The Aurora Conspiracies- Volume One

by Sam Nash

  Karan did not touch his food, choosing instead to watch Mary pick at hers. His mood shifted once more. This time, he looked harassed and anguished, a frown dominating his brow while he repeatedly licked his bottom lip. It was as if he was practising what to say to her in his head.

  “There is an event scheduled here tonight. Just drinks and a buffet of sorts. I should like to introduce you to some people if you’ll consent to be my honoured guest.” The lip licking continued, until Karan grew self-conscious of it and ended the cyclical action with a sip from his glass.

  “What people? You are not hoping I will perform like a circus act, are you? Don’t become like Parth, I couldn’t bear it.”

  Karan grinned. “Not at all. These people are fully aware of your capabilities. No show and tell, I promise, but I would be most grateful if you could listen to what they have to say.”

  “Very well, but I hope they have some suggestions about how to put a stop to the ongoing potable water issues.”

  “I’m sure that you will have an opportunity to make your point, but these people are concerned with a wider picture. Of how humankind is influenced and shaped by the world around us, and within us.” Another of his pre-formulated responses.

  Mary gazed at him. If only she could see behind those carefully constructed, yet nebulous statements. Her eyelid drooped. Her speech patterns slightly slurred. “Are you referring to my PhD studies into Epigenetics? How environmental experiences can alter the transcription of our DNA? Are they scientists?” She sat fully upright in her chair, excited by the potential to reinvigorate her career path.

  “Not exactly, no. These people are very powerful. Heads of State, CEOs of large conglomerates and such. Their decisions often have far reaching consequences, for us all. They specifically requested a meeting with you. It is a great honour to be singled out like this, Mary.”

  “What do they want from me? I’m neither rich nor powerful.” Her mind felt fuzzy. Her brain was a snowdome and her thoughts were flitting about in a glittery chaos. “I think the wine has gone to my head.” She said, pushing out her chair to stand.

  “I’ll see you back to your rooms. Perhaps a cup of tea and a bit of a lie down will be of help.”

  “Tea made from filtered or spring water, don’t forget.” Her unsteady gait towards the door drove Karan to rush to her aid. Overcoming his objections to touch, he grabbed her around the waist and supported her weight.

  He grinned. “All the water here is filtered or bottled. You have no need for concern. Come along. Mrs Arora. Let us sober you up.”

  They weaved through the corridors and the foyer to the foot of the stairs. Mary’s shoe slipped from the bottom tread, sending them into a fit of giggles. Halfway up the stairs, Mary began counting the steps, then insisted they return to the bottom to allow her to count from the beginning. “Twenty-six, twenty-seven, oh, that’s a pretty painting. twenty-nine, thirty, thirty-one. Thirty-one steps. Odd number, not quite enough for the film.”

  “That’s because you missed Twenty-eight.”

  “I did? Perhaps we should start again?”

  “Not a chance.” Karan took control and pushed her towards her suite. The housekeeper’s high-backed chair was empty. She had not expected their return so soon. Relinquishing his grasp on her waist, Karan levered the door handle and they bundled in, still laughing. His hand gravitated back to its place beneath her ribs and remained steadfast. Staggering towards the bed, Mary lunged, freeing herself from his grasp and landing with a delighted bounce on the mattress. Karan sat bemused by her side. A permanent grin across his lips.

  Mary propped her head up on a bent arm, considering his fine features. “I wish I could read your thoughts.”

  “At this juncture, I would have thought them obvious, Mrs Arora.”

  “Please stop calling me that. Parth and I aren’t together anymore. I’m thinking of changing my name back to Lawrence.”

  “As you wish, Mary. Even still, can you not guess my intentions, my desire right now?” He lowered his torso down on the bed and mirrored her pose with a crooked elbow.

  Her reclined state seemed to trigger a drowsy switch within her brain, but still she maintained her attention on his glossy mouth. “Has it something to do with this?” Lurching her head forwards, Mary connected her lips to his, in a jerky kiss. He responded with a light pressure, and then pulled away.

  “With all that you have endured, Mary. I would not dream of taking advantage of you, especially in your inebriated state. Have a nap. I’ll send someone to wake you when it is time to dress for the soirée tonight.” And with that, Karan was gone.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Mary did not sleep. Bunching the pillows up on the bed, she leaned against them and watched the ceiling rotate for an hour, while contemplating the fudged mess she made of the kiss. A barrage of tangled emotions infused the hyper-vigilance to a state of dismay. Why had she lunged at Karan like that, when all she really needed was a hug? A few seconds to allow the cuddle chemical, oxytocin, to permeate through her body and recharge her optimism. She would have to do without human comfort and support from now on. She was alone in this world of betrayal and subterfuge, well, almost.

  “Dan? Can you talk?” Mary reached out into the airwaves for her brother’s connection. The only person in the world whom she could trust.

  “I can, although not for long. They are taking my mum for more tests and I want to stay with her.” It was a thin link. A shifting channel of distraction, making his transmission sound far away.

  “How is she?”

  “They tell me she has stabilised, but she looks terrible. Mary, there are more and more sick people piling into this hospital every second. Whatever the additive is, it’s has catastrophic effects on the elderly. None of the patients here are under seventy.”

  “You think this is a deliberate attack, not a side effect of treating people like us?”

  “Maybe I am too close to the issue to be objective, and perhaps those affected are the most biologically vulnerable, but it does seem odd that the oldest and youngest of society are bearing the brunt of the toxic effect.”

  “What are you driving at? I’m a bit fuddled.”

  “Ah, nothing. Forget it. I’m just over-sensitive, what with mum and everything. Stay safe, little sister. Got to go.”

  “You too.”

  Mary scooted to the edge of the bed and dangled her legs to the floor. Replaying the conversation observed in the Velvet Room at Ditchley inside her head, Mary assured herself that no mention was made of targeting the young or elderly. The primary concern for the cabinet ministers was disabling sensitive and gifted people such as herself. Could there possibly be a larger scheme at work? She must still be a little drunk. Mary reached for a small bottle of mineral water and took several swigs.

  Wandering over to the main window, Mary swept the curtain aside. Different men, different car, but they may as well stick a label on the roof announcing their affiliation to the government. She took a couple of strides to the side window. The pedestrianised section of India Place rose in layered tiers to join Aldwych. The neat corners of concrete, surrounding the bronze statue of a former High Commissioner. Mary scanned the plinth, the tree trunks, the steps. Alexi was gone.

  ***

  Sober in mind, body and attire, Mary allowed the housekeeper to choose from the wardrobe of traditional Indian saris for her debut onto the diplomatic scene. A considered sweep of silk masked the aubergine and ochre swathe of bruising that receded from her ribs and a judicial application of makeup covered the marks on her cheek, courtesy of Pip’s assassin. One final decorative hairclip tamed her locks across the wound within the hairline and she was done. Ready to meet Karan’s Very Important People. This was her chance to co-opt the assistance she needed to thwart the Defence Minister’s plot.

  “Tell me again. Who is it that you are introducing me to?” Mary adjusted the clip from a taut section of hair, as she walked down the landing with her regal escort. With
a tissue, she wiped off the lipstick that the housekeeper had applied.

  “One or two of our guests are seeking trade alliances with India. Another is the CEO of a global pharmaceutical company. Does a lot of philanthropic work in the poorest regions of Africa. Mostly they are diplomats from neighbouring embassies.” Karan’s posture reflected the stiff and formal cadence to his speech. He was preparing himself for an evening of artful and strategic verbal combat.

  “I’d better steer clear of the CEO then. I can’t imagine he’d be best pleased with me and my abilities cutting into his shares profits. Which one can help me with the water issue?”

  “Please, Mary, just listen to what they have to say. Relax. Enjoy yourself.” Karan led a fidgeting and self-conscious Mary into the panelled events room. The lacquered wooden floors bounced artificial light from the ledges of the stained and polished panels. Mary felt like she was inside a constricting bowl of madras. Too many bodies and a lack of ventilation made her woozy. Collecting a glass of fruit juice from a waiter’s tray, Mary let the iced liquid cool her from the inside out.

  Karan noticed the perspiration forming on her brow. “You’ll get used to the heat. Just relax. No one here is out to harm you.”

  “I’ve heard that before. It’s usually uttered right before a request to do something morally corrupt.”

  Karan tittered, then with his prize on his arm, directed Mary towards a cluster of people gathered around a central figure. On their approach, the group parted to allow Mary and Karan into its heart.

  “There you are, Shrimant Shinde. I was beginning to think this party had no host.” She wore a grey tailored trouser suit of the finest wool and black court shoes with spiked heels. Her short blonde hair, mousey grey at the roots, gave her a masculine appeal.

  “I always like to make an entrance, you know that.” Karan turned to Mary. “May I introduce my new friend, Mary Arora. Mary, this is Bernie Feinstein, CEO of Phlaxo.”

  “Good to meet you, Mary.” She shook her hand forcefully. “Shrimant Shinde, tells me that you have skills. Said we should talk.” Her American inflection was pronounced, but Mary could not place the state of origin. It seemed to be an amalgamation of many accents, as if her years of travel had bevelled the corners off her speech.

  “Did he? Did he also tell you that our government is deliberately tainting the drinking water with a designer chemical?” Mary stood her ground while the crowd of simpering onlookers melted away to distant corners of the room.

  “Straight to the point, Mary. Love your style.” Bernie glowered down at the small woman with the big conscience. She took a slow sip of bourbon, then rattled the ice cubes around her glass. “You should come and work for me. We could do incredible things together. Set you up with your own suite of labs, a team of researchers, whatever you want. What would tempt you? Name your price.”

  Mary turned to Karan, rattled. “Is this what diplomats do, sell people to the highest bidder? I trusted you.”

  “Mary, she is offering you a prestigious job, a future. An opportunity to shape the course of history.” He glanced over at Bernie for assistance.

  “That’s right. Imagine how the pharmaceutical industry could benefit from technology adapted from your abilities. Low cost medication, simplified production units, no waste pollution. This is big.”

  The name, Bernie, glowed in Mary’s hippocampus. A memory of an email that Connie’s illicit hack had revealed. An instruction from the Environment Minister to disseminate a new compound. “Not as big as causing thousands of miscarriages and still births, and liver damage in the elderly. It’s your company that is producing the water additive, isn’t it? You already knew.”

  “There are always a few teething problems when new systems are introduced. It’s nothing to worry about. A simple adjustment to the parts per million will reduce immediate fatalities.” Bernie plonked her empty glass down on the tray of a passing waiter, then barked at him to get her a replacement.

  Mary kept her cool, tightening her fists and willing herself to remain calm. There was more information to be had if she could just get Bernie to cooperate. “So, this chemical. I’m guessing it does more than just inhibit the functions of the pineal gland.”

  “It does indeed. You are right about this one, Shrimant Shinde. She’s a bright one. I could make you head of your own faculty. How does that sound?”

  Karan watched the muscles clench in Mary’s jaw, then chipped in. “Bernie is part of a small group of wealthy philanthropists. They meet a few times a year to discuss global issues that threaten our very existence. Deforestation, climate change, over population, that sort of thing.”

  “And you and your band of chums, devise ways to keep everything and everyone in check?” Mary could not prevent the note of derision in her voice.

  “Something like that, yes. Our way of giving back to society.” Bernie surveyed the room. All eyes were cast in her direction. She struck a prominent pose, encircling the lip of her glass with a silver painted acrylic talon.

  “And what solutions have you concocted for the issue of overpopulation?” Mary forced a smile onto her offended lips.

  Bernie did not notice. “Mother Earth does a fair amount on that score. Tsunamis, hurricanes, earthquakes, famine and drought, but more can be done.”

  “Oh?”

  “Some countries tried rewards and penalties for procreation. That didn’t work, but then leave them to their own devices and we end up with situations like in India. And that situation is rapidly spreading to the US. The trouble with free-will and choice is that tax dollars end up supporting the families who are too stupid to use birth control.”

  “And so, your company has formulated a multipurpose compound to reduce a nations fertility?” Mary bit down on the inside of her cheek. Bile erupted in her throat. She could feel the surge of energy mounting inside her, poised for discharge.

  “At great personal expense too, I might add. The application is much simpler in countries with centralised water provision. Not so easy on the African continent, with water in short supply and so localised.”

  The recollection of a news bulletin flitted into Mary’s mind. The long lines of smiling, grateful women, presenting their treasured children to aid workers for treatment. The tears smeared across their dusty faces from the shock of the inoculation needle. “You packaged the additive up with their vaccinations.” Mary said, in horrified disbelief.

  “Just imagine the impact on our project when you reduce the cost of production down to pennies. We could afford to inoculate every poor nation in the world.”

  Common sense should have informed Mary to keep her mouth shut. To wait until she was clear of the building and away. Instead she said, “I can hardly believe what I am hearing. Not only are you complicit in drugging, perhaps poisoning almost everyone in this country, you proudly announce that you are deliberately rendering people infertile in other countries too. Lady, you are a criminal.” Mary backed away towards the main entrance to the ceremonial hall.

  “I see what you mean now about being highly strung. Is that a result of her gifts?” Bernie said. Karan darted after Mary. She ran through the foyer and up the stairs to her rooms. The housekeeper watched her grab her satchel and scoop up a pair of trousers and a t-shirt from the wardrobe.

  Karan caught up with her on the landing. “Mary, please, listen to reason.” He took in her belongings and shrugged. “Where are you going to go? You leave this building and the men outside will arrest you on sight.”

  He had her there. Where could she run to? Escaping the minister’s men would inevitably involve harming one or both of them rendering her guilty of grievous bodily harm. It was Yelena’s influence that enabled Mary to flee following the slaughter of Pip’s killer. It was doubtful that she would get away with it a second time. Mary ran every permutation of escape through her mind, calculating the odds of success. None of them high. She dropped her bag to the floor in defeat.

  “Come back inside your suite. You don’t h
ave to do anything for Bernie if you don’t want to, only, don’t leave now, not like this.” Karan pleaded.

  Dragging her satchel by its strap along the carpeted landing, Mary slunk back into the suite and sat on the edge of the bed. “How can you condone that woman’s actions? What gives her the right to mislead millions of people into medicating themselves?”

  “I understand your misgivings, really I do, but you have to admit, that intervention is required. I mean, our world simply cannot support the explosion of people. Resources after all, are finite. With a smaller global population, Earth will begin to heal itself. Less pollution, fewer trees felled to pave the way for cash crops, restoration of the carbon-oxygen balance. It is an elegant solution.”

  “You are as mad as she is. Being rich and connected does not give you the right to make such devastating decisions. I can’t stay here. I’ll take my chances with the men outside.” Once again, Mary made for the landing, only to discover the housekeeper standing just beyond the door. Expecting resistance, Mary set her stance and scowled at the old woman.

  “Shall I call you a taxi, madam?”

  “You heard?”

  “I did. If you’d like to follow me, I can help you off the premises.”

  Mary followed. The old woman led her down a staircase at the rear of the building. Karan trailed after them, pleading with Mary and threatening the housekeeper with deportation back to her native country. Undeterred, they forged a path through the busy kitchens, leaving Shrimant Karan Shinde fuming in the hallway.

  A London cab was summoned to the High Commission and allowed through the service gates to the central quad. Under the cover of darkness, and with the silk of her sari pulled over her face, Mary slipped past two separate vehicles of government agents stationed either side of the embassy building, and out onto the traffic of The Strand.

  “Where to, love?” The cabbie had dreadlocks and a broad cockney accent.

  Mary checked how much of Connie’s money roll remained, and then said, “Richmond Hill, please.”