Milieu Dawn

by Malcolm Franks

Matt had identified three alternative locations, should he be discovered in the vicinity of the Wolfgangsee. He chose Berchesgaden, in the South West of Germany, a town nestled amongst the Bavarian mountains boasting a population a little less than eight thousand. The place was better known for the presence of the nearby site of the Eagles Nest, Adolf Hitler’s mountain retreat.

  He adopted the fugitive procedure on entering the new town. He got off the bus on the outskirts and then walked into the centre. This was a modus operandi taught to him by Rosa. Spatial mapping was the key element.

  The gentle downhill stroll offered up a thorough view of the layout of the town, allowing him to identify the main features of the area. He made a mental note of side streets, shops and their goods, doctors and the police office etc. Public transport services and timings were another important aspect. He then studied the road network, to understand where each route would lead to and the estimated distance.

  Rosa had constantly drummed into his brain how important these matters were when on the run. Though he had moaned at the time, he had since always approached this activity as a task to be enjoyed rather than endured.

  The one mile walk took longer than he imagined though it helped the weather was fine, warm and sunny with a minimal breeze. Matt zigzagged frequently to understand both sides of the busy road. He was particularly struck by a lengthy gap in the buildings to his right.

  Further investigation revealed a tightly turning concrete drive leading down to a small plateau-like space, adorned with a series of wooden park benches. The space sat above a steep embankment which dropped down to a main road, in front of the wide river. The road led to a bridge, a few hundred metres to the right, to a mainly residential setting.

  Matt decided to buy refreshments from a local confectioner and sit on a bench to take in the view while he ate and drank. From his seat Matt could see the outline of the Eagles Nest, high up in the mountain opposite. Some retreat it must have been for the German Fuehrer. In those dark days people knew their enemies, knew when and how they were coming. Not any more.

  After lunch in the sunshine, Matt continued on. Nearing the centre he spotted the main bus terminal, across the road from what looked like a newly built hotel. Matt had learned a long time ago never to rest up in the obvious places, another lesson courtesy of Rosa, and he sought out a room in a guest house away from the main road.

  Not the largest of spaces the room at least accorded him a small balcony from where he could oversee the bulk of the town centre. Another of Rosa’s lessons, always find a place with a good view of the locality. Over the last couple of days Matt had barely been in one place long enough to get a good run at the files. Now there were no excuses, time to work. He checked his inbox. There was still no response from Gratia.

  Where was she?

  Matt had become so concerned he made a point of buying copies of the national and local press each day of the journey, looking for any scrap of information that could be the slightest bit relevant. There was nothing.

  Burdened by mounting worry he had considered heading for Munich. That would have been foolish. His priority had to be accessing the USB. Matt decided he would start in earnest once breakfast was finished. The last of the marmalade laden toast was removed from the plate as he examined the last few pages of yesterday’s Teutonic newspaper.

  The sun had shifted slightly bathing him in warm sunshine. Whilst pleasantly warm, the piercing beams of light reflecting into his eyes from the silver cutlery proved an irritable distraction. He took a shaded seat to shelter to avoid the rising sun. Munching on the remainder of the charcoaled bread he turned the page. Though still not completely au fait with the written Germanic word he was savvy enough to reach an understanding.

  The word Matthias caught his eye. An article reported on a murder victim discovered at his home in Munich. The young male resident’s heart had been pierced by a kitchen knife. A suspect had been detained. Matt read on.

  Matthias Schumann was the victim’s name, a computer programmer employed by one of the leading software industry companies in the world. The firm had acquired its world class status through the development of uniquely secure encryption programmes, used by such luminaries as the US Government, amongst others.

  His heart sank. The victim had to be the one and same man he had met on the Wolfgangsee, the code breaker. He had instructed Matthias to return home, telling him it was safe. Instead he had unwittingly sent the man to his death, into the waiting arms of his murderers. Another innocent life violently lost to Matt’s struggle against the odds. How many more were likely to suffer the same fate, he wondered. There was no doubt in his mind now. Gratia was in trouble, had to be.

  Matt jumped from the plastic chair and stormed into the white walled room, hurling the newspaper furiously to the wooden floor. He kicked at the two-seater sofa, choosing to ignore the subsequent pain to his big toe. The desperate mood lasted for several minutes, ending only when his mind finally began to register the throbbing ache from his foot. He tried to bring his mind back into focus.

  The scorched earth policy Rosa had talked about was being implemented. Matt could only wonder what was happening elsewhere. To attempt contact with St Wolfgang was an open invitation to his enemies to raze the place to the ground. The same could be said of Victoria. One by one, step by step, they were shearing away the pillars of help and support. He was on the point of excommunication from the rest of the world. Matt had never felt so alone.

  Perhaps Rosa had been right in Hallstatt. It was different this time round. And maybe his enemies had a point after all. The human race couldn’t keep multiplying at its present rate, without some checks and balances. There could only be one, eventual outcome. Something had to give.

  He shook the melancholy from his mind. Where there was life, there was hope. And there were the files to study. Matt loaded the USB, sat back, and prayed for a miracle.

  He had been at the screen, off and on, for a large part of the morning. The files he had read thus far set out his enemies’ case through a series of academic and governmental studies on the environment, population growth and natural resource management. Energy and food shortages were looming, their full impacts accelerated and compounded by overpopulation. Human longevity, coupled with rapid increases in global birth rates would soon raise levels of resource consumption beyond the planet’s ability to supply. Demand for affordable housing, transport and employment for all were becoming unattainable political objectives. Unhappy masses meant only one thing, revolution. Matt shook his head at the depressing reality of what was to come. He elected to venture back into town. He could pick up some local newspapers, perhaps yesterday’s British press, anything to rest his eyes from the computer screen.

  The schnitzel looked appetising enough, though all Matt could manage was to indiscriminately pick at the meal. He felt the pressure mounting inside, magnified by Gratia’s continuing unavailability. A pictured of her formed in his mind. In this image her long raven hair was down, surrounding her dark Guinness eyes. He recalled Gratia saving his life in Pamplona, and of the incredible sensation pulsing through his veins when he kissed her on the lake ferry. Should anything terrible have happened to her then …?

  The worry drove his mind to detest his present situation. Matt realised he was fast running out of options. His mind returned to thoughts of surrender once more, along with the files. Surely all that really mattered were the lives of those few people he truly valued.

  “Get it together, Durham,” he muttered.

  Of course he couldn’t give in and let them win. Too many innocent people would die if he threw in the towel. Besides, Matt Durham had never lost a fight in his life, and he wasn’t about to start losing now. He flipped the newspaper while he addressed the remainder of the plate. Food crisis critical, said the small boxed headline at the bottom. This was page eight, after the wide investigative spread on the latest ministerial sex scandal. Not even the media took the globe’s most pressing issue seriously.
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  “Give me strength.”

  He returned and showered, washing out the fogginess in his mind caused by the second Bavarian ale. He loaded the USB and clicked on the next file in line. There were four separate headings, the first detailed as locations. Into this, and another two headings appeared on screen. Ordnance the first, Release Points the second. Matt had considered ordnance related to military matters, weapons and the like. Not in this case.

  A global map highlighted a series of obscure locations. The drop down box listed vast ranges of commodities and resources, including viral antidotes, stored at each one. God only knew how they managed to conceal these Aladdin caves from the general public. The second heading represented the starting points for the release of the virus, codenamed as The Milieu Derivative. Unsurprisingly, rogue political states were to be the designated sources of the lethal outbreaks. If you’re going to murder two thirds of the planet’s population then you might as well blame it on your enemies, mark them as the villains of the piece.

  A subsidiary heading was marked Data Run. This referred to the intelligence system developed and used to classify citizens. Though not labelled as such there were effectively four, distinct categories; Essential, Desirable, Unessential and Undesirable. They were self explanatory. Those not recorded onto the system were automatically deemed to be surplus to requirements. The means used to classify individual citizens were truly frightening; Age, Genealogy, IQ, Genetic Disorder, Legal and Civil Action offences, were most prominent among many point scoring attributes There was even a categorisation labelled as Social Contribution. Elitism didn’t come close to describing Matt’s perception on the contents of this particular heading.

  He turned to the third heading, Logistics. This covered the blueprint of their intended pre and post operational activity and was divided in two. The first detailed the anticipated viral spread, by both geography and timeline, and then evaluated the expected Governmental responses to the epidemic, and their own responses to these assumptions. Post operational activity included an assessment of likely numbers that might develop natural immunity to the virus, and on how to deal with them.

  These were the files of information he had to get into the open. All he was missing was a comprehensive list of the conspirators. They surely had to be one here somewhere. He moved the cursor over the next file heading. That’s when he spotted the curious, throbbing light at the bottom right hand corner of the screen. He hadn’t noticed this before. It wasn’t the charging light. Neither was it a computer fault warning.

  Then he realised. It was an alert feed. Someone had rigged the USB he’d been given.

  Only three people on the planet had handled the accessory. Matt was the first. The second was Matthias, and he had been horribly murdered. Gratia was the only one left. He had his explanation for the unanswered messages.

  She had betrayed him.

  Gratia had been working against him all the time. She was part of the evil conspiracy, this proved it. He thought he could trust her. He was wrong. Matt felt like the whole world had turned their backs on him.

  Chapter Thirty Two

  A Britta good Fortune