Intervention
Page 10
There were far too many people for his staff to control, and the brawling was threatening to spread even further out of the dance floor. Furniture that wasn’t bolted down was being thrown and things were being smashed. In the background on the big dance floor screen, the spaceship hovered, large and blurry.
John called the DJ again and told him to switch off the dance lights, strobes and lasers and to put on the house lights. Patrons momentarily stopped to blink and shield their eyes under the harsh, bright fluorescent lights. Others took the opportunity to land a few unprotected blows. John called in the rest of his team as he and Grace made their way to the dance floor.
The DJ had a prepared an announcement that there was a water leak and that the dance floor had to be evacuated. John knew that nobody would believe that, but it gave everyone a reason to clear the floor without too much panic.
Marcus and John waded into the brawling crowd. They quickly assessed who was winning the scuffles. They grabbed the losers and escorted them up the stairs and directed them out. The victims were mostly glad to have been rescued and took the chance to escape without losing face and left as instructed. The odd patron argued and wanted to get back into the fray to even a score. They had to be forcibly ejected out the front door, but once outside, they were no longer John’s problem.
While continuously removing the losers, it left the more aggressive to slug it out with each other. Soon the place was empty except for a couple of drunk girls who continued to wrestle with fists full of each other’s hair on the dance floor and a handful of regular gang members, who were clearly enjoying the way the night had turned out.
Grace appeared with a fire extinguisher, and it was only when she squirted the girls with clouds of chilly carbon dioxide that they stopped wrestling with each other.
“Time to go, ladies,” Grace informed the two bedraggled and coughing women. She herded them off the floor with more blasts from the fire extinguisher, much to the amusement of the onlookers.
John turned and thanked their gang leader, a almost seven-foot towering wall of muscle, for their help in clearing the dance floor with a slap on the back. He then told him, on the quiet, that the cops were on their way and if he and his friends wanted to leave discreetly then he could show them out through the kitchen. They were grateful for the heads up and left without any trouble. John didn’t care how he got them out, as long his staff were not hurt. The paperwork would be a nightmare.
When John returned, he found that Angela had made her way down from the office and stood by herself on the dance floor.
“Impressive,” she had stood watching the spaceship on the screen.
“Yeah, but there goes the night’s profits,” John said, surveying the debris on the dance floor “My boss won’t be happy either. Just look at the place. It‘s a wreck.”
“No, I mean the spaceship thing,” she said pointing to the screen.
The scene had changed to show it arriving. The video now was grainy. ‘Exclusive amateur video’ was splashed across the bottom now. The images were enlarged as much as the resolution would allow. A panel of experts were frantic as they described the unfolding events. The video looped, starting with the Pyramids, glowing majestically in the full early morning sunshine, the sky clear above them. Then the spaceship, discoid and featureless, appeared in the top of the screen and simply descended to its present position. Nothing else had happened and the video started again and was repeated.
Up until now the size of the spaceship was unknown. The earlier, blurry astronomical images of it beyond Mars had nothing to compare its size to. Now with it hovering over the Pyramids, they could appreciate the sheer enormity of the craft. Superimposed over the base were diagrams showing that the distance across the three larger Pyramids was one and a half kilometres. The alien vessel loomed over them at more than two kilometres across.
“Imagine the panic and chaos going on in the streets of Cairo at the moment,” Grace said.
“Might just be worse than here,” John added.
“At least there’s only one of them,” Angela said.
“Maybe that’s just the little scout ship and the real mother ship is still hidden out beyond Jupiter somewhere,” John said.
“Along with the rest of the invasion fleet?” Angela asked. “You really think they want to take over the world?”
“Why else would they be here?”
“To help us before we destroy ourselves?”
“Or to wipe us out before we destroy the world and wreck it for them?”
“I don’t think you need be so dismal. They haven’t opened fire yet.”
John was just about to say something when Grace intervened. “Sorry to interrupt your little tiff, but are we going to let the people back in now the ‘water leak’ is fixed?”
John thought for a moment. “Sure, but this place needs cleaning up first.”
“I just don’t like the mood of the crowd tonight,” Grace frowned and nodded towards the screen. “This thing’s got ‘em spooked.”
“You’re right.” John got the DJ to get rid of the news feed. He turned to Grace, “We’ll just be careful who we let back in.”
“Good call, son,” said his father’s voice. John sighed but before he could relax, he had a call from Marcus.
“Boss, got trouble out front.”
John checked his weaponry before answering, “We’re on our way.” Then to Angela, “I’ll be back soon.” He then rushed to the front door.
As he emerged from the nightclub he felt the oppressively warm and humid air engulf him. The atmosphere felt charged with a smell of ozone and ionization that told him that the forecasted thunderstorm was imminent.
The mood of the crowd out the front was more agitated than usual. They were rowdy and openly hostile. They called out impatiently to be let back in. Probably a combination of the alcohol, the alien’s arrival and the imminent thunderstorm, he thought, but mostly they were angry about having been ejected from the nightclub early having paid admission.
Some were openly abusive and he knew that his staff had them black-listed; security cameras had their faces memorized for exclusion all that night. The trouble Marcus had mentioned was in the form of fires that had been lit in overturned rubbish bins. Someone had poured an accelerant, probably brandy or some other spirit, onto it and it was now roaring. Black smoke irritated the crowd.
“Not our concern,” said John. “Just keep an eye out for any agitators that we need to keep out. I think I‘ll call the cops.”
John knew that there would be a call-out charge to the company under the user pays policy that the police had adopted to offset the staffing overtime costs over the weekend. He had the phone in his hand, but still hadn’t decided if he would call, when he saw some drunken lout urinate in full view of the waiting crowd. He then caught sight of a bottle being tossed from the depths of the crowd into the fire. The bottle smashed and the flames erupted in a surge towards the nearest people. Some girls screamed and the people nearest pushed away from the inferno. There was a jostling which developed into pushing back and fro. John knew that another fist fight was imminent.
“Not our concern,” he repeated to himself, but then cursed himself as he pulled out his flashlight and shone it at the scuffling drunks. Marcus, Kent and Akeem followed his lead and the combatants froze temporarily in mid scuffle, like deer in the headlights, in mid grapple with each other.
“The cops have been called,” John bellowed, hoping he sounded convincing. “You want to spend the night in a cell?”
The opponents let each other go and dusted themselves off.
John turned his attention to the waiting crowd. “Now listen people,” he made sure his voice carried all the way to the back of the queue, “this establishment will be opened shortly. We will be letting people back in soon, but anyone who is out of control and giving us trouble won’t be coming in tonight. I suggest that you if can’t play nicely, you find yourselves alternative entertainment.”
“Dis is getting ugly boss,” Marcus said.
“Yeah, get the fire hose, Akeem,” John ordered.
He got out his Taser. Marcus did the same. They knew that some of the crowd, especially many of the more inebriated, would think they were drawing guns, and predictably those in the crowd retreated.
A car alarm went off across the street. Someone had foolishly parked their car too close, and some idiot had climbed on it. A couple of his mates jumped on as well and started to dance on the car roof.
It was then that Akeem returned with the fire hose from the foyer of the night club. John pointed to the fires, and when they were extinguished, he pointed to the car dancers.
“My pleasure, boss,” Akeem said gleefully and sent a powerful stream of water gushing over the dancers. They were pushed off the slippery car roof in an instant.
Akeem shut of the hose and called out, “I am most sorry. Just putting out the fires. So sorry!” He almost sounded sincere, thought John.
The dancers let out a barrage of abuse, to which Akeem just smiled and said, “Yes, thank you and a Merry Christmas to you as well.”
Some of the onlookers laughed and the dancers realized that the hose was probably used often by the nightclub staff. They decided to give up and walk away. A couple tried to protest with another burst of profanities.
“Can we Taser them now, boss?” Marcus asked. “They’d really dance now that they’re all wet.”
John and Akeem chuckled at the thought, but John shook his head. “Nah, better not. But it would be fun though. Maybe if they try to get in.”
“They look like they’ve had enough, boss,” said Marcus. The hose had cooled them down, and the dancers went to catch up with the other wet friends.
“Good,” John said. “I’ll get back inside. Let me know if there are any more problems.”
“Sure, boss,” Marcus said.
“Hey, we saw your girlfriend from last night come in earlier.” Akeem’s white teeth glowed as a huge grin spread across his face.
“You must have looked after her real good,” Marcus added and they both giggled like little schoolboys.
He slapped them on the back as he headed back inside. “Thanks boys.”
*
Grace was picking up debris from the dance floor. John asked her where Angela had gone.
“You got a thing for her, Johnny?” Grace asked.
“No, just want to make sure she’s all right.”
“Sure. Well, she wanted to go, so I let her out the back door.”
“Oh, okay…good.”
John turned and started back towards the control room.
“You wouldn’t want to know, since you don’t have a thing for her, but she left me her number,” she smirked.
“Really?” He couldn’t contain his smile. “As security operations manager, I have a duty of care to all our patrons.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes and I feel I should follow up on the welfare of this particular client,” he said, holding out his hand for her phone number.
“Very official,” Grace said. “No doubt there’ll be a report filled in?”
“Of course,” John said with mock seriousness as he took the number.
“Let me just say, off the record and unofficially, that I think you should be very careful, Johnny boy.”
“Why’s that?” he asked, expecting the usual bit about not mixing work with pleasure.
“Because, she asked me to make sure you to give her a ring before five tomorrow.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Johnny, you’re a good man. You’re a fair boss and it’s a pleasure working with you, but as far as women go…” she shook her head. “Look, you say you don’t have a thing for her. Fine, but let me tell you, she most certainly has a thing for you.”
Chapter 12
Akil El-Masri considered himself a lucky person. From his rooftop apartment in western Cairo, it was his good fortune to have the only video footage of the arrival of the alien spaceship.
He had not only survived the uprising that had convulsed his country several years earlier when he was only a boy, but he had borrowed his uncle’s video camera then and managed to capture some footage of the riots and sell them to the Western media for a small sum.
Usually he made a reasonable income from fleecing wide-eyed, wealthy tourists, but after the riots there had been a downturn in tourism and his savings had been used to get his family through. He had reminded his uncle of that when he went to him again to borrow his video camera once more.
Now, again, it seemed that his luck was smiling upon him. At eighteen, he was smart enough to know that it wasn’t all luck though. The whole world had known, because of the saturation news coverage, that the alien vessel was coming, but no one knew what it was up to, or where, or if it would stop and land.
Akil had developed a crafty hunch, or a sly intuition, and had promptly acted upon it. He had a feeling that the world’s oldest and biggest man-made structure would be a natural place for the alien to land. He reasoned that it was visible from space and he didn’t discount the possibility that the Pyramids might have been built with alien help anyway, so it had seemed to him to be the likely destination. Besides, if he was wrong and it landed somewhere else, he would simply erase everything and try some other scheme to make a little money.
He conceded that there were likely to be many people around the world who had similarly used their own versions of parochial logic to work out that the alien might land in their own backyards. But it was he who had been the fortunate one who, in all of Cairo, had set up his video camera on a tripod, pointing at the airspace above the Pyramids. He had set it to record continuously, plugged into the erratic mains power and downloading directly onto his computer. He had then just waited and prayed.
He wasn’t sure if it was the lack of sleep from setting up the equipment or the cool night air, but this morning Akil felt less than average. His throat tickled and his nose was stuffy. He didn’t have time to be sick with flu or a cold. There was too much going on. If only he could get some good footage…
Akil’s hopes and prayers had been answered soon after a late morning coffee when his older brother Tarek burst into their top floor apartment.
“What are you doing just sitting there? Haven’t you seen it?” he blurted, pointing out the window.
Akil had been thinking about getting some aspirin, but instead he went to the window, partly at his brother’s urging, but mostly out of curiosity. He was going to look down onto the street below, expecting some disturbance, but his sight was arrested by the huge spaceship floating motionless above the Pyramids.
It had entered the Earth’s atmosphere over the Atlantic during the early hours of the morning. It had silently stationed itself above the Pyramids sometime while he and the rest of Egypt had gone about their normal Sunday mornings in total ignorance.
He rubbed his eyes and stared again. His mind was filled with wonder and astonishment at first, but then he remembered his uncle’s video camera and let out a whoop of joy. He then called his older sister to see for herself. Outside, down on the streets, he could hear the noise levels rising as more and more people became aware of their visitor.
Somewhere a siren started up. Car horns blared and voices shouted in anger and alarm.
His brother, Tarek, took one look out the open window and swore as only the eldest son could.
“Come, Akil,” his brother said, his eyes wide in fear, “We must all leave the city.”
“Leave? No, not yet,” he answered and ran to the computer. “I must see if I have it on film.”
“Film?” Tarek asked, confused. Anxiety made his face ugly. It didn’t improve as Akil explained the camera set-up.
“Forget your computer,” Tarek‘s voice rose hysterically. “We must go now. It will destroy us all.”
His sister, Yasmin emerged from the bathroom and went to look out the window for herself. “Eeh yaaba, Akil. Tarek is right,” she shouted. “We’ve got to get out of here.”
Outside, they heard the not too distant pop of gunfire.
“You put everyone into the van,” Akil said, rapidly clicking the mouse as he trawled through hours of stored video.
“What about you?” Yasmin demanded.
“You go,” Akil said.
“You’re coming too,” Tarek threatened.
“No. I’m staying.”
“Faa-kese. You will be killed,” Yasmin pleaded. “I couldn’t bear to lose my little brother.”
“We’d all be dead by now if it wanted to destroy us,” Akil said looking up momentarily from his computer screen.
Tarek took a stride towards Akil. In a dark rage, he swept the keyboard and mouse off the desk. They clattered to the tiled floor. The keyboard split and keys danced across the floor. “I said to forget that computer and your get-rich schemes.”
“No.” Akil stood. He was smaller and younger than his brother, but he stood. His anger fuelled his defiance.
Tarek grabbed the monitor- a big heavy cathode ray tube monitor- and flung it against the wall. It imploded with a loud bang, shattering glass shards over the floor. Akil flinched, but he knew that his data was still intact. His ignorant, fruit-seller brother probably thought the computer was now wrecked.
“Now, you’re coming with us.”
Akil stared into his brother’s angry, but fear-driven eyes. “No,” he said quietly.
His brother drew his hand back to strike Akil down, but Yasmin rushed to intervene. “Stop,” she cried. She threw herself onto Tarek, hugging him tightly. “Brothers should not fight,” she sobbed.