The God Complex: A Thriller

by Murray Mcdonald

  He lay on the ledge helpless as Cash stood over him his knife at the ready.

  “You okay?” said Rigs, appearing at the end of the gallery.

  “Yes, thanks for coming,” he said catching his breath.

  “There’s another one up on the pyramid,” said Rigs taking a seat next to Cash. He had raced all the way there, telling the Senator to get into the chopper and shoot anyone that came anywhere near him.

  “Dead?”

  “Nah, like this one, crippled. I cut both his Achilles tendons; he’ll be hobbling for a long while. Not sure how he’ll get down though, he’s a long way up,” said Rigs. “What will we do with him?”

  “Are you going to tell us who hired you?” asked Cash, looking at Joel, who was struggling with the debilitating pain.

  “No,” said Joel resolutely.

  Rigs touched the wound, twisting the arm slightly, generating an ear piercing scream from Joel. “Who hired you?”

  Joel shook his head, his forehead soaked in sweat.

  “Leave him,” said Cash. “They’re not going anywhere anytime soon. I’ll call Travis to arrange for them to be picked up and see what he can get from them. Let’s go.”

  They met Sophie where she was pacing nervously by the entrance. “Thank God!” she whispered when Cash appeared alive and well with Rigs.

  She spotted the blood on the corner of his mouth and rushed over, touching the redness on his chin. “Are you alright?” she fussed.

  “I’m fine,” said Cash, enjoying the attention. The same attention she used to lavish on him after any of his football injuries.

  “So, did you find what you were after?” Sophie asked Rigs.

  “Yeah, there’s something up above us, not sure how we get to it though. The stone didn’t budge.”

  “And you spotted it how?”

  “Two photos, taken at different times, there was a stone slightly askew.”

  ‘There are over two million stones!” gasped Cash.

  “Not all on one side, there can’t be more than a few thousand on the side,” said Sophie. “Is it about three-quarters of the way up on the East face?” she asked.

  “You saw it?”

  “Honestly no, but there was an incident a couple of years ago, robbers moved a stone one night, up high where they thought it wouldn’t be noticed. All that climb for nothing, sorry. If you had mentioned it…”

  “Don’t feel sorry for him,” Cash said. “Feel sorry for the guy he left up there, crippled.”

  “A guy that tried to kill him? Not a chance,” said Sophie, smiling at the once again silent Rigs. He had retracted into himself. The action was over, his awkwardness returned.

  They walked back to a very nervous Senator. He and the pilot were both training the HK416s around the chopper.

  “We dealt with them,” Cash said.

  “Them?”

  “Two,” said Cash. “Why are you so surprised we’re dealing with these guys? We’re ex-Special Forces.”

  “No reason,” the Senator said, visibly relaxing.

  They took their seats and as they took off, Rigs leaned across to Cash and whispered into his ear. “What if the robbers is just a cover story?”

  Chapter 58

  Geneva, Switzerland

  Cash stepped down from the Senator’s jet out onto an empty apron. No welcome awaited the Senator, not even a car.

  Cash stepped back into the jet where the Senator was waiting for the all-clear to exit. “Do they know you’re coming?”

  “I wouldn’t think so,” Senator Noble said, fastening his coat button. “We may have had a slight disagreement.”

  “And you didn’t call to say you were coming?” asked Sophie.

  “My nephew’s not the type you call, face-to-face is always better, I find. But give it five minutes, they’ll know we’re here.”

  Cash stepped back out onto the steps and noted the cars racing towards them. Three long black sedans tearing down the runway area, stopping aircraft in their wake. The Senator joined him on the steps.

  “See, they know I’m here now.”

  The cars slammed to a halt and eight men dressed immaculately in black designer suits exited the cars. Cash couldn’t help but think that’s how the Secret Service would look if they had a five thousand dollar clothing budget and a six-two minimum height requirement, even down to the wires that trailed down the back of their necks from their earpieces.

  “I’m not sure you need us, if that’s your nephew’s security?” said Cash, impressed.

  “You’re coming,” commanded the Senator, walking down the steps.

  A man dressed in a tuxedo stepped out of the middle car. “Uncle Bertie!” Cash picked up on the lack of sincerity and walked faster to catch up with the Senator. Rigs was close behind with Sophie at his side.

  Two security men walked forward and patted down Cash and Rigs, removing their handguns and knives. They protested but the Senator waved for them to accept. Their weapons were placed in a strong box and stored in the trunk of the first car.

  Sophie was checked also but hers was accompanied by a number of apologies by the security man who made sure he did not touch any inappropriate areas.

  “Conrad!” said the Senator, stepping forward to embrace him. Conrad stepped back, showing the Senator to the back of the car instead.

  “My friends will travel with me,” said the Senator, waiting for Sophie to climb in before him. Rigs followed, then the Senator. Cash squeezed in, pleased to see two rows of seats. Conrad joined them, squeezing himself between Cash and Rigs.

  “I’ve never seen an Audi this big before,” said Cash.

  “You wouldn’t have,” said Conrad, offering little more, his eyes not leaving the Senator.

  “Why’s that?” asked Sophie.

  “They’re specially made for us,” he said, breaking his stare to smile at her. His manners were impeccable. He was unable to be rude to her.

  Sophie took the cue and engaged Conrad in conversation for the rest of the trip. She would do anything to ease the palpable tension. It helped, of course, that Sophie was very pleasing to the eye.

  Their convoy swept through Geneva and along the lakeside, cars moving aside as the three Audis carved their way through traffic.

  Cash noted the sign for Anieres when they slowed down for a checkpoint which just waved them on. Three minutes later, they were pulling into the drive of one of the grandest chateaux Cash had ever laid his eyes on, helped by the laser and light show that was lighting up the night sky above.

  “Wow, this is some hotel,” said Cash, stepping out onto the driveway that looped around a spectacular water fountain in front of the chateau.

  “It’s not a hotel,” said Conrad, leading them towards the entranceway. “It’s my cousin’s home. Welcome,” he said grudgingly.

  Conrad and the Senator led the way. Cash and Rigs kept the Senator within their reach, although judging by the security they had seen, it was pointless. Armed guards were at the checkpoint and armed guards were patrolling the streets. Cameras were on every lamppost. Cash used the Secret Service comparison again; it was the security they’d have liked to have around the White House if they were allowed to. It seemed nobody was stopping the Nobles.

  “Would you mind if I took the Senator from you for a few minutes?” asked Conrad, politely but rhetorically.

  The Senator nodded to say it was okay.

  “Sure,” said Cash. “Will we wait here?”

  “You may as well join the party, through that door there and out to the marquee.” A security man stepped forward to show them the way..

  “Antoine wishes to speak with you privately,” said Conrad, guiding Bertie to Antoine’s library.

  Conrad opened the door and allowed the Senator to enter. Antoine stood up, his hands clasped behind his back, staring out at the lake and the marquee.

  “Do you want me to stay?” asked Conrad.

  “No,” said Antoine firmly.

  The door closed, le
aving uncle and nephew at either side of the room.

  The Senator walked across and poured himself a drink. “Trying to kill me?” he said with fury.

  “After what you’ve done?” said Antoine, turning around and staring him down.

  “We don’t murder our own!” boomed the Senator in his most commanding voice.

  “Tell that to my father. Oh of course, you can’t, you had him killed,” spat Antoine.

  “I what?!”

  “Don’t dare deny it, you just tried again to take power, Bertie.”

  “Again, what are you talking about?”

  “You killed my father in an attempt to gain power, admit it!”

  “But you gained power from his death. How does that make any sense?”

  “I was supposed to be on the boat with him, you’d have killed us both.”

  “As was I!”

  “As were you what?”

  “Supposed to be on that boat. There was an emergency session I had to return to the Senate for. Otherwise, I’d have been there too. I loved your father with all my heart, I wouldn’t have hurt a hair on his head and I’d kill anyone who did.”

  “You always wanted the power,” challenged Antoine.

  “And your father didn’t. He knew he was weak as a leader. I offered to sit by his side and help him lead but he knew it would make him look weak to the family. Look what happened during his leadership— a population explosion, the Cold War, nuclear weapons. It was a disaster but he was the leader. It set us back years but he was my brother. What could I do? Twelve minutes earlier and I would have been the leader.”

  “Yes twelve minutes,” said Antoine with disgust. “Twelve minutes that had you kill your own brother for power.”

  “Are you mad?! We don’t kill Nobles! We do not kill one another! I made my move, yes, but it wasn’t at the cost of any Noble blood. Do you think I’d have done all that when I could have simply had you and Alex shot, job done?!”

  Antoine paused. It was a very good point. “But your lust for power…”

  “Yes, I was born for it. Perhaps at the last minute, we turned in our mother’s womb and your father came out first, who knows? I was born to lead. But kill my own brother? Never! Kill one of our own, it’s against everything we believe in.”

  “It can be done, the council can—”

  “Do no such thing!” shouted the Senator, slamming his hand on the desk.

  “It is forbidden! We do not kill our own! It’s what separates us from every other being. It makes us who we are. Who said you can?”

  “It’s written in our history?”

  “Anya!” he said, incredulous. She was the keeper of the archives.

  Antoine shook his head. “Blake.”

  The Senator calmed. “Blake, that sneaky old bastard,” he said, almost admiringly.

  “What?” asked Antoine.

  “If we had all been on that boat who would have gained power?”

  Antoine thought for a second. “Blake’s father,’ he said.

  “Who would have been in his nineties. Wait a minute, who knows I’m here?”

  “Just Conrad and his security men. He got the call to say your plane had landed, told me and we snuck out. Nobody else knows.”

  “And Blake thinks you have the Sicarii about to kill me, if they haven’t already.”

  “He’s over a hundred!”

  “And crazy,” said the Senator. “He always has been. He thinks he’ll live for at least another twenty years.”

  Antoine suddenly saw it. The old man had played him like a fool. Even forcing his opinion on population control into the plan. He had complained about the mistakes his father had made. The old man with all the wisdom thought he could do it better and knew it all.

  “If he kills you both, thinking I may be dead…” thought the Senator.

  “He’d be leader,” finished Antoine, rushing to the door. “We need to get Alex somewhere safe.”

  ***

  “Oh my God!” said Cash. “Have you tried the food?”

  “Yes,” said Sophie, her mouth full. “It’s amazing!” She looked around. “Where’s Rigs?”

  Cash tilted his head over toward an exit that led to the garden. Rigs stood just inside watching them.

  “He’s not the party type.”

  “Do you see who’s getting set up on the stage?” she asked.

  Cash looked, he didn’t recognize anyone.

  “They’re only like the current number one band, their tickets sell out in seconds, Kyle’s a huge fan.”

  “Who are they?”

  “I can’t remember what they’re called - he’s got their posters all over his walls though.”

  “Well let’s go and get him their autographs,” said Cash, taking her hand and pushing through the crowd.

  Sophie looked around as they walked. “Have you noticed anything strange?”

  Cash shook his head, his eyes fixed on the prize, getting his son his favorite band’s autographs.

  Sophie stopped being pulled and stood in the middle of the marquee, surrounded by men and women.

  Cash felt her stop and backed up towards her. “What?”

  “Look,” she said.

  Cash looked around. They were surrounded by women in evening gowns and men in tuxedos.

  “You can’t see it because you’re not out of place,” she said. “Look at all the men and then at all the women.”

  Cash spun around quickly. “We’re seriously under dressed to be here?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “Look beyond that.”

  Cash spun around more slowly and began to see it. “Everyone is exactly the same height,” he said.

  “And build,” said Sophie. “Look at the guys, same as you, six feet two, broad shoulders and fit. Not a fat or thin one in sight. The women all five eight, without their heels, and bodies to die for, not a one fat or thin.”

  “Rich people,” said Cash with a smile. “They’ve got it all.”

  “There are, what, five hundred people here?” she asked.

  Cash stood on his tiptoes and looked around. “Give or take.”

  “And they’re all the same height and build? Seriously, that just doesn’t happen!”

  “They’re all from the same family, it’s not like they all look identical.”

  “Yeah, facially they’re a little different but if you look you can see the similarities, even you—”

  “Conrad said you were here.” A woman approached Cash. Like everyone around her, she stood easily three inches taller than Sophie, who was feeling small at five foot five, despite wearing heels.

  Cash looked at her blankly.

  “Anya Noble. I was a friend of your father’s many years ago. I was so sorry to hear of your loss. He was a great man.”

  “Anya, ‘The answers you seek, lay around us in our past,’” quoted Sophie.

  “I’m sure they do,” said Anya, holding out her hand.

  “Sophie Kramer.”

  “Ah, Dr. Kramer, I’ve read a number of your articles, excellent work.”

  “Thank you,” said Sophie. “Do you know the band?”

  “Yes, my nephew’s favorite.”

  “My son’s too!”

  Anya looked at her. “You can’t have a son old enough to like them?” she asked, further winning Sophie over.

  “We do,” said Cash proudly. “Kyle.”

  Anya looked at him. “I’d love to meet him,” she said with a deep sincerity.

  Cash didn’t have a chance to answer, Rigs was by his side propelling him through the crowd.

  “Sorry?!!” said Cash weakly, turning to Rigs. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Trouble,” said Rigs, working his way urgently towards the stage, Cash in tow.

  ***

  The Senator and Antoine entered the marquee. Antoine’s eyes desperately searching for his son Alex. Over five hundred Nobles filled the tent and he was nowhere to be seen. His wife Chantal caught Antoine’s eye and w
aved him over. “Where have you been? We’re waiting for you to make your speech on the stage!”

  Antoine looked at the stage. Alex was standing with the band. The two assassins who had been protecting the Senator were fighting their way towards him.

  “You liar!” Antoine screeched at his uncle. “Stop those two!” he roared, his voice reaching halfway across the tent, but then drowned out by the music.

  The Senator looked around, trying to see what he had made him react the way he had. Cash and Rigs were desperately trying to get to the stage where Alex was. He looked at the stage but knew that Cash and Rigs didn’t even know who Alex was, so they weren’t going after him.

  Antoine ran towards the stage. His son was about to be murdered before his very eyes and he knew he would most likely be next but that didn’t even enter his thoughts. He had to save his son. Conrad rushed to his side, three of his security men plowing their way through the crowd to get Antoine to where he wanted to be.

  “The two killers! He brought them here to kill Alex and me. He all but told me!” he explained to Conrad.

  “But he’d need to kill you as well, we need to get you out of here. Let me save Alex, my men will—”

  Antoine pushed past Conrad, he had no intention of going anywhere but to Alex’s side. He defied his age and leapt onto the stage, the three security men by his side. Conrad pulled himself up from the ground where he’d landed.

  “Shoot them!” ordered Antoine, pointing to Cash and Rigs, who were next to his son.

  ***

  Rigs raced on to the stage, Cash right behind him. He showed Cash two fingers and pointed to the curtain that was obscuring the back stage area. He had spotted something from his vantage point at the exit. A young man wearing a ‘21’ badge stood chatting to the band members by the break in the curtain that Rigs was racing towards. Alex, thought Cash. The Senator had mentioned it was a twenty-first birthday party.