The Aurora Conspiracies- Volume One

by Sam Nash

  “Nothing at all. I do wish you would forgive me over that regrettable incident.”

  “Do you still have dealings with her?” Mary analysed his face for any indication of lies.

  “My ties to Bernie and her conglomerates were tenuous at best. I thought she could help you.”

  “You said, were. Does that mean that you have changed your mind over her outrageous assumptions regarding de-population schemes?” Mary bit her tongue. This was not the time to debate global politics. She was steering him off course.

  “Let’s just say that her methods have caused me considerable problems. I am… reconsidering my business and personal alliances.”

  As pleasing as it was to hear him declare a shift away from the US elite group, she had to refocus the discussion back to that of her family. “Is that why you ordered a deep background check on me? Do you plan on us forming a personal alliance?” She reached over and lay her hand on his. He did not flinch at the touch as she had anticipated. Instead, she could see him smiling in the dim evening light. They remained still, basking in the possibilities, until a sharp turn pulled them from their reverie.

  Karan snapped to first. “You must understand that checks are standard procedure. My job leaves me vulnerable to those who would try and leverage my position as ambassador. Our security teams are allied to the United Nations. They are able to pull on worldwide resources; collate current chatter from the most secure sources. In truth, they are still trying to piece your data together.”

  “But my life is as simple as it gets. I am no one at all.” She removed her hand, returning it to her own lap. The moment of intimacy shattered.

  “How can you say that, Mary? You are far from simple. Look at all the incredible gifts you have; the ability to read minds, the electromagnetic sensitivity, the whole spying without your body thing… You are truly unique.”

  Mary frowned. Her mind wandered to Alexi’s compound and the team of trainees he had at his mercy. She also felt a brief moment of pity for the perished soviet operatives who had formed a Hive Mind together. She was not unique at all. Fearful of Karan’s motives, she kept the insight to herself. “So, this background search discovered that I had used a fake passport in that New Jersey guesthouse?”

  “That was taken from a reporter’s notebook, yes. In truth, they were not sure as to the validity of that claim.”

  “And what of the title, lady? Where did that come from?”

  Karan shifted uneasily in the seat. He was playing for time, unable to frame his answer. His mouth pursed, as though he was debating internally over how much to divulge. “That little nugget was sifted from a top level file. Gupta should not have let that slip until it can be verified.”

  Mary was on the verge of refuting the claim entirely, until a memory flitted into her thoughts. A vision of a thin man in pinstripes handing her a condolence card on Parliament Square. The former friend of her grandfather, conveying his respects to the family. He had addressed her as, my lady. He had been the source of Connie’s news story, which condemned the Defence Minister for illegal technology trades. Could there possibly be some truth to this wisp of intelligence?

  And then there was the discovery of her grandfather’s journal, the inner inscription denoting that he was the Eighth Earl of Sedgewell. Dan and she had taken that as a joke. What if it had been the literal truth? She shook it from her thoughts. It was too incredible a notion to entertain.

  The limousine stopped at sixty, East Sixty-Five Street, and Karan climbed out. Holding out his hand to Mary, she took it and did not let go. Only when they reached the revolving door into the restaurant, did she release him. Karan gave his name to the hostess, who then swept them away to a quiet corner reserved for dignitaries. Mary felt the keen eyes of the other diners straying towards them. Far from affording them privacy, their sheltered spot highlighted them as different.

  “Mary is a vegetarian,” Karan explained to their personal waiter. “Please can you give us a selection of your finest dishes?”

  She could not prevent the swell of elation welling up inside. He had remembered her dietary preferences. He really was trying to put the animosity behind them. The waiter hurried away to place their order.

  “Dare I ask how your ex-husband is faring. Is he still recovering in that London hospital?”

  “In truth, I have no idea. The last I heard, he was making a slow recovery, but that was before g

  Grampy…” She couldn’t say it. The words stuck in her throat. Her eyes glazed with a slick of saline. Karan anticipated the rest and recognising her distress, reached out for her. The touch that he now craved. Their hands locked across the white linen of the table.

  She gaped up at him. Those rich dark eyes looked back. During their last meal together, Mary found herself unable to read his mind. He had forged an unconscious barrier from years of studied meditation and mental discipline. She was interested in seeing if her abilities had strengthened. Could the block still resist her intense foray into his thoughts?

  The connection took just a few seconds to achieve. Her penetrative stare latched like a deadbolt onto his optic nerve, securing her access to his neural transmissions.

  In that moment, she heard his foremost thought. “My family would never accept her.”

  Chapter Ten

  Karan’s thoughts bewildered her. It was their first proper date, and already he was contemplating long term ramifications. She hardly knew anything about him, and all his information about her originated from a secret file. The waiter returned with the wine list, breaking her concentration.

  The food was beyond divine. Tiny masterpieces, mounted and framed in bespoke china, exploding the taste buds with inexhaustible flavour. Each dish, came and went in a flurry of excitement, until Mary could consume no more.

  Loathed to break the convivial atmosphere, Mary broached the subject which had preyed on her mind since first she saw him outside the international delicatessen. “Karan. Is there a way of reporting an incident to the US authorities without incriminating myself in the process?”

  “Why, what have you done?” His face sank. Gone was the perpetual smile and hazy blink. The concentrated frown unsettled her.

  “Nothing… much. It’s just with all the problems I had with the Defence Minister targeting me, well you recall my terrifying run from Ditchley that night… I had to use fake documents to get into JFK airport. There is still an outstanding warrant for my arrest in connection to all those dreadful things that went on at the Houses of Parliament. Not that any of it was my fault.”

  “So, what do you need to report?” Those dark accusatory eyes were unbearable.

  “The chap who helped me to escape, Alexi, is a known terrorist. When I got to his compound, I saw trucks transporting nuclear material.”

  “You know that there are private companies that specialise in transporting nuclear waste, don’t you?”

  “It’s not that. I am convinced that he is plotting something dreadful. Didn’t you hear me, Alexi is a terrorist.”

  “Then why were you with him?”

  “Because I had no other choice, look you are missing the point. Alexi is a bad man. He has nuclear material in a large compound in New Jersey. Shouldn’t it at least be reported so that the authorities can mount an investigation?”

  Karan stroked his short beard in thought. He gazed into her fright-filled eyes and smiled. “Leave it with me. I will look into it for you.” Clearly, this was not going to spoil his evening. Piloting their conversation away from further turbulence, Karan navigated them back into the romance of childhood dreams. He banished the diplomat and negotiator; letting slip his guard to reveal the man beneath. They spoke of adolescent memories, of family holidays, boarding school dramas and nursery foibles; each fascinated by one another’s tales.

  “How is it that you are not already married?” She blurted, regretting her inquisition the moment it left her lips.

  Karan picked up his glass and took a long sip. The light-hearted ba
nter evaporated. She could see his eyes narrowing, contemplating his answer. The wait seemed interminable. Was he resurrecting those barriers, banishing her from his intimate thoughts? She watched his indecision and unease.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “It is none of my business. Please forget I ever asked.” She looked so contrite, he softened.

  “I was supposed to be married a long time ago. An arrangement of my father’s.” There was a break in his voice. He coughed to mask his distress.

  Mary was fascinated. He had left a tiny crack in his defences for her to crawl through. Perhaps it was the wine, or a little of her growing confidence, but she was determined to discover more.

  “You did not like his choice of bride?”

  “She was a nice enough girl, and it would have been a fortunate match for my family.” He was talking in hushed tones, drawing Mary in closer.

  “Why didn’t the marriage take place?” She matched his timbre, the intimacy blossoming once more.

  “My father was very angry when I voiced my opinions. He said that he regretted sending me to England for my education. Thought that I had picked up too many western notions and had forgotten my roots, my duty.” He drained his glass. Mary stayed silent, hoping that he would complete his emotional outpouring. He did. “I relented. The wedding plans took weeks. It was tedious in the extreme.” He had difficulty swallowing, his mouth dry with anxiety. Karan gestured to the waiter to bring another bottle.

  “What happened?”

  “My father died. I became head of the family.”

  “Oh God, I am sorry.”

  He waved the pity away. “We were not close. The funeral arrangements took precedence over the wedding. When things had settled down, I visited the bride’s father and convinced him that his daughter favoured another. Out of respect, I would not allow my mother to arrange a second match.” He looked down at his plate, embarrassed by his vulnerability. Mary reached across the table and offered her hand. He took it and gave it a light squeeze. The waiter returned with his wine. Karan snatched his hand away.

  Gupta appeared a respectable distance from their table and tapped his wristwatch with an index finger.

  “Ah, that is our signal that we must hurry or we shall miss our ride.” Karan stood up and held the back of Mary’s chair. “Gupta has arranged for a carriage through Central Park.”

  They walked towards the exit, allowing Gupta to take care of the payments and tips. Once through the revolving doors, Mary felt the night breeze, and shivered. Bundling into the rear of the limousine, they knocked their heads together. Mary found their graceless collision hilarious, her lyrical laughter infecting her dinner companion. Giggling and fumbling with her seatbelt, Karan was enchanted. He swept his finger along her jawline and kissed her. Just a glancing touch of the lips, exploring how far he could extend the liberty.

  “Do we have to drive through the park in a cold carriage?” She murmured, all inhibitions dissolved in Chardonnay.

  He kissed her again, this time with enough passion to inflame all her senses. “We can do whatever you desire.”

  “Then let’s go back to the Plaza.”

  He stopped kissing her and pulled away. Mary sat upright, dumbfounded. “What’s the matter? What did I do wrong?”

  “Mary, are you not concerned for your reputation? I do not want people to think that you are my… mistress, put up in a nearby hotel for my convenience.”

  “What does that matter? No one knows me in New York. We can do as we please.” She could not believe that she was arguing in favour of spending the night with a man whom she had met only once before. She grappled the lapels on his jacket, pulling him closer.

  “Mary, please. I have respect for you, even if you do not. Let us allow things to develop naturally. Take our time.” He pushed her arms away and pressed a button on a control panel, lowering the glass partition between the rear and front seats. “Gupta, we are taking Mary home.”

  “Yes, Shrimant Shinde.”

  The driver heard the instruction and altered their course. Mary sat on the back seat, wishing she could sink into the leather creases and disappear. With her arms folded across her middle, Mary hugged herself. She recalled her previous bungled attempt at passion with Karan at the consulate in London, and flushed hot. How many times must she be rebuffed by this man and his vacillating affections? When they arrived at the entrance to the Plaza, Karan got out of the vehicle with her, and pecked her on the cheek.

  “Don’t be angry with me, Mary. I just don’t want us to rush this.”

  “Thank you for a lovely meal, Karan. Goodnight.” As she scurried up the steps towards the entrance, she heard him calling her name, but she did not look back. She stood in the lift with tears streaking her mascara. On the nineteenth level, she dashed across the hallway and searched for the key card inside the clutch bag. In her haste the card slipped from her hands onto the floor. Harvey witnessed the pitiful scene from the doorway of his supply cupboard. Mary tried several times to pick up the key, its flat surface sitting flush against the marble tiles.

  “May I be of service, madam?” Harvey crouched down and used a thumb nail to gain purchase beneath the card. He touched it against the sensor, opening the door. Mary cuffed the back of hand across her wet cheek, and walked into the living room. Unbidden, Harvey followed. There, her tears gained momentum. Harvey moved a ceramic container of tissues to her side on the settee and made her a cup of decaffeinated tea from his butler’s pantry. As he delivered the cup and saucer, her upset dried as her insobriety decreased.

  “I’m sorry, Harvey. I should not wallow in self-pity.”

  “I take it the date did not go well, madam?”

  “No, that’s just it, it was perfect, until the end.” She sniffed and wiped her smeared eyes with a damp tissue.

  “Did he hurt you?”

  “Only my pride. I really thought… never mind. You men have no idea how humiliating it is to have your advances rejected.”

  “I think I can safely say, on behalf of all men, that we have a fairly good idea of that feeling, madam.” It raised her smile. He tidied the pantry, walked into the bedroom and turned down the sheets. On his return he said, “perhaps you will feel better after a good night’s sleep.”

  Mary took the cue, rose from her seat, and walked towards the bed.

  “Mary…”

  She turned around to face the butler. “Yes, Harvey?”

  “Pardon me, madam?”

  “You called my name.”

  “I did not, madam.” They both looked puzzled. “Is there anything else you require before my shift ends?”

  “No, thank you, good night.”

  Mary lay awake for a full hour, watching the ceiling spin and listening to the incessant traffic noises from Central Park South and Fifth. What was she doing playing princess with an Indian nobleman? How had her life become such a mess? An ex-husband, plus half the staff at the Houses of Parliament recovering from near fatal poisoning, a warrant for her arrest issued by a man under suspicion of trading defence technology, and Alexi up to his old tricks again. All this, and yet Karan was her primary concern.

  In the early hours of the morning, Mary made the decision to prioritise her independence; find a job and her own place to stay. I must talk to Dan about Alexi’s latest venture. He always gives me clear advice. The pillows were so soft, her mind so tired, she slipped into slumber mid thought.

  ***

  Mary awoke to the smell of toasted bread and freshly pressed orange juice. Dragging herself from the comfort of the divan, she wrapped herself in the complementary cotton robe, used the facilities and went through into the sitting room.

  “Good morning, madam.”

  “What’s all this?” She lowered herself onto the settee, each movement exaggerating the dull ache inside her skull. The daylight offended her eyes, piercing the pupils with flint like pain.

  “I took the liberty of ordering for you madam. I did not think you would feel well enough t
o breakfast downstairs.” He poured her a cup of tea from a Wedgewood pot and set it down on the coffee table.

  “You thought right, Harvey, thank you.” Grabbing the teacup, she drained the warm liquid and held it up for more. “What’s the time?”

  “A little after ten, madam.” With the faintest of smiles, Harvey poured her a second cup, and then reached to the butler’s trolley for a tiny serving plate. On it, two oblong tablets lay on a miniature paper doily. He set it down in front of her.

  “Paracetamol?” She protected her eyes with the flat of her hand.

  “Yes, madam.”

  “You really do pre-empt all our needs, Harvey, but I wish you would stop calling me madam. It makes me feel like a maiden aunt. Can’t you call me Mary?”

  “It would not be appropriate, madam - hotel policy.”

  “Marvellous.” She gobbled up the pain killers and sipped more tea.

  “A number of packages and deliveries have arrived for you. I told the concierge to wait until you had risen. Shall I inform him to bring them up now?” He acknowledged her nod with rapid taps and swipes on his iPad. Within five minutes, a stream of porters carried garment bags, shoe boxes and several arrangements of flowers into her sitting room. Mary stood bewildered, surrounded by an abundance of gifts. The young men and women deposited the items and filed out of the door.

  “Oh God, tips. I haven’t given them tips.” Mary tried to find her purse, and then remembered that it was still inside the clutch bag.

  “It is all taken care of, madam. Do not trouble yourself.”

  “Really? How?”

  “I believe Shrimant Shinde insisted on leaving a cash donation, to be equally split among the wait staff, with a separate and very generous annuity for me.” He placed a paperknife and an envelope down next to her teacup. It was made from heavy weight cream paper, edged with gold leaf.

  Inside, she found a gilded invitation to a charity auction and a handwritten note from Karan. It said: