The Angels of Destiny

by Haydn Jones

  Thirty minutes after meeting Agent Steiger, McPherson and Phelps were on their way to an industrial site on the westside of the city, brought to the attention of the authorities by an anonymous caller. Steiger was sitting in the front of the Audi A6 with the driver and was turned around speaking to her captive audience; listening intently to her debrief.

  "You see gentlemen, we need you guys to tell us what the hell they were doing at this place." Stieger and the rest of the passengers were having a bit of a bumpy ride as the driver tried to avoid as many potholes as possible. "We'll be there any minute now and I can introduce you to the man tasked with sorting this mess out. His name is completely unpronounceable but thankfully he answers to the name of Ali. He works for the Pakistani authorities but we'll have no trouble from him. Since we turned up with our white suites, helmets and a plethora of electronic measuring equipment he's been happy to let us run the show. Oh...here we are gentlemen. Drive straight through please. We don't want any interviews with the world's press at the moment." The driver nodded in acknowledgement.

  McPherson and Phelps peered through the dusty windscreen of the car at the scene ahead and couldn't believe their eyes. They looked at each other in silence for a moment as the car came to a stop some one-hundred yards from the shabby grey clad building.

  Exiting the Audi McPherson looked around him. The area was clearly rundown. There were burnt out cars and litter everywhere. All the other units around the estate had been either closed by the police or were empty anyway and in the air there was a strong smell of burning rubber coming from a fire billowing black smoke into the sultry atmosphere some quarter of a mile away. Upwind, unfortunately, McPherson thought, coughing as the acrid fumes irritated his throat.

  "I don't intend to be here very long, Doctor." Phelps said, with disdain in his voice from the other side of the vehicle. In front of them was what looked like a field center behind the front lines of a battle. There were tents, a decontamination unit in a Renault juggernaut that the French government had supplied at short notice at the request of the Pakistani Government. Media satellite dishes, the worlds press and even a coffee and cake stall hurriedly put together by some local young entrepreneur. The place had the feel of a film set.

  Agent Stieger seemed somewhat undeterred by all the activity around them. “Gentleman, please follow me."

  McPherson and Phelps duly followed her into a large caravan marked with a makeshift label on the door that said in large black letters 'Authorized Personnel Only'. Inside, the Pakistani officer in charge of the incident was sitting nervously smoking. Seeing the three new arrivals enter he quickly stood up to greet them.

  "Ali, I'd like to introduce you to Doctor McPherson from America, and Professor Phelps, from England," Agent Steiger said, pointing to the men in turn.

  "Very pleased to meet you both." Ali moved forward and shook their hands in turn. A very tall and thin man with short dark hair and cigarette stained teeth. "We need to get you both suited up before you go in so please come with me."

  "One moment please." McPherson interjected. "Before we go in can you please explain the situation as you understand it? Another few minutes won't change anything."

  "And I can smoke my pipe." Phelps said, needing an intake of nicotine to calm his nerves.

  Ali looked nervous, wanting to wash his hands of the whole thing quickly, but he agreed to the request. "Please take a seat and I will do my best to explain to you."

  General Assembly Building, United Nations Headquarters, Manhattan, NewYork.

  Joseph Turay cleared his throat and sipped water from a glass on the podium. He composed himself before speaking to the hurriedly assembled council of nations. “Ladies and gentlemen of de council; today, it has been necessary to call an emergency special session concerning General Assembly Resolution 377...Uniting for Peace. Over de last few days de world has held its breath. Tensions between de United States and North Korea have escalated and de situation has now become critical. I personally have had talks with de President of de United States and de Prime Minister of Israel. Sadly, my request to talk to the Head of North Korea has so far been refused. De situation dis morning is dat North Korea intend to declare war on de United States as dey say der demands for nuclear disarming in Israel have not been met.”

  Turay stopped and sipped some more water before continuing. Beads of perspiration glistened on his black forehead. “Both de President of de United States and de Prime Minister of Israel have given me personal assurances dat de allegations made by North Korea are COMPLETELY FALSE. Day assure me dat no American nuclear weapons are on Israeli soil and America has no reason to attack North Korea.

  Today the Council has taken the unprecedented step of offering North Korea de opportunity to meet around de table to try and resolve what can only be described as a complete misunderstanding. We darefore offer North Korea the opportunity to resolve this situation by constructive dialogue. De location will be their choice and de United Nations will act as mediators. Members of the council, we can only hope dat dis proposal is acceptable to North Korea. If not…den I fear de worst.”

  McPherson and Phelps walked the fifty yards or so in white protective suits supplied by the US Army. On their backs they carried an air cylinder that would supply air to the their hoods for about thirty minutes. The large pressurized hoods looked like flimsy cylinders and apart from hand signals, communication was only possible by radio mic. The engineer coordinating the communications was talking to both of them as they approached the industrial unit and both McPherson and Phelps acknowledged that they could hear him and each other clearly through headphones and mouthpieces built into the hoods. Agent Stieger said to no one in particular. "They look like they're on a moon mission...like astronauts.”

  When they arrived at the doors to the unit McPherson looked at Phelps. "Are you ready, Professor?"

  “Yes, I'm ready,” Phelps answered, taking a deep breath but strangely enjoying the rush of adrenaline in his blood stream. It was so different to his normal routine. If only my wife could see me now.

  "We're going in."

  “Good luck guys, and stay in constant communication," was the response in their earpieces.

  McPherson opened the metal door slowly and looked in. Ahead of him, some ten feet away in a well lit corridor was another closed double metal door. Both men were now in the building between the two doors. Phelps closed the front door and then McPherson approached the second door and carefully opened it. What he saw astounded him.

  "My God! Take a look at this Professor."

  Professor Phelps was speechless for twenty-seconds or more as he scanned the equipment around the laboratory. He noticed a number of centrifuges, distillation columns, mass spectrometers, a liquid nitrogen and cryogenic area, computer screens and lab benches covered with all sorts of expensive looking analyzers and printers. In a large metal cage four hungry, surplus to requirements, laboratory rats, scurried around the cage sniffing the air and sensing the intruders. On one of the flat screens to his right Phelps saw a flashing message reading:

  ‘BATCH TRANSFER COMPLETE.’

  His worst worries were confirmed. It was all so familiar to him.

  "Are you okay, guys" came the question in their helmets.

  "Yes, we're okay,” responded McPherson, not wanting to say too much.

  "This place must have cost a fortune, Robert."

  "I've not seen anything like this anywhere, Professor."

  "Unfortunately, it reminds me of Porton Down." Phelps said disconcertingly.

  Then McPherson noticed something that made him freeze. All around the building, mounted on the H-section metal uprights with tape, was plastic explosive. “Professor, DON'T MOVE. Stay perfectly still." Phelps obeyed the stern instruction from McPherson. Six inches ahead of McPherson, he noticed a faint red laser light about knee height off the floor, stretching across the lab.” Time to get out Professor. Turn around slowly and exit the building, now. DO NOT TAKE ONE MORE STEP FORWARD INT
O THE ROOM."

  "What is it, Robert?” Phelps asked nervously.

  "Just do as I say, I'll explain later."

  "WE'RE COMING OUT NOW... THE PLACE IS WIRED TO BLOW.” McPherson shouted into his mouthpiece.

  Both men left the unit at a brisk pace, heading back to the waiting crowd. It was another six-seconds before the timer, activated by opening the inner door, counted down and the building exploded. The resulting pressure wave hurled them forward and they hit the ground hard, like flimsy rag dolls. Agent Steiger looked on in horror as the bright orange ball of fire mushroomed into the sky in front of her eyes and then she felt the intense heat on her face as the pressure wave pounded her body.

  Fifty-Two

  Professor Phelps was sitting in a wicker chair smoking his favorite pipe. He was staring at the clear blue sky, deep in thought. All around him the sweet smell of his tobacco filled the air. The hotel terrace was quiet when Agent Steiger arrived and spotted the plume of smoke at one of the tables. Just then a young waiter arrived with fresh filter coffee for two, that Phelps had ordered, and placed it on the table.

  "Thank you," said Phelps to the waiter.

  Agent Steiger waited until the waiter had gone before she spoke. "Good job those suits were fire proof professor," she said smiling and shaking his hand as he stood up to greet her.

  "I can't believe this is happening to me… My life, since my wife died some twelve-years-ago has been...to be very honest, Agent Steiger — bloody boring. In the last few days I've travelled half way around the world and almost got myself blown up. How exciting is that?” The professor was clearly no worse for his ordeal and enjoying the moment and the company immensely as smoke billowed from his pipe.

  "How are your elbows and knees today?"

  “Oh...I'll survive my dear, it’s only a gravel rash. The kind of thing you get when you're an adventurous child escaping from the Monster’s lair."

  Agent Stieger was warming to this man by the minute. "This monster is far more dangerous though. Milk, Professor?"

  “Yes, please… You know I owe my life to Rob. I was fully aware that the situation was dangerous but I wasn't expecting that."

  "He's an amazing guy, isn't he?" Steiger said. If he was single he'd be mine, she thought.

  “Yes, he certainly is. Have you seen him today?"

  “Yes," Steiger replied. "The hospital doctor has checked him over and he's been released. The cut on his leg was nasty and he needed quite a few stitches under his knee. I think they were more concerned about a possible infection or blood poisoning from the broken bottle but I'm glad to report he's fine. I did hear that his son is very poorly though…He’s been taken to the hospital for observation...something to do with his heart, I believe."

  "Oh dear… that's all he needs. Let’s hope it’s not serious. He adores that kid. Talks about him and his wife all the time."

  Steiger quickly changed the subject. "I know that we'll never be able to prove it now Professor but in my report I'm stating that from your observations it appears highly likely that the unit was used to create nerve gas of some kind. Are you happy with that statement?"

  Phelps sipped his coffee and then thought for a moment. "Yes, I'm convinced that was the case."

  Just then McPherson appeared through the open terrace doors. He was limping slightly but carried no other obvious injuries.

  "Good morning, both," he said, sounding a little subdued.

  "Good morning, Rob," they both replied, clearly happy to see him. Phelps asked if he was okay.

  "I'm fine...thank you professor. My knees bandaged up and I've got some stitches, but apart from that I'm fine. Should heal completely in a few weeks.” The crystal… I wonder, he thought.

  "Doctor, I've just been talking to the professor about my report."

  "Call me Rob, please."

  “Okay, I will, if you call me Beth.”

  McPherson smiled and nodded his acceptance.

  "I'm going to state in my report that there is overwhelming evidence, based on Professor Phelps’ statement, the equipment found in the lab, together with the forensic report, that the building was used to manufacture nerve gas."

  McPherson looked at Phelps and he nodded his approval. “Okay, lets run with that."

  The waiter then reappeared with more coffee and a cup for McPherson.

  The young man driving down the Mai Kolachi bypass was heading for the US Embassy with just one thing on his mind. The Toyota's trunk was stuffed full of high explosive and nails and the belt around his waist also held a ring of plastic explosive. In his lap there were some wires crudely connected to a small electrical switch. He was all alone and sweat ran down his pallid young face. His hands were shaking as he gripped the steering wheel and he was struggling to stay focussed on the task ahead, mumbling a prayer as he drove. Twenty minutes previously he'd been holding his mother in his arms sobbing like a baby.

  Ahead, through his bloodshot eyes, he could see the exit off the bypass that would take him onto the Mai Kolachi Road where the Embassy was situated. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he steered the vehicle onto the exit road until he finally approached the Embassy. Ahead there were armed US Soldiers and a barrier. He needed to be closer...accelerate...smash through the barrier…faster...

  The guards saw the white Toyota careering towards them at speed. In a split second it was upon them and they opened fire without warning. The young man hit the accelerator hard as bullets smashed through the windscreen. Crouching down to avoid being shot he felt a jolt as the Toyota smashed through the barrier, still accelerating. As he looked up he could see his target ahead. Wherever you find a Kafir you kill them. He closed his eyes and flipped the switch in his lap.

  The thunderous blast shook the area around the Sheridan Hotel.

  "What was that?" Phelps asked, excitedly.

  "That sounded like a very big explosion, and not far from here either." Steiger said, clearly concerned.

  Soon the wailing sound of ambulances reverberated through the city as they rushed to the scene of unbelievable carnage and another mother had lost her son to an ever demanding God.

  "This place is something else and I must say a little too lively for my liking. I'm looking forward to getting on that plane tomorrow."

  "Yes, I know what you mean." McPherson responded. “I need to go home too, as soon as possible. Beth, I believe you're taking me to meet the guys at the communications center. Is that correct?"

  “Yes Rob, in about fifteen-minutes.”

  "Okay, well, Professor... I'll say my good-byes now, in case I don't see you tonight. I need to Skype with my wife."

  "Let’s hope we meet again, Robert, in more peaceful surroundings. Oh and by the way I almost forgot. Thanks for saving my life and I hope your son makes a speedy recovery too.” Phelps gave McPherson an appreciative hug.

  A hotel worker shouted from inside the building.

  "THE AMERICAN EMBASSY HAS BEEN BOMBED — MANY PEOPLE DEAD — TERRIBLE. — TERRIBLE.”

  Hearing the sound of the massive bomb exploding, brought a smile to Shah's face, just as it had when he watched the laboratory explode, throwing the two men in suits to the ground. Shah had not been there when McPherson arrived and didn't recognize him in the hooded safety suit floundering on his belly in the dirt. Shah's plan was working beautifully. Now it was time for the next stage. It was necessary to call the authorities again and give the address of the gang responsible for the atrocities at the US Embassy. Everything was ready at the apartment and this time it wasn't going to explode.

  Fifty-Three

  McPherson had decided not to tell Vicki about his near escape. He'd decided that she had enough on her plate with Daniel being ill and he knew he needed to be there with her to support their son...... not in this God forsaken place he was beginning to detest more and more by the minute. Vicki had explained over the phone that they were still conducting tests on Daniel and they suspected it was a heart problem. When she knew anymore she
promised to call him. Daniel was cheerful enough she explained but he was getting tired very quickly. Vicki had begged him to come home as soon as possible. Bending down he picked the crystal out of his bag and lay on the bed holding it on his chest. Quickly he felt relaxed and his eyes started to close...

  "I'm completely confused, I have no idea what to do. How the hell can I be of any help? What negative forces are you talking about?"

  "You will know them, when the time comes."

  Just then the phone rang at the side of the bed. “Shit." He pulled the receiver to his ear. "McPherson."

  “Rob, it's Beth. Can you be in the lobby in ten minutes? We're off to talk to the boys at the communications centre."

  "Yes, okay, Beth, I'll see you there in ten."

  “Great." Beth smiled and replaced the receiver.

  McPherson placed the crystal back in its bag and walked, still limping slightly, to the bathroom. The sooner we're done here, the sooner I can go home to my family. They're far more important to me than this nonsense.

  Pakistani special forces arrived at the high rise apartment block by helicopter and quickly shimmied down ropes onto the roof of the building. Soon, onlookers gathered at ground level, watching excitedly as the elite troops dropped ropes down the side of the building. Within minutes they had entered the apartment high above the ground through a window, bringing gasps of disbelief from below. All around people were craning their necks eager to watch the free spectacle.

  Once it was announced that the place was safe, other uniformed officers entered the building through the front door, taking the computers and all forms of potential evidence away for examination. Now, just over one hour after the call was made by Raman-Ali the place was empty and silent, apart from some pieces of furniture and the beds. The front door was left open and a one eyed cat was already asleep on a bed. On the balcony, cigarette ends littered the floor.