by John Day
They reattached the retina using an experimental Bio-glue rather than a laser, followed by an experimental stem cell injection at the back of the eye. The specialist believed these would replace damaged cells, only within the eye. There was a risk the cells might develop uncontrollably, so they would monitor his progress. They fitted an experimental cornea graft and lens to replace the damaged tissue.
The glue, stem cell treatment, cornea, and the lens was produced by a company, funded, and controlled by The Organisation.
Sam decided not to tell Carla about the experimental nature of the operation or about Max’s actual condition until he was “out of danger,” six hours later.
Although sedated, she leapt up and hugged Sam when he finally told her. She knew the last six hours of sedated grief were better than uncertainty and possibly still losing Max. Sam told her not to make contact with Max, until he was healthy enough to be brought back to the mountain, this was for security reasons. She knew better than to ask questions or disobey, but was beside herself with emotion and eagerness to see Max and tell him all the things she wanted to, when she thought he was dead.
Chapter - History and the future.
As soon as Paul, the Duke’s double arrived, he was taken to the conference room for briefing.
Sam sat in his usual place and offered Paul, the Duke’s seat. Paul hesitated; he had not been close to his identical twin brother for most of his life, so the usual bond between twins was not strong. None the less, it was a shock to hear the news, and so real now he was here, about to sit in the Duke’s sacred place.
Every one watched Paul as he paused in thought.
Suddenly he relived a long lifetime of events with his brother as they replayed in his mind.
The Duke ‘s real name was David Green, such an ordinary name for such an extraordinary person, born in Malta 16th August two minutes after midnight, just after Paul who was technically born on the 15th.
For the boy’s mother, the difference in time was very significant as she was passionate in her belief in Astrology. She knew that with his Ascendant in Scorpio and Moon in Leo, David would be a leader with many dark secrets, decreed in the combination of the stars. For Paul, a few minutes earlier, the Ascendant was Libra and Moon in Cancer, bestowing considerable charm and strong links to home and family.
In the popularity stakes, Paul was always the favourite, especially with the village girls, as he got older. David, on the other hand, was aloof and secretive, quietly observing what went on around him.
Soon he was involved in money making schemes, never the front man, preferring to plan and organise others. When trouble came, he was never implicated, always overlooked. They thought he was too quiet and distant to be a troublemaker.
Soon after the war, in 1952 David organised an underwater search for a small cargo ship, reputed to be carrying medical supplies to British troops, which sank in the Mediterranean.
The search was successful; he made a small profit on the morphine and similar drugs recovered intact in Phials, as part of the cargo. However, the ship was incidental, and just a smokescreen to locate a specific German submarine, rammed and sunk by the ship! Paul only knew of the submarine and its cargo of gold bullion, because his brother David had done a lot of research on it.
The war was going badly for Germany, and gold and art treasures were being spirited away to provide security for certain high-ranking officers after the war. Later, Paul found out that David had tracked down one of the survivors, the radio operator who had transmitted the coordinates given to him by the Navigator, of his slowly sinking submarine. In fact, the operator did not send the signal on the correct frequency, deliberately, he planned to return after the war and retrieve the treasure for himself.
Most of the other members of the submarine crew were captured and held as prisoners of war. They did not know the position of the sunken submarine. It had limped 5 nautical miles away from the position given by the sinking cargo ship, which had rammed it.
The radio operator claimed he had not been given the sub’s final position, knowing the Navigator who had given the coordinates to him had died, trying to avoid capture.
David had agreed to finance the recovery of the bullion in partnership with the radio operator, in exchange for 40% of the profit. Having located the wreck just off the coast of North Africa, in relatively shallow water, the recovery was probably made, but nothing was ever heard of the salvage team again.
David claimed to have lost most of his money in the venture and moved to Cyprus. After that, Paul and the family lost all contact with David until Lana died, he asked Paul to stand in for him with the business while he sorted his life out.
The events, though seemingly replayed in real time in his mind, took only seconds to relive. Paul pulled himself together and took his seat.
The briefing was typically thorough; each specialist present around the table gave a detailed overview of the current situation. Paul was quick on the uptake and understood the global picture without any problem; however, the coarse detail left him wondering how his late brother managed to cope with the fine detail on a day-to-day basis. He did admire the Dukes achievements, though not all of his methods, but there, he was an entirely different person, and held different values and goals in life.
The final part of the briefing concerned the death of the Duke. Paul saw security videos of the meeting with Philippe and understood the relevance of pictures of Carla and Lana on the wall. He asked about Carla and was surprised at the facts revealed to him.
Paul had never been aware of the Duke’s sentimental side, except with Lana. To track down and nurture the child of an unfaithful wife struck him as uncharacteristic. DNA tests had confirmed Carla was just Lana’s and not of the Duke’s blood. He understood the need to keep the facts secret and not to tell anyone, least of all Carla or Max.
The dossier on Max was small and made dull reading. His only involvement in things was being caught up in Carla’s private activities. The Duke had made it known that he liked Max, and if he could be fitted into The Organisation, Max and Carla would make a good team. The Duke’s unerring judgement was respected, that made the matter law.
Max’s medical condition was stable, so there was no problem with body disposal and his unwitting participation in leading edge research (as a guinea pig) was of enormous benefit to The Organisation.
The real problem was, no one must know of the Duke’s death until they were ready, especially the man who had killed him, so Paul must participate in a video link with key people to dispel rumours. The first call would be to Philippe.
The open web link to Philippe showed Paul in a hospital bed, connected to fluid drip and monitor. The conversation was brief, and made clear to Philippe, until they concluded Project Oracle, no action would be taken against him.
If the Project was successful, then he, the Duke would reconsider the matter. After all, he would recover fully from the wound, thanks to a new executive style bulletproof vest. The blood Philippe saw was because the extremely thin material prevented fatal penetration, even at such short range. Paul suggested Philippe should consider using a vest, if this is how he treats colleagues.
As regards Lana’s infidelity, he had only himself to blame. He should never have neglected her, and she would not have strayed.
Philippe did not believe a word of it, I know I killed the Duke, and you are a double. I have a question that only the real Duke can answer.
Paul’s instant reply to the question and menacing scowl dumfounded Philippe. Only the Duke, Lana’s gynaecologist and obstetrician could have known the answer. Paul realised how meticulous and talented the briefing team were. They had anticipated the question and researched Lana’s medical notes for possible answers, to this and many other scenarios.
“I know you will try and get even for all this,” snarled Philippe. “Join the queue; you will be just one more to contend with. I am used to watching my back. By the way, I am surprised you still expect me to delive
r Oracle when your bitch stole it off me.”
“Your daughter, you mean,” said Paul.
“She may be biologically, but she is dead meat when I get her.”
“Well, that is a matter for you, though I doubt you will ever get the chance. She is well protected here and extremely smart, let’s face it; you have lost your touch.”
“If Carla has Oracle, then we won’t have any need for you Philippe, I will ask her about it.”
Paul clicked the mouse and closed the browser window, cutting off the call.
Sam called for Carla to attend his office. Turning to Paul he said, “If Carla has Oracle, then we have saved a fortune. All we need now is the designer to tell us how to use it.”
“What is this Project Oracle anyway?” Asked Paul.
“Quite simply it is a piece of software that defies description or even more strangely a specific use. “
“That is stupid” scoffed Paul. “The Organisation does not do anything without a clear cut purpose, so why would a non-specific programme be of any interest?”
Sam grinned and replied, “Well, it could be described as a database system or possibly an expert system, but it does not actually store data in the way computers usually do. Imagine it is like having a team of highly intelligent and creative specialists on hand, ask Oracle a question and it will produce an answer. As I understand it, the challenge is what questions to ask.”
“Where does it get its information from?” Questioned Paul.
“Some is stored, not like in a database, but in a system similar to a human brain. If you ask it what a ship is, it will probably give a dictionary answer, whereas if you ask how to transport a very large object across the ocean, it will tell you which ships in the world could do the job.”
“Well,” said Paul, “surely present technology can do that.”
“No! No!” Said Sam “I have simplified too much, you could have asked it to design a specific vessel, and it would have produced the full working drawings. If the software had the ability to motivate itself, it would be true artificial intelligence. It would be creative in its own right, self-aware, but it is not.”
“What use is a design tool to The Organisation?” Retorted Paul. “Why bother with it? Just kill the bastard who killed my brother!”
“No, you still haven’t grasped it, it can also analyse political or commercial situations and many other things. It is able to seek out, find data on its own, and then look at the big picture before giving the answer. Current technology relies on mathematical models and information typed in; this system can make a more reliable prediction based on its creative analysis.”
“A bit like an expert system, then,” said Paul.
“No! Like a human expert replied Sam.”
“Isn’t that the same thing?”
“No! An expert system follows rigid, predetermined rules programmed into the software, whereas a human expert can work out an answer. In most cases, the answers from both will be the same, but sometimes rare situations, not programmed in, may produce no response from a computer and a correct answer from the expert.”
Sam continued, “The Duke knew more than anyone about it, other than Philippe and the designer. If it was good enough for the Duke, then it must be good enough for us.”
“That is not enough for me,” shouted Paul. “I want to know what we are all getting into.”
“It will have to be enough,” said Sam icily; “We do it the Duke’s way.”
“He is dead you fool,” Paul snapped, “He can’t help you now; you have to make your own decisions.”
“We will, as we work through the current situation, but everything has been pre-planned for this eventuality, scenarios discussed, and strategies attacked and perfected, when time was on our side, free from panic and snap decisions.”
“I suppose you have a plan if I walk out now.”
“Yes we do,” said Sam, with disarming confidence. “Go to your room Paul, get a grip on yourself and we will go on to avenge the Duke’s murder and life will continue to be good for everyone.”
Paul realised he was becoming emotional and not thinking straight. His brother’s death had hit him hard, and he had no time to grieve. The sooner Philippe was caught and made to pay, the better he would be pleased. Yes, he would follow his brother’s dictates, even from the grave; it always made sense to stick with the winners.
Carla entered the room just after Paul left. Sam asked how she was and how was Max doing. She knew Sam was making small talk with the pleasantries and guessed what Sam would ask.
She realised Philippe had recognised her portrait and believed the Duke was killed for something she had of Philippe’s, being bargained for or sold to The Organisation. Perhaps it was in the briefcase, some crucial document that could make or break a person, Corporation, or deal. Whatever it was, she needed insurance now the Duke was no longer around. She had no particular worth to the Organisation, just an employee. She had a poor reputation for being a loner on her own deals, never benefiting The Organisation.
The Duke had not cared as long as the trail never came close to home; in fact, he admired her for her audacity and skill. In a way, it made him think she was his and Lana’s daughter. Only their child, could be so wonderful.
It is strange how even the most intelligent or devious person, can delude themselves into a false belief when it suits them.
She smiled back and went along with the light banter, causing him to do the talking about nothing in particular. Sam realised he was being manipulated by her and inwardly annoyed, came swiftly to the point.
“Philippe says you have Project Oracle, you stole it from him!”
Taken aback by the sudden change in attitude she replied truthfully, she had never heard the name before, was this why Philippe killed the Duke?
Sam pressed a button and after a minutes silence when Carla and Sam stared at each other waiting for the next move, in walked Paul.
Carla leapt up and ran towards him, thinking it was the Duke, and then hesitated, something was wrong here. The Duke was dead; this man has no recognition for her in his eyes, no expression at all except puzzlement, about the girl.
Sam wanted to throw her off balance, emotionally, get her to say something he could nail her with. She spun round to Sam.
“Who is this?” She demanded.
“Paul, David’s brother, ” he replied firmly. She knew the Duke’s Christian name but never used it.
Sam had taken control and was now dealing with her like any other hired help that had probably double-crossed The Organisation. Admit to anything now that she had previously denied, or make a mistake and she was history.
“Paul has taken the Duke’s place to act as front man for us, no one must know of the Dukes death. As you realise, you are employed as an asset to The Organisation, I ask you again, is there anything you have to tell us about the project or did you take anything from Philippe?”
“No and no, ” she replied. “Apart from my personal effects, when I escaped from him after the car crash I set light to his car with Philippe in it. I don’t know how he got away, perhaps the car did not burn, I did not see it destroyed.”
She hoped Sam’s reply would hint to how much he knew about what happened; surely, Sam and Philippe were not speaking to each other?
Sam gave no helpful reply.
“That will be all for now, Carla.” He dismissed her. She turned, looked at Paul as she left. Perfect double, will never fool anyone though, she thought, but he did.
Sam decided to keep an eye on the girl for now, Project Oracle was never a priority anyway, and until he knew more about it why misdirect energy.
Chapter - The Statuette.
A month after his surgery, Max made a full recovery; only the re-growing scalp hair showed he had recent brain surgery. His repaired eye had better than normal vision now, and he was pleased to discover they had done the other eye, as well. Wearing glasses again just for the uninjured eye would have been tiresome. H
e did not realise though, the stem cell procedure was experimental work. From The Organisation’s point of view, Max was there for the ophthalmic surgeon to practice on.
After thanking Sam Leighton for all his help, making him well again, Max said he and Carla were planning to go away together on holiday, to recuperate.
Sam said he understood and added, “Would you like to do a small task for me at the same time?”
“Yes of course, what have you in mind?”
“Well,” continued Sam. “Our man, Marcus Dolby in Sri Lanka; Kandy, to be precise, has obtained a rather unique and valuable statuette and we want it taken to our ship, Ocean Raider, currently sailing in the Maldives. If you agree, you can spend time aboard, with the facilities more or less at your disposal. During that time, a client of ours will collect the statuette, and that will be the end of the mission.”
“Seems simple enough,” replied Max cautiously. “Why can’t FedEx do it for you?”
“Well, you should know by now that we do not do anything without good reason. In this case, the source and the client must be kept apart, unknown to each other at all costs. The reason why it must be so confidential, should not concern you.
We will arrange all paperwork with customs and other Authorities, as necessary, so you will have no worries there. Keep your wits about you, and the job will be straightforward.”
“So, will you do this for me?” Sam asked rather commandingly.
Max could hardly refuse such a job, a bit of intrigue, free holiday and this was a way to pay back the debt he owed The Organisation, for repairing his eyesight.
“Yes, it will be a pleasure.”
"Bon appetite," said Sam as Max left to tell Carla, over lunch.
When he got back to the hideaway, Max explained everything to Carla, who had a less than enthusiastic reaction to the business part of the holiday. She had been there, done that with The Organisation, herself. She knew they now owned him as much as they owned her.