The Zul Enigma

by J M Leitch

  ‘Dr Fisher,’ the nurse said, ‘your friend’s here to see you again.’

  The old man grunted, his chunky fingers creeping over the cover, feeling for the control pad that adjusted the bed.

  ‘I’ll do it,’ the nurse said, fiddling with the mechanism to raise him up.

  ‘No!’ he croaked in a hoarse voice. ‘Too much. Take it back down. Twenty degrees.’ The authority of his tone gave Rachael a thrill as she realised his intellect was as keen as ever.

  The nurse looked back at Rachael and raised a brow. ‘I’ll leave you to it, then,’ she said, and bustled out.

  A fan set on low paddled the air, struggling to diffuse an odour of decay Rachael hadn’t noticed on her previous visit. Joseph’s forehead glistened with sweat and he looked weaker than before. She sat down on the visitor’s chair and leaned towards him.

  ‘Dr Fisher,’ she began, ‘is your leg…’

  ‘I listened to the book,’ he interrupted in a rasping voice, ‘and the diary. You’re his daughter. You should know the truth. What else have you found out?’ he demanded, and she told him about her meetings with Scott.

  Joseph lay quite still with his eyes shut. She wondered if he’d fallen asleep and was filled with pity for this old man who had outlived all his friends and family.

  Then he snorted, making her start. ‘Americans!’ he said, ‘but the military did want Anderson and your father out of the way. And a secret group of imperialists was acting as the shadow government of the world.’

  ‘What else do you know?’ she asked.

  ‘It’s a long story. So get comfortable. I’ll start with the cabal,’ and he smoothed the blanket under his heavy hands.

  ‘Back at the beginning of the century that secret group’s objective was to keep control of the planet. Although for a long time members had encouraged strategies like meddling in global financial systems to build greater wealth and power and promoting conflict between feuding factions with the hidden agenda of gaining sovereignty, they were starting to realise that in the big picture they were losing ground. Winning the odd battle wasn’t good enough. They needed to win the war. This led them to question the logic behind their strategy of perpetuating conflict for their own gain. And they saw it was unsound.

  ‘After months spent analysing and debating, they knew they were facing a slew of problems: overpopulation; religious conflict; territorial conflict; ineffectual leadership and flawed systems of governance. They weren’t stupid. They acknowledged their part in the fiasco, but they also knew to achieve their ultimate objective these problems had to be resolved.’

  Joseph edged himself onto one elbow, the muscles round his eyes flinching from the pain the movement sparked off in his leg. Concerned, Rachael leaned closer, but he waved her away with a flap of his hand. ‘You see,’ he went on, ‘the majority of these people didn’t have evil intent as such, but they did consider themselves superior. They believed only they could do the best for the world. Most of the time their objectives were sound… but too often their methods were at best… well… questionable,’ and he slid his elbow out to the side and eased his head back down onto the pillow.

  ‘One day the group decides to play the “What If?” game. What would we do if we could do anything to make the planet function better? So they analyse each of the problem areas, hoping to find a way to eradicate them for good. They hold regular no holds barred, anything goes, nothing is too stupid, nothing too horrific, brainstorming sessions… “What If?” sessions.’

  Joseph licked his lips and sighed. ‘It’s obvious that reducing the population is the most pressing problem on the list. Back then ninety-eight per cent of the world’s population growth was in the developing world. They look at countries with high-density populations. China, India, Pakistan, many countries in Southeast Asia, Africa, the Middle East and South America. Places where huge numbers of people live in shocking poverty. Places where sickness is rampant and starvation a daily event. Places where too many people have less than zero quality of life.

  ‘They discuss why conditions in these places never seem to improve. Perhaps the leaders are only interested in filling their own pockets. Or perhaps religion, or the conflict between religions, keeps the people poor. Perhaps it’s a tribal problem because one race dominates the others. Perhaps it’s lack of employment opportunities. Perhaps it’s lack of education. Or perhaps some countries are too poor to look after their own people. There is one common factor though – uncontrolled breeding – and even though the group had already half-arsed tried to do something about that under the guise of different family planning organisations, it had made very little headway.

  ‘The majority of countries, it seemed, didn’t give a shit about their poor. In which case, why should anyone else? Remember,’ Joseph said, tapping his fingers on the covers, ‘the group doesn’t feel guilty talking like this because it’s playing “What If?”

  ‘I’m thirsty,’ he said, turning his eyes to a drinking bottle on the bedside table. Rachael picked it up and held it for him as he struggled onto his elbow again and took a few sips from the straw.

  ‘In a perfect world,’ he continued, ‘only two children should be allowed per family, with the occasional extras thrown in here and there to stop the population shrinking. That’s easy to legislate. But what this group was looking at was reducing the population instantly and drastically. So… who should go? The obvious answer is the poor and the sick. They’re a drain on everyone else. They have no quality of life. It would stop their suffering instead of prolonging it. And it would stop them breeding more poor and sick.’

  Rachael screwed up her eyes and shook her head.

  ‘But how can they do it?’ he went on, shrugging his broad shoulders. ‘Someone suggests implanting chips that will store an array of data including the level of current personal wealth. At a pre-agreed time an electronic message could be sent out causing death to those with a financial balance below the minimum level. Of course the method of death would be instant because if they’re going to cull the population – which is what they’re discussing – it has to be done in a humane way,’ and he coughed. Or was it a laugh? Surely not a laugh, Rachael thought. How surreal this was – listening to someone talking about exterminating all the poor on the planet with no more emotion than if he was describing the weather.

  She shook her head again and fought the instinct to put her hands over her ears and run.

  ‘Then,’ Joseph continued, ‘someone comes up with the idea of a biologically engineered virus. But how would it determine between the rich and the poor? And how would they distribute it?

  ‘Through the UN, some bright spark says. It’s always giving out free vaccine to the poor. The virus could be put in the vaccine. And so the germ of an idea, excuse the pun, is planted and the longer they think about it, the more attractive it becomes.

  ‘Later, they talk about numbers. How many is too many? How many is too few?

  ‘It is a solution… but of course they’d never put such a plan into action. All they’re doing is playing “What If?” However, a few in the group just can’t seem to let it go… and without the others knowing, they continue meeting and planning.

  ‘They would need a cover story – one that prepares the population for extensive culling without igniting mass panic. And how would they dispose of the dead? How would they ensure the distribution of food, fresh water and fuel to the survivors? With such a reduced population, how would they keep business and the financial system going?

  ‘They talk about the shock such an event would cause and realise they could use that to their advantage. It would keep people quiet while they establish their global government system manned by handpicked protégés. Their new world order.’

  ‘Then the method of harnessing hydrothermal energy was developed in the US.’

  ‘Why was that important?’ Rachael asked.

  ‘Because, even with a global population reduced by eighty-five per cent, the world would still use alm
ost the same amount of energy. Energy was the domain of the rich – the poor couldn’t afford it. With the advent of hydrothermal energy the stranglehold traditional oil and gas producing nations in the Middle East had over the rest of the world was broken.’

  Joseph snorted again. ‘At first an entirely hypothetical plan, over time they elaborate… and refine… and the longer they discuss it, the more desensitised they become and the easier it is for them to imagine one day putting it into action, so much so that when the global economy was fixing to crash big time and news came in confirming the reality of global cooling… well… they decided to go ahead with it.’

  ‘How do you know all this?’ Rachael asked.

  He answered her question with a question. ‘And you said you and Mr Fuller thought some intelligence agency was involved?’

  She nodded.

  ‘I can tell you about that too,’ and Joseph’s lips twisted into a grimace and he grunted, ‘although I don’t know how happy it’ll make you.’

  ‘I’m not here to find happiness.’ She flicked her dark curls out from under her coat collar. ‘I’m here to find the truth.’

  ‘Of course you are.’ He cleared his throat, ‘and this is how it went. A spokesperson representing the cabal approached the Director of the foremost intelligence agency at that time. He told him what I just told you. Explained why and how the group had developed their master plan. He asked for the agency’s help to refine it and put it into action. The Director agreed. He chose his best agent for the job. Of course it was a highly classified operation. Apart from the cabal and its spokesperson, only the Director and… the Director and…’ Joseph looked towards the drinking bottle and signalled with his hand. Rachael picked it up and held it out for him again. He looked flushed, she thought. He took a couple of sucks on the straw, drew a breath, and settled his head back on the pillow.

  ‘Are you okay?’ she asked. Sweat was beading on his brow and his eyes had turned glassy.

  ‘It’s the fever. It comes and goes. So… only the Director and his agent knew anything about it.’

  ‘You mean just one agent was responsible for the whole operation?’

  ‘Of course the operative had the agency’s entire resources at his disposal. And he used other people to play critical roles. But none of them knew what they were involved in.’

  ‘Who came up with the idea of using the Mayan calendar and inventing Zul?’

  ‘The agent. Then when he got wind the US military wanted to muzzle Anderson and your father, he realised he could use Zul to do that too, without taking Carlos out of the game too soon.’

  ‘What about the virus?’

  ‘The cabal had a chemist engineer it, funded the majority of its manufacture, and manipulated the UN into distributing it to all the poor and low-income families round the world. But the operative worked out how to trigger it with a high frequency radio wave. And he triggered it himself. The group didn’t want to get their hands too dirty.’

  ‘It’s horrific.’ Rachael said, covering her mouth. ‘How many were in the cabal?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Did the agent know their names?’

  ‘No. Nor did the Director. It was a big secret. That’s why they had a go-between.’

  Rachael sighed. ‘I suppose I’ll never find out their identities, but do you know who the go-between was?’

  ‘Even if I told you, it wouldn’t mean anything. In any case, he’s long since dead.’

  ‘Then tell me which agency it was.’

  ‘I’m surprised Scott Fuller didn’t work that one out. He was in the business after all.’

  ‘Of course he knew whoever was involved had the communications knowledge and equipment to pull off the plan and the surveillance capability to bug my father’s office and his flat, to watch you, Drew and Erika. They must also have known about cosmology to come up with the Zul story. In fact, he thought one of them played Zul.’

  Joseph twisted his lips into another grimace. ‘He was right. The operative did act out the part of Zul.’

  ‘Scott said they set up the car accident so my father could escape, because they had no surveillance in the safe house and they needed to know what the Americans were planning.’

  ‘He’s right about that too. The Americans gave the agent a lot of headaches at the beginning. Taking your father to the safe house. Then wanting to put him in a mental hospital in Madrid. The cabal could have pulled strings had it needed to, but…’

  ‘They controlled the President?’ Rachael gasped.

  ‘Of course! But that would have drawn unnecessary attention. That would have been the last resort. What else did Fuller say?’ Joseph asked.

  ‘That they were expert at psychology, that they profiled my father so well they knew exactly how to manipulate him. That they had the ability to readjust and refine their plan at a moment’s notice to accommodate the unexpected.’

  ‘He’s right on the money there,’ Joseph grunted. ‘What else?’

  Rachael thought back to her conversations with Scott. ‘He thought someone else was behind the plan you and Drew came up with to get my father out of UNO.’

  ‘Ha! And did you never think it was odd Drew turning up on the very day Zul first contacted Carlos?’

  ‘It was coincidence. NI investigated but they never found a connection.’

  Joseph moved his head from side to side. ‘Americans!’ he said, ‘can’t see what’s right under their noses.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘How long had Drew and your father been friends? Huh? Twenty-eight years? He knew Carlos up and down and inside out. He knew everything there was to know about him. Think about it…’

  ‘You mean… it was Drew?’ Rachael exclaimed. ‘But who did he work for? The FBI? The CIA? If so, what was he doing at NASA?’

  ‘Keep thinking.’

  ‘Hold on, Drew was British. So he must have been with… what was it called? Scott said it the other day… the Secret Intelligence Service, that’s it. And he hated my father because of Elena. And it was Drew who came up with the escape plan from UNO.’

  Joseph grunted again. ‘It was Erika who gave your father the drugs.’

  ‘She was a spy too? But how did she…’ then Rachael gasped, ‘she put them in his coffee. Perhaps she was passing information from Northrop Grumman to Drew in the old days. She betrayed her country?’

  ‘False flags.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Assets that lie to the agents giving them information. They’re called false flags. They lie about which agency they work for.’

  ‘You mean Drew pretended to be FBI? But Northrop Grumman was an American company. Why would Erika think they’d spy on themselves? Oh… wait a minute… they had a cooperative agreement with Israel Aerospace Industries. He must have told her there were things about IAI the Americans wanted to know, but really he was passing secrets to the British.’

  Joseph opened his mouth to reply, but was overcome by a coughing spasm.

  ‘It all makes sense. Erika was a single parent – she was struggling – she needed money. Drew would have paid her well. And it explains why they were so close. And the music magazines she brought for my father – I bet they’d bugged them so Drew could trace him in case the plan to get him out of UNO didn’t work. And Erika thought she was doing the right thing helping him to escape, because Drew never told her he’d invented Zul and what the master plan was.’ Rachael got up and began to pace the floor.

  ‘And the money,’ she nodded her head, ‘that fits too. His aunt dying? She never left him a fortune. That money he and Erika bought the big house with in Vienna? That was for doing the job. And…’ she turned to look at Joseph, ‘he knew my father would be high on the drugs when he sent in Astraea,’

  ‘Ah… Astraea…’ Joseph said.

  ‘But wait a moment, Drew would never have admitted to the affair with Elena, unless… unless he wanted to break him down so he’d be more receptive when Zul appeared. Perhaps
he even lied about the affair. And that girlfriend he was seeing? She lived near UNO. And that’s how he beamed in the lasers. From her roof garden… and… of course… my mother worked it out.’ Rachael sunk back down into the armchair, shaking her head in her hands. ‘It was Drew who set him up… his best friend.’

  ‘Nice try,’ Joseph rasped, ‘but you’re wrong. Drew didn’t work for the Secret Intelligence Service. He was an agent… but not the kind you think. He was what we call in the business,’ and he lifted the first and middle fingers of both hands, ‘an “unwitting agent”.’

  ‘You mean he didn’t know what he was doing?’

  Joseph nodded. ‘Exactly!’ he said.

  ‘So someone else was manipulating him.’ It took her a split second to grasp it. Then she caught her breath and felt every cell in her body flood with adrenaline. A deafening buzzing filled her ears and without knowing how she got there she found herself bent over the bed, her face inches away from Joseph’s.

  ‘It was you!’ she hissed. ‘It was you all along.’

  Then, just as suddenly she felt faint and sick, and groping for the arm of her chair, she collapsed back into it muttering. ‘You were always there lurking in the background. Always whispering in someone’s ear. Drew, Erika, my father, Greg, my mother… even NASA and the US military. You got Erika the job at Northrop Grumman and RUAG. She was passing secrets to you, not to Drew. You set her up with that abusive boyfriend to get Drew to Vienna – you wanted him back in touch with my father. You knew he’d tell Drew things he’d never tell you.’ She gasped. ‘Did you kill Drew’s aunt too?’

  ‘She was old and sick. I did her a favour… and him!’

  Rachael shuddered. ‘Neither Erika nor Drew had any idea how you were using them. If they’d guessed, you’d have killed them too.’

  ‘When Drew confessed his affair? I didn’t seen that coming.’