Dark Matter

by John Rollason

  'You mean Saeb Tibi and Benjamin Yogev? Yeah I know them. Why's that?'

  'It just seems to me that you have more in common with them than would meet the eye.' George winked at Leroy and moved on.

  'So what do you think?’ George asked Jane as they walked off.

  'I think' Jane replied, not really knowing yet what she really thought, but instead developing her thoughts as she spoke, 'I think, the Sunarr know exactly what they want from us and we don't have a clue as to what we will get. I would say in return, but the trade, if that's what it is, isn't equal. What about you?'

  'I think you should stand in front of me and hold up that rock.'

  Jane knew George better now; he wouldn't make such a request unless it was important, and so she obligingly did as she was asked. George snapped away and then pointed his camera down, indicating that he had finished.

  'OK so now you have a nice picture of me and Rocky.'

  'I also have photos of a Sunarr building that they seem particularly interested in protecting.'

  Turning round to stand at George's side, she could see the building. Built on a high mound with a commanding view, it was, essentially just an oblong box except there were large cables protruding from it, which appeared to run all the way to the dome's interior wall. There were four Sunarr guards on duty and a heavy weapon mounted on a tripod.

  'They do seem very keen to keep people out of there don't they?' Jane responded, thanking her lucky stars to have a seasoned war photographer with her. 'What do you think it is?'

  'Could be anything. Communications, Command Post, but I haven't seen any activity to suggest either of those really. Beside they have the ship for those.'

  The ship was about five hundred meters in the other direction. It too was guarded, but only lightly. It sat there gleaming in the sunlight, a constant reminder that this area was under the authority and control of the Sunarr. George fired a couple of bursts from his camera then moved on with Jane.

  They had little time left now; the buses were ready to return the leaving shift to San Simon de Guerrero, the shifts overlapping by an hour now, another innovation of the Sunarr. They walked back to the collection point and boarded the bus, among the last to do so. One of the mineworkers smiled at Jane.

  'You are geologists?'

  'Yes we are.’ Jane replied, seeing the opportunity to probe a little.

  'What do you think of our mine?'

  'Well the results look promising, but we will have to wait for the lab analysis. How have things changed since the Sunarr took over?'

  The mineworker took the seat in the adjacent aisle, leaning over and lowering his voice.

  'Well, things are good, they pay us well. Too well in fact, it worries me. The involvement of the prisoners worries me too, but I have a family so what can I do?'

  'How much do they pay you?'

  'Our pay has changed. Before we were paid the going rate, now we are paid on both the price of gold and the amount the mine produces. My pay is very high now.' He said this almost by way of apology, that he felt that he was being paid more than he was earning.

  'And the prisoners?' Jane prompted.

  'Si, the prisoners. This is not good. You understand that we never asked for them, never wanted them. They work, they are fed and given water. A mule has a better life.'

  'Do you have contact with the Sunarr?'

  'No, nor do I think does the foreman. We have a manager who deals with them. He does not speak to the likes of us.'

  'There is something more isn't there?'

  'Si. But this you already know I think. Production has already gone up four times and it is still increasing. The reserves here will be gone much quicker than before and then where will we be?'

  The conversation finished as far as he was concerned, the mineworker lent back in to his seat. Jane leaned into George.

  'We need to get back to Jayanti. I think we have discovered more than any of us expected and we need to analyse what it all means.'

  'You know, I have a very uneasy feeling about all this. The Sunarr seem to be holding all the cards and we are betting blind. Moreover, I don't think both sides are playing by the same rules. The real problem is that we don’t know why they want all this gold. In addition, we don't know how or what they think. I mean what motivates them?' George couldn't help but let his frustration show.

  'A sense of wanting to help mankind.' Jane said.

  'Very funny.'

  Their bus pulled off, this time leading the procession and providing them a good view. It pulled round in a slow arc to face the way it had come in, giving out a metallic scream as the driver struggled with the ageing and badly maintained gearbox. He found the gear and the bus lurched forward, jolting the passengers. It crept its way towards the interior of the dome. They could not see the exit; George held his camera up discretely so he could take a few shots as they left. However, the bus shuddered to a halt about a hundred meters from the dome's interior wall. A group of Sunarr guards stood either side of the buses whilst mine security guards clambered aboard to check that all was in order. Jane and George sat there, like rabbits stuck in headlights, afraid to move but every fibre of their being screamed run. Run. Their driver spoke to the lead security guard and flicked his head in their direction as he talked. Time stood still. The guard looked at his manifest, then up at the two of them, then down again at his clipboard. He made a mark on the paper with his pen, grunted something at the driver, and waved his colleague off the bus, following behind. Two sets of lungs exhaled softly together but with their hearts pumping frenetically.

  The bus pulled forward, continuing its outward journey. A gap appeared in the bottom of the dome's wall, visible only in contrast with the rest of the dome surrounding it. It grew, increasing at a steady pace. This was the exit. The wall of the dome itself was simply disappearing before their eyes. George held his camera up, covering it with his jacket to get a few shots. He couldn't risk raising it to his eye so he had to shoot blind, trusting his experience to do the job well.

  The exit, now fully resolved, they passed through it and onto the road outside. They were free.

  At the hotel Jane arranged with the owner to forward her mail and keep the room. She paid up front for it and added the extra necessary for his trouble and his silence. They packed and left for the airport. It was time to report back to Jayanti.

  19:11 14 December [01:11 15 December GMT]

  La Guitarra Mine, Nr. San Simon de Guerrero, 60 miles south west of Mexico City.

  'The two Brits said I should talk to you.' Evening meal was one of the few opportunities that prisoners had to move around a bit and mingle. Leroy had taken the chance to sit with Saeb and Benjamin, curious as to why he should be talking to them.

  'Why do you think that is?' Saeb asked, ever cautious.

  Leroy smiled, he knew evasion when he heard it, having little to lose he threw caution to the wind.

  'Look. You don't have to say anything, but those two weren't geologists, heck I know more about minerals than they do. My guess is that you are as unhappy with the situation as I am. Prison was one thing, forced labour another, but to be under the control of aliens? No access to the outside? That's just plain wrong. If you are planning anything count me in.’ Leroy looked at them both, his sincerity clear from his demeanour.

  'Care to join us?' Benjamin said after exchanging a glance with Saeb, waving Leroy to sit down.

  They filled Leroy in on their conversation with Jane and George. Revealing some of their backgrounds and the situation that faced them. Leroy's heart grew heavy with the knowledge of it.

  'I thought this was just a local thing. You know, a deal between the Sunarr and the Mexicans. Dozens of other camps all around the world, that changes things. Changes things a lot'

  'Yes it does.' Confirmed Saeb, 'What we need urgently is a way to get messages to the drop.'

  'I think’ Leroy said, a glimmer of hope returning to raise his spirits, 'I know just the man to make that happen
.'

  'Can he be trusted?' Benjamin asked.

  'No, no at all.' Leroy replied simply.

  'Then why would we use him?'

  'Because he can't be trusted. We need someone who is used to not trusting or being trusted. We need someone who asks few questions. Someone who is used to dealing in the black market and bribing people. Yes, this is the right man; we just have to find something to barter with. Compose your first letter. I will make the necessary arrangements.'

  Leroy stood to leave; keen to get on now he had a purpose again. He found Chuck Holford sat on his own. Leroy sat next to him unbidden.

  'You don't like me do you?' It was more a statement than a question, but Leroy waited for the response.

  ‘No.’ Chuck replied as he continued to eat.

  'Is it me or my skin?'

  'Your skin. Mainly.'

  'Good, thanks for your honesty.'

  Chuck was more than a little disappointed, he thought his reply would trigger a violent response or at least an argument, good hadn't entered his mind.

  'What do ya want?' Chuck asked, his interest peaked.

  'I want to do some business.'

  'What kind?'

  'I need to get some letters out and in and some stuff in too. Do you think you can handle it?' Leroy's challenge seemed to hit the right spot, he saw Chuck's body stiffen, his face set.

  'Yer I can handle it. Question is why should I?' Chuck could think of a hundred things he might like, but none that he wanted enough to do business with this fella.

  'Well it seems to me that there must be something you need. Maybe something on the outside that you can't control from in here.' This time Chuck's eyes flashed, yes, thought Leroy, I have hit it.

  'Nothin' you can do 'bout it.'

  'Try me.' Leroy said calmly.

  ‘Well,’ Chuck began taking a deep breath. 'I have this place in Chicago, the mortgage is paid from an account I have, only my regular source of income has dried up since I've been inside.' It pained Chuck to think that all his long hard years of building up his business and it had virtually disappeared over-night thanks to his Lieutenants taking over whatever the authorities had missed. He wasn't exactly penniless, but couldn't access anything he had remotely; it all had to be done in person. Asset rich and cash poor, never a good situation.

  'I can get your mortgage paid, and enough to cover your other bills.' Leroy said leaving Chuck in no doubt that he meant it. Chuck didn't really care all that much for his apartment; his real motivation was what would happen to his cat Trouble. The one thing in the world that he loved and it seemed to love him too. However, he wasn't going to tell this fella about Trouble, not him, not anyone.

  'I'll need access to an account outside, one from which I can make incentive payments from.' Chuck informed Leroy, pushing further still.

  'OK. I can make the arrangements with the first letter you get out.'

  'How am I supposed to do that before I have the money?'

  'That's your problem. You in?' Leroy asked, not offering his hand, knowing that Chuck wouldn't appreciate it.

  'I'm in. Get your letter together, leave the rest to me.'

  15 Build Up

  21:12 10 December [22:12 10 December GMT]

  Barra di Moretti, Bari, Italy.

  Solomon finished washing the last dish and piled it with the others on the draining board. It had been over a month now since they had left Ankara in Turkey. She never knew whether the Turkish authorities had searched for them. She and Natasha had left by bus to Istanbul and changed for another headed to Thessalonki, then on to Igoumenitsa on the western coast. They managed to get passage on a ship bound for Bari on the Italian coast and their finances all but depleted she had to get a job.

  Washing dishes was new to Solomon, but it suited her just fine. Paid in cash with no questions asked she was not in public view so she had little to worry about on that front. Natasha troubled her though. Leaving her daughter for twelve hours a day whilst she worked was not ideal by any stretch of the imagination. Leaving her alone in their room in the hostel broke her heart. However, she was not in a position to do anything else. Getting Natasha into a school required papers they did not have, questions they could not answer. The time had come however, they could finally move on.

  She picked up her final pay packet and thanked Alberto Moretti the owner, spontaneously giving him a kiss on his cheek. Alberto, used to having migrant workers move through his bar, was a little surprised at this display of affection, but having a daughter about her age he just gave her a hug and wished her well. He was sad to see her go. She had proved a diligent and reliable worker, who it appeared to him, had fallen upon hard times.

  Natasha was asleep when Solomon returned to the hostel. She looked down at her daughter, sleeping peacefully with Sheepy snuggled under her left arm. Solomon stroked her daughter's hair, Natasha moaned gently at the attention, but did not wake.

  'I'll always make sure you are safe. I promise that life will be good again.'

  08:17 11 December [07:17 11 December GMT]

  Stazione Centrale, Bari, Italy.

  The sudden realisation that they had only one more border to cross to reach Switzerland was almost more than Solomon could bear. Her daughter had long given up any pretence that they were on some magical journey. Instead, Natasha had adapted to life on the road, knowing that her mother was frightened; she had resolved to be as good as she knew how. Besides this was the most time they had spent together for as long as Natasha could remember and she wasn't going to do anything to spoil it. The only thing she really missed was her pony, Blacky. The toys, the house, the servants, none of this mattered to Natasha. She had the love and attention of her mother and if leaving everything behind made her mummy happy then that was just fine by her.

  The train pulled out of the station, starting its long journey to Rome.

  11:15 11 December [08:15 11 December GMT]

  Kremlin, Moscow, Russia.

  General Bondarenko is in a foul mood, his aide Sergey noted as he left the general’s office having delivered a written report on Operation Allies.

  This was not uncommon, though. The General only having three different moods, Bad, Foul or Rage. Today it was foul. The search for his daughter and granddaughter had drawn a blank. They had almost certainly escaped Russia and that being the case Bondarenko had ordered that they concentrate on Switzerland. He was only playing a hunch, as the letter had originated from a law firm in Zurich, but without any better idea, it was the best thing he had to go on.

  ‘I can't let that bitch foul things up, not now, not when I am this close.’ General Bondarenko muttered to himself as he sat back in his comfy executive chair.

  The chair had cost a small fortune having been manufactured by a specialist company in Germany, but he hardly gave it a thought, men in my position deserve such things, he reasoned. He picked up the file in front of him and studied it some more. It was the proposed tripartite exercise with the Americans and British. When he had first heard of it he had objected strongly, arguing that it would give too much intelligence away about how effective the armed forces were. His argument had found much support amongst others in the military and with his connections in the government, the plan had been shelved, much to the frustration of General Ivanskiy. Ivanskiy, that dog, he raged to himself, should be taken out and shot as a traitor to the motherland. Things had changed drastically with the arrival of the Sunarr however. Here, he thought, is the salvation I have been waiting for. The long waiting and not knowing whether the day would ever arrive had taken its toll on him.

  As soon as he had detected the Sunarr's signal, he had been elated. Getting rid of that troublesome Professor Doran was unfortunate but necessary, he had judged. Firstly, it was necessary to avoid panic and any possible military response before they landed. Secondly, I needed to prevent any chance of my communications with them being intercepted and decoded. Thirdly, I had no wish to explain how I was in contact with the Sunarr before anyon
e else even knew they existed. If that had been found out, it would have been me in front of a firing squad. To have waited all this time, this impossible time, and to be killed before the moment of rescue, that was why the Professor had to die and his work with him.

  Bondarenko returned to the file. His discussions with the Sunarr had radically changed his opinion. He agreed that having two of the major military powers involved in an exercise close to another major military power would keep them occupied and out of the way. Bondarenko had worked extensively with the Sunarr on planning, making corrections where necessary. They had the forces and he knew how to get them in place. This world is going to be ours and they will even thank us, if everything goes to plan.

  Since the Russian Government had given the official go-ahead to the exercise, things had moved along swiftly. Advanced units of the British and American's had already arrived on the ground and had met up with their Russian counterparts. More were arriving every day. Tens of thousands would soon swell into hundreds of thousands. This would be the largest military exercise of all time. Stocks of ordinance had been drawn down on all sides, orders for replacements already made. It would take time to re-stock however. Few in any of the governments saw this as a problem however. The arrival of the Sunarr had brought a new age to mankind and whilst they were all lobbying for access to the Sunarr technology, there was a genuine feeling of hope amongst the countries of the world. A hope for a better world.

  Bondarenko pulled open his top right-hand desk drawer. The communication device was lying on top of a pile of papers; he picked it up and placed it in his right ear.

  'This is Bondarenko. The pieces are in place. We can proceed whenever you want.'

  'That is good. We are nearly ready, the last batch are processing now. Contact us again this time tomorrow.'

  Bondarenko replaced the communications device in his desk drawer and locked it. So, he thought to himself, it might be as early as tomorrow. That is good news indeed.