Valerie and saw gorgeous, long red hair, piercing blue eyes that flashed vivaciously and a quivering upper lip. She looked me up and down and fiercely held my gaze for some time before dictating her terms. She was very determined and knew exactly what she wanted. She became my soul mate. In the end she knew me inside out. What I dreamed of and what I feared.”

  “We were married in Zanzibar and for eighteen years we lived in Mozambique living through fabulous times and, on other days, we were clawing our way back from the edge of the abyss. But not one day do I regret it and even now I still have Kate and James. In fact, Rachel, you must understand that all I am left with are my children. They are all I have.” Doctor Campbell trailed off and was silent for a moment. He revived quickly. “What I mean to say... The reason I tell you this story is because we never know when or where or in what absurd circumstances we find our soul mate. There is no shame in love only in the fear that prevents us reaching out for it and accepting the consequences.” Doctor Campbell became direct and business-like – very much in contrast to the sentimental rambling that had preceded. “I must ask you, Rachel. Do you love my son James?”

  At first, Rachel had listened with detached bemusement. She had anticipated an inter
rogation. That would have been reasonable under the circumstances. That is what her father would have done. But as the story unfolded about Mozambique and his wife Valerie, Rachel struggled to connect it to reality. Oddly, she was drawn into the depiction of ardent love and, unwittingly, she gained insight into some of the complexity that mystified her about James. Doctor Campbell's final question unleashed a torrent of hysteric emotions. Despite her tenuous grasp of reality, Rachel recognised that she was at a tipping point in her life. Her loyalties and allegiances had been ripped from her hand and placed on the table. Everything was at stake. Rachel squirmed.

  “What choice do I have?”

  “We always have choices, Rachel … and there are always outcomes.”

  “How long do I have? I'm dying, aren't I?”

  “No Rachel. You began a transition to a new life – I think unknowingly. It cannot be reversed. You are also pregnant by my son, I presume, and that is a wonderful thing.”

  “It doesn't feel wonderful.”

  “No, I'm sure it doesn't.”

  “Where is James?”

  “He is still in England. I have expressed my dissatisfaction to him. He was wrong to treat you like that. But then, Rachel, you didn't enter this innocently either. We have a very awkward situation to deal with. I must tell you that to continue to live, you must continue to drink the water I give you and no other.” Doctor Campbell indicated the bottled water from Mozambique. That would make you dependent on me – you would become like one of my children. Just like Celia but there are many others. I'm afraid you can have no further contact with your family or friends. You must simply disappear. I have no reason to believe that you will not, at the appointed time, give birth to a beautiful and healthy child. There is much to give you hope Rachel. If you do not wish this, you will become sick and die. It is not a quick or pleasant death – not unlike radiation sickness.”

  “Why me? Why is this happening to me?”

  “The blame lies with my son. He tells me that when he met you, you were quite interested in him. It's something that he's not used to and he was somewhat smitten with you. If his mother were still alive, she would have made sure he was much better prepared. My son is very smart, very clever and I'm proud of him but he has rather thoughtlessly – and carelessly – involved you. He took matters into his own hands and was blind to the consequences. I believe it happened because he fell in love with you.”

  Rachel listened and struggled. It was true she had played a game – a more dangerous game than she had realised. She could not resolve her feelings for James. She felt guilt. She had, out of the desire to fulfil her mission, out of the desire to win acceptance from her father, behaved unscrupulously. Her deceit had been so convincing it had backfired. She led James on. She could not now disentangle any genuine feeling from her guilt.

  “I need time. I have nowhere else to go. I need time to think. Can you give me that?” Rachel begged.

  “I understand. In the meantime, you can stay here. This I can do. With regard to James, there is nothing I can do. You, I mean both of you, will have to sort this out by yourselves.”

  Chapter 34

  National Secure Archive Facility

  “You remember all his bottles of urine?” Frank looked pointedly at Julia. Julia nodded in reply. “He poured them into that metal pod thing you brought in the day before yesterday. It comes out the bottom and he drinks it.”

  “He drinks his own urine!” Julia twisted her face in disgust. Frank smiled mischievously. He was enjoying Julia's look of shock. “It must be some kind of filter because it is pure water – colourless, odourless and neutral pH. He's up and about quite improved. We moved him to the second room on the left.” Frank nodded along the corridor.

  Julia stared blankly in return. She was busy wondering what she would find. She entered Omar's room. He looked much better and Julia was relieved to see him again without drip lines and other medical paraphernalia. He was even wearing an olive t-shirt and loose fitting trousers. A couple of rooms had been converted for him with the ventilation ducts rerouted to the isolation unit. He was still very radioactive and would be for years to come. Julia wore an all-in-one over-suit to visit him. She would remove it and scrub down afterwards.

  “You're looking well.” Omar looked up from studying a chess board and smiled as she entered.

  “That's thanks to you.”

  “Not just me.”

  “Nonetheless, thank you for your part.”

  “I brought you lunch.” Julia handed over a packet of dried nutritional supplements. “Not very appetising I'm afraid.” Omar accepted the packet and thanked Julia.

  “You play chess a lot.” It was half statement and half question.

  “I haven't played chess for nearly a year. This is a game I lost just before I set sail and I just want to know where I went wrong. I can't help but feel I missed something.

  “Do you know Armando de Sousa?” Omar looked surprised and almost gasped at Julia, then he smiled.

  “Uncle Armando,” said Omar coolly. “It was Uncle Armando I was playing last year.” He indicated the chess board. “He is a genius. Did you know he won the US Open Chess Championship?” Julia swallowed hard. Omar did not act as if this was a startling admission – it was all matter-of-fact.

  “I've read about him. He was nineteen years old at the time...” Julia paused and hesitated before pressing on. “Omar, you do realise that we – here in the Ark – only live to seventy or eighty years old. Before the Nakba, a very few people lived to over a hundred – but never more than one hundred and twenty. Your Uncle Armando must be two hundred and twenty.” Omar looked straight into Julia's eyes; his words were extremely calm.

  “As you say.”

  “And, Omar, you can't be far behind.” Julia tried not to make it sound like an accusation but that is how it came out.

  “Guilty as charged. One hundred and eighty-two next birthday. Uncle Armando says it's time I got married, settled down.” Omar continued to hold eye contact with Julia. Julia was not a trained interrogator but she could tell when people were lying or hiding something. There was no sign of deceit in Omar's expression.

  “How?” stammered Julia.

  “You ask: how can you be so old yet look so young and live so long? While we ask: why do you grow old so quickly?” Omar smiled. There was no ready answer to that.

  “Is it something in the water?”

  “As you say, but there's more to it than that. I was born in Eden so I have always been like this and if I drink your water I shall surely die.”

  “Where is Eden?” Julia asked. She had tried to answer this question from the archive but got nowhere – there were too many references.

  “I'm not rightly sure how to say. Have you heard of Mozambique? It matters little. It was destroyed during the Nakba.” Omar's tone was turning wistful.

  “Armando was President of Mozambique, wasn't he? It's in Southern Africa.” Julia was proud to know this. “What happened to it? To Eden?”

  “Soldiers came and destroyed it. It was my parents' home – where I was born. I'm told it was a beautiful place. But it was a long time ago – I was just a child – and now we have built new homes.” Omar was sounding increasingly serious. Julia sensed she could not continue to go on delving but she had obtained good leads to research. She was taken aback though by Omar's next question.

  “Julia, tell me: do you consider yourself American?” Omar eased out the enquiry but could not hide his distaste for America. Julia did not, in fact, feel American whatever that really meant. It was true that ever morning, the Ark pledged allegiance to the flag – to the American flag with fifty stars representing fifty states. Ironically, no one had ever visited the other forty-nine and they had barely set foot in the one they lived in. It was difficult though to deny it. By birth, Julia was a faithful servant of the people holding out in the Ark until such time as civilisation could be re-established so that America would again dominate the world. It was a purpose and
goal that irked Julia chronically, but it was treason even to think otherwise.

  “Yes, I'm an American. At least, I suppose so.” A counter-attack might be needed. There was one notion she had reserved: “Before the Nakba, you were called the Nephilim. Is it true?”

  “According to legend, the Nephilim were the offspring of angels and beautiful women. It is true: we were called Nephilim, but Doctor Campbell is our father. In my case he is actually my grandfather.” Omar's tone was becoming provocative and stubborn. He paused and seemed to master his passion. “We are not half-angel, half-man. We are flesh and blood – still mortal – still human.”

  “But you live on the surface, exposed to radiation that kills us in days or weeks. You live long lives and … I don't know what else.”

  “What? Perhaps you think we can fly – like angels? We can't. Heck, I can't even swim! Our parents were orphans mostly. Rejects. Abandoned and left to fend for themselves. Discarded. Children of drugs and prostitution, not of love. They grew up knowing violence and victimisation. Most had AIDS – untreatable with unaffordable medication. Some said the disease was a curse from God for their sins – but not for their sins rather the sins of others. They were nothing, a tragic inconvenience in the turpitude of global humanity.” Again Omar calmed himself. Julia stunned by the rush of passion, stared like a frightened animal. Omar continued, “Until Doctor Campbell gave them a wonderful gift.”