CounterPoint

by Daniel Rafferty

  CounterPoint

  "Sooner or later the Human Experiment will have to be evaluated, but not now"

  First eBook edition

  Cover Design by Simon Avery.

  © Daniel Rafferty 2013

  All rights reserved. This book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in part by any means including graphic, electronic or mechanical without expressed written consent of the publisher/author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. The events and characters described herein are imaginary and are not intended to refer to specific places or living persons. The opinions expressed in this manuscript are solely the opinions of the author.

  Converted for Kindle by Electric Reads

  www.electricreads.com

  Contents

  Prelude

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Prelude

  Liverpool, 1939

  Blue, sunny skies and clear seas ruffled with light waves made for a welcoming British seaside picture. A slight, welcoming breeze embraced the city, providing that slender comforting chill. People flocked to the coast for that early summer day out on the beach.

  Sitting on the maple tiled balcony floor of their three-storey Victorian home, which overlooked a tree-laden road leading to the beach, was 12-year-old Mary. She was playing with two small blue and pink polka-dot dolls, aware of her father keeping a watchful eye from the glass paned doors. Even with her back to him, she could feel his ever-caring gaze. Folding his newspaper and putting the pipe on the wooden cabinet beside his rocking chair, he stood up. At just over six feet with a good build, he cast an imposing figure and was in excellent shape for nearing fifty. Only the shades of grey and white running through his once-luscious black hair gave hints to his true age. Mary flashed an enormous grin to herself as he came out and sat down beside her. Running his hand through her mop of brown curly hair, he smiled, prompting even more giggling from the young Mary.

  “Daddy, if there is going to be a big fight, will you have to go?” asked Mary innocently. Even children weren’t insulated against the swirling rumours of the oncoming war spreading rapidly throughout the country. Yes, some were eager to go and give Germany a good ‘thrashing’ once again, but he knew better. Staring back at his daughter’s big brown, piercing eyes, he could only hope good would prevail. It was one of those moments that, as a father, he wanted to lie. He wanted to tell his child everything would be okay; that the world was a beautiful, innocent, safe place and she would never have a worry. But the stark, difficult fact was that in all probability he would have to go to war, and the likelihood of him coming back was small, so very small.

  “Darling, sometimes grownups have to do stuff that seems too dangerous to our children. When you have children of your own one day, you’ll realise that everything you do is ultimately for them, whether it be now or in the future,” answered her father, knowing that he would remember this conversation right to the end, even if that end was a bitter one.

  Mary looked down at the ground and stared for a few minutes. “Will I have to fight, Daddy?” his daughter asked in that innocent, sweet voice, still looking at the ground.

  Momentarily lost in thought about the simplicity and ease of childhood, he snapped back harshly to reality.

  “No, darling... not today…” He looked at his daughter and realised that since he may never come back from this war, now may be as good a time as any. “Mary, I’m going to tell you something and you have to promise never to tell anyone. Now promise me, one of our special handshakes.”

  She smiled and agreed, shaking his hand with her little finger. He patted his knee and she jumped onto it, eagerly gazing into his eyes with anticipation.

  “This fight is between good and evil, and we’re always on the good side, Mary. There are many who aren’t, and they can sometimes be stronger but never, ever tougher. No matter what, always keep your family close and trust no one outside it. Always. When you’re all grown up just remember that.” He kissed his daughter on the forehead and walked back inside, blinking back tears.

  Mary sat back down on the warm crimson tiles of the balcony, trying to remember everything her father had said. It would be the last time she would ever see him.

  Chapter 1

  Sitting behind his large, black glass desk, Ariel looked every inch the business executive of the modern age. His sharp black suit and sky blue tie highlighted success. The high-back leather chair added to the sleek, modern design of the large square room. Black and white, the mandatory colours of interior offices. He fixed his tie, ensuring it was perfectly straight with a rounded knot. Clothes were never something he felt completely comfortable in, but they were the uniform and had to be endured. The long rectangular desk was usually neat and tidy, always organised. Today however, it was smothered in papers and reports from various other departments and regional offices. As director for the Department of Special Operations he had to liaise with many different departments. A blood-red parchment folder stamped ‘Sacred and Discreet’ stood out prominently against the sea of white and black. The downside to being in Headquarters was that you were always the stop point. Everything came to you.

  “Sir, Amber is here to see you,” his assistant’s voice echoed around his office. No need for frivolous electronic intercom devices. His assistant simply spoke into a small fountain-like pen attached to her desk.

  “Send her in,” he replied with disinterest, still reviewing his papers and not moving. Amber was his deputy and kept him up to date with the department’s progress and current operations. She was highly intelligent, articulate and unafraid of bending the rules to get answers, for which (particularly the latter), he promoted her to the role of deputy. Often, he felt that whilst rules should generally be abided by it was sometimes necessary to take a more direct approach. His department in particular could be taxing and they could be required to take instant decisions which couldn’t be passed up the chain of command. Maintaining order often depended on them acting swiftly and decisively.

  “One moment Amber,” he asked without looking up, eager to finish reviewing this report.

  She sat down in the black armchair directly facing him and crossed her legs. She was quite tall, with a mop of long fiery red hair which only added to her feisty, no nonsense personality. Along to the meeting was her usual massive leather bound brown folder. Not wanting to waste a minute, she started going through it, taking out a thick page here and there.

  “Ok, so what’s been happening this week?” asked Ariel, lifting his head up to meet her eyes. He had been on a classified assignment and this was his first day back and had long since discovered that problems tended to crop up when he was not in the office. More irritating, problems tended to crop
up that somehow got back to one of your bosses when you were away, making the situation look even worse.

  “Well where do we start, sir?” said an exasperated Amber, throwing her hands up in the air in mock surrender. “We’ve got another rise in attacks this week, to the tune of 26 per cent. That brings our current levels to triple the amount from this time last year. I’ve had to pull operatives from non-essential missions to help shore up faltering defence lines in Rome, Jerusalem and Paris. We’re almost at full deployment status. We’re already out of interrogation rooms; I’ve had to second some from other departments. I’ve also spoken to my colleagues in other departments and they’re seeing a rise in demonic activity across the board as well. Clearly this is a build-up to something on a larger scale. Probably something we haven’t witnessed before. The deputy director in the Ministry of Defence told me in confidence that they’ll probably be cancelling all non-essential duties from next week onwards until the current demonic levels subside.”

  “Any idea on what’s causing this sudden surge?” queried Ariel, leaning back into his chair and playing with his gold-encrusted, ruby-topped pen.

  “Nothing conclusive. Of course the usual suspects are claiming this is the end of the experiment. That now is the time to evaluate. Some believe demons have been simply regrouping. We have had them on the run for the last couple of hundred years. And up until two years ago we had demonic activity globally down to unprecedented levels. Everyone was patting themselves on the back over it, as were you, sir.”

  Ariel rolled his eyes. He was deeply satisfied with the gradual decline in demonic activity over the last one hundred years. His department had been essential in routing out and exterminating demon ringleaders across the globe. He had taken it over at a time when Earth was going through a period of rapid advancement.

  “Well it was good times last year,” was his pithy, quick reply.

  “‘Last’ and ‘year’ being the words to note in that sentence, sir. Fortunately we did capture two demons during a skirmish along the Rome-Vatican border. We’re currently interrogating them and should have results soon. I’ve put some of our best people onto it to ensure we get accurate responses. Sir, I must point out that if levels continue to rise we may have to consider calling upon the Ministry of Defence for more manpower. Special Operations won’t be able to continue fulfilling all its designated duties if we continue to pull operatives from assignments and onto the front lines.”

  “Yes, obviously,” answered Ariel, pondering the next move. “Get me our current figures on deployments around the globe. I want to know who is where and if they were reassigned. I also want some projections on manpower requirement levels and the deficit we are going to have if demonic incidents continue to rise at the current rate,” ordered Ariel, and Amber immediately nodded at once. He was actually surprised she wasn’t able to present him with that information on request; she usually had a knack for anticipating what he was going to ask for before even he knew. Things really must have been busy whilst he was away.

  “We should also consider cancelling all leave as from now, sir. The numbers at our disposal are far smaller considering the specific nature of our department and we need everyone at the ready. It would definitely have a positive impact on strategic planning and deployment?” she asked, her voice full of determination and resolve. She clearly wanted to be prepared for whatever was coming and he suspected she had heard more than she was currently saying. The problem was that Ariel was a director, cut off from the rumour mills and confined to interacting with his own colleagues. They were what humans would call ‘stuffy’ to say the least. None of them had seen active duty in thousands of years. That was the difference between them and Ariel.

  “What’s the rumour mill saying?” he pointedly asked, watching her reaction.

  “Obviously it’s off the record,” Amber countered.

  “Naturally.”

  “Well,” she said matter-of-factly, flicking her curly red hair back behind her ear, “Linda at Defence told me her department has just requested a massive increase in weapons being provided from Heaven. She’s also received instruction to begin increasing security at all regional offices immediately. When she queried this with the director, even he didn’t know what was going on and was simply following orders from Raphael. One of our own operatives says he saw Raphael entering the Vatican, most likely to see the Pope. It seems, sir, we are preparing for a major offensive in response to the rising demonic levels. Linda told me privately the weapon requisition orders are huge, enough to field an entire army.”

  “They’ve been threatening a war like that for centuries now. It’s never materialised. Usually a ploy to marshal the rank and file, give them a kick in the ass so to speak. Demons must be eradicated by neutralising their leaders and then taking out the loose ends. An all-out war would devastate the planet.” He had explained this to management in his reports many times before but requests for more resources was always denied.

  “Anything else?”

  “Rumour has it there’s a management meeting tonight. We’ve been requested to provide security for a hotel in London and the surrounding area. All five are going to be present, the first time in over five hundred years, as you well know. There hasn’t been a meeting like that since the time of the Knights Templar. And we all know how that ended.”

  “Indeed,” said Ariel gravely. A meeting of management was what concerned him the most. A previous meeting of management resulted in the massacre of the Knights Templar, something that still stirs rage in human sects. Management don’t get together that often and when they do it’s only when there’s major movement somewhere. ‘Movement’ was a saying used to describe something that could change things, and this was very much against doctrine. Sensing that he would have to do some detective work of his own, Ariel moved the conversation on to department resources and budgets. Though if he was truthful with himself, he had no real interest in hearing anything more about the department. Amber had everything under control as usual. He had decided he would need to seek an audience with Lana, an old time associate and friend of his. If something big was happening, she would know.

  Later that evening, the same high powered meeting was about to take place in London’s luxurious Dorchester Hotel. The hotel’s main boardroom had been booked for a group under the name of ‘Christian’. Curiously, there was no record of this meeting taking place at the Dorchester. A group of businessmen from Asia had booked out the boardrooms and suites for an official trip. The Dorchester’s computers now showed no record of that booking. The hotel manager, Mr Edward Port, was preparing for the arrival of this group by instructing staff to follow his orders to the letter. There was to be no talking to the VIP guests and no eye contact. They were here to do business and leave again. No fuss. At exactly 10.00pm, the limousines began arriving.

  A black limousine was the last to pull up outside the main entrance to the hotel. Two burly bodyguards jumped out from the front seats and opened the rear door of the vehicle. Their black suits and sunglasses contrasted sharply with the tall, thin man who stepped out. Clad in a dark navy suit and blue shirt finished off with a bright pink tie and matching pink diamond cufflinks, he possessed an air of classic landed gentry. His grey hair and slender wrinkle lines showed the years of wisdom and experience. Flanked by his two bodyguards, he strolled into the hotel and towards the main elevator in the lobby. His demeanour, even his walk, exuded confidence and power. This, and indeed there was no doubt, was the boss.

  The elevator was of course waiting, ready for his arrival. The two bodyguards secured the elevator but did not join him, they were to stay in the lobby and ensure the meeting was not disturbed. In truth there were over fifty bodyguards currently in and around the hotel from the Department of Special Operations to ensure the safety and security of the summit. The last thing they needed was for a demon attack in the centre of London with so many high ranking persons in the one building.

  Aerial reconnaissance and prot
ection was also taking place. High above, angels circled the building and outer perimeter. Nothing was allowed to come anywhere near the hotel. Specialised agents were also on the grounds around the hotel and adjacent streets on patrol. Underground monitoring and surveillance was taking place with agents skulking deep below the city ensuring no demon decided to be clever. Every avenue had been investigated, secured and then sealed.

  The meeting room itself was pure decadence, fitting for the grandeur and power that these high-ranking individuals demanded and had come to expect. Gold chandeliers hovered above a gold and marble rectangular dining table in the centre of the room, surrounded by five magnificent throne chairs, finished off with golden arms and royal purple silk coverings. Huge brilliant religious paintings adorned the walls of the room and gold statues of historic religious figures stood atop silver stands. Jewel plated silk curtains washed down over the huge bay windows on one side of the room whilst the storm outside continued to thrash the UK capital. The other four were already there. Walking into the room, they greeted Michael in the customary fashion – each rising from their chair and bowing their head. Behind him, two high-ranking bodyguards sealed the doors shut from the outside. They were now alone and secure, a still silence swept over the room as Michael remained standing at the head of the table. The others took their seats once more.

  “Gentlemen, as you know I have summoned this meeting to discuss the current events that have been happening around the globe. One might say they are of biblical proportions and thus should be treated as so. You have all seen the reports. If we do not act now then evil shall overtake this world. Our numbers are limited and we cannot continue standing firm against expansionist demonic objectives. The Human Experiment is our responsibility and we must act to safeguard it. To do this, we must first cleanse this world of evil once and for all and then I propose immediate evaluation,” spoke Michael to his fellow partners sat around the luxurious table.