Flee The Darkness

by Grant R. Jeffrey

  “Saving a man’s life is one thing; tapping into his private financial records is quite another.” Adrian Romulus’s words carried a unique force; every head turned in his direction. He tapped his fingertips together, then looked at Daniel with a fixed stare. “But I have a feeling, Mr. Prentice, that you will be able to demonstrate how we might convince our citizens that this type of government action is in their best interests. Can we count on you to address us next week with the details?”

  “Certainly.” Daniel stepped back, pleased that he’d won round one. In round two he’d give them demonstrable specifics that would astound them.

  “Very good.” Romulus leaned forward and pressed his hands to the armrests of his chair. “Shall we adjourn for lunch?” He cut a quick look toward Daniel. “Mr. Prentice, I’d be honored, of course, if you could dine with me.”

  “Thank you, I’d enjoy the opportunity.”

  The ministers stood and huddled in small groups, speaking to each other in hushed whispers and the melodious tones of romance languages. Daniel dropped the scanner and his folio back into his briefcase, then snapped it shut. As he stood apart from the others, waiting for Mr. Romulus, a soft and familiar voice came from behind him.

  “Did it go well?”

  Daniel turned in surprise. Lauren stood there, elegant and cool in a navy suit, her face aglow with some secret success.

  “It went very well. I’m to come back again to explain the next logical steps, of course. And Mr. Romulus has invited me to lunch.”

  “I know.” The corner of Lauren’s mouth dipped in a slight frown. “I received an invitation from him at the hotel. I wondered how he knew I’d have the afternoon free.”

  Daniel glanced back at the man under discussion. Romulus was talking to Lady Bowes-Lyon, his hand cupping her elbow. It was almost certainly an innocent encounter, but if Romulus had looked at and touched Lauren in that way, Daniel would be tempted to take a swing at the man.

  “Well,” Daniel took Lauren’s elbow himself, “let’s hope the lunch conversation is more interesting than I was this morning. I scanned the Millennium Chip in my hand for them, and all Lady Bowes-Lyon could say was that the device seemed invasive.”

  Lauren pulled back, and her blue eyes widened in astonishment. “You’ve already implanted a Millennium Chip? In your own hand?”

  Daniel tugged her forward. “Of course. It’s no big deal. The professor had my base code ready last week, and I injected the Millennium Chip this morning. It felt like a mere pin prick.”

  “Amazing.” Lauren shook her head and let Daniel lead her. “You never cease to surprise me.”

  They dined in the restaurant of the Stanhope Hotel, a thoroughly charming English establishment situated in an old, patrician house in the heart of Brussels’ business district. After thanking Adrian Romulus for the opportunity to join him at lunch, Lauren took a seat at the round table and noticed with some dismay that she was the only woman present. Daniel sat at her right side, which was some comfort, but Romulus seemed intent upon monopolizing his attention.

  General Archer, who had always ignored Lauren or treated her as a necessary evil, sat at her left hand. To the general’s left was Kord Herrick, who sat next to a stranger introduced as Elijah Reis. Reis sat at Romulus’s right hand, and though his eyes flitted uneasily around the table, his attention centered on Romulus’s conversation.

  There had to be a connection between them, Lauren mused, toying with her salad. In politics and bureaucracy, silent men with roving eyes were usually responsible for security or held some sort of advisory position. Elijah Reis seemed an obvious part of Adrian Romulus’s entourage. Judging from the deferential way General Herrick scraped and nodded and twittered at Romulus’s pleasantries, he was on the payroll, too.

  What about General Archer? Lauren leaned back and studied the general as the waiter came to take her salad plate. Ostensibly Archer was along to provide security for her and Daniel. Security was Brad Hunter’s job, too, but she’d seen more of the hotel chambermaid than she had the general or Hunter. If those two didn’t take a more obvious approach in their security measures, Lauren thought she might place a call to Washington. Security people who hid themselves usually practiced more spying than guarding, and spying was not supposed to be on the agenda for this trip. From where she sat, Lauren thought Archer seemed far more concerned about Romulus’s safety than hers or Daniel’s.

  Romulus turned to whisper something to Reis, and Daniel took advantage of the silence to toss Lauren a smile. “How was your salad?”

  What an inane question—or was it? She looked into his direct and piercing eyes. “Fine,” she asked, playing along. “Yours?”

  “The dressing was a bit different.”

  “Everything is different here.” She lowered her voice. “And I’m not sure I really like it.”

  “Perhaps,” he answered, covering his mouth with his hand as he leaned toward her, “you don’t like being the only woman at the table. I’m sorry, but this has to be somewhat uncomfortable for you.”

  She swallowed hard, trying not to reveal her irritation. “I’ll have you know my gender has nothing to do with it. If I’m uncomfortable, it’s not because of the situation . . . only the company.”

  “Ouch.” Daniel straightened and turned to Romulus, who was asking another question about Y2K. Lauren exhaled slowly, allowing her sudden rush of indignation to drain away. Why did she always have to react like a belligerent feminist? Daniel understood her position, and he had always demonstrated respect for her work. She felt her mouth curve in a rueful smile. Worst of all, he was right. She would have felt ten times more comfortable if another woman had been present, even if that woman never even looked Lauren’s way.

  She bit her lip, closed her eyes, and wished she were more like the first lady. Victoria Stedman would know how to handle this situation. With one smile, that lady would charm the dark-eyed Romulus and his sinister-looking companion and put Lauren completely at ease. On the campaign trail Lauren had watched Mrs. Stedman quiet a rabid throng of pro-abortion demonstrators with a few quiet words, and once a mob of avowed Satanists had disbanded and quietly disappeared from a crowd while Victoria waited to give a speech. The powers of darkness—real or imagined—seemed to dissolve and retreat whenever Victoria Stedman walked into a room.

  What would the first lady say to Adrian Romulus?

  Lauren opened her eyes, and felt an icy finger touch the base of her spine when she realized Romulus was staring at her. His dark eyes, large and luminous, seemed to shine with understanding, almost as if he knew what she had been thinking . . . and found her uneasiness amusing.

  She shuddered faintly and fought down the momentary doubt that twisted her stomach. Why was she torturing herself? She had no reason to be at this luncheon. Romulus must have invited her as a courtesy to Daniel, but she wasn’t Daniel’s lover or his possession.

  She tugged on the sleeve of Daniel’s jacket. “Daniel, please make my excuses,” she whispered, reaching under her chair for her purse. “I’m feeling a little queasy, and I’d like to go back to the hotel.”

  She felt the weight of his gaze, concerned and tender. “Should I go with you? Or would you like me to ask General Archer for an escort?”

  “No, I’ll ask the concierge to call a taxi. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”

  She was up and away before he could respond, and she was a little surprised when he caught her in the hotel lobby a moment later. “Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked, his eyes searching her face. “If you’re feeling sick, perhaps I should call for a doctor.”

  “No.” She pressed her hand over his. “Maybe it’s just—oh, I don’t know, jetlag or something. I’ll be fine, Daniel, but you should be careful.” She leaned toward him so her words reached his ear alone. “Maybe it’s feminine intuition, maybe it’s something else. But I don’t have a good feeling about any of the men at that table.”

  His look of concern twisted into an uncertain smi
le. “Present company excluded, I hope.”

  Lauren smiled. “You’re all right, Daniel.” The concierge caught her eye and pointed out the glass doors, where a taxi had just pulled up to the curb. “At least, I think you are. Just be careful to stay that way.”

  Leaving him alone to consider her words, Lauren hurried through the lobby toward the safety of the cab.

  Daniel returned to the lunch table with Lauren’s warning ringing in his ears. The other men accepted his explanation of her hasty departure without comment, and the rest of the luncheon conversation centered on the potential uses and abuses of the Millennium Code and Millennium Chips.

  Despite Lauren’s warning, Daniel felt complete and confident support from his companions at the table. As the lunch meeting broke up, Adrian Romulus praised Daniel’s foresight and ingenuity. “The dawning of a new age will surely reward men with the courage to dream of the unconventional,” he said, his voice booming through the restaurant so forcefully that other diners stopped eating to stare. “The unsurpassed explosion of knowledge in the last century will pale in comparison to the coming information boom. Mankind stands on the threshold of a major evolutionary change. Aided by technology, man will soon rise above the barriers of physical, moral, and spiritual limitations. All the old taboos and restrictions will be left behind, just as we abandoned our medieval superstitions and primitive ideas about medicine.” With theatrical grace, Romulus extended his hand to Daniel. “I am looking forward to the future, and I congratulate you for having the courage to face it with us.”

  Now as he walked down the busy Rue du Commerce, Daniel’s head whirled with dreams and ideas. He had never let anything but practicality and ethics suppress his imagination, but now even practicality and ethics seemed like foolish barriers. Why not let his mind roam free to discover and explore any and all possibilities? Romulus had a point—if truth was ever changing and government continually shifted the standards of morality, anything was possible! The future was theirs to create.

  Holding his briefcase behind his back, he slowed his pace and stared past the crowds on the sidewalk. Why not test a child’s DNA at birth and assign him to a place in society? Why not implant violent criminals with special “alarm” chips and exile them to some Arctic island where they could live without endangering law-abiding citizens?

  He smiled, knowing that those ideas would seem ludicrous to most of the world. But sometimes a seed of ingenuity resided in a crazy idea, and if he just let it rattle around in his head for a few weeks, the idea would bear fruit—something real, useful, and highly profitable. Money he had, fame was too confining, but perhaps, if all went well, he could find a way to change mankind itself. Why should nation rise against nation? Why should the poor always be among us?

  Caught up in a wave of imagination, Daniel looked up and grinned at the first person he saw—a very pretty brunette who held his gaze and cast him a smile like bait for a hungry fish. Daniel turned and hesitated for a moment, half-wishing he could follow her and not feel guilty later, but his smile faded when a dark figure on the sidewalk suddenly ducked behind a newsstand, avoiding Daniel’s glance.

  Daniel turned slowly and resumed his walk, his thoughts sharp and uneasy. He’d caught a glimpse of a dark coat and trousers, a wide-brimmed hat, and a black beard. That was the chosen garb of an orthodox Jew, a disguise Brad and his cronies would be unlikely to adopt under any circumstances. From his short time in the military, Daniel knew that a professional agent would not run and hide if a subject abruptly turned around; he would hold his ground and appear uninterested.

  So who was the mysterious man in black?

  Daniel frowned as he considered Adrian Romulus and his cohorts. Romulus had explained at lunch that General Herrick served as his security chief, Elijah Reis as his chief advisor. Elijah Reis—the name had a Jewish flavor, and the man’s physical features certainly had a Middle Eastern look. But if Reis was Jewish, he was not devout; at lunch he had devoured a plate of steamed shrimp with great gusto.

  Calm down, Prentice. You’ve been spending too much time with Brad. You’re paranoid, delusional. No one is tailing you. There’s no mysterious rabbi dogging your footsteps.

  To put his mind at ease, Daniel stopped at the corner intersection, then spun around. Street vendors, flower sellers, and scurrying men and women choked the sidewalk, but Daniel could see no sign of an orthodox Jew.

  Sighing in relief, Daniel waited for the light to change, then continued on his way.

  EIGHTEEN

  11:38 A.M., Monday, February 8, 1999

  AFTER TWO WEEKS OF PRESENTATIONS, QUESTION-AND-ANSWER SESSIONS, AND planning meetings, Daniel sank into a seat in the Council of Ministers’ assembly chamber and heard good news: By unanimous vote, the council had approved the recommendation to implement the Millennium Code and pattern its Millennium Project after the American plan.

  “In the sincere hope that we will be joined by the people of other nations,” Lady Bowes-Lyons, acting secretary, read the declaration, “we have selected Thursday, July 22, 1999, as Community Identification Day. Every government agency in each European Union country will transfer each citizen’s data to a personal identification device approved by the Millennium Committee. We will urge each citizen to visit his local postal office for the painless insertion of his Millennium Chip.”

  As one, the members of the council looked to Daniel for his reaction. “I don’t know that I’d call the insertion procedure painless,” he said, wincing. “It does smart a bit, and children are particularly adverse to anything that even looks like a needle.”

  “Oh, it will be quite painless.” Romulus smiled and leaned back in his chair. “We’ll use an anesthetic spray. One spritz and the skin is numbed for ten minutes or so. The insertion is accomplished, and the patient feels nothing.”

  “Great idea, but why July 22?” Daniel looked to Romulus.

  “Will there be a manufacturing problem?” A disturbing light smoldered in Romulus’s gold-flecked eyes. “You said we could have the required number of devices by June.”

  “It’s no problem.” Daniel lifted his hands in a defensive gesture. “I was just curious about the date.”

  Alexandre Futetre, the French councilor, leaned forward. “We chose July because it is a mid-year month; we wanted to give ample time for both the manufacture of the chips and the implementation procedures. We asked the computer to pick a date that would be significant in several European countries, and July 22 proved to be our answer. On that date Poland celebrates National Liberation Day and Germany recognizes the anniversary of the Pied Piper of Hamelin. It is also the anniversary of John White’s expedition to the first British colony at Roanoke Island and the birthday of Austria’s Gregor Mendel, the founder of modern genetics.”

  Daniel smiled. “An auspicious day, indeed.”

  “We’re glad you approve.” Romulus leaned forward and clasped his hands on the table. “Daniel, we’ve been discussing several things in private, and we have decided to set another proposal before you today. In the past few days we have all been impressed with your knowledge and your commitment to the new-world community. We foresee a great future for you, and we’d like you to join us.”

  Caught off guard by the sudden vibrancy of Romulus’s voice, Daniel took a quick, sharp breath. Spend his future with the European Union?

  “Of course, I expect we’ll continue to work together.” Daniel smiled, not certain what Romulus meant. “After all, you have contracted with my company to repair your mainframes and oversee the manufacture of over 300 million Millennium Chips. It’s my hope that more nations will join the Millennium Project, and I’d really like to continue in my role as senior contractor—”

  Romulus’s firm mouth curled as if on the edge of laughter. “That will take some time, Daniel, and, quite frankly, I don’t think you’re equipped to handle the political challenges involved in forging a worldwide community. But we are.” He leaned across the table, a glittering challenge in his dark
eyes. “We will create a community out of chaos, Daniel. We will unite the world. And I want your creative genius at my disposal. I want you to be a permanent part of my team.”

  With an apologetic glance at the others on the panel, Romulus rose from his chair and pressed his hands to the table. “If the others will forgive me for taking a moment to tend to business not directly affiliated with the EU, let me state my position frankly. The day is soon coming, Daniel, when the creative power of the world will be located here, in the European Union, not in the United States. Your president is a traditionalist, not a visionary. Your American economy is stagnant, dependent upon massive loans by foreign investors and an overindulged, overextended population. Your people are lazy and complacent. But a renaissance is underway, and it is centered here, in Europe.”

  Daniel stared into Romulus’s eyes, trying to divine what had motivated this unprecedented offer. Romulus, however, had a diplomat’s face; almost anything could have been concealed behind that handsome and appealing facade.

  “I’d like some time to think about it.” Daniel shifted in his chair and gave the council a noncommittal smile. “I’d like to speak to my associates in New York. And I have an agreement with the United States government, so there are certain political considerations—”

  “Don’t confuse politics and business,” Romulus interrupted, his lips parting in a dazzling display of straight, white teeth. “Your work with the American government is business. Your politics—well, you don’t really have any, do you, Daniel?”