She felt Omar's arm around her shoulders as he drew her close. How much she needed to be near him. She buried her head into his chest and felt him envelop her as she began to sob without restraint. She looked up into his eyes.
“Josiah?” she enquired timidly.
Omar shook his head. He had sacrificed himself – perhaps knowingly or just instinctively or even out of hatred for Ryan. Julia wondered if Josiah had played out his desire to be her father and given his life to save hers. It was his last act.
Julia panicked. “The Ark! The Ark is on fire!” She struggled to release herself from Omar's grip. Omar remained calm and held her tight.
“No, everything is fine. There is no fire.” He repeated it over and over until Julia yielded to his persistence and looked at him questioningly.
“The lights went out and there was a fire.”
Omar nodded. “Yes, I was able to kill the power and trigger the fire detection system. I tricked Ryan into believing that the Ark was destroyed. I forced him to leave. I knew he had an escape plan and I forced him to take it.”
Julia understood. Hell, no! She understood nothing. It made no sense. There were so many questions. Omar turned and with dignity put out the remnant flames on Josiah's charred body. He lifted the body from the blackened opening and laid it on the ground and covered it with a sheet of canvas.
Chapter 60
Washington, United States of America
Gary became aware that events had blundered and blazed their own trail despite his own efforts and those of the CIA to contain them. Sometimes, it seemed that the harder they tried to neutralise and defuse the threats at hand, the more intense they became. Indeed, the systematic interrogation of persons of interest had alerted other nations that something was afoot. Other nations responded by launching their own operations to find out what the CIA knew. The price of cryogenic pumps trebled in a matter of weeks then rose ten-fold again. Morbidly, several corpses of those the CIA had interviewed subsequently cropped up in an exotic itinerary of countries. At first, they were the victims of freak accidents or carefully crafted suicides; latterly they were brutally tortured and dumped. As Gary saw the list lengthen, he doubted if any of them knew anything. He read that the North Korean businessman, Mister Lim, had been found hanged under the Charles Bridge in Prague. Gary began to wonder if his own name would be added. He hated the investigation and he wanted out. It had consumed his entire life over the last few months and left him drained and dishevelled. The one good thing was that Mandy had called him and asked if he was free for a drink after work that evening. He had readily agreed.
Gary drove downtown to meet Mandy. It was a beautiful café with excellent coffee. The proprietor was – as Gary reckoned – Turkish and devoted to coffee, cake, hospitality and gossip.
On the way Gary listened to the radio. He caught a news bulletin concerning a radiation leak at the Romanian nuclear power station at Chernavoda. The radiation detectors were going wild but officials from the plant were obstinately denying they had any leak of any sort. Gary was familiar with the unfolding public relations blunder. First, there would be a denial followed after a few days by an admission but that really nothing was seriously wrong. The full extent of the accident would be revealed in time. Trust was already lost; vital hours or days would be wasted – all in an effort to avert panic. Nonetheless, people would be forced from their homes and whole neighbourhoods and towns would be abandoned to desolation. Gary silently thanked God that Romania was a long, long way away. He chose to let the Romanians worry about themselves while he thought with anticipation of meeting Mandy. He turned the radio off.
The café was quiet but Gary could not see Mandy when he entered. Malik, the proprietor, smiled profusely at Gary from behind the counter where he presided over a tantalising selection of cakes dripping with honey and other sweet things. In the adjacent glass-fronted display were jars of olives, cheese and sun-dried tomatoes. Malik gesticulated an offer of olives and bread. Gary, at first, declined but conceded to Malik's persistence as he took a seat in a booth in the corner. Gary kept one eye on the door to catch Mandy's arrival. He waited ten minutes. It was not like Mandy to be late – at least not in Gary's mind – but then he knew so little of what she was like.
Outside it was pouring with rain and traffic was worse than usual. Mandy had to negotiate a long drive from the zoo so Gary settled down to wait. He snacked on the olives. Malik brought coffee – unordered – and sat opposite Gary. Business was slow tonight.
“Good evening. You're one of Mandy's friends, aren't you? She's my best customer.”
Gary smiled somewhat awkwardly and nodded.
“I never forget a customer. You were here, say, nine months ago. A whole group of you came in together.”
Indeed, Malik was correct. Gary recalled the first time he noticed Mandy. It was here in this café. After church one night just before Christmas, Trisha rounded up every young person and corralled them here. In Trisha's vocabulary young meant unmarried. Gary had watched with interest the new girl innocently ask about the big city of Washington. The new girl spoke with confidence and struck Gary as intelligent and articulate. He also noticed that she was exceptionally attractive – which he assumed meant he had no chance. How differently things had gone. The new girl, Mandy, had accepted his invitation to dinner. A dinner that was cut short as Mozambique presented its implacable demands on Gary. He courted death with Escobar – he still had nightmares about that – and narrowly escaped from a car crash. The investigation into the Nephilim had whisked Gary away in a whirlwind of terror and intrigue. He had barely been back in Washington since. Again he had come close to being mauled by a bear – saved only by Zarina's inexplicable charity and mercifully fine marksmanship. The country had moved up to DEFCON 2. In those fleeting months, Gary imagined that Malik came each day to open his sumptuous café and serve his loyal customers with all the varieties of coffee and delicatessens imaginable. In Malik, Gary saw a man who passionately loved his work and his life. In contrast, Gary was jaded and anaemic. Gary replied kindly and with a level of hitherto undiscovered appreciation and respect.
“Yes, I know Mandy well,” he lied wishfully. “My name is Gary. This coffee is rather good. Thank you.”
“Mandy is a sweet girl. I tried to persuade my son, Murat, to date her. But he's as stubborn as a mule and just as stupid. She'd make a fine wife. She'll be here later. She asked me to make sure you wait for her.” The news perplexed Gary. He was not used to others knowing his business – especially personal stuff.
“Did she say she'd be late?”
“Don't worry. She'll be here. She's ordered eighty jars of olives and sweet pickled peppers.”
“That's quite a lot of olives!” Gary gagged, Malik merely shrugged.
“I have best quality and give good discount.” Gary smiled. Of course, Malik appreciated good business. “Do you want to know why?” Malik leaned forward across the table to Gary. Gary nodded, unconsciously drawn into the secret. “Then you should ask her yourself because she is here.” Malik stood up and went back to his counter. Gary looked up and, indeed, Mandy was walking up to the booth. Gary had not noticed her despite sitting with a clear view of the door; he could not work out how Malik had seen her.
“Good evening, Gary.” The sweet and enticing voice of Mandy captured Gary's attention. She bent over him and with one hand caressing his neck she kissed his forehead. He stared up at her. She smiled back and took the seat Malik had vacated.
“Mandy, am I glad to see you!”
“You're still busy at work? Do you want to talk about it?”
“I can't. I do, but I can't.” Gary felt dishonest. He was hiding far too much and there was never any release. He talked with Agent Vitti but it was not the same, Vitti was as much part of it as Gary and he was dealing with his own baggage at the same time.
“When I care for my animals, they don't talk but I have learned to listen to them and watch them carefully. They all have their ways
. They behave differently depending how they feel. They aren't stupid, you know. You have a lot on your mind, Gary. You've been abroad – I can tell from your tan. You haven't shaved as often – a sign of stress, preoccupation. Your eyes are red – you have trouble sleeping. Do you have nightmares? Have you seen things that … disturb you? Haunt you? You can tell me Gary.”
The words were incisive yet tender and healing. Gary longed to tell everything but he could not. He cared less and less for his duty to his country. He felt isolated, disconnected from the society he had sworn to protect. Yet to unload his secrets was impossible. To speak to Mandy of such as he had witnessed would pollute her. He needed her to remain pure. She held the only hope for his redemption. Gary shook his head.
“Gary, I have a cabin up in the forest in the mountains … in Vermont. Would you like to go there for the weekend? Maybe longer? The tranquillity would be good for your soul … and I would worry much less about you.”
“A cabin!?” Gary blurted out. Mandy's eyebrows twitched in patient disapproval. “I'm sorry, it sounds wonderful. I just never imagined you would have your own cabin. It's great though … really.”
“It belonged to my father but recently it has come to me. It needs a few home touches but it's fairly comfortable and the views are spectacular. It's very remote. I need to go up and sort it out a bit.”
Gary looked pensive for a moment. His heart pounded and his mouth went dry. He might never have another moment like this and he was determined to seize the opportunity no matter how awkwardly.
“I have another idea. How about Vegas? Let's go and get married. We could be there and back by tomorrow afternoon.”
Caught up in his wild escapist plan, Gary ignored and even avoided the news. His cell phone was discarded on his bedside table. He did not hear the newsflash that confirmed that the Romanian nuclear plant had no leak. Instead, the monitoring station on the Black Sea coast had been checked – it had been down for maintenance – and a huge cloud of invisible radiation was smothering Eastern Europe spreading from the East. The extent was much greater than originally thought – large parts of the Middle East and Central Asia had already been contaminated. People were advised to stay indoors, close all windows. In truth, experts knew that such precautions would not be enough. Evacuation was the only option: mass migration of diverse humanity on a scale never contemplated in history.
One Arab broadcaster labelled it the Nakba – a catastrophe. Just like 1948 many would be forced to flee their homes and their land for fear of their lives. They gathered what possessions they could carry. They locked their doors and took the key with them promising they would return – it might be many years. Unlike 1948 there was no border that offered safety. The radiation was blown on the wind and went where it willed. The Arab denounced the Jews for their part in it.
The name – Nakba – stuck. Within the American and European psyche, the alien sound allowed blame to be foisted elsewhere. The source of the cloud was unconfirmed. Commentators and experts presented endless speculation using weather charts and forecasts. Accusations were fierce. When the Arabs blamed the Israelis, the Israelis reciprocated. The Russians were rumoured to be building up for an offensive south through the Caucasus on the pretext of maintaining stability but likely seizing an opportunity to control the gas fields of the Caspian basin – no one knew for certain if it had started. The 24-hour news channels showed library footage of soldiers dressed in nuclear protective suits running around in tanks. However, it served to weave a sense of reality into the subconscious. The President was reported to be considering moving to DEFCON 1 – signalling imminent war. Some said it was already too late: tens of millions had been silently contaminated and had but a few brief days to live. They would soon be vomiting and their hair would be shed. Death would be welcomed when it came.
There had been an accident. An errant cryogenic experiment had triggered an unforeseen explosion on a nuclear facility. The contamination was interpreted as an act of aggression and missiles of mutual destruction were made ready to preserve honour. A chain reaction of events had been set in motion that could not be halted. Any day the world would go crazy. Fleeing refugees met closed borders where flashpoints were quickly reached. There was no reason to be peaceful and compliant – there was nothing left to loose. Rivalry and tensions that quietly fermented between neighbours burst into violence. The cloud of contamination wrapped around the Earth, as silently as a thief comes at night.
Chapter 61
National Secure Archive Facility
Julia sat outside, her knees drawn up under her chin. She pulled the hood back and ran her fingers through her hair. The sun warmed her and she breathed the unfiltered air deeply. Her eyes filled with tears repeatedly. The beauty of the world was wonderful. She stripped the rest of the radiation suit from her body and placed her bare feet on grass. The sensation was intense. Her hair. Her red hair had left a trail of bloodshed and tragedy. It betrayed the Patriarch's scheme to deprive others in the Ark of fatherhood. Her mother had killed herself. Julia had been victimised and side-lined because of it. It marked her out as different – as a defect. It connected her to Omar. She was one of the Nephilim now. She breathed the open and toxic air. The wind bustled around her. She felt cold and shivered. As she stood up, Sarah came running over, slowing to a halt a few yards in front. Sarah had her protective radiation suit on and she stared at Julia seeing hers discarded.
“Julia!” Sarah's voice was muffled by her face mask.
Julia turned and smiled at her friend. She reached out her hand and they walked holding hands to see the killing ground. Triumph and grief mixed as Sarah saw Ryan and Josiah lying dead. Julia had to prevent her looking under the cover Omar had placed over Josiah's charred body. It was not pretty. It was enough for Sarah to identify him from his footwear. Others from the Ark had also arrived. They gazed around the workshop in wonder. It was not marked on the plans of the Ark – at least not the ones they had seen. They were suspicious of Omar and demanded to know what had happened. Julia explained that Josiah had shot Ryan but set himself on fire. Three of Ryan's sons and the nurse, Andrea, had driven off in the vehicle – she had no idea where they were going. Where was there to go? They had tried to force her to go with them but Omar and Josiah had prevented it. The explanation was necessarily brief. Everyone was nervous about the radiation exposure and the time they were spending outside.
They told Julia she could not re-enter the Ark. This started a protest from Sarah who argued that, of course, she should be able to. Julia looked at Omar.
“Julia, I have to follow Ryan's sons. According to the documents you gave me, my father was captured by the American security service in India just before the Nakba and brought back to America. His flight saved my mother but he was captured. The report says he was taken to Arlington, Virginia but nothing beyond that. There is a small chance that somehow he is still alive and their destination is the only hope I have of finding him. The Ark is not the only underground facility holding out until the radiation levels subside. There is one other. Didn't you notice that none of the top government officials formed the first generation of the Ark? Only Ryan knew of its existence and location – maybe a few others – now dead. And his sons knew. It's my only chance. I have to try.”
“How did you turn off the lighting and convince Ryan there was a fire? How did you do that?”
“I admit, I did not volunteer the fact that I've read every design document about this place. The Russians had everything – in Zlatoust. Plans, layouts, wiring schedules, everything – even this vehicle hanger. The Ark wasn't so secret after all. I memorised every detail. Very little has changed in the two hundred years since the Ark was built. She's good for a long time to come. And you're forgetting: I'm one of the Nephilim. My parents, all my aunts and uncles are scientists – the best in the world. We didn't use a huge library like the Ark. We kept it in here.” Omar tapped his head. “After you left me in the storage bay, did you think I would just sit ther
e and wait? I climbed out through the ventilation ducts and maintenance panels and began to hack the control systems. I watched you negotiate with Ryan. I heard ever word – you did well by the way. I had to force him to leave. I had to convince him the Ark was lost – that he had no choice but to flee to the other facility. It was the only way that he would show me the way to my father. It was my only hope. Now I must follow his sons. Julia, I would like you to come with me.”
“I can't Omar. How can I?”
“We shall walk the Earth together. The Ark will do just fine without you. You are one of the Nephilim.”
Julia felt the truth of Omar's words. It was just a bit sudden. To walk away from everything she knew was both terrifying but also the desire of every shred of flesh and bone in her body. She had not been born to live in a hole. She had been born to live under blue skies; to breathe fresh air; to touch the earth. She had been born for freedom.
At that moment Frank approached excitedly. He had been summoned but there were no injured – only fatalities. Frank took hold of Omar’s arm.
“I know your secret. I know how it works. I’m sure of it.”
Frank was breathless and Omar took advantage of Frank’s stammering, “What secret is that?”
“Heavy water. How you survive drinking heavy water. It should kill you, but it doesn’t. It’s the virus. It’s HIV. Of course it is. It reconfigures the cellular division enzymes, so that they work with heavy water. It’s brilliant. Unimaginably brilliant. I mean incredible.” Frank struggled to find words to express his amazement but quickly continued, “How did you discover it? How? Were you trying to find a cure for HIV? For AIDS? But this is mind-blowing. What are the odds? Some random virus interacts with heavy water to produce … well people like you! The Nephilim! I’m right, aren’t I?” Frank looked desperately at Omar.
The Nephilim Protocol Page 32
