by J. F. Penn
Jake leaned towards the screen.
“OK, what have you found?”
“Harghada frequently enters a plain building on the Rue Dareau only a few blocks from the entrance to the Paris catacombs. It’s quite near the Centre Hospitalier Sainte-Anne where he has some kind of medical consultancy role, but that seems to be an honorary position of sorts. It certainly it doesn’t justify the amount of time he’s spent there recently and Harghada was seen going in there again early this morning. You’d better hurry, as his reputation is not a savory one.”
“That’s it. We’re going in now,” Jake said. “Get the order out JP, and we’ll rendezvous with the team there.”
“There’s one more thing,” Martin said. “Milan Noble held another scheduled press conference this morning and there was a prominent bruise on his cheekbone which he declined to answer questions about.”
Jake grinned at him over the video connection, a strange kind of pride welling up inside him.
“That’s our girl.”
Sector C, Paris, France.
The warehouse sized room was packed with rows of beds and monitoring equipment. Morgan could see a woman in each bed, masked and sedated as nurses patrolled the machines, checking the bleeping monitors. Each woman was pregnant, some showing only a little and others with huge bellies that must be almost full term. In the middle of the space was a round guard station where uniformed men sat watching the hospital floor, guns at their hips.
“What are you doing here?” she gasped. “Who are these women?”
“The farm is being used as the basis for our eugenic research.” Pride was evident in Harghada’s voice. “We have been testing drugs for cognitive enhancement and I think we have perfected it in the latest batch. The previous batches had to be terminated but so far this crop is working out fine.”
“This crop?” Morgan said, aghast.
“We have to think in terms of a harvest of perfect genetic specimens. These are all grown from variations of Milan's sperm, and of course, you'll be joining them. We always need smart women as carriers and it’s easier to control like this. These children will be born smarter and more able than others. It’s the dream of eugenics made reality.”
Harghada wheeled Morgan through the rows of hospital beds. She looked into the impassive faces of the women. They looked peaceful but she wondered if they were screaming inside their trapped bodies.
“How did you find them all?” she asked, estimating that there were nearly 100 women in various stages of pregnancy.
“Some of them came willingly. Many believe this world is not a great place anymore, that there are sacrifices needed for the greater good. These women were promised that their children would be as gods in the new world.”
“But not all came willingly or I wouldn't be here,” Morgan said darkly, as the wheelchair squeaked across the floor.
They progressed towards an operating theatre at the end of the room where nurses in gowns were prepping and cleaning equipment. As Morgan watched, a bed was wheeled out and a woman was put on the end of the far row. The woman’s belly was flat but now presumably impregnated.
“Milan just takes a shine to some women. Like you. A smart woman, good breeding stock. Character. Definitely someone who should be saved and perfect for the farm. Don't worry my dear, we'll keep you and the baby safe here while the world rages outside these walls. After we’ve sedated you, we harvest your eggs, then fertilize them with Milan's sperm. We'll scan the embryos and implant the most viable with the best genetic code. You should be grateful to be chosen.”
He patted her on the shoulder. It was all Morgan could do to restrain the screams that were welling up inside her. She scanned the room, calculating the amount of time she had before they reached the operating theatre, before they impregnated her, before she became just another body in this hell-farm. She had to keep him talking, keep him focused.
“I still don't understand your rush to proceed. Why not just keep doing this in secret?”
“The twin aims of Thanatos and Zoebios have now combined with the retrieval of the Devil’s Bible. We also know that the clinical research centers are beginning to be investigated and there’s only a slim window before it all comes crashing down. People like you interfering mean we have to move the farm and the labs to a more secret location but we’ll continue the research while a religious war explodes outside. Milan will release the final wave of the plan when he gets the last few pages of the Devil’s Bible.”
Harghada's face was lit up with the vision of this perfect future.
“But you’ve forgotten the human element,” Morgan said.
“We have to make do with what we have, and you'll be part of it.” Harghada's face darkened again and he wheeled her faster towards the operating theatre. "But you won't see the war to come, only the aftermath. That's if we keep this batch of course. I might have to make sure you don't survive to see your child born.”
Ahead, Morgan could see a tight space between the hospital beds they would have to wheel through. It was her only chance.
Just before they hit the space, Morgan took a deep breath and with all her effort threw herself to one side, rocking the wheelchair over, tipping it and sliding under the bed closest to her. Harghada shouted in frustration. She heard the footsteps of others running to their position. She only had seconds before they got to her and she was still shackled to the wheelchair. She twisted around and with her teeth pulled a tiny pin out from under the skin on her left wrist. She palmed it just as the wheelchair was yanked back out from under the bed and she was dragged out with it.
“Stupid girl, how could you even think you'd get out of here?” Harghada was red-faced and flustered. Two orderlies helped him get her back into the wheelchair. “We need to get you sedated, there's no time for this. I'm sick of you. I don't care what Milan wants you for. To me, you're just another body, just another set of genetics for the farm. Bring her.”
He stamped off and gestured for the orderlies to wheel her through to the operating area. Morgan could feel the pin sticking into her left palm, an old military trick that was uncomfortable at first but then became a kind of hair shirt, a penance that also had potential benefits. She only needed a few extra seconds to pick the lock on the handcuffs that held her there. But as they wheeled her forwards into the sterile area, Morgan could see Harghada putting on a gown and filling a syringe with something, so she didn’t have long. She needed to stall for time.
“What if I submit willingly to the procedure?” she said. “You know the baby will develop better with an active mother.”
The doctor’s eyes flicked to hers over the syringe which he held ready to press into her arm.
“You’re right of course. The babies would do better with mothers that weren’t vegetables. But of course, I can’t trust you.”
He took a step towards her.
Suddenly an alarm sounded and lights began to flash. Harghada looked around in confusion. A security guard rushed into the room.
“The facility has been breached sir. You need to leave immediately.”
Harghada put down the syringe and walked quickly to the main computer terminal.
“I need to replicate these files to the main server,” he said to the man. “Then we must destroy the place. If this is discovered, Zoebios is over. Set the charges for ten minutes.”
The guard nodded and ran off towards the central tower. The nurses left in a hurry. Harghada tapped away on the computer, his back to Morgan for a moment. With one hand, she gently maneuvered the pin until it rested on the side of the bed and then slotted it into the handcuff lock using her body as an anchor. She kept her eyes on Harghada, trying not to make any noticeable movements.
“Your friends, I presume,” he said, looking up briefly. She froze. “I told Milan that involving you was a liability. This batch is wasted now but no matter. There are other labs, other facilities.”
Morgan felt the lock click and she slipped her hand out, leaving it b
y her side as she surveyed the room for possible weapons. She needed her other hand free but in the seconds it would take to unlock it, he would be on her. She was fast, but not that fast.
The alarm turned into a countdown.
“Please evacuate. Eight minutes to detonation.”
Harghada finished typing, folded his glasses into his pocket and picked up his coat.
“No doubt your friends will find you in time, but then you will all be blown to pieces along with these women. There’s no time and you’ll die trying to save them. Goodbye Morgan, see you in hell.”
He walked out without looking back. Morgan quickly used the pin to pick the other handcuff, jumped out of the wheelchair and then went to the computer terminal. It was dead; she couldn’t use it to reach Martin. She peeked around the curtain of the sterile area. The orderlies were fleeing the area and the guards were leaving the central station. She could see Harghada moving through the beds towards an exit no one else was using. Morgan dearly wanted to follow him and make him pay for what he was doing here, but he was right, she needed to stop the explosion first. These women and the lives they carried were her first priority.
A rattle of gunfire came from the main entrance to the warehouse room and the guards moved towards the noise, leaving the central area unguarded. The automated voice spoke again over the din of gunfire and shouting.
“Please evacuate. Seven minutes to detonation.”
Morgan ran towards the abandoned guard station, weaving through the beds with their impassive occupants. She needed to get to a terminal and stop the explosion. It sounded like Jake was on his way but at this rate he wouldn’t make it in time and they would both die here in the flames. A dark anger burned inside her as she thought of what Harghada had done. If she made it out, she would go after him next and he would pay for this abuse. Even as she acknowledged the presence of a supernatural evil in the world, she knew it was made flesh in people like him, who would do anything to further their perverted cause. She reached the station and ran into the dark entrance.
*****
Jake and Jean-Pierre were pinned down by the entrance to the underground warehouse. The advance team had blown the airlock and they had streamed in, exchanging fire with security guards who were using the bodies on hospital beds as cover. The ARKANE team had stopped firing when they realized the beds contained sedated women but the guards continued to take pot-shots even as they retreated to the far exit.
“What is this place?” JP shouted above the noise of bullets ricocheting off the metal struts lining the corridor. “You think Morgan’s here?”
Jake reloaded his gun as JP popped up for another couple of shots.
“We have to find out if she is, even if we have to search every one of those damn beds.”
“Please evacuate. Six minutes to detonation.”
The bullets abruptly stopped. Jake peered around the edge of the door and saw the last guards heading for the exit.
“They’re leaving. We’ve got to stop the explosion,” he said, sprinting for the central guard station.
*****
Morgan ran up the stairs softly on the balls of her feet, concerned that there would still be guards within. She could hear a voice and a crackling radio ahead.
“Detonation is imminent sir. Lockdown is in progress. Permission to withdraw?”
The man’s voice contained a note of tension, understandable given the circumstances. Six minutes wasn’t really long to get out of the huge building.
“Permission denied,” Harghada’s voice replied, with a crackle of static. “You will stay in place to ensure the detonation happens as planned and prevent any access to the main terminal. You will be shot if you emerge.”
The radio went dead and Morgan could hear the guard swearing in fury and frustration, torn between duty and the desire to save his own life. Taking advantage of his distraction and orienting herself towards his voice, Morgan ran into the room. He looked up and reached for his weapon but with a palm strike, she knocked it from his hand, followed with a hammer fist to his nose, breaking it with an audible crunch. He grunted with pain as he fell backwards clutching his face.
Morgan’s close combat Krav Maga tactics were second nature now and her anger and hatred for Harghada filled her with a fury that she now took out on this man. She used the edge of the table to give her some height as she jumped to knee him in the solar-plexus, sending him winded to the floor. Grabbing the gun from where it had fallen, she threw herself at him and slammed the butt of the gun into his face. His arms came up in defense as he scrabbled to get away from her. She swiped his arm away and hit him with the gun again, putting all the force she had into the blow. Blood welled up from the man’s wounds and Morgan raised her hand to hit him again.
Her wrist was caught from above. She whipped around, ready to strike and saw Jake, his palm out to placate her even as she broke from his grip.
“It’s alright,” he said. “Better not kill him, we might need him later.”
Morgan breathed out, letting the tension briefly subside. She could see her own anger reflected in his burnt amber eyes.
“You’re late,” she said. JP laughed and moved forward to help her off the man.
“We got a little sidetracked but you clearly didn’t need the help,” he said.
“Please evacuate. Five minutes to detonation.” The voice said again. Jake moved to the computer terminal.
“We need Martin on this,” Morgan said, pulling the jeweled cross from around her neck. She clicked the middle garnet and a slim USB key popped out the bottom. Morgan plugged it into the terminal and they waited a few seconds. The light on the stick changed from red to green and a little video screen opened in the window. The face of Martin Klein was pixellated at first and then resolved into his eccentric smile.
“Morgan, you’re OK.”
“All good here, Martin, but right now we need you to work some magic and stop a countdown. This place is about to explode.”
“I’ll get right on it.”
They could see him working away, fingers flashing across the keyboard. He muttered and then disappeared from the screen before rushing back and tapping again furiously. Jake was systematically searching the office, trying to find some evidence linking the site to Zoebios that they could use in the case against Milan Noble.
“Please evacuate. Four minutes to detonation.”
Martin didn’t even raise his head at this latest impassive announcement. Morgan watched him and felt a curious sense of displacement because it was too late to get out now. A few hours later and she would have been one of these nameless women, sedated and used to grow a new generation of smart people. It seemed like a parallel life, one she didn’t recognize but she felt as if she was saving herself by saving these women. And if it wasn’t to be, if the explosion happened, then she felt a sense of completion at that possibility. She was drawn to death, hunted it even, as she chased the memory of Elian. To die in a rain of fire as he had done would be right and she would perhaps join him in an exploded heaven. But was there something to live for now?
She glanced over at Jake, hastily scanning through papers in a filing cabinet. He had come to find her again and she had seen the deep concern in his eyes. He would never speak of it but they were bound together in some way.
“Got it!” shouted Martin. “Sending the code now. It’s an elegant design so I’ve written an elegant solution.”
He pressed a button.
“Wait for it,” he said, pushing his glasses up his nose and gazing at them on the screen.
They waited. Seconds passed.
“Please evacuate. Three minutes to detonation.”
The voice over the loudspeaker announced yet again. Jake came over to the screen.
“Spooky, we don’t have much time here. Skip the elegant code and just nail this bastard.”
Martin flushed. Morgan knew he hated to disappoint.
“Sorry Jake, give me another minute.”
“We don’t have much more than that, my friend,” Jake said.
He looked over at her, a question in his eyes and Morgan could see that he wanted to say something to her. Jake glanced at JP who was still questioning the prisoner and getting nowhere. He walked towards her, his eyes locked on hers.
“Trying again.” Martin’s voice came from the screen. Jake stopped midway across the room and the moment hung in the air, like smoke from distant gunfire. Then Martin exhaled, a whoosh of triumphant air.
“Detonation cancelled. Evacuation no longer necessary.” The disembodied voice came over the loudspeaker. The moment passed. Jake turned and walked back to the screen.
“Get the team down here Martin. These women need immediate medical attention and we need to move quickly now.”
“And we have to find those missing pages before Milan does,” added Morgan. “It’s the only thing stopping him from igniting all-out war.”
ARKANE, Trafalgar Square. London. 10.07am
Morgan strode purposefully down the long corridor, past the well-lit workrooms of the ARKANE research departments towards the dark den that was Martin Klein's office. Her anger at Milan and Harghada burned even more fiercely now as the body count rose with increasing attacks by people who had suddenly turned into religious extremists. The rhetoric from all sides was escalating and with their methods about to be exposed, it would only be a short time before Thanatos executed their final plan in order to capitalize on the carnage. The missing ten pages of the Devil's Bible were the key for without them, Milan would not be able to embed and release the curse that would tip the bloodshed over into total destruction. He might have the book, but he didn't yet have the final words to fulfill the prophecy on the intended scale.