The Aurora Conspiracies- Volume One

by Sam Nash

  “At least the politicians and stock trader’s lives are not at risk. We should concentrate on shutting him down for killing innocent victims of natural disasters. We need to know precisely what his next target will be and when. Mary, you have to go back into his base and find out.”

  “I can’t just, you know,” she whispered, “drift out of myself, here, now. I have to lie down and get drowsy.”

  They finished their sandwiches and drinks and made their way back towards the beach. The tide was on its way out and families were following it down the gradual slopes of revealed sand, staking their claims with beach towels and wind breaks. Dan and Mary scrambled over the wooden groynes and stayed close to the promenade wall at the high tide mark.

  Mary spied a sheltered area between the sea defence rocks, where sand had deposited in a patch surrounded by shingle. The sun had burned off most of the clouds and the temperature was edging up, particularly in windless spots. “Let’s make a nest down there. I don’t want to go back to the villa just yet. It’s so nice to be outside.”

  ***

  “So, how does this work then? How do you make it happen?” They were sitting in the sandy hollow, surrounded by boulders of varying shape and size. Mary was scooping her hands in the sand, making herself a mound on which to rest her head.

  “I have to get myself all calm and still, bit like a meditation I suppose. Then slow my heart rate down. Don’t laugh, but I might have to sing.”

  He laughed. He couldn’t help himself. “Sing? Don’t tell me, ‘I’m a Fire Starter’ by the Prodigy?”

  She scowled at him. “No, I’ve been singing a Beatles tune, just to get me to drift off.” She laid down and wriggled in the sand.

  Dan leaned his back up against a rock. “You are being serious. Sorry. Which Beatles number?”

  “Just the first few lines of ‘Let it be’. You’ll have to forgive the screeching. I have a lousy voice.” She closed her eyes. The sun was tingling her skin again. It felt like a balm against the tension.

  “I love that one. My godfather used to sing that to me when I couldn’t sleep, which was often. Do you need me to do anything?” He folded his legs up to give her more space.

  “Just make sure that my body is safe, from people, birds, whatever.” She shuffled her shoulders, finding a comfy position.

  “Like a bloody big Albatross dropping a deposit from on high?” A slow broad grin underlined his fine features. She giggled.

  “And stop making me laugh!” Mary took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She allowed her mind to consider the man sitting by her side, guarding her body like a loyal Alsatian, knowing full well that he would be trying to tap into her subconscious as she travelled. It did not occur to her to feel self-conscious in his presence.

  The melody began as a hum. Her vibrational frequency altered, her alpha waves tuned into the Earth’s resonance and she flew. She soared above the beach, high into the atmosphere, watching the traffic turn into specks and then disappear entirely. The patchwork quilt of Norfolk’s flat pastures swept beneath her, as she headed west over Cambridge and then north-west to the Midlands.

  Charting her course by the proximity to the familiar golf course, Mary steered her mind to the half demolished hospital structure, which had served as a prison during her incarceration. A number of articulated lorries were parked close to a service entrance. Visser’s soldiers were loading medical and scientific equipment into shipping containers on the back of the trucks. Mary drew closer to inspect the contents. Some of the containers had racks fitted to support Hive Operatives, still in their comatose state. Visser was relocating.

  Rushing into the main building, Mary homed in on Alexi’s lab. He was still there, tinkering on his computer and making rapid calculations via specialist software on his screen. Plender walked in from the corridor closely followed by Visser.

  “Are you saying that we don’t need to use inhibitors at all?” Visser expounded, his hand tucked beneath the lapel of his suit jacket.

  “I had to go to the Dean for authorisation into classified Neuroscience studies, but Arora seems to have cracked it. You simply apply the DMT solution directly into the cranial cavity at the base of the skull. The cerebral spinal fluid bathes the brain in the drug so that it bypasses the bloodstream containing the deactivating enzyme.” Plender blustered, puffing out his chest.

  “So, in fact, I did not need to employ your services at all?” Visser pouted at Plender. Alexi stopped clicking his mouse and turned from his monitor to observe the scene. There was a brief pause. Visser addressed Alexi. “What do you want me to do with him, General?”

  General? Alexi is Visser’s superior officer? He played me. All the time he pretended to be my friend, he was softening me up. Good cop - bad cop. I should have realised.

  “I don’t need him anymore.” Alexi muttered, returning his attention to his computer screen. Visser withdrew his hand from his jacket. He was holding a pistol. He aimed it between Professor Cyril Plender’s eyes and pulled the trigger.

  Chapter Twenty

  I must stay calm. We need more information. She forced her consciousness to remain in situ and not return to her body in shock. Plender’s inert corpse lay sprawled across the laboratory floor, his head obliterated by the force of the gunshot. Visser walked over to the computer bench and looked over Alexi’s shoulder at the monitor.

  Alone, Alexi and Visser reverted to a Russian dialect, making it impossible for Mary to decipher their plans. Hovering over Alexi’s head, she read the numbers he had visible on the screen.

  N39°45′00″ – N40°00′00″ and W111°45′00″ – W111°30′00″ Wasatch. She read them over and over, trying to memorise the digits and at the same time, listening for any recognisable sections in their speech. She caught the word ‘Stoneghost’, in among the guttural sounds before Visser switched back into English. “When?”

  “Mobilise all troops. You must be ready for broadcast at midnight their time, before Five Eyes backup.” Alexi did not take his attention from the screen. Visser moved towards the chemical cupboard door.

  “Your English has markedly improved, General.” He removed a key from his pocket and fed it into the keyhole.

  “Yes, Mary was very useful. You fail me again and you will follow Plender.” Alexi continued to type and click the mouse while he issued his threat.

  Turning the key, Visser opened the cupboard door. Inside were floor to ceiling shelves of powders, hazardous liquids and opaque tubs of other materials. Nestled in the floor space, was a blonde woman, duct taped to an office chair. She neither screamed nor struggled against her bindings, but her line of sight above her taped mouth, darted all around the room, taking in the surroundings.

  “And what shall we do with Ms Cadot, here? I rather enjoy her company. It would be a pity to ruin her pretty face with a bullet.” Visser grabbed the back of the chair and dragged her into the room, the wheels catching on the metal threshold strip. Her ankles bound together below the cropped navy trousers of her suit. “Don’t you find her attractive, General?”

  “Not my type. Too…female.”

  Oh my god! If Dan is seeing this he will be frantic… A brief moment of indecision scrambled her thoughts, fluctuating the alpha waves into discordance. Her vision blurred just as Visser slid his hand around Connie’s graceful neck. Mary’s mind jerked backwards, her body pulling her subconscious by its leash to her physical form lying in the sand. Mary opened her eyes to find Dan panting, his forehead rippled in anguish.

  “You saw?” Mary touched his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. He nodded. “Come on, let’s get back to the villa and call the police.” They scrambled up the beach to the promenade walkway and sprinted along the sandy cliff path, Mary struggling to maintain pace with her leggy companion. They ran through the shrubs and across the lawn. Dan unlocked the patio doors of Connie’s beach house and charged through to the central staircase.

  The landline telephone perched on a cabinet to the side of bannisters. As D
an reached for the receiver, it rang. “But who would…?” Mary puffed. They looked at each other, puzzled. Then there was a loud knock on the door. Mary grabbed Dan’s arm. He covered her hand with his, to still her fear. The knocking became hefty thuds, drowning out the shrill ringing of the telephone. Dan picked up the phone and held it to his ear.

  “Tell Mary to let Flynn inside” a distinctive St Petersburg accent. It was Yelena. Dan looked up to meet Mary’s eyes. She mouthed, ‘Who is it?” Dan held his hand aloft to halt her insistence.

  “And why would she do that?” Dan replied, with caution.

  “Because he is a Government Agent.” As Yelena said it, Flynn’s open wallet, showing his Identification Card, slammed against the glass panels in the top of the door.

  “Which Government?”

  “British Government, Secret Intelligence Services – MI6.” Yelena spoke calmly, but with an air of urgency. She was in control and taking great pains to convey that message.

  “If he is MI6, why did he shoot at us last night?” Dan fumed. Mary’s mouth hung open.

  “I didn’t say he was a good agent. Now let him in. There is no time to lose.”

  ***

  Jasper Flynn entered the villa and dialled up a Facetime connection with Yelena on his smartphone, handing it to Mary, who relayed the exact location of Visser’s base and that Connie was in extreme danger. It felt good to have the backing and resources of the British Government. Some of the anxiety for Connie’s life dissipated, knowing that they would be responsible for her survival. She had done all that she could possibly do. Abdicating responsibility for Visser’s demise, would be an even greater relief.

  Yelena appeared to be in a large, darkened room filled with monitors. In the background, Mary could make out dozens of people sitting at computer terminals wearing small communication headsets. Yelena glanced off camera and nodded to someone nearby.

  “We will take care of that from this end.” Yelena said to Mary, signing paperwork handed to her on a clipboard and returning it to the faceless person by her side. “Flynn will bring both of you in. We have a lot to discuss, Mary, and we desperately need your help.”

  Dan gathered the few items they had brought, switched off the villa’s utilities and returned the key to its secret hiding place behind the house number slates. Flynn insisted on driving them in Dan’s car. His colleague sped off in a black vehicle before they had even set off. “I just wanted to apologise for last night.” Flynn said, with a hint of a stammer. “I was aiming for your tyres. I will, of course, pay for any damage.” Dan just glared, swinging into the passenger seat and folding his arms across his chest. “I’m not normally in the field. More of a techie really, but you know how it is…cutbacks and all.”

  Mary climbed into the backseat of the Gordon Keeble Sports GT, clutching Dan’s sofa blanket to her knee.

  “How did you find us?” Mary kicked off her shoes and tucked her legs around on the seat.

  “This is a beautiful old car, Mrs Arora, and particularly noticeable on traffic cams, especially since I had the registration plate to go by. We traced you to the outskirts of this town, then lost you. I drove here last night, then caught sight of Dan doing a bit of grocery shopping so I followed you back to the villa. I have been watching and waiting for the command from Yelena Plender since then.”

  They set off at a rapid pace, with Dan berating Flynn for his clumsy and ill-timed gear changes and demanding regular updates on the status of his girlfriend. Mary caught Flynn up with the information gleaned from her ethereal travels and then used the time to watch the world go by, content to let others take charge of her safety.

  Reunification with Parth dominated Mary’s thoughts. Her once unshakable trust in him was unravelling at an alarming rate. His conduct towards their cat behind closed doors, his insistence that she continued with the brain scans despite the pain, the cold hearted treatment of patients in The Crypt, his absence of feeling in light of her death. I expect Yelena has told him that I am alive. I wonder if he stopped working long enough to acknowledge the fact.

  It was a traumatic journey, one way or another. Dan chewed the sides of his nails, fretted and complained bitterly about the lack of forthcoming information regarding Connie’s welfare. Flynn apologised at every junction and traffic jam for the jolting clutch control which left Mary bracing her stomach muscles and taking deep lead tinged gulps of air from the wound down window, to stave off the motion sickness. The unforgiving country roads provided an endless supply of roadworks, potholes and horse boxes to delay their time of arrival. It was perilously close to rush hour, by the time Flynn revved the engine and hammered the accelerator pedal along the M1 slip road in Buckinghamshire. Dan read the road signs, twisted around to look at Mary sprawled along the backseat and then turned to face Flynn.

  “I thought you were taking us into MI6? Wouldn’t that be in the heart of London, or at GCHQ in Cheltenham?” Dan’s stare bore into the side of Flynn’s face, distracting his attention from a passing truck. The car wobbled close to the enormous wheels and then returned to the nearside lane.

  “Not Cheltenham. I’m taking you to another defence site. You will have to sign the Official Secrets Act as soon as we arrive and that includes the entrance. Hold tight.” Flynn slowed the vehicle as much as he dared, with cars and trucks closing in on him in the slow lane. He then swerved onto the hard shoulder, slowing almost to a halt at the top of a Highway Patrol parking ramp. Steering Dan’s car sharp left, they trundled along a short track that delivered them to the foot of an enormous concrete plinth built into the embankment which supported an overpass. Shrouded by thick, evergreen trees was a vast steel door. Flynn touched his finger to his ear.

  “Just at the Tathall End tunnel now, Ma’am.” The steel door rose, gliding along mechanical runners, revealing a floodlit tunnel inside the bridge column. Jasper Flynn, fumbled with the car switches, turning the indicators, windscreen wipers and hazard lights on and off, before locating the switch for the headlights. “I suggest you wind up the windows. The echo can be a bit overwhelming.” As they drove inside, Mary swivelled around to watch the steel doors sinking behind them, cutting off the daylight and transporting her into another secure environment. Her chest constricted, her breathing rate increased and heat rushed to her skin.

  “I don’t think I want to go to wherever you are taking us. Can you take me home please? I can tell you what you need to know over the phone.”

  “Just relax, Mrs Arora. No harm will come to you, I promise.” Flynn assured her, depressing the accelerator and directing the car round a sweeping bend in the passageway.

  “Hmm. I’ve heard that one before, only he was fond of the word befall. Is this base entirely underground?” She shuffled forward on her seat and adjusted her shirt.

  “No, not at all - just this entrance. It takes you right into the middle of the base and it’s quicker to get through security. One final, gradual bend in the road and the tunnel inclined towards a check point and daylight. Mary sighed with relief. Flynn cranked the driver’s window down and passed his Identification to the armed officer on duty.

  Surrounded by fields and spinneys, the base was the size of a small town in the lazy Buckinghamshire countryside. Flynn parked the car in a space reserved for visiting dignitaries and handed the keys back to Dan. Signs for crèche facilities, restaurants and gyms looked incongruous to the modern angular buildings and the secrets that lie therein. They walked to a large pyramidal shaped structure. A stern woman in a neat suit, with tamed hair and a measured stance greeted them. She shook their hands a little too vigorously and handed them a clutch of papers to sign. Dan took his bundle and wandered towards the blue foam chairs in the lobby.

  “Sir, where are you going?” The suit said, scampering after him in her polished kitten heels.

  “You don’t expect me to sign before reading it, surely?” Dan said, making himself comfortable and kicking his right boot up to rest on his left knee. Mary stifled a chuckle.

>   “There isn’t time for that. I am instructed to bring you straight through to the Tactical Room the moment you arrive.” She presented her palms to Dan, beseeching his compliance.

  “You can’t have it both ways. Do you want me to sign this or do you want me to hurry along with you to tactical?” Dan raised the first page on its stapled hinge, scanning through the bland statements and threats of imprisonment on the next page. “Good grief. There’s a lot of jargon on this paper.”

  “Technically,” Flynn chipped in, “The Official Secrets Act is law. Breaching the law is a punishable offence whether you sign those papers or not. It’s not a contract as such, just a reminder of your obligations to uphold the law.” The suit sighed audibly and handed Dan a pen. He signed on the final page, with reluctance.

  Mary leaned on the reception desk and scribbled her name on her wodge of A4 paper and handed them back to the suit. “This way, if you please.” She glared at Dan and teetered down a carpeted thoroughfare into the shadowy halls of the defence installation. The suit listed a catalogue of rules, regulations and criminal acts, learned by heart and delivered with an additional dose of threat, should they be accidentally or deliberately contravened. She timed her speech to terminate precisely upon arrival at the entrance to the Tactical Room.

  Flynn led the way, holding the door open for Mary and Dan to enter. The suit retreated, clutching her precious paperwork to her chest. The room seemed smaller in real life than the impression Mary had formed while Facetiming Yelena on the smartphone. Computer operators squeezed between benching and equipment like tech nerds at a World of Warcraft Fayre. At the front was a large touch screen unit, showing a shaky video link of military personnel, taking positions and signalling one another with various hand gestures.