The Unseen

by James McKenna

  THE UNSEEN

  by James McKenna

  The Unseen

  First published by AuthorHouse 2008

  ISBN 978-1-4389-1834-1

  This edition published by

  Lone Cloud Publishing

  Unit 1 Betjeman Close, Cowper Road,

  Harpenden, Herts AL5 4XH

  2011

  ISBN ebook-html 978-0-9569723-2-3

  lonecloudpublishing@live.co.uk

  Copyright James McKenna 2008. All rights reserved

  The right of James McKenna to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages

  A clip catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not by way of trade, or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that is which it is published and without similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  Visit lonecloudpublishing or jameswmckenna.co.uk for more books by this author, including children’s books, interviews and comments. You can sign up for enewsletters so you always hear first about new releases.

  Books soon to be released as ebooks:

  The Uncounted

  Final Justice

  Global Raider

  Childrens' thriller books for 9-12 year olds, plus:

  The Mind Traveller

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

  To Virginia for all her hard work, dedication and tenacity

  Many thanks and all my love

  CHAPTER 1

  Stella had no defence against Caswell’s gaze on her body, nor his predatory thoughts which she sensed creeping through her clothes with invasive lust. Beneath her business smile came an uncharacteristic tremor of nerves. Familiar with appreciative glances, she occasionally encouraged them, but this guy made her feel like meat. This guy stirred fear.

  “If you would follow me, Mr Caswell.” She indicated the stone steps and led him from the terrace of Casco Bay Villa towards a rocky headland on the Maine coast. Looking towards the sea and Atlantic swell, she heard his overbearing presence follow her.

  “I expected this meeting to take place at Head Office in New York,” Caswell said.

  “Head Office is wherever Mr Wileman resides,” she replied over her shoulder, conscious his eyes now devoured the minute quiver of flesh beneath her fitted skirt.

  “Does he always have such good looking young women around him? You must be really useful to him, an old boy like that.”

  Stella compressed her lips and continued in silence, trying to distract with thoughts of her boyfriend, of the progress on her thesis, trying to lighten her descent so her breasts did not shiver with each footfall on the hard steps.

  “I mean, lot of the top guys I mix with got personal assistants resembling dragons beyond their sell-buy date. But you, you got something else, including one peach of an arse with legs stretching way up. I see you’ve no wedding ring. Fancy dinner tonight?”

  Stella squared her jaw and wrinkled her nose. “Thank you but I have a previous engagement. And I am not Mr Wileman’s PA, I am researching for my PhD in computer technology.”

  “Brains and beauty, now that I like. You ever need a job, come work for me. I got a special position in mind.”

  Stella took a turn in the downward path and allowed silence for an answer, her thoughts finding sanctuary amidst the gulls circling on outstretched wings. The sight calmed her annoyance but did little for her uncertainty as to why Wileman had summoned her, why her instructions included escorting Caswell from the villa. She assumed Wileman wanted to learn about her research. After all, he paid for it. The Wileman Foundation had lifted her from childhood poverty, had schooled her, put her through college and university and now paid a salary while she wrote her doctorate thesis. Wileman had opened all the doors, this had to be important, least for her. She didn’t know about the guy screwing her butt. She just wished he was someplace else.

  The path turned to an outcrop of trees, then became lost as it wound down to the beach cove and summerhouse. Wileman sat on a bench overlooking a small cemetery with white picket railings. Sea air brushed his wrinkled face while his gaze remained on the distance, as if lost amidst the sounds of surf and gulls.

  “Mr Wileman,” Stella called. “The British executive, Richard Caswell. You said to bring him.” She stopped by the bench and pushed strands of loose hair behind one ear. She sensed her face was glowing and her brow moist.

  Oscar Wileman looked between them before offering his hand, only then did Caswell remove his eyes from her. Still flushed she gave full attention to her boss, fingers clasped sedately, hoping for something good. Wileman stayed silent for a moment then indicated she sit beside him. Expensive clothes draped his thin body, his spiky hair standing oblivious to the breeze as he examined Richard from behind rimless spectacles.

  “Pretty girl, ain’t she?” he said, as if she was not there, his face without animation, his blue eyes bright and cutting.

  “Exceptionally so,” Caswell smirked.

  “Stella,” Wileman said her. “I’ve asked you here because your future work will have direct influence on Richard’s project.”

  “As you wish, Mr Wileman.”

  “Oh I do wish, Stella. You’re a bright young lady with a bright future. I have things planned for you.”

  Stella felt relief and shuffled her feet. Maybe this was her big opening.

  “She has a Masters in flash advertising on computer screens. It’s there for seconds, then gone, not dissimilar from what you do,” Wileman said. “Her brain and body are wasted here, but I like to have intelligent and pretty girls around me. It’s a privilege of wealth.” Wileman turned back to the fenced graveyard. “I bury my animals in this plot. Dogs, cats, a bear, even a llama. Plus a few other creatures. This is my pets’ cemetery.”

  “To have kept so many you must love animals, Mr Wileman,” Caswell said, Stella loathing the false smile on his round, chubby face.

  “No. I amuse myself by training them. I do so by feeding their ambition and greed. In return they give me obedience. As Stella will give. Because of it she will do whatever it is you intend to ask of her.”

  “Mr Wileman, please.” Stella sat up sharp, putting hand to bodice. “I will always follow your wishes, but I’m not sure I understand.”

  “It’s simple, Stella. I need your total obedience no matter what I ask. And this assignment will be proof of that obedience. When I picked you and others from the gutter, when I educated you, I did so for a reason, for possession of your soul. And I if I say lie down and roll over, I expect just that. You got a problem, you can leave right now, leave my company and my payroll.”

  Stella felt her mouth open as she twisted on the bench, felt her gaze drop, felt fear creep to every fibre of her body.

  “I ... I.” Her eyes closed and moments passed.

  “Witness, Richard, the control of wealth. Witness and learn. If you want money, Richard, this is your opportunity, but first, like Stella, judge which is more important, morality or ambition.”

  Stella stared between the two of them, hating both, hating her inability to leave, her weakness in not speaking out.

  “My morality is yours, sir,” Caswell said, his eyes on h
er breasts.

  “Good, because I’m talking about control of America, control of the financial world and all the power that acquires. America’s vast debt and the infighting of politicians over solving it puts this country and, indeed, mankind on the brink of collapse. If you cannot pay the army and the police, you cannot rely on them. The result, chaos, anarchy, a return to the primeval.”

  “I’m with you, boss.” Caswell nodded his head and Stella watched his intrusive gaze give way to self-righteousness. “If you have ability to influence the politicians, you have ability to control the people.”

  “And make a lot of money.”

  “I assume you refer to my work on subliminal psychotic induction,” Caswell said.

  “SPI over computer screens directed at the right people could put our country in the direction we require, indeed, we could influence our whole civilisation.”

  Caswell curled his fingers into a fist. “Covert control by the unseen. Money, just think of all that money.”

  “Which is why I’m closing you down.”

  “What?” He stepped back, sagging, his arms splayed.

  Stella sat motionless, teeth clenched, trying not to gloat over Caswell’s demise. What game was Wileman playing?

  “Such controversial research is highly volatile. Any connection to my company would be disastrous. Your programme is terminated forthwith and you are dismissed from Starways.”

  “You’re kidding me? I’ve proved what we can do.” Caswell raised both hands in bewildered question.

  Wileman remained looking out to sea, his expression bland. “At this point, Richard, note the extent of my power over your bank account. Then listen to my requirements.” He paused. “You listen too, Stella, because your research is not dissimilar. WorkWell, our new business and office support application, will soon be ready for integration into the Starways operating system. In England you will set up a company and using what Stella sends over, you’ll develop WorkWell so it accepts coded SPI viruses. In other words, install a facility which will interpret certain coded viruses as updates from a source provider.”

  “That would corrupt your own software.”

  “You misunderstand. What I want you to develop and incorporate into the WorkWell programme is a means whereby a virus from an unknown source, but carrying the right code, is accepted by the software as legitimate. These viruses will lie in a server or PC as a Trojan horse. They will not damage or cause a problem. Their only function is to send subliminal messages to the terminal user whenever there is screen movement. Within two years SPI, subliminal psychotic induction through our WorkWell application, will influence the world, will influence the money markets and policitians. Think of that, Richard.”

  “But why England? Why not here, in America?”

  “Starways must never be involved. If we were ever accused of experimenting with SPI it might be interpreted as an intention to influence individual or public opinion. The media would slaughter us. That’s why this meeting is private and witnessed only by Stella, who in turn chooses to prove her loyalty and obedience beyond question.”

  “But why go to England?”

  Stella felt her breath, sharp and short. She swallowed and watched Wileman turn hard eyes on the Englishman before raising a bony finger. “It is illegal to use SPI on the public. If the government found out they would confiscate our research for themselves. They too would like to influence, the Senate and House of Representatives. Perhaps even now they watch us, waiting to intercept and steal our programme and they would use it, Richard, believe me.” He shook his head. “All done while the courts crippled us with a fine of billions. No, security is paramount, that means out of sight and out of mind, somewhere in Britain.”

  “Employees would talk.”

  “Not if you pick only those who share your morality and ambition. Pay them well, the same way I do Stella, then you’ll have their silent obedience,” he said and squeezed her hand. “You will start a cover company known as PKL. Starways own the rights on two computer games, Princess Kay-ling and Killing Fields. PKL will pick up those rights very cheaply. You’ll infuse both with the SPI research already developed. Over the Internet you can then send SPI out to these games as a virus and use the British population as guinea pigs. As a British firm, you will also be a listed sub-contractor on the WorkWell application. But the sole purpose of your involvement will be to adapt the application to accept SPI which had been developed through the games. For every other appearance your work is to create an SPI firewall provided as an upgrade.”

  “For user safety,” Richard added.

  “Diplomatically put. But our insertion must be designed so no-one can trace the source. At all times we must remain the unseen.”

  “Starways will fund the whole operation?”

  “Starways will have no involvement. Your set up funding is in place via Russian contacts. Thereafter PKL should make enough profit to fund itself. I don’t want you drawing attention. Use any excessive profit to keep trusted employees silent. Your reward will be waiting here when you return and that reward will be substantial.”

  “I have a free hand?”

  “Stella will use her research programme to covertly pass you information, otherwise no-one this side will come near you. Insofar as Starways is concerned, you’ll be a minor British non-entity and totally deniable. But there are three provisos. You must stay clean and you must stay hidden. Keep PKL as a family game, that’s where the money lies.”

  “You’re on, Mr Wileman.”

  “The third proviso is, when finished, you remove all traces of research in the UK, then via Stella you will personally deliver the results of your work to me, here at Casco Bay. On no account must you transfer anything relating to Starways by e-mail or let any other party have a copy. The result of failure in this would be unpleasant for you. Stella will monitor your progress and be your only contact.”

  “Have no fear, Mr Wileman, my ambitions will always be at your disposal.”

  “Excellent. Go down to the summerhouse and wait for Stella. You may use her as you please. She won’t like it, but she’ll accept. She also has ambition and once she sacrifices her integrity to that ambition, then I will trust her loyalty.”

  “Mr Wileman, what’s going on here?” Stella said, watching Caswell saunter down towards the beach. “Listen, listen please. I’m not a whore and I see no logic in what you demand. You already have my loyalty.”

  “Do I, Stella? Well, I demand more. I need your hatred of Richard Caswell, your ruthless determination to destroy him if required. I need your anger, your contempt. The path you have chosen is the building of power for the purpose of self. It is a path without morals and to that end we are all whores. Your mind and body are but a means to an end. Greed has placed mankind on the edge of destruction; only control by the strong will save the human race. Do you wish to be amongst the strong? Because if we fail what will occur over the next hour may well occur every day of your life. I know Caswell, I know his past, his lack of morals, but I chose you to stand with the inner circle, with the unseen.”

  When Stella entered the beach house Caswell had stripped to his shorts, the hang of his gut folding over the stretched waistband.

  “Can we talk this through,” she said, moving from the door and circling the open plan floor as he came towards her. “Wileman has this notion that if I let you make love, there’ll be some kind of bond.”

  “Love, Stella, who’s talking of love? I don’t want love, I want absolute control. I want you suffering and humiliated.”

  “Listen Mister, you’re crazy.” She put the couch between them as he crossed the room. “I’m not some floozy and I ain’t gonna let you fuck me like some pig.”

  His movement and precision came much faster than she expected from a middle-aged slouch. Stepping on the couch he grabbed her blouse and a handful of hair simultaneously, pulling her over the back so she fell head down to the cushions, her legs flaying the air.

  “I don’t int
end to love you, Stella. I intend to rape you, to fuck you purely for my pleasure. Have you monitor my progress, some chance. You don’t know half of it. Soon I’ll have power over you as I have power over Zoby, eventually over Wileman, power over everyone who uses a computer.” One hand reached into her skirt, grabbing and yanking at her pants, while the other ripped open her blouse.

  “You bastard, fucking get off me Fuck off.” She thrashed her arms as his overweight body pinned her full length on the cushions. His hands seemed everywhere, ripping, pulling, grabbing. Reaching her nails to his neck, she gouged in primeval retaliation, clawing until the back of his hand smacked hard across her face. For moments her sight fragmented then another blow hit her mouth. In the dazed cloud of pain she laid comatosed, feeling his full weight flop over her, feeling him probe then enter her body, feeling him heave and squirm, then in seconds roll away.