The Angel Conspiracy (The Angel Cronicles Book 2)

by Jason Chapman

  ‘Frank come on, this way.’ Baker waved at his friend.

  Cones felt a moment of jubilation seeing his brother and Baker alive. He tried to move but couldn’t. Again he tried to heave himself to his feet but he was trapped. Cones then felt a cold darkness envelop him and then he jolted awake.

  Staring down at him was Frederick, gripping a bloodied scythe in his hands. The corpse of John Moore lay to one side in two separate pieces. Frederick tossed the instrument of death to one side and offered his hand.

  ‘Come on Agent Cones, let’s get the bloody hell out of here.’

  Both men turned and headed towards the gate, only to be confronted by the creature who now blocked their path.

  Adrenalin coursed through Frederick’s body. He looked at the creature taking a step towards it. ‘What are you!?’ He shouted.

  ‘We are the Purge!’ The creature replied.

  ‘What is that!?’

  ‘We will cleanse your planet of a deadly virus.’

  Frederick looked back at the creature. ‘Virus? What virus!?’

  ‘The human race.’ The creature announced.

  Suddenly the ground beneath Frederick began to shake violently. Frederick looked at the Farmhouse which started to crumble before his eyes.

  The veins which ran up and down the creature suddenly began to glow intensely. The creature became enveloped in a bright blue spherical ball of light which lifted off the ground.

  Cones looked behind to see a crack opening up. The car they had arrived in was swallowed up by the widening crack. He grabbed Frederick’s arm. ‘Professor we have to go!’

  Both men scrambled through the deep snow towards the main farm gate.

  The light that enveloped the creature accelerated vertically disappearing from sight. The buildings in the farmyard shook violently.

  Frederick and Cones reached the gate and threw themselves over it. Cones was first to his feet, glancing back to see the Farmhouse falling into the huge crack. ‘Come on, this way!’ He dragged Frederick through the snow.

  After a few minutes both men were clear of the farmyard. The ground had stopped shaking and the sky had cleared to reveal a full moon which lit up the snowy landscape. ‘We have to rest.’ Frederick panted.

  Cones shook his head. ‘No, we have to keep moving. We’ll die out here if we don’t keep going.’

  ‘Please, just five minutes.’ Frederick begged.

  ‘Professor, come on!’ Cones shouted, dragging Frederick through the deep snow.

  ‘Just a few minutes.’ Frederick’s eyes grew heavy. ‘That’s all we need.’

  Cones could no longer hold on to Frederick who fell face down into the snow. Cones hauled him onto his back. Cones looked up into the moonlit sky. An overwhelming sense of tiredness washed over him. He dropped to his knees. ‘Perhaps you’re right Professor, just a few minutes.’ Cones fell backwards on to his back and closed his eyes.

  Chapter 33

  Hope – The Peak District – 4:56pm

  Thursday 27th January 1955

  Frederick opened his eyes and saw the smiling face of Henry Forbes staring down at him.

  ‘Welcome back to the land of the living.’

  Frederick looked around. He was back at the guesthouse. ‘What happened?’

  ‘Apart from nearly dying of hyperthermia, you and Agent Cones had quite the adventure it would seem. You’ve been delirious for over a day now, going on about something called the Purge.’

  Frederick recalled the encounter on the farm. ‘Where is Agent Cones?’ He tried to get up but Forbes stopped him.

  ‘Easy Ralph you need to rest. Agent Cones is fine, he’s recovering in the next room.’

  ‘How did we get here?’

  ‘The local villagers heard all the commotion from the farm and set out to investigate. They found you and Agent Cones close to death in the snow. As for the farm, there’s nothing left. They called the army who sent a unit. We got wind of it and raced up here.’

  ‘We?’

  General Stacy, Morris Stanford and Ian Morgan are assessing the situation.’ Frederick stared up at the ceiling. ‘Elizabeth.’ He called out trying to get up again.

  ‘I telephoned her earlier today, she fine.

  Frederick felt a wave of relief wash over him, he closed his eyes and drifted off.

  Hope – The Peak District – 12:34pm

  Friday 28th January 1955

  Frederick and Cones wolfed down the meal which had been cooked for them. General Stacy, Ian Morgan and Morris Stanford had left earlier that morning after hearing first-hand accounts from both men. Dr Forbes had stayed on and was talking to the landlord at the bar. They were to leave later that day. ‘Thank you for saving my life out there Professor.’ Cones said.

  ‘I think we saved each other’s lives. I was ready to lie down and die in the snow if you hadn’t had pulled me out of there.’ Frederick replied.

  Cones looked at Frederick. ‘Do you remember when we first met Professor?’

  Frederick couldn’t help but smile back at Cones. ‘Yes, if I remember correctly you were pointing a gun at me in Ripley.’

  Cones nodded. ‘I’m sorry about that.’

  Frederick shook his head. ‘There are no need for apologies.’ Frederick looked out of the window. The sun was shining, melting the snow. ‘After the other night I realise we need all the friends we can find.’

  ‘Do you think whatever it was we encountered the other night will be back?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Frederick replied. ‘But if it does come back, we need to be ready for it.’

  The Missing

  Chapter 34

  Stansted Airport – 9:03pm

  Monday 7th February 1955

  ‘Stansted this is BUA 632, over.’

  Alan Parker reached over and grabbed the mike. ‘Go ahead 632.’

  ‘We’re tracking an unidentified aircraft at our one o’clock position around two thousand feet above us, over.’

  ‘Roger that 632 checking my scope.’ Parker replied peering into the radarscope. ‘BUA 632 you appear to be the only aircraft in that vicinity over.’

  ‘Well unless I had too much to drink at lunchtime I’m looking at another aircraft, over.’ The pilot replied.

  Parker scrutinised the scope. ‘BUA you are the only one on my scope.’

  ‘I’m bloody well telling you Stansted there’s another aircraft up here. It seems to be matching our speed.’

  ‘Can you describe the object?’

  ‘It’s cylindrical.’ The radio began to hiss. ‘Lights down the side, quite spectacular to look at.’ The interference grew louder.

  ‘BUA drop to ten thousand feet over.’ Parker instructed.

  ‘Roger control, making my descent.’

  Several seconds passed before the pilot spoke again. ‘Control the object is also descending, it’s getting closer over.’

  Parker began to feel frustration welling up within. ‘BUA please be aware that you are the only aircraft on my scope, over.’

  ‘I’m not pissing about control there’s another bloody aircraft up here.’ The interference drowned out the pilot’s voice. ‘Control…coming…..for us…..mayday…..’

  Parker felt his heart skip a beat. The blip on the scope vanished. ‘BUA respond over. BUA this is Stansted control please respond. BUA 632 please respond and relay you last message over. BUA are you receiving over.’

  Chapter 35

  Whitehall – London – 10:53am

  Tuesday 8th February 1955

  ‘Gentlemen this is a priority briefing, eyes only.’ Said General Stacy. ‘At approximately nine o’clock last night radar stations in the south east lost contact with a commercial airliner on route from Italy.’

  ‘Where did it go down?’ Ian Morgan asked.

  ‘It didn’t.’ Stacy replied. ‘Not as far we are aware anyhow, we have had aircraft flying over the area where it vanished but so far no wreckage has been found. Mildenhall was monitoring the chatter between the gro
und crew and the pilot of the aircraft who said he was being tailed by a cylindrical UFO. I’ve been looking over your casefile regarding the two air force pilots that vanished a few years ago. Their description matches the one made by the aircraft pilot last night.’

  ‘How many people were on board the plane?’ Stanford asked.

  ‘Seventy six passengers and crew.’

  ‘We have discussed the possibility that one of these UFOs may be involved in a collision with an aeroplane but we never thought it would happen.’

  ‘Who said it collided?’ Stacy remarked. ‘The plane was plucked out of the air just like the jets a few years ago. We also have aother problem.’

  ‘Which is?’ Morgan asked.

  ‘The radar operator who talked to the pilot of the aircraft last night has gone missing. Majestic sent operatives to talk to the tower crew first thing this morning. The radar operator who witnessed the event didn’t show up for work. Our men went to his house but he was nowhere to be seen.’

  ‘We have to find this man.’ Morgan said.

  ‘We are making efforts to contact his family discreetly perhaps they will be able to find out what happened to him.’

  ‘This is a nightmare.’ Stanford said. ‘What’s being done about the press?’

  ‘A statement is being prepared. The aircraft came down over the English Channel due to a malfunction.’

  ‘That’s all very well general but if this radar operator suddenly surfaces then he could scupper the cover story if he goes running to the press. Any cover story we issue will be blown out of the water.’

  ‘Which is why every effort is being made to find him.’

  ‘Exactly what will happen to this individual when we find him?’

  ‘He will be debriefed and will be made to sign the official secrets act. We also have a specialist team flying in from the States to run a psychological evaluation.’

  ‘Well he obviously wasn’t seeing things if an aircraft disappeared. Why call an expert in matters of the mind.’

  ‘It’s standard practice with people who have been exposed to UFOs. The airline company will be issuing their statement at noon.’ Stacy checked his watch. ‘You gentlemen are to go down to British United Airlines to monitor activity.’ Stacy looked at Morgan. ‘It would be advisable if you changed into civilian clothing.’

  ‘What about Professor Frederick, has he been briefed?’ Stanford asked.

  ‘Not as yet, the Professor is still recuperating after the incident with the entity that he and Agent Cones encountered a few weeks back. Majestic have had a team in Hope analysing what’s left of the farm. But there has been no sign of whatever it is Professor Frederick and Agent Cones encountered. We did gather intelligence a few years ago regarding something of a similar description seen in Russia. We will continue to look into what happened until all avenues have been exhausted. In the mean time I suggest you get down to British United Airways headquarters.’

  Chapter 36

  British United Airways – London – 11:59am

  George Rayman looked around the room at the assembled journalists. He knew more or less everyone in the room. However two men sat at the back did warrant his attention. He had been sent to the commercial airliner main headquarters amid rumours that a terrible disaster had occurred.

  All eyes focused on a man who appeared from a side door. He walked up to a podium that had been prepared.

  Fred Laker, one of the top executives at British United Airways stared at the memo in front of him. He had been woken in the middle of the night and had been told that one of their commercial aircraft had gone down. However, despite his best efforts Laker had not be able to contact any of the tower personnel who would have been on duty at the time the incident occurred. Instead he was approached by a man he had never met who claimed to be a part of a governing body who’d job it was to oversee crash investigations in the UK. Laker read through the notes before looking up at the assembled crowd of journalists.

  ‘Good afternoon, thank you for turning up at this briefing.’ Laker composed himself. ‘Around nine o’clock last night we lost contact with one of our commercial airliners as it returned from Rome. Initial investigation has revealed that the aircraft which was a De Havilland Comet came down over the English Channel.’

  Rayman stood and raised his hand. ‘Mr Laker how many people were on board the aircraft?’

  Laker looked down at his notes. ‘In total there were seventy six passengers and crew. We are currently going through the flight manifest and beginning the difficult task of informing all the relatives of those who perished.’

  ‘Was a distress call made before the aircraft went down?’

  Laker shook his head. ‘I am not aware of any distress call made to the tower staff. This would suggest a cataclysmic event resulting in the aircraft’s rapid decent. A search and rescue operation is in full swing over the English Channel but at this moment we are doubtful we will find any survivors. As soon as we know more we will let you know.’ Laker turned and headed for the door had had just walked through. As the door shut he closed his eyes. ‘Shit!’ He cursed.

  ‘That could have gone better.’ His personal assistant said.

  ‘Any news from the tower crew at Stanstead?’

  ‘Not a peep I’m afraid.’

  ‘What the hell is going on here?’ Laker stated. ‘I’m dragged out of bed in the early hours, told that I have to issue this bullshit to the press. I can’t get hold of anybody, it doesn’t make sense.’

  ‘I’ve tried to find out what’s happening regarding the search and rescue effort but I can’t information out of anyone.’

  Laker nodded. ‘Well something is bound to turn up sooner or later.’

  Chapter 37

  London Evening examiner – Fleet Street – 9:26am

  Wednesday 9th February 1955

  ‘George I need to speak to you.’ Bill Mirren called out from the door of his office.

  Rayman stood and walked towards Mirren.

  ‘This is Mr Fred Laker who gave a statement at the press conference yesterday. He has information regarding the aircraft that disappeared the other night.’

  Rayman pulled out a notebook and pencil.

  ‘It’s hard to know where to begin.’ Laker sighed. ‘What I can tell you is that the statement that I read yesterday was a load of codswallop.’

  Rayman and Mirren exchanged glances.

  ‘I was woken in the middle of the night and told that BUA 632 had gone down over the English Channel. I was given that statement to read out at yesterday’s press conference.’

  ‘Who gave you the statement?’ Rayman asked.

  ‘I do not know.’ Laker replied. ‘I had never seen this man before.’

  ‘So what really happened to the plane?’ Mirren asked.

  Laker shook his head. ‘I have no idea.’

  ‘Was there anyone important on board?’ Asked Rayman.

  ‘Not that I’m aware of.’ Laker replied. ‘From what I know they were just ordinary people flying back from Italy.’

  ‘What about the search and rescue operation in the English Channel?’

  ‘There are no search and rescue efforts going on. I managed to get hold of someone in Dover yesterday. They said that activity in the area was normal.’

  ‘Ok let’s piece this together.’ Rayman said. ‘A plane allegedly disappears over the English Channel. You re told to issue a statement to the press which you believe is false. There appears to be no rescue efforts in the English Channel.’

  ‘And I cannot get hold of any of the tower staff or other executives from British United Airlines. I cannot even get hold of my personal assistant today.’

  ‘Mr Laker are you willing to make a full statement for publication in the Examiner?’ Mirren asked.

  Laker thought for a moment before nodding.

  ‘Good we run with this story tonight I want a front page spread.’

  ‘I know someone who works at Stanstead.’ Rayman revealed. ‘H
e’s been feeding me a steady stream of information regarding unusual radar date.’

  Laker glared at him before looking at Mirren. ‘I hope you’re not suggesting that I go on record and claim the plane was taken away by Martians.’

  Mirren shook his head. ‘Nothing of the sort Mr Laker, just tell us what you know. With any luck it might smoke out whoever is behind that statement you were made to write.’

  Laker got to his feet. ‘This is going to cause a bit of a stink with my colleagues but the truth needs to come out. We at least owe it to the relatives of the people on board that plane. I need to get back to the office, there will be a lot of flak coming my way when you run that story.’

  ‘What was that about?’ Mirren demanded to know.

  ‘What.’ Rayman said innocently.

  ‘That nonsense about unusual radar contacts.’

  ‘I know someone at Stanstead who is interested in flying saucers that’s all. He might have been on duty the night that plane disappeared.’

  ‘George we can run a story about the plane being whisked away by men from Mars it will drag this paper down to the gutter.’

  ‘I’m not suggesting we publish such a story. We run with Laker’s statement and see what happens. I will go and talk to my contact and see if he knows anything.’

  Mirren took a moment to think about what Rayman’s suggestion. ‘Ok, talk to this friend of yours and see if he has anything to add to Laker’s story. But if he starts yapping away about flying saucers you cut him loose.’

  ‘Agreed.’ Rayman answered.

  ‘I want you back here before the three o’clock deadline.’

  Chapter 38

  Orchard Road – Brentford – London – 11:05am

  Rayman knocked loudly on the door and waited.

  ‘Who is it?’ A woman’s voice called out.

  ‘Mrs Parker it’s me George I was wondering if I could speak to Alan.’