Antiphon

by B. L. Roberts

  Reconciling his conflicting emotions was not easy. His parents had died at the hands of terrorists, who, he believed, were only terrorists because of the poverty and deprivation they had been born into, but was that true? This condition was the logical and inevitable result of overcrowding, of lack of resources to provide proper education and shelter and food. But did it necessarily follow, that poverty bred terrorism?

  Many simple villagers he had mingled with, were dirt poor, but happy. They were not terrorists. However, they often did not have sufficient food, their children were not educated, they eked out a tough, hand to mouth existence. The conditions were there, ripe for the ideologues to point out the inequality that existed in the world, to tell them, that while they struggled in poverty, others lived in luxury. It was not rocket science, stirring people living in poverty, to become terrorists.

  Frederik accepted that what he had started was the medicine the world desperately needed, but that didn’t alter the impact its side effects would have on societies around the world, and he, Frederik Sorensen, would solely be responsible for those side effects.

  The decision to again visit the village came to him suddenly. Perhaps it was to reassure himself. Frederik wasn’t sure just why it was he needed to see the village again, but the urge to do so grew on him quickly, and here he was, he and his two sons. He wanted them to see it too. Just why, he wasn’t sure.

  Viktor and Michael were showing few signs of their kidnapping. They had recovered very well, possibly because they had not been physically harmed, had suffered no great hardship, and now looked back on the experience as a big adventure. Frederik and Helena had arranged for the boys to be counselled by a psychiatrist on their return, but after just one session, they were told to stop worrying. The boys had coped amazingly well. Despite the threats to kill them, and being left alone for so long, they appeared to be mentally unscarred.

  Nevertheless, Frederik felt a need to have them close to him. Also, he wasn’t sure he could trust them to be as careful about their own safety, as Brent Peters had told them they had to be, if he were not there, looking over their shoulder. Their father thought they were just a bit too cocky about it all. They had listened attentively enough when Peters had outlined the risks, pointing out another attempt on them was highly possible, but Frederik didn’t believe they had taken the warning seriously enough. The boys had nodded and agreed, but their body language was saying, we can look after ourselves. Well, he would see about that.

  Frederik had not explained to the lads what was to happen in the village. They knew nothing about the virus, and their father’s plans for the world’s population, but Frederik still wanted them to see the place where the virus would be released, and give him their observations, of how they saw life there. Frederik might not understand his own motives in this, but subconsciously, he was hoping for some reassurance from his sons. He wanted to hear them say, there are too many people, that life would be better for everybody, if there were not so many.

  The builders and other workers on his project were surprised when the man they knew only by name, suddenly appeared among them, and not only showed a great deal of interest in what they were doing, but also made intelligent suggestions in a couple of areas. At first awed by the presence of Sorensen, they quickly forget who he was, as they warmed to him, and his two young sons.

  Frederik had stressed to his boys that they treat the villagers with respect, but he needn’t have bothered. They were fascinated by the manner in which life was conducted in the village, and were impressed with the way the villagers, particularly the womenfolk, managed their tasks, with little or no mechanical assistance. The village chief, on learning that the tall man who came in the noisy chop chop plane, was the benefactor building their new school and medical centre, announced there would be an impromptu feast and celebration in his honour. A hut was cleared for the Sorensen’s use.

  That evening, as darkness descended, the village threw a party, and Viktor and Michael found themselves wildly dancing with the villagers, trying to emulate steps that had been passed down through generations. They pulled their father to his feet, and Frederik cavorted awkwardly with them for a few minutes, before, laughing and shaking his head, he sank to the ground, to watch. The children of the village also joined in, dancing unrestrainedly, and amusing the adults with their antics, as they tried to copy their parents.

  What would this village be like in another generation? When this bunch of children grew up, there would not be as many children to replace them, nowhere near as many! Maybe there would be no feasting and celebrations then. Maybe, if they understood that he was responsible for the change, his memory would be reviled, not honoured. Or perhaps, with better education and opportunities for development, they would see him as a hero?

  While the villagers celebrated, Frederik Sorensen shed silent tears for this village he was about to alter, perhaps beyond recognition, a village he would help educate, but ultimately, shrink, to a shadow of what it was now.

  48

  Matteo Bramboni let out a soft breath, as the outline of the island came up out of the sea ahead of him. They were almost there! There was no moon, he had checked the calendar to ensure this, but sufficient starlight, reflected from the smooth sea, showed up the hump in the distance that was the island.

  He signalled for the motors to be cut. Both inflatables, roped together in tandem, bobbed gently in the slight swell as paddles were brought out, then began to move slowly and deliberately towards the distant shoreline.

  “Shh. No sounds.” It was a hoarse whisper, but the men didn’t need telling. The two boats glided slowly together in silence, as Bramboni peered ahead, trying to make out a feature that would indicate the beach.

  “Ah.” It was unspoken, but now he could make out a break in the line of the low cliffs, forming the edge of the island, and steered towards it. The beach! His men were tense with anticipation, as they prepared to go into battle.

  There should be no resistance until they reached the laboratory building, where they would probably encounter night guards. It should not be difficult to spot them with the night goggles, and take them out, before they knew what had hit them. With luck, they would be asleep.

  The rubber boats edged towards the shore, then bumped noiselessly against the pebbly rocks forming the bottom. Bramboni waved his men to climb out, and they lowered themselves over the sides of the two vessels, and waded quickly ashore through the knee deep water. He assembled them in a line along the beach, and checked they had their weapons ready.

  An arm wave from Bramboni gave them the go ahead, and the line of men advanced slowly up the beach, with Bramboni, Niccolo Abello, and two of his key men, spaced between the others, and wearing the night goggles, straining to see what lay ahead. It was all clear. They had landed undetected as he had anticipated, and now he had to locate the laboratory building, which he knew was on the other side of the hill, and to his left.

  The party had advanced about thirty yards up the beach, when suddenly the trees almost ahead seemed to come alive, and dark shapes leaped up, seemingly from the empty ground. A hail of bullets sprayed Mateo and his men, cutting most of them down instantly, and before they had time to bring their Kalashnikovs up to fire. A couple managed to fire a few rounds, wildly in the direction of the trees, but the volleys of shots did not cease. Within half a minute, the invading party lay on the ground, most killed, several writhing in pain from their wounds. It was over in less than a minute. Matteo Bramboni lay dead, with several rounds striking him in the head and body.

  Brent Peters signalled his men to cease firing, and silence descended as he watched carefully the result of the fusillade his men had fired at the invaders. There was no sign of any of the invaders trying to get to his feet.

  Peters again signalled for his men to remain where they were, then he walked slowly down the beach to where the bodies were lying, looking for any sign of resistance. Th
ere was none. Two wounded men moaned, as they writhed on the ground. He walked up to them, and shot each in the head with his pistol. They stopped moving.

  It was all over before it had started. All the invaders were dead. Satisfied there was no more to be done, he called out to his men to join him.

  “Well done, guys. They came here to kill us, so don’t feel too sorry for them. They got what they deserved. I want to get photographs of all these as soon as it is sun up, then we’ll get them buried.”

  Peters would study the photographs later, and try to identify who had been killed. If any of them proved to be mafia ring leaders, it should send a message to the mob that was both loud and very clear. Don’t mess with us again! He doubted they would. Every good commander knows when it is time to cut losses, and after what had happened on the island where the boys had been held, and now this, the Mafia had been decimated.

  Peters thought that this would be the end of any attempt on the Sorensens, or the laboratory. He would still have guards for the Sorensens, and leave a few men to watch over the laboratory, but he thought, “it’s finished. They won’t try again.” He assigned two men to paddle the rubber duckies into deep water, scuttle them, then swim ashore.

  Later that morning, using the small excavator brought over to do the earthworks for the landing area for the helicopters and laboratory site, a large, deep pit was dug at the edge of the clearing, the bodies dumped in without ceremony, and covered. All that remained of Matteo Bramboni and his invading party, was a small unmarked mound of earth, on an otherwise unremarkable island.

  Giuseppe Constatin, waiting on his trawler for the return of the two inflatables, heard the distant gun fire, coming faintly from the direction of the island. It continued for a minute or so, then stopped. He was not expecting it. He had understood Matteo Bramboni’s plan was to sneak ashore, surprise the guards, then later round up the workers on the island. That gunfire was fierce, and indicated something different had happened. It started at about the time he thought the two rubber boats should have reached the island, and that could mean only one thing.

  Bramboni had been met with an ambush.

  “What do you reckon, Alfonso?”

  His deck hand shook his head. He was worried about the whole trip. He was a fisherman, and the sight of all these men, with big guns, frightened him.

  “I think shit has happened. That sounded like an army shooting, too many shots. It is not good.”

  Giuseppe agreed. He had half his money, the rest was supposed to be paid over when he returned the men to his base, but somehow, he thought he was not going to be seeing any more money.

  “Alfonso, I think we should go home. What do you think?”

  “What if they come back and we are not here?”

  “Do you think they will be coming back?”

  “I dunno. Probably not.”

  “Maybe we wait a while, do some fishing, then go home.”

  “Okay.”

  Giuseppe waited all the next day until the sun began to set, then decided he had waited long enough. That shooting didn’t sound as if Mr. Bramboni and his men would be returning. He and Alfonso had caught some fish, good fish, enough to pay for their fuel to go home, so he was reasonably happy. Maybe jobs like this were not such a good idea after all. Giuseppe didn’t like guns, and shooting.

  He started the engine, and set the heading for south, for home.

  49

  “So, these are the men who intended to kill us?”

  Frederik Sorensen, just returned from his brief visit to Uganda, looked at the dead faces on the photographs held in his hand. Some seemed to be staring at him. Others had various expressions of pain, shock, and horror. He grimaced, then handed the pictures back to Peters.

  “We’ve been able to I.D. several of them. This one,” he held up the photo “is no less than Matteo Bramboni himself. Matteo was the big cheese in Sicily, the godfather of the mafia families based around Palermo. This other one,” he held up a second picture, “is another of the family heads, so I am informed. His name is Niccolo Abello. We have names for a couple of the others. I think I recognise this man from one of the bars I visited, in Palermo. He would be one of the mafia soldiers, called on for the raid.”

  “What do you intend to do with these?” Frederik indicated the handful of photographs held by Peters.

  “I’ve been giving that some thought. All these men have now disappeared, and their families will be wondering what has happened. There are other family heads back in Sicily, and no doubt there will be some arm wrestling going on, to see who takes over the mob.

  “I want to send them a message, to leave you alone. What I might do, is send a copy of these to a couple of the lesser family heads, and a brief note, warning them off. They’ve been burnt twice now, badly. They lost four men with the kidnapping, and now this, they should have learned their lesson by now, but I want to rub it in. I don’t think we will be hearing from the mafia again. I know they are big on revenge when one of their own is killed, but they are not completely stupid. They will realise they have bitten off more than they can chew.

  “Despite all the mystery they try to surround themselves with, at the end of the day, they are just a criminal gang, a bunch of tough guys, who make a living from their crimes. They will know when enough is enough, when a job is too hard, and give it away.”

  Frederik nodded. “I hope you are right. It has been nerve wracking these past months, wondering if they are going to strike again, perhaps try to kill us. That shot at you was far too close for comfort. Are you sure we shouldn’t be doing more, to discourage them?”

  “I don’t think that will be necessary. Killing Bramboni has cut off their head. They won’t want to risk more lives, just for revenge, if there is no money to be made from it. I’m not sure there is much we could do, more than what we have already done.

  “It is not feasible to send an armed party into Sicily to kill, who? Even if we had names, these guys live in a fortress, surrounded by their own people, and it would take a real army to get at them.

  The Italian government might have something to say, too, if an armed war party starting attacking its citizens. There would be many lives lost.”

  Frederik laughed. “I wasn’t exactly thinking of invading Sicily. No, you’re right, we’ll wait and see if anything further happens. I guess for a while, we should continue to be careful?”

  “Absolutely. What you are proposing with that laboratory of yours, is going to stir up a lot of feelings in many quarters, and it may not be just the mafia you will have to worry about. The church got it’s knickers in such a knot they hired the mafia to take you out, and they are supposed to be all about peace on earth and goodwill to all men, and all that! I can well imagine, there are plenty of other organisations who would not want to see what you are doing, get off the ground.”

  “You are right. I’ve lit the fire, now I will have to guard it carefully. Can you continue to help with our family’s security?”

  Peters nodded. He liked the Sorensens, and he was being paid well. This would continue to be a secure job for him, and his organisation, for some time yet.

  “If you don’t mind telling me, where are you up to, with your work at the laboratory?”

  “Field testing is about to begin. Professor Wong will be visiting the village we have selected, very soon, to start introducing the virus. We should know in about a year if it works out in the real world.”

  Frederik explained how the testing would be conducted.

  “So, there will be no dramatic changes to anything in that village? They won’t even be aware the virus is released?”

  “No. Life will go on as usual. By the end of the year, we will have a good idea if the virus works. Simply, there will be much fewer pregnant women in the village. I doubt if the villagers will even notice this, at first. We will continue monitoring them for severa
l years, and see what transpires. If it works as we hope, fewer pregnancies should continue as a pattern.

  “What we need to find out is, whether the virus spreads of its own accord, and what percentage of the population is affected.. We are not sure how it will spread, or be communicated, or how quickly it will spread. Wong suspects it can be transmitted by human contact, much as the influenza virus spreads, but this particular one is special, it has been modified, and we will only find out it’s effect, with our testing.

  “We will also be checking on surrounding villages, and will continue to do this for years. I will probably build some more schools around the area, to make it easier for us to keep an eye on things. The sad thing is, if the virus is as effective as we hope, the schools will become less important over time, there won’t be so many children to educate.”

  Peters raised his eyebrows at this statement. The long term ramifications of Sorensen’s virus, had not previously occurred to him.

  “Suppose this virus of yours is one hundred per cent effective, and there are no more children at all? What then? Does this mean an entire population will disappear, over time?”

  “Theoretically, you would think that could happen. It won’t. Just as the flu virus doesn’t strike down everybody, there will be some of the population who will remain unscathed, whose immune systems will defeat the virus, and will not succumb to it. Also, we are developing an antidote, a vaccination if you like, that will block the virus, allowing life to come back to ‘as before’. We will regulate how this is used, and if the virus proves to be too effective, we will vaccinate enough of the surrounding populations, to ensure they are not wiped out. That’s the plan. We will try to build into the vaccine, a use-by date, an expiry date if you like, when it will cease to be effective, so it will only work for a set time span, then wear off, allowing the virus to re-emerge. Many vaccines are like that, they wear off, and require a booster.