Dark Matter

by John Rollason

  'Get it to me at dinner.'

  Chuck stood up and walked off.

  Lunch was almost over, Leroy moved quickly to find Saeb and Benjamin. They were sitting apart from the others on the periphery of the prisoner group.

  'It's on for dinner. Have you got the letter ready?'

  'Nearly.' replied Benjamin.

  'We will get it to you at the end of the water break.' Promised Saeb.

  'Cool. See you later.'

  The time to the water break passed quickly. Saeb and Benjamin discussing what else needed to be in the first letter. It was not made any easier by the fact that they had to encode the entire letter, whilst maintaining the appearance of an innocent letter home.

  'What else do you think we should ask of them my friend?' Benjamin said, then was struck by the fact he had added my friend and that it hadn't felt awkward or forced. Why have I never sat and eaten with a Palestinian before? Never held a civil conversation with one? What would my friends back home say? Benjamin couldn't know it but his friend Saeb was thinking along similar lines.

  'We need information, as much as they can tell us. I don't know if you noticed, but when we were brought here, there were no guards outside, no military installations that could be seen. This tells me that these Sunarr, ' Saeb spoke their name as if a curse, 'have every confidence in this dome of theirs. I fear it will be up to us to escape, rescue will not be likely.'

  How did I miss that? Benjamin asked himself. Because I was feeling sorry for myself, rather than helping myself by doing reconnaissance and planning. Saeb rose again in Benjamin's estimation.

  'You are right of course.' Benjamin realised. 'We should make this clear to them.'

  08:15 27 December [03:15 27 December GMT]

  Office of the Secretary-General, United Nations, New York, USA.

  Jayanti fondled the piece of paper in her hands. She looked nervously at the Sunarr security detail standing opposite her, either side of her office door. They follow me everywhere, well nearly everywhere, she smiled to herself at that thought. Thank goodness that they don't know my usual routine. Jay had changed her activity when the Sunarr had been attached to protect her. Now she still held meetings to discuss normal UN business, but she supplemented that with personally delivering written correspondence around the building, in this way she hoped that the off the record stuff she had to do would not attract attention. However, communicating only in writing has its limitations.

  It amazed her how quick her organisation was growing. The letter had arrived the day before, hand delivered by Jane. The symbols on it were obviously Arabic or Hebrew, she hadn't known which. However she had sent it down to the Middle Eastern section chief for eyes only translation. He couldn't understand what all the fuss was about. As soon as he had started reading it, it became clear that it was filled with everyday stuff; the weather, questions about relatives, holiday plans and the like. Nothing unusual in that. However when he came to the second page it did become rather odd. Not the content he noted, that was more of the everyday. It was the language. The first page was written in Arabic, Palestinian he was quite sure. The second page however was in Hebrew. He ran a spectrographic analysis of the ink. They had used the same pen. He was sure that the two sections had been written by different people. The use of language was too untidy to be the work of people who weren't natural writers in each of the two languages, sentence construction and diction both confirmed this in his mind. He finished the translation, wrote up his findings, and put them in the secure internal envelope. This he hand delivered to the Secretary-General.

  Jay had reviewed the section chief’s notes. Having someone independent confirm that the letter was written by both a native Israeli and a native Palestinian wasn't enough to confirm its authenticity for her. The translated text she handed over to the deputy section chief of the cryptography department, the section chief being on long-term sick leave. The analysis didn’t reveal anything hidden in the text, the Cryptographer explaining that she needed the original text. Jayanti had sent her the original and was now reading the new report.

  The authors of the letter have detailed knowledge of cryptography. Specifically the Hebrew section appears to have been encoded using the second revision of the Israeli intelligence service, Mossad. This revision is used almost exclusively by senior field members of that service. However, the service had implemented revision three over ten years previously, so it is likely that the individual concerned has not been in the field for at least that long. The Arabic is even more interesting. It is definitely Palestinian in origin; the encoding method used was developed by a group called Ilah Quwwa or God's Might.

  The Cryptographer had included a table with known members of that group, listed as Active, Inactive, or Deceased. Jay noted that Saeb Tibi was marked as “Deceased (Presumed)”. Jay knew it was not absolute proof; however, she also knew that you rarely have anything one hundred per cent confirmed in intelligence. The odds of this being anything other than genuine were slim indeed. However, just to be cautious she had sent the translated text to be reviewed by the intelligence section. They had confirmed all the references to relatives were accurate; the clincher had been the things that they couldn't confirm. The intelligence files are heavily indexed and cross-referenced. Both sections of the letter had included affiliations that they suspected, but had never been able to confirm. Including oblique references to military actions both were believed to have been involved in but had never been proved.

  Jay reflected on all this, this has to be genuine, she thought. There was a knock at her door, William entered.

  'You wanted a reminder about your spa day.'

  Jay looked at her watch; it was eight thirty and time to get moving.

  'Yes thank you William, would you ask my driver to bring the car around.'

  'Of course.'

  Jay stood to leave, the Sunarr body guards seemed to stiffen at this, like a coiled snake ready to strike. She ignored them the best she could and headed out of the office, the Sunarr following close behind. By the time Jay exited the building her driver was waiting for her, as too was the driver of the car for the Sunarr. It’s a shame I'm not allowed now to have anyone travel in the car with me, except Sam of course. Jay had been resolute on this point and the Sunarr had conceded. The convoy pulled away and headed for the spa.

  10:00 27 December [05:00 27 December GMT]

  Dayton Park Spa, New York, USA.

  The spa dated back to the early nineteenth century. It had been built by Mary Morgan's great, great, great aunt, also named Mary, after her rather acrimonious divorce from her first husband, some years before she married into the Morgan family. At that time there were few places were women could go to be in their own company. Men had all sorts of clubs, some private members clubs, others for the less financially secure provided services aimed at men.

  Dayton Park was named in honour of her mother. A beautiful but emotionally strong woman, it had been her influence that had persuaded her daughter that divorce was far preferable to a bad marriage. It was made somewhat easier in that the money was Mary's not her husbands. Indeed his gambling and poor investments had been the last straw in their rocky relationship.

  Mary had established Dayton Park as a retreat for ladies from the pressures of society life. Here, in an all-woman environment there was no need for makeup, corsets, or other strictures of society. The library was one of the best. The extensive reception rooms held classes, ranging from finance and investments to the sciences. Almost unheard of in its day, the classes were always well attended. The women who passed through its doors were inspired to go further in the course of improving the lives of other women.

  It was not without its detractors though. Some men tried to have it closed for any number of spurious reasons. One such incident included an accusation that the establishment “corrupted the morals and values of ladies.” Although without foundation it made it to the district court, where the Judge, Justice Arthur Stanwright-Moore found in favou
r of the defendant and in his summing up said “...it is without question that Dayton Park affects the attitudes, experiences and knowledge of the ladies who attend there. However I find no evidence that this has harmed the virtues, values or morals of said ladies” It was no coincidence that the Judge's wife had been one of those ladies, who after some weeks attending Dayton Park returned prepared to work at her marriage. She cut their expenses by a third, increased the return on their investments, and through her newly formed connections got her husband membership at the country club, where he had spent many happy days playing golf.

  Now Dayton Park was a foundation. Income it earned that was in excess of costs was donated to various women's charities. Education was still a cornerstone of its existence. It still provided classes in various subjects, but the curriculum, such as it was, had been brought up to date.

  Jay's car swept along the gravel drive pulling up to the ornate East entrance. She waited for one of the Sunarr bodyguards to open her door, she didn't have long to wait. Jay strode up the steps into the entrance, the two bodyguards standing one either side of the door turning from automatons into statues.

  As Jay heard the door close behind her, she let out a deep breath, thankful that the Sunarr had obeyed the women only rule. She relaxed a little more and approached the reception desk.

  'Good Morning Ms. Kapoor, we are honoured to have you here.' The receptionist said.

  'Have my guests arrived?'

  'Most are here, we are waiting on a few, the car left about forty minutes ago to collect them from the airport. The others are waiting in the Music Room for you.'

  'Thank you. Which way is the Music Room please?'

  'Down the hall, on the left.'

  'Thank you...err...' Jay read the name plaque on the desk, ' Ms. Stirling.' She finished.

  Ms. Stirling positively beamed at the Secretary-General calling her by name.

  'Please call me Kitty, its short for Katherine'

  'Thank you Kitty.' Jay smiled and left for the Music Room.

  The Music Room was large, about the size of a small hall. It was furnished with various settees, armchairs, and coffee tables. To one side of the room a breakfast buffet had been laid out for the guests and some were milling around this, nibbling various pastries and fruits. Most of the guests were in groups, either standing or sitting. Some of the faces she recognised, some she did not. There was one however, that she knew only too well, and she wasn't pleased to see her here.

  'Sam!' Jay exclaimed at her daughter, 'what on earth are you doing here?'

  'It’s good to see you too mother.'

  Sam's sarcasm wasn't lost on her mother, but she was too annoyed to make anything of it.

  'How did you know about this?'

  'I asked Will when I could get some time with you. He seemed to think today would be a good opportunity. He also mentioned something about his sister, but I didn't catch it really.'

  'Well I guess you're here now....' Jay was starting to think about the positive side of having her daughter involved.

  'Have you introduced yourself around?' Jay inquired.

  'We both have.' Sam replied.

  'We. Who is we?'

  'Oh the invite said to bring a trusted friend or two so I bought Anne. You remember Anne, don't you?'

  Jay remembered Anne. That girl is a liability, too loud, too brash and far too much into gossip, she thought to herself.

  'Yes, of course. She's delightful. Now if you'll excuse me for a little while I really need to go and say hello to some people.'

  'Sure, see you later.'

  Jay left her daughter to greet her guests individually. There were twenty-two in all, including her daughter and her friend. There would be twenty-seven once the five from the airport arrived. Some had been invited just for cover. William had thoughtfully produced an activities agenda for the day. They would split into three working groups, all apparently set the workshop task of “improving the lives and opportunities of women.” However, the materials produced by Jay's group had already been done and were ready and waiting in Function Room 3. The other two groups, consisting of the cover guests, would spend their time thinking about women. Jay's group was going to think about the Sunarr and the future of mankind.

  Jay decided to take the plunge, she added her daughter’s name to her own group, and her friend Anne was put in another group. This just has to work, so much depends on it, the fear she felt was deeply unsettling. Her demeanour did not show it however, as she moved from group to group, smiling and making conversation.

  The group from the airport finally arrived, Jay moved to welcome them.

  'I'm so glad that you could make it.' Jay offered her hand to them in turn.

  'Elizabeth Beaconsfield'

  'Mary Morgan-Colt'

  'Anna Stephonova Ivanskiy'

  'Severine Pascal'

  'Anne-Marie Courtine'

  Severine looked sideways at Anne-Marie. Here was the person that she had let into her life, told her intimate secrets and this she realised was the first time she had heard Anne-Marie's surname. Courtine, that cannot be a coincidence, I need to speak to her, alone. The introductions made, Severine led Anne-Marie away to the buffet, ostensibly to get some breakfast.

  'Courtine, Courtine! Tell me that is a coincidence, go on tell me.' Severine was careful not to raise her voice so much as to be overheard, but she emphasised her words leaving Anne-Marie in no doubt how angry she was.

  'You're right of course. It is not a coincidence. I took the name of the town, as I didn't want mine anymore. I didn't want people knowing who I was. So I took the name of the only place I have ever felt happy in, safe in. Sorry I should have told you, but it genuinely never crossed my mind.'

  'Is there anything else failing to cross your mind?'

  Anne-Marie cast her gaze towards the ground and murmured a pitifully quiet 'no'.

  Severine could sense that there was more now her eyes had been opened. What it was and how much she couldn't even guess at, but she decided to pursue that another time.

  'I guess you two were hungry.' Jay said to them by way introducing herself into the conversation.

  'Yes, we were. You know how it is with airline food.'

  Jay didn't. She hand only flown first class for years now and had obviously always found the food excellent.

  'I need to give you your packs. You'll both be with me in Function Room three. We will be heading through shortly, but don't worry you can bring your breakfasts with you, if you like.'

  10:30 27 December [05:30 27 December GMT]

  Function Room 3, Dayton Park Spa, New York, USA.

  The room had been specifically selected. The other two rooms were adjoining; this was on its own, jutting out from the building, windows on all three sides so they could see anyone who might observe them from the garden. The room was also single storey. The only connection to the rest of the building was the hallway that led to the room. This left them free to discuss things openly.

  Jay stood in front of her guests, silent. She didn't have a clue how to begin. The knowledge that anyone of them could betray her hung in the air, a dark oppressive cloud.

  Where are my speechwriters when I need them? She wondered idly to herself. This is going to have to be all me.

  'When I became Secretary-General of the United Nations,' she began, 'I took a pledge to serve the whole of humanity. I would like us all to make the same pledge. If you would kindly stand and repeat after me.'

  'I, Jayanti Kapoor, do solemnly swear and affirm by everything I hold dear and true, that I will serve the Earth, humanity and its future from now and until the day I die. I further swear that I will only discuss what is discussed between and amongst this group with those others who genuinely make the same pledge.'

  'Now please be seated.'

  'It is written in our histories, all of our histories, that when people come with advanced technology they come to take what they want. I believe. I know. That this is happening again. This
time it is on a massive scale, it affects all of our countries, our entire world. The Sunarr are here to take what they want. What they want is our Gold. Why? Because Gold is the single most important thing in the universe. It is what is needed for space travel. Without it, we will be stuck here forever at the mercy of the Sunarr and any others who come here. As you know, the Sunarr have offered protection to world leaders. What you may not know is that they threatened to cut off ties with any country that refused. Our governments have been taken hostage. Our military too. We have been enslaved by the Sunarr and we didn't even notice. I do not know, but I strongly believe that it was the Sunarr who were behind the assassinations. It suited their purposes. I am making a stand against this and I need your help. I need every one of you and those you can get to help too. I realise that this is a lot to take on board but before I go on I need each of you either to leave now or to re-state your pledge in front of the rest of us. If you stay I would also like you to introduce yourself to this group.'

  No one left.

  Elizabeth Beaconsfield strode to the front of the room and re-stated the pledge. She continued, 'As some of you know I am married to General Beaconsfield. Before I left, he notified me that he has been assigned two Sunarr bodyguards. I know my husband and I also know from the tone of his voice that this was thrust upon him against his wishes. The fact that he had to speak in such a circumspect manner means that he could not speak freely. My husband is one of those who have been compromised. Let me be clear, British forces are now effectively under the control of the Sunarr. This is a situation that cannot be allowed to continue. I am honoured to be part of this group and I promise to you all that I will dedicate my life to the freedom of mankind. Thank you.'

  Mary Morgan-Colt followed her friend and gave a similar account. Anna Stephonova stepped forward, she wanted to be counted amongst the first, and also she had something she wanted to share with her new American and English friends. She started with the pledge.