The Final Call

by Craig A. Falconer

  When initially trying to describe the object in a phone call to the local police, he’d encouraged them to imagine a very wide cylinder that was cross-sectionally triangular instead of circular and which had been horizontally sliced to leave a ‘stump’ only three or four feet high. As inelegant as this description may have been, it did paint a fairly accurate picture.

  After alerting the police, Hassan had returned to the triangle along with some of his colleagues for a second and better look. The hotel workers thought it was going to be some kind of practical joke, quite understandably, and all were stunned into silence when they saw the scale of the object that had landed — or been placed — in their tiny corner of the world.

  The low light prior to the police’s arrival restricted how much detail Hassan and his friends could discern. They did however see enough to know that the object, an ornately decorated triangular prism composed of a remarkably black rock-like metal, quite clearly had an inlet groove where a smaller object of the same kind could be placed. There was a further triangular groove within the first, apparently for an even smaller replica, and it appeared to Hassan very much like his discovery was one third of a finished article.

  Whether the other two parts had arrived elsewhere or would do so soon was something he couldn’t even guess, but the nested Russian-doll like effect was unmistakeable to his eyes. Aside from the very clear physical indentations which suggested that smaller triangles could be placed within this one, there was another indication of incompleteness: the jewel-like studs which adorned the outer edges of the triangle’s upper surface stopped at the indented centre. Indeed, the absence of these highly reflective ‘dots’ was a large part of what made the first indentation so apparent even at first glance.

  Hassan’s indoor questioning was very gentle, certainly nothing worthy of the term interrogation, and the local policeman who took his sworn statement of how he had discovered the triangle clearly believed him. Unbeknownst to Hassan, however, control of the situation on the beach was already out of the police’s hands.

  “The hotel’s beach-facing security cameras will show me walking out to the beach,” Hassan said, “in case anyone needs to see that I really did only find it two minutes before I called you. In fact, those cameras will show the triangle arriving — we will know once and for all where it came from!”

  The policeman raised his eyebrows and shrugged. “The cameras were the first thing we tried, Mr Manula. Unfortunately, there was a white flash at around—”

  Without a knock, the door swung open very abruptly.

  “I think we have kept Mr Manula for long enough,” an eavesdropping official interrupted. Hassan looked at the man and saw Chinese features above an ELF emblazoned uniform.

  “Of course,” the policeman said, deferring in accordance with orders he had already received from his superiors. As per the ELF charter, this fell squarely within the organisation’s remit.

  “Thank you for going to the police and not the media,” the official said, shaking Hassan’s hand with a firmness that bordered on aggression and then encouraging him to leave the room. “You made a very wise decision.”

  These words, although grateful on the face of it, were spoken in a threatening tone that left Hassan in no doubt that his decision had been a wise one. Glancing out of the window on his way to the parking lot to get out of there and home to his family as quickly as he could, he saw that the makeshift tarpaulin cover had now been replaced by a peaked tent-like structure that must have been the size of two basketball courts.

  Hassan didn’t know what would happen if the triangle was still there when the tide came in — its sheer mass would likely anchor it to the spot, he thought — but he couldn’t imagine that it wouldn’t be long gone before then.

  The ELF officials clearly weren’t messing around, and he couldn’t blame them. Unshakeable certainty filled Hassan’s mind that the triangle wasn’t just an object… it was a message. The first of three parts, perhaps, but a message nonetheless.

  And for better or worse, it was in the ELF’s hands now.

  V minus 82

  GCC Headquarters

  Buenos Aires, Argentina

  Three hours after the news came in from Zanzibar, a heated crisis meeting among national representatives at the GCC was drawing to a close. For the most part, these representatives were in fact national leaders already present in Buenos Aires for the inauguration, rather than the permanent delegates who were set to reside in the city full-time. As if it was needed, this added an even greater feeling of unprecedented urgency to an already volatile political situation.

  The media had been dismissed from the building almost immediately, after a short statement from Godfrey which informed them of the supposedly alien triangle’s discovery and of his intention to carefully assess the “remarkably timed incident” before making any further comment. The GCC was officially inaugurated behind closed doors with far more haste and far less fanfare than he had hoped, but right now there were far more important things to worry about.

  There had so far been little opportunity for careful assessment given how little footage and how few eyewitness reports of the triangle were available. The speed with which a swarm of ELF agents arrived from the Tanzanian mainland to close down the site at dawn was almost as suspicious as the timing, Godfrey considered, and he wasn’t alone in his sceptical cynicism.

  Indeed, the majority of the emergency GCC meeting had been spent not debating the consequences and implications of a new gift from the Messengers but rather the most prudent way to respond to what all in attendance assumed to be an obvious hoax. Godfrey, commanding in his seat at the end of the table, insisted that the triangle was “so obviously a cheap Chinese hoax” that he didn’t even have to say it. On that point, however, he decreed that for the time being no one should say it in public.

  Some European delegates disagreed with this course of action in clearly stated but cordial terms, and Godfrey appreciated their candour. He also appreciated their deference to the will of the majority, which was a core principle of an organisational structure in which decisions by consensus could not be counted upon. The GCC charter made it clear that comments directly relating to extraterrestrial contact or visitation would be issued only by the collective once approved by a simple majority of member states. This was an unbreakable tenet upon which the organisation’s credibility rested, and it appeared to be facing — and surviving — its first serious test far earlier than anyone could have predicted.

  A corollary of the individual member states’ commitment to supporting the majority position was Chairman Godfrey’s similar commitment to refraining from making any major statements without first seeking and securing explicit majority approval of their general content. A vote wouldn’t be required every time he opened his mouth, of course, but any significant political interjection and any change of direction most certainly would require such approval.

  When the initial decision to avoid calling out the Zanzibar triangle as a hoax had been reached, a victory for wait-and-see diplomacy, Chairman Godfrey rocked the room with a piece of news that came as a revelation to all but two of the gathered representatives. He glanced at these individuals, President Slater and the Japanese Prime Minister, silently seeking their consent to share the information on the tip of his tongue. Both nodded; the timing was right.

  “You all know about this morning’s foiled plot at the Gravesen,” Godfrey said. “Well, yesterday morning’s, since we’re far beyond midnight now. In any case, what you don’t yet know — and what has only been ‘kept’ from you so everything could be fully verified before we risked jumping the gun — is how the plot was foiled. On Friday evening in Italy, Dan McCarthy was contacted by the Messengers. On Friday evening in Italy, the Messengers went untold miles out of their way to warn Dan McCarthy precisely where and when the GeoSovs intended to strike.”

  Sudden silence rather than shocked gasps greeted Godfrey’s revelation. He watched with mild interest as d
elegates looked around and exchanged glances with their closest allies, subconsciously revealing friendships in the way only an unexpected development ever could.

  “There are several things we could read into this,” their Chairman said, “but the most objectively certain are these: First, the Messengers remain close, keeping a watchful eye on humanity and ready to intervene when they deem it truly necessary. Second, the Messengers quite rightly deemed the safety of our American and Japanese representatives worthy of such an intervention. Third, Dan McCarthy remains the Messengers’ preferred point of contact. Fourth, Dan McCarthy remains an individual we can rely upon. He may not have nailed his colours to our GCC mast quite yet, but when push comes to shove his loyalty lies with his country and its allies.

  “And stretching objectivity only slightly,” Godfrey continued, “allow me to suggest one more thing I believe we can safely conclude. Last year in Colorado Springs, the Messengers did not intervene to prevent a near-deadly attack on Timo Fiore and Emma Ford. For one reason or another, their lives were deemed unworthy of an intervention. Of course on the face of it, the potential assassinations of two heads of state may seem like a far more destabilising blow than the deaths of two civilians. But if we cast our minds back to that awful day at the Fiore Frontiere headquarters, we will remember that the hopes of a desperate world were on Timo’s shoulders as Il Diavolo drew ever nearer. The attack, even though ultimately unsuccessful, ushered in a night of chaotic rioting and could very well have hastened the decline of civilised society had Dan not bravely beckoned the Messengers to Birchwood in the immediate aftermath.

  “I remind you of this point to introduce another: in my view, the Messengers acted not only to prevent two cold-blooded political assassinations but to allow our inauguration to go ahead as planned. The sham that is the ELF will not have gone unnoticed by the Messengers, and they have quite clearly chosen a side. Like Dan, they may not be public in their endorsement — at least not yet. But just like Dan, I know to the depths of my being that I can count on their support when it’s needed most. To state my confidence in the simplest of terms: the Messengers have never, would never, and will never give anything to the Chinese or any other enemies of freedom.”

  The nods of support which greeted Godfrey’s words were few but firm; quite clearly, those who approved of his robust language and continued conflation of the ELF with the Chinese government fully approved. Some were less comfortable with the tone, perhaps hearing a little bit too much of Richard Walker in the Sinophobic wording.

  “I would very much like to convene again tomorrow afternoon once more intelligence on this triangle is in our palms, but for now I shall close with a final comment on the importance of strategic restraint. As you all know, for my sins, I spent a considerable amount of time with Jack Neal before I cut him loose and he scampered away to the side of John Cole — birds of a feather flocking together, as they do.”

  The assembled representatives were surprised to hear these names spoken, especially Jack’s and especially President Slater, who had given the disgraced founder of XPR his break as a political strategist. Jack had lost all of his powerful former clients and allies in recent years, falling firmly out of favour with Slater, Godfrey and Cole and foolishly making an enemy of his former protégé Emma Ford.

  Now that Jack was back in the commercial PR game, salvaging celebrity reputations almost as damaged as his own, more than one mind in the room wondered why his name had been deemed worthy of a mention in a meeting as highly charged and important as this one.

  “You’re probably wondering why I would mention him tonight of all nights,” Godfrey went on, attuned to the mood of the room, “and the reason is simple. I’m reminded tonight of the one sensible thing Jack ever told me, which has stuck with me since the day he said it: you can hide the truth forever, but the lie always gets out.”

  Many of the powerful heads around Godfrey’s table nodded in full support. He commanded their respect without having to demand it, and not even those who disliked him in a personal sense were begrudging of his position.

  “Friends,” he said, “we all know that this is a cheap Chinese hoax. What I also want you to know is that our counterparts in Beijing will overplay their hand and expose themselves before long. To paraphrase a far wiser man than Jack Neal, we must avoid the temptation of interrupting our enemies while they are making this mistake. Reality is on our side and so are the Messengers. For now, all we have to do is hold our nerve.”

  SATURDAY

  V minus 81

  Denver International Airport

  Denver, Colorado

  Having kept his thoughts on the so-called ‘Zanzibar triangle’ to himself overnight, aware of his close observation as he was, Dan was overwhelmingly glad when word came in on Saturday morning that Birchwood was open for business once more.

  A small exclusion zone was still in place around the drive-in given the reasonable expectation that news of another supposedly alien discovery would bring crowds once more, but residents like Dan and Emma would be allowed to go in and out of town as they pleased.

  Right now the only way Dan wanted to think about going was in, and Emma shared the sentiment. Their pre-honeymoon had been cut short by a development neither had seen coming, but now that it was over they wanted to get home as quickly as possible. An airport was no place to spend any night, let alone one as politically turbulent as the last, and their small room’s TV set had proven too tempting to resist. Because of this they were acutely aware of the growing diplomatic tensions over the discovery in Tanzania, an ELF member state, with talk of an emergency GCC summit having leaked out of Buenos Aires.

  Nothing regarding the content of the meeting had leaked out, and although Emma was naturally curious she knew this was for the best; things were shaky enough as they were without any off-the-cuff and potentially regrettable reactions making their way into the public sphere.

  As soon as the road in and out of Birchwood reopened, Clark McCarthy set off on the drive to Denver. He insisted this was no trouble and Dan was glad of it, understandably more reluctant than ever to get into a vehicle that wasn’t driven by someone he trusted completely. Dan even asked Clark to make sure he drove his own car, which was older than Dan’s and lacked some of the ‘smart’ features which Dan’s paranoid mind now worried could be used to remotely immobilise the engine or even take control of the steering mechanism and eliminate him once and for all. Dan didn’t know who exactly might have a sufficiently strong interest in trying to get rid of him for this to be something worth worrying about, but such small details didn’t stop his mind from wandering.

  When Clark called again to say he was outside, one of the airport’s regular security staff asked Dan for an autograph before he left. Dan obliged happily enough; the man sounded local, couldn’t have been any older than 25, and had been friendly and helpful overnight whenever they’d needed anything. A supervisor stepped in when the man asked for a photograph, however, and Dan could only apologise having initially agreed.

  Eight security staff flanked the couple as they walked to the airport’s exit, which from their current position involved passing through a busy area. The option of waiting fifteen minutes while this area was cleared was offered to Dan and Emma, but neither were willing to entertain the idea of putting so many people through such an inconvenience. The airport really was no place to spend any more time than necessary, as they had both been reminded overnight, and they had no problem with traversing a crowd of people who would be delighted to see them.

  For most of the past year, Dan had avoided public areas as much as possible simply to keep himself out of the media in the hope of hastening a return to something approaching a normal life. After what had happened in Italy and Tanzania, however, he knew the days of hoping for such a thing truly were gone. He put on a brave face as one of the security officers opened the door which led them into the large Arrivals area. It took mere seconds for the news of his presence to ripple through the crow
d. The effect was visible, along the lines of a Mexican wave, as first every head turned and then every pair of feet approached.

  Four of the security officers surrounded the couple more tightly now, with the others using firm words and raised tasers to enforce a buffer of several metres in each direction.

  Dan didn’t hear any particularly audible comments from the crowd and didn’t get the impression that many of them were asking questions about the Zanzibar triangle or anything else. Most were simply smiling and waving, some taking photos and some raising their thumbs in support.

  “It’s been a while, huh?” Emma whispered, smiling along with their supportive public and momentarily forgetting the storm clouds that were gathering. “Have you missed it?”

  Dan chortled. “I wouldn’t go that far!”

  A line of stores filled the wall to their left, positioned to separate recent arrivals from some of their money and evidently aimed more at the tourist market than the business travellers who still accounted for a narrow majority of the airport’s traffic despite a huge rise in visits to Colorado following Contact Day and everything that had preceded it. Dan momentarily wondered if a similar influx would soon hit Zanzibar and wherever else further triangles might turn up, but his attention then fell on one particular store.

  It was busy, or at least had been until its customers began flooding towards him, and the italicised ‘TARA STYLE’ signage made him smile even wider. The huge pictures in each window were eye-catching shots of Tara Ford herself. One showcased a simple yellow party dress and was set against the backdrop of a long-exposure shot of streetlights in a city that looked like New York. The other, a black and white close-up of her face, to Dan’s mind evoked thoughts of catwalks and perfume commercials where no one was allowed to smile.