The Aurora Conspiracies- Volume One

by Sam Nash

  She shook her head and murmured, “no thanks.”

  Luca sloshed two fingers of the syrupy Baron De Sigognac into a tumbler and sipped it neat. Mary had no words of wisdom to sooth his anguish. There was nothing she could offer other than to listen. Something told her that this was a personal quest. There was an element of desperation driving his fervour. Someone close to him had or perhaps will suffer from this decision, but who?

  “Ah… I shouldn’t bore you with my work issues. You have enough to deal with right now.” He held a mouthful of Cognac over his tongue, savouring the flavour and watching her responses. Swallowing, he returned to his seat, maintaining his intense eye contact. Mary’s cheeks coloured. His attention was unabashed and obvious, nothing like the gentle overtures from Karan. She tucked the blanket around her naked legs. It unnerved her that she was without undergarments, a fact of which he seemed all too aware.

  “Do I make you uncomfortable?” There it was again; direct, open, brazen.

  “I… um… no. It’s um…”

  “That’s a yes. I’m used to it. Women tell me that I am too forward. I can’t change the way I am, and I make no apology for it.” The rest of his brandy disappeared down his gullet. He clonked the glass down with a determined thud.

  “Neither should you. I doubt you would have reached your position if you had been a timid wallflower.”

  “Why do I get the feeling that your wallflower days are behind you too?” He sat back, folded his arms and took a long look at the entire length of her. “How did it feel to be on that stage in Parliament Square, with fifty-thousand Christian worshippers hanging on your every word? Must have given you a buzz?”

  “You’ve seen the videos?” She acknowledged his nods. “Poor choice of words then, surely. The equipment received more than a buzz, I can tell you.” She allowed herself a brief giggle in recollection.

  “Can you really do all those things? The turning water into wine, the healing of the sick…”

  “Oh, no. I can’t heal the sick. I assisted in a medical procedure, and it was completely misreported.”

  “Okay, but you can do the wine trick though, right?” He flicked his brows towards the lead crystal tumbler.

  “I am not performing for you. I’m not a circus act.”

  He batted his eyelashes in a ridiculous display, flashing his cute canine teeth.

  “And that won’t work either.”

  He tittered, pouring himself another drink.

  Mary gauged his temper, and took the plunge. “When are we going to talk about what you did at the hospital?”

  The topic unnerved him. His reluctance was evidenced by him picking at the bandage on his neck. A diversionary tactic to pull her attention to his vulnerable side. It didn’t work. She pressed him. “You are like me, aren’t you? When did you discover your abilities?”

  He tipped a double shot into his glass and cleared his throat. “To a lesser degree, all my life. Even from a kid, I felt weird. I could blow light bulbs, fuse electronics, you know… minor stuff, but er…” he looked at the scarring on his left hand.

  “The lightning strike? It boosted your abilities?”

  “Seems so, yeah. I don’t know how, maybe a DNA expression shift or something unlocking in my brain? You’d probably know the biology of it all better than me, but now I feel really empowered. Bit like those kids who can suddenly play the piano to concert level after waking from a coma.”

  “You tried to deflect the bullet from Karan.”

  Luca nodded. “Yeah, well, tried to. Didn’t mean for it to hit you instead.”

  The events from the auction tumbled into place. Everything made sense now; the guilt, the claiming responsibility, the undue attention he paid towards Mary’s injury, the insistence on moving her away from the clutches of the law. One interview with the cops and she would be extradited on the first plane back to Britain, with a cautionary order to assess her mental welfare.

  “And since it was your fault, you used your electromagnetic gift to remove the bullet from my spine.”

  “I practised in the men’s room first. Make sure I could pull steel objects towards me. Didn’t want to do more damage.”

  “Well, thank you. I am grateful for what you did. I would appreciate a little help with clothing, but as soon as I am respectable again, I will get out of your hair. Having a religious pariah hanging around will harm your political career.”

  “Don’t you worry about that. I have a top-notch spin doctor on my team. He could make Himmler sound like a nice guy.”

  The jet’s intercom crackled into life and sounded a ping. “We are moving into our final descent in just a moment. Please return to your seats and fasten your safety belts. It is one-thirty, Pacific Standard Time and the sun is shining.” Another crackle and the intercom switched off. Luca handed his glass to the stewardess, who stowed the hospitality tray in a secure locker before strapping herself into a seat at the rear of the plane.

  Mary pushed open the window visor and marvelled at the parched brown peaks of Death Valley. The fractured barren landscape marking the shifting tectonic plates in the earth’s crust. It was a humbling experience. The Gulf stream G280 cruised across the Nevada border into greener territory, the great bank of national parks, drawing a line across the landmass. Another five minutes saw them traversing the skies above the alluvial farmland and mosaic urban sprawl surrounding Sacramento.

  They were flying low enough to make out the massive salt flats, brackish plains and deltas of the Californian coast. Each length of artificial causeway straddling the bays, made Mary sit up and gape at their ability to defy gravity. The stilted roads appeared to hover above the water unaided. A sharp bank in their flightpath, had her leaning on the window ledge and bracing her side against tearing her stitches. The pilot lined the aircraft up parallel to the headland suburbs of Mountain View and Palo Alto, and angled the wing flaps to land at San Francisco International Airport.

  They taxied to the private jet enclosure, some distance from the main terminal. A car awaited their arrival, with a team of his aides in a second vehicle alongside.

  “What about my documents. How will I get through border control?” Mary unhooked the seatbelt and folded the blanket neatly.

  “Officials don’t tend to bother me, especially at busy times like this. They know it’s my jet by the tail number. It won’t be a problem.”

  The aircraft came to a full stop and the stewardess unlocked the exit, lowering the steps to the concrete below. Mary disembarked first. Luca’s staff exchanged glances upon seeing her peculiar attire. Despite the lateness of summer, the breeze was warm on her skin. She stood among the lean, tanned and suited figures and felt very pale and small. Luca was fast to her side, opening the car door for Mary and fending off the multitude of questions from his entourage. “Not now. Let’s all get back to the ranch and we’ll deal with everything there. Can someone grab my luggage, and there is a large folder in the jet.” He left Mary to the backseat, and sat up front with his driver. On the dashboard were three mobile phones, all chiming and singing their various tunes. He had been out of contact with his public for too long. He picked up the first, unlocked it with his thumb print and listened to the caller. The scratchy, barely audible sounds leaked into his ear and then stopped. Without a word, he switched the phone off and picked up the second. This he repeated, uttering monosyllabic words on occasion, for the hour-long drive from San Francisco to the foot of the Napa Valley.

  Here, at the southern foothills of the Sonoma, they turned off the main roads and began the climb up the mountainside. Row upon row of neatly spaced wire work, supported the finest Chardonnay, Pinot Noir and Merlot grapes for miles around. The yellowing leaves clipped back to reveal vines laden with swollen fruit, and workers toiling with care to harvest the precious load into plastic crates.

  They sped through the ornate ranch gates, along the dust encrusted drive up to a long terracotta building. It would not have looked out of place in Andalusia or
Tuscany; uneven pan tiles, covered terraces, potted plants and raised herb beds. It had its own stately charm, clinging to the mountainside in defiance of the arid conditions all around. Every square inch of southern facing roofs supported solar cells, with evidence of more modern additions lower down the valley. A cluster of circular metal dishes were embedded into the ground. In the centre, one dish was hinged open to allow a telescopic trunk to emerge. From this stem, a fanned array of solar fronds tracked the movements of the sun across the sky.

  Mary stepped out from the car onto the courtyard, and surveyed her surroundings. It was inspiring. She shielded her eyes from the sun’s glare and breathed in the dry heat and musky earthen scents. A little oasis of order, among a vast expanse of natural chaos had Mary captivated.

  “This place is enchanting.”

  “It’s my sanctuary. I come here when my Washington DC life gets too much.” He directed his driver to collect the luggage from the second car and take it into the building. Returning to Mary’s side, he pointed to the crest of the mountain behind her. “From the very top, you can see right along to San Pablo Bay on a good day. It’s a bit hazy right now. You need bed rest young lady.” He grappled her shoulders playfully, marching her towards the entrance. “I’ll call a top class MD from Napa. He does house calls to a few select clients.”

  Mary resisted. “If I could just borrow some clothes and get my brooch back, then I can…” She stopped mid thought. Her money, passport and satchel were all back in Manhattan at The Plaza. How could she make a fresh start wearing a hospital gown and slippers? The morphine and anaesthesia had left her system and fresh waves of cramping stabbed her abdomen. This is what happens when you let other people make decisions for you. Okay, think. I need Grandma Phebe’s brooch back, I need clothes, I need painkillers. Stay one night, two tops. She allowed him to steer her through a terraced patio, and into the cool of the entrance hall.

  Double thickness walls insulated them from the blazing heat outside, and a refreshing breeze funnelled along the length of the building from French windows opening out onto the mountain view. His interior styling was an odd mixture of minimalist modern artwork and old world comfort. A lesser Picasso hung above a stone fireplace. A slouchy fabric wing chair, sat in a reading nook next to an impressive selection of hardbacks on a redwood bookcase. She longed for her own home; her own knick-knacks, a home cooked meal and a long soak in a familiar tub. The home she had built with Parth, with her grandfather’s help, with the money from her parents’ life insurance. A wisp of sadness funnelled up from her gut. She pushed the melancholy back down, and walked to the patio windows. The searing heat made her squint, but the need to find her bearings drove her out onto the terrace. Luca followed her outside and watched her take in the scenery.

  Below her, further down the mountainside, a man aimed a handheld device at the retractable solar array. It immediately began folding itself up and inching back into the ground. Something about witnessing his action awoke a memory. It was as if she was standing on her luxury cabin balcony looking out across the Summerfield Retreat. She turned to Luca. He sensed her agitation. He locked onto her neural pathways the moment they made eye contact. Mary blinked rapidly. His incursion began at her optic nerve, tracing the neural links to the limbic region, right in the centre of her brain. Mary gasped, the intrusion was instantaneous and activated a sensory overload of emotions. All at once she wanted to cry, scream, fight and flee. The indecision rooted her to the spot.

  Luca gave her a serene smile, content to dredge her thoughts and extract whatever notion took his fancy. She felt his raw power surging into the hippocampus of her brain, trawling her subconscious for recollections. He saw the curve of her mother’s neck, felt the touch of her father’s kiss upon her forehead, tasted the salty bacon from childhood breakfasts at her grandfather’s house. He nudged further into her mind, sifting through the memories entombed in a desolate pall. The terror of airbags deploying, of rolling at speed down a motorway embankment, the stench of diesel and blood seeping from mangled bodies trapped inside the wreckage of their family car. Locked inside her bleak and pitiful despair, he shed a single tear.

  There was nothing she could do to deflect him. His hold over her was absolute. The pity he felt for her derailed him, redirecting the intrusion towards her recent memories. A scene replayed in her mind’s eye. It showed an ill-lit stairwell, coiling down flight after flight into the dankest recess, like a pit. He heard breathless wheezing and experienced pained shin muscles. A door opened to reveal vaulted ceilings in an underground cavern, filled to capacity with machinery, vehicles, food banks and clothing. His sight merged with the replay of her memory. It glided between the tractors and trucks towards a side room adjacent to a computer suite. Luca felt the cold sensation of frozen air blasting his skin from the open chest freezer, saw the contorted hand set in a rigid claw and the cataract of dead eyes staring back at him.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Luca jumped backwards, breaking his connection into Mary’s stream of consciousness. She knew what had brought him hurtling back into his senses. The chilled corpse of MI6 agent, Jasper Flynn.

  The force with which Luca abandoned her mind, left him panting. “Was that for real? You really saw that?” His breathing calmed, transmuting into concern.

  “I did. And we have a lot to talk about, but next time you want to know something about me, just ask. Don’t go rummaging through my brain for answers.” Freed from his neural grip, she whapped him on his right arm.

  “Ow! You can throw a good punch for someone so little.”

  “Yeah, and don’t you forget it. Now make me a cup of tea and start taking notes. We haven’t even got to the nuclear bit yet.” The invasion into her mind, shook her confidence, but she was determined not to let it show. He was more like her than she cared to admit. Had he acquired every one of her gifts?

  Should she mention the strange excerpt that Dan read from her Grandfather’s journal, describing a catastrophe of epic proportions; a vision documenting the future of civilisation reduced to one of riots, looting, blackouts and the western world set ablaze? Would he believe her if she did relay the premonition? At the back of her mind, she knew that her grandfather was alluding to a global threat requiring the senior politicians of all western countries to solve. What impact could she possibly have on such a complex and international plot? The most she could do was to raise the alarm. Pinpoint the perpetrator and let the national security experts do their jobs. She assessed Luca’s emotions. He was buoyed and compliant. Hardly conducive to discussing such serious matters.

  Partly amused by her demands, partly concerned, Luca order his house staff to make up a guest room and bring them a tray of refreshments. Mary chose the warmth of the patio to divulge her story. She reclined on a sun lounger and refilled her vitamin D requirement, before settling under the shade of an awning. Luca handed his cellular phones to a man with a permanent scowl, instructing him to hold all calls. He then sat beside Mary and listened to her descriptions of the Summerfield Retreat site, of the team of new recruits with untapped potential, of seeing Jasper Flynn at the airport and of finding his body in the storage bunker. She left the most crucial fact until last.

  “One of the lads with abilities helped me to find a bicycle. I rode up this enormous ramp, which circled around like in a multi-storey car park, until I reached the top most level. There were military personnel everywhere. I hid, and watched them loading up large crates onto a convoy of army trucks. Each crate was marked with the hazard warning for nuclear material.”

  “And then what?” Luca sat forward, sipping from a long glass of iced lemonade.

  “Then I got out of there, pretty damn smartish, I can tell you.” She poured the dregs from the teapot into her cup and grimaced at the stale film it formed on its surface. “I did tell Karan about what I saw. I asked him to investigate through his contacts at the UN, but nothing ever came of it. Only, I promised Lachie and Oona that I would find a way to get them out.
They’re good kids really. It’s not their fault that they have become ensnared in Alexi’s criminal activities.” She watched Luca rubbing at his chin and wondered if it was an action derived through necessity more than unconsciously applied. Did it provide him with an air of gravitas and time to think of his next move? She was impatient to hear his thoughts. “Well? Can you help? Are there departments of people you can contact to chivvy the little weasel out of his lair? Nuclear material, Luca…this is serious.”

  “Yeah, I realise that. I’m thinking.”

  A glinting light in her peripheral vision made Mary snap her head towards the valley. Shielding her eyes, she peered across the acres of vines and saw the flash a second time but could not make out the source.

  Luca put his glass down and straightened his spine. “As EPA Chief, I have oversight of the removal and processing of nuclear waste, but authorising specific companies to deal with materials is tightly regulated, and delegated to someone beneath me. I would have to put together a team to look into this allegation more thoroughly.”

  “EPA?”

  “Environmental Protection Agency. It’s quite a prestigious title to hold, Mary.”

  “Well, what can I say. I’m British. Prestige is in the eye of the beholder. Does that mean you will send your team in to arrest Alexi, and stop whatever he is up to? What is that bloody annoying flashing light?” Again, she was attracted by its dazzling brightness.

  “Probably one of the solar arrays realigning, or a local media hack with a long lens camera. They’re always lurking about these parts.”

  Mary moved seats, taking her further away from the edge of the patio and out of view. “So, you will have him arrested?”

  “I’m not making promises, Mary, but yes. I will look into your story.”