The Angels of Destiny

by Haydn Jones

  THE ANGELS OF DESTINY

  Haydn Jones

  BOOK ONE

  WHEN THE GODS ANSWER

  Copyright 2015 Haydn Jones

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  If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient.

  If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy.

  Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  My sincere thanks to:

  Jill Conrad, fellow author and dear friend, for her support and help in completing this work.

  Sue Meekings, for her enviable enthusiasm.

  Dr. Sarah Fawcett, my eldest daughter, for her contributions on all things medical.

  To everyone who encouraged me to write book two.

  Dedications

  I dedicate this work to my late wife, Lesley. One day we will be together again.

  "Man at last knows that he is alone in the unfeeling immensity of the universe, out of which he has emerged only by chance.

  Jacques Monod

  “Where is Everyone?”

  Enrico Fermi

  Introduction

  Are we alone in the Universe?

  The enduring question that has intrigued and frustrated mankind since our early beginnings. To look up at a star-filled sky at night is a truly humbling experience. Inconceivably vast distances and numerous suns, like our very own life giving sun, are there for all of us to see with the naked eye.

  Throughout the history of the world there has always been well documented stories of “visitors” to our planet whether as part of a religious doctrine like the Bible or the Koran, the Greek and Roman Gods of the Heavens, or, as stories past down from generation to generation, of strange inexplicable happenings. Not forgetting of course the ever present UFO sightings.

  The question continues to intrigue us today, perhaps more so now as we begin to travel further and further from our mother planet with every decade and see further and further into the immense universe with telescopes such as Hubble. The astronomer, Carl Sagan, was one of the first to estimate the massive number of stars in our universe. We now know, thanks to Hubble that those early estimates were grossly inadequate and that there are many more billions of stars than even Sagan imagined; and we are finding more every day.

  From mankind's perspective the future of our race and that of Planet Earth depends on us. We can either live in harmony (which we have failed miserably to do so far) or we can, with our technology, superior knowhow and our innate ability as a species to destroy ourselves, wipe mankind off the face of the Earth for ever.

  This hypothesis is based on the assumption that mankind has control of his own destiny. You might say that this is of course true. But what if you were told that below the Pentagon there exists evidence of extraterrestrial life (a closely guarded secret, publicly denied for political and religious reasons) and that we are definitely not alone. What would you say if our destiny was not in our hands and that some greater powers of existence decide what happens in our universe?

  Under the guise of religion our world is becoming dangerously close to extinction.

  The Angels of Destiny are watching us.

  One

  Rob McPherson disabled the big brass alarm clock before it rang and disturbed his partner’s slumber. As his brain engaged, his thoughts turned to the day ahead, and how important the Houston project was to him. As he walked to the bathroom he felt a tingle of excitement. Why Houston? He pondered. He would have to miss his workout at the gym because the early flight to Texas was at six-twenty, and Dulles International Airport was a twenty-eight mile drive.

  Having washed and shaved, he walked swiftly back into the bedroom, drying his face with a hand towel. Amanda was sitting up in bed; her big, almond-shaped eyes were staring straight ahead and her forehead was furrowed.

  "Are you okay, darling?" McPherson asked.

  “…No, I’m not, Rob.”

  "What’s the matter?" He sat on the bed next to her waiting anxiously for a reply, but for a while, Amanda remained silent, biting her bottom lip. He watched as her beautiful blue eyes welled with tears.

  “What is it, Amanda, what’s wrong?” he asked, reaching out to hold her trembling hands.

  In Houston, Texas, it was seventy-four degrees, and already the morning air felt heavy and sultry. It would be hotter later, but nothing like the sweltering, humid heat of summer. Downtown, the towering glass monoliths dominated the skyline, reflecting the fiery morning sun, like huge mirrors, into the easterly suburbs and beyond, to the flat featureless horizon.

  On floor-forty of the Ellington Building, in a large sun lit conference room, a meeting was about to start. Seated in anticipation, around a long rectangular table, were five of the world’s most eminent scientists. Standing facing them with his back to the tinted-glass window was a tall, fair-haired man. "Good morning, ladies and gentlemen," he said, in a very upbeat manner, not waiting for a response. "Within the next few minutes Dr Robert McPherson will be arriving here. He will first of all visit security, and then at eleven o’clock he will join me for a debrief meeting in my office." A strong athletic man for his fifty-four years, he moved the few feet to his laptop on the table in front of him, and pressed a key. "I want you to familiarize yourselves with Dr McPherson,” he said, smiling broadly.

  Each person around the table viewed their own laptop displays and carefully read the details in front of them.

  Their displays read:

  Information Access - ‘Level 1’

  Name: Robert McPherson

  Age: 34

  Status: Single

  Occupation: Astrophysicist

  Security Clearance : Level 5

  More details were revealed about Rob McPherson as each of the five access levels were scrutinized by the team, and the nods of approval brought further smiles to Hunter’s youthful looking face. "Does anyone have a problem with this guy?" Hunter asked, pausing, clearly satisfied with the response. "Good, then please reconvene here at noon for the first meeting of Project M13,” he said, proudly.

  At ten-thirty, Rob McPherson’s chauffeur driven limousine arrived at the entrance to the Ellington building, precisely forty-eight minutes after his flight had touched down at Houston International Airport, to the north of the city.

  Quickly, the young chauffeur opened the near side rear door, "I’ll take care of your baggage, sir, you just report to the main desk," he said, obligingly.

  McPherson thanked him, exited the limousine and strode the short distance to the entrance, briskly walking up the steps leading to the entrance and carefully avoiding four young uniformed men, striding purposefully out of the building, deep in excited conversation. Inside the entrance, a second set of automatic doors quietly opened, revealing an impressive, cool reception area.

  He walked to the desk in front of him. “My name is Rob McPherson, Colin Williams is expecting me." His impassive expression gave no indication of the hurt and despondency he felt within himself.

  "Just one moment, sir," she said, casting her eyes down to the discreetly hidden screen illuminating her youthful face.

  "That’s confirmed; welcome to Houston, Doctor McPherson,” she replied, still smiling widely. "Can I please have your hand scan?”

  McPherson placed his right hand on the glass plate in front of him and waited for the computer clearance. Handing him his printed lapel badge, she said, "Please wear this at all times and take a seat to your right, while I page security for you."

  "Thank
you," McPherson said, forcing a smile. On the flight to Houston his mind had slowed to a glacier pace, his cognitive thoughts had become fragmented and random. Sitting still was becoming difficult; difficult because the pent up anger burning inside him felt like it was about to explode out of the top of his head, like than an erupting volcano. The unfamiliar feelings of failure and jealousy combined forces to create an almost uncontrollable urge to hit out, at whatever was in his way. Someone, some bastard, had taken his Amanda, his friend, and his lover. Her words: It’s over… I love another man, still ringing in his ears. McPherson’s hands were clenched as he fought to control his racing emotions. His mind was spinning and confused. Why did he not sense there was a problem? How could she love someone else? How could she? Why had he not sensed her innermost feelings? Ten years, ten wasted years and for what? To be discarded like an empty Coke can, crushed in the hand and tossed into the garbage. He needed her, for God’s sake. She was a part of him, she was his life. Where did it all go wrong?

  "Dr McPherson?… Dr McPherson?"

  “Yeah — sorry — that’s me,” he replied, startled by the sudden interruption. He looked up and was confronted by a giant of a man.

  "Follow me please, sir."

  He quickly composed himself and tried to forget his problems, at least for a short while. He needed to be rational; he needed time to think things through. Standing up, he inhaled deeply, and fought to clear his tormented mind, as he mechanically followed the perspiring, obese, security officer into the awaiting lift.

  It was necessary for the officer to confirm that Rob McPherson was who he said he was, but ironically, for the first time in his life, McPherson wasn’t sure himself.

  Minutes later, on the fourth floor, the perspiring officer unlocked a door marked ‘Security’ and invited McPherson to enter the small room. As he entered the smell of stale body odor hit him, and he felt repulsed. After being invited to sit down on a swivel chair facing a cream computer desk, he looked across at the man responsible for the odor. His large body filled the expanse of his uniform almost to bursting point, and his balloon like face was covered in moist, oily flesh that hung in layers below his chin, diminished only by the mass of his huge lower torso. As he sat down the chair below him groaned, as it took the weight of his enormous bulk.

  "May I have your ID card, sir?" he said, struggling for breath.

  McPherson reached into his pocket and handed the guard his plastic card.

  "Thank you, sir," he said, as he swiped the card into the reader next to the computer on his right.

  Reluctantly, he watched the guard struggling to breathe whilst he typed information into the computer on the desk in front of him using the index fingers of each hand. McPherson’s breathing was deliberately short and shallow and his right hand covered his nose and mouth, in a vain attempt to filter the unwelcome smell.

  After what seemed like an eternity, the guard looked up and wiped beads of sweat from his forehead with a damp handkerchief. "I just need your voice and retina sample now, sir," he said. "I can then enter it into the computer and you can be on your way."

  "Good, I have an appointment at eleven o’clock on floor twenty," McPherson said, impatiently, eager to clear his nostrils of the pungent stench that had impregnated every part of the room.

  “Yes, I know, sir, you’ll be there with time to spare,” replied the guard, very calmly.

  At two-minutes to eleven the doors of the elevator opened at the twentieth-floor and McPherson stepped out into a tastefully decorated large reception area. On the oatmeal colored walls hung copies of classics by Turner, Van Gogh and Monet. In the corners of the room large colourful artificial plants thrived on the numerous halogen-ceiling lights.

  Seconds after the lift doors had silently closed behind him a voice from a hidden speaker, said, "Please use the VRU and enter the door to your left.” He walked to the wall mounted VRU next to the door, leaned toward it and spoke his name, "Doctor Rob McPherson." The door opened and there to greet him was a very attractive black American woman.

  "Good to meet you, Doctor McPherson," she said, with a slight West Coast accent and a smile that showed off her perfect, white teeth.

  "My name is Linda, I’m Colin’s personal assistant."

  "Good to meet you, Linda," replied McPherson.

  "Please follow me…Mr. Williams or Hunter, as he’s known to us, is waiting for you in his office." As she walked in front of him he noticed her elegant long legs and the graceful way she moved. It reminded him of Amanda and he felt a sickening depression overwhelm him.

  Shortly, they arrived at a plain wooden door, that carried no name or title. A single knock by Linda Washington was followed by a deep voice, saying, "Please come in."

  Linda gestured to McPherson.

  "Thanks." Entering the office, he watched Colin Williams stand up from behind his desk and enthusiastically move forward to greet him and shake his hand.

  "Great to meet you, Rob. My name’s Colin, but please call me Hunter, everyone else does." McPherson smiled and shook his hand warmly.

  "Please sit down and make yourself comfortable." Hunter pointed to a chair in front of his desk that was covered in luxurious black leather, to match the large polished desk, set at an angle facing away from the window.

  As Hunter returned to his seat McPherson estimated he was in his early fifties, although he looked very fit for his age, with a full head of fair hair and a sporting tan. Six-foot-two possibly, McPherson thought.

  "I trust you had a pleasant journey this morning, Rob?"

  "Very pleasant, thank you," replied McPherson, lying, but showing no outward signs of stress or emotion.

  "I guess you’re wondering what’s going on?” Hunter said, quietly.

  "Yeah, in fact I am. Conrad has briefed me about the project, but not in any real detail."

  "Well, that’s because Conrad doesn’t know the real details," Hunter retorted, with a smug confidence.

  "I know there’s a requirement for data analysis and that my experience will be of benefit: but that’s all I know." McPherson watched and waited while Hunter composed himself.

  "This is a top-secret project, Rob, and it has already cost the government a huge amount of money. The President has been convinced by some very well prepared arguments, that, on balance, it’s likely to be very beneficial to America. But: he is aware that there is no guarantee of success."

  "What kind of data are we looking at here? I guess you already know my expertise is star clusters?" Hunter did know, of course, and he nodded in recognition.

  "All will be revealed, soon — very soon."

  "Conrad indicated that the project would be initially for one year, is that still the case?"

  "Possibly; it’s too early to tell yet, but whatever happens, Conrad knows your current project will be reopened for you, on your return to Washington."

  McPherson thought about Hunters words for a moment. Last night he was concerned about Amanda and the fact that he might have to work in Houston for a period without her. Now, in a matter of a few hours, it didn’t seem relevant anymore, and going back to Washington, without her there, had little appeal to him.

  "So when do I get to know what’s going on?" he asked smiling, trying to find some enthusiasm from within himself.

  "The first meeting of Project M13 starts at midday, in room B12. I’ll get Linda to show you the bathroom. I’m sure you’d like to freshen up before the show gets on the road.”

  Two

  Amanda looked around the spacious luxury apartment. McPherson’s books dominated most of the shelves and alcoves but the pot plants, original watercolor paintings around the living-room walls, Japanese ornaments and rugs, all reflected her tastes. Magazines lay sprawled across the sofa, and on the floor next to the stereo, lay a pair of headphones she’d bought as an extra present for Rob to open after the Christmas lunch. On the south-wall of the living room above the sofa hung a framed Latin phrase, carpe diem, quam minimum credula postero. McPhers
on had told her it meant, simply, ‘Live for Today,’ and in part of course, it did.

  Amanda walked into the bedroom, and with her head lowered, she reached to her wardrobe and closed the double mirrored doors, leaving behind the majority of her garments and shoes. She sighed as she walked towards the front door across the polished oak floor, checkered with shadows from the sunlight that poured in through the four French windows. Then, stopping, she turned and looked around; her right hand covered her mouth and she inhaled deeply. She walked over to a framed photograph of Rob and herself, placed on one of the wall shelves, near the door. They were smiling, wrapped in each other’s arms on a skiing holiday in Canada. Tears welled up in her eyes again.

  "Goodbye Rob," she said, looking at the image of his smiling face. Bending down she put the door key on the floor and looked around one last time, before walking out and shutting the door behind her. She ran down the stairs and out into the quiet, sun drenched street. Tears ran down her cheeks as she slumped into the rear seat of an awaiting cab.

  "Take me to the airport,” she said, in a strained voice. Amanda’s destination was New York — the place where her new lover eagerly awaited her.

  Back in Houston, Hunter walked briskly into conference room B12 and sat down at the head of the large table. To Hunter’s left, was a sullen looking Samuel Black - M13 Project Leader, and next to him the archetypal granite features of Yuri Klyushin - Head of Astronomical Research, followed by Jerzy Rozanski, Head of the newly formed Astrobiology team and Walter Rottenberg, Senior Astronomer. Sitting on Hunter’s right was Rob McPherson followed by Vicki Stark - Chief Government Adviser for Satellite Communication Networks, followed by Raymond E. Strong Jnr. Head of Extra Terrestrial Research.