by Karl Morgan
“Mr. Finch, your conference call is on your line, and I’m going home for the evening, sir.”
“Okay, have a good night.” He released the intercom button and pressed a key on his keyboard. The screen came to life, split into six windows, five of which were active while one remained dark. “Good day, my dear brothers and sisters. Where is Ash? Why isn’t he on the call?”
“He was summoned to travel to Santiago to meet with the Politburo, Ham,” Madeleine Finch noted from her desk in Johannesburg. “He thinks this might be the meeting we’ve all been waiting for.”
“Hmm, I hope he’s right, but it is very unusual not to be with us. Anyway, let’s get down to it, okay?”
“Hammond, you need to know that Lord Nmanbe is losing patience,” Madeleine offered. “He is considering negotiating a peace treaty with the Western Caliphate. The populace is not happy about the destruction of Kano.”
“But that was his idea, Maddie. We all told him it was an excessive act. Do you think the caliph will listen?”
“Cairo might fall in the next few days, Ham,” she replied. “That could signal the end of the caliphate. Caliph Omar has already moved his court and ministers to Tunis, just to be safe.”
“What have you got, Clay?” Hammond asked.
Clayton Finch in Hong Kong cleared his throat and said, “Ham, President Han is still moving west across the Indian subcontinent. The Eastern Caliphate is massing a huge army near the Chambal River. It looks like this war will be decided there.”
“And neither side is considering suing for peace?”
“No, Ham. This looks like a real showdown. Everyone is out for blood.”
“It looks like we will have another record year for enhancements in Asia this year!” Hammond laughed.
“It’s never that easy, brother dear,” Alison Finch said from her desk in Berlin. “Both Presidents Becker and Carmichael are doing their best to stop this mess, and I must say they are getting attention from the other leaders.”
“Mettlesome bastards,” Hammond grunted.
“You need to calm down, Ham,” Alison replied. “High demand for enhancements is all well and good, but we don’t want to go down a path that could lead to a global conflict. If everyone is dead, no one will buy our gear.”
“Alison is right, brother,” said Israel Finch from poolside at his estate in Tel Aviv. “You have to know that the Central Caliphate is extremely interested in keeping the conflicts going.”
“But they aren’t even involved. What do you know that we should all know?”
“We all know the story, Ham. There is only supposed to be one united caliphate, not the three there are now. Caliph Ibrahim believes that if his brothers get their butts kicked, they will have no option but to align with him, creating the true caliphate. That’s why Israel is a protectorate of the Central Caliphate. As long as this place is safe, the European Union and American Republic won’t get involved. It is a small price to pay for controlling the entire Muslim world.”
Madeleine interjected, “Let’s face it, Ham. The caliphates screwed up by attacking in two different directions. Neither of them had a chance to win. To succeed, the caliphates need to unite, but their petty differences would never allow that. So, Ibrahim lets his brothers take it in the ass, and then he shows up to stop the war and absorbs the other territories.”
“So, he’s a hero to the world for stopping the carnage, and a hero to the other caliphates for saving them too,” Hammond said. “I never realized Ibrahim was that smart. I guess I underestimated him.”
“No, you’re right, Ham. He’s not that smart, but he does have help,” Maddie replied.
“Who?”
“I don’t know for sure, but it is someone who either just wants the caliphates united, which could be any Muslim, or someone who wants global war,” she replied. “My gut tells me it is the latter.”
The door to Hammond’s office opened and the bomber walked in and closed the door behind him. “What’s the meaning of this? Who the hell are you?”
“What’s wrong, Ham?” Alison asked.
“Some guy just walked in my office,” Hammond replied. “I’ll talk to you all tomorrow.” He pressed a button and the screen went dark. He opened his top desk drawer and withdrew a pistol and set it on the desk. “Who are you and what do you want?”
The bomber smiled and walked up to the desk and extended his hand. “Mr. Finch, my name is Henri Sattu.”
Hammond did not rise or attempt to shake the other man’s hand. “Is that supposed to mean something to me?”
“Please let me be clear. My father is Armand Sattu. You have heard of him, yes?”
All of the color drained out of Hammond’s face. He stood quickly and extended his trembling hand. “Mr. Sattu, it is a pleasure to meet you, sir.”
Henri shook his hand heartily and sat down. “No need for formality, Hammond. Please call me Henri.”
Hammond wiped the sweat from his brow and sat down and quickly slipped the gun back into his desk. “To what do I owe the honor of your visit, Henri?”
“My father sent me, of course. He wants you to know that he is very pleased with the actions of your firm to date.”
“Thank you. We try to do our best.”
“But I am aware that there is growing discontent with the direction your firm is taking. Some of your employees and some of the leadership grow weary of the violence that makes so much money for you. There is also growing concern over the usefulness of enhancements by much of the populace.”
“Henri, I can assure you that my team is focused on growth in sales and profits. I do admit some in my leadership team fear the growing global conflicts could escalate toward a point of no return, although I personally find that doubtful. And it has always been true that a segment of society would not approve of personal modifications.”
“Your people do not directly control the acts of global leaders, Hammond. If a ruler wants to destroy the Earth, he or she will try to do that. We must count on the rest of the world to keep such bad actors in line, or at least limit the destruction.”
“Henri, I couldn’t agree with you more,” Hammond laughed. “And please trust that my team will continue to do their best job possible, although I am not certain what we can do to convince skeptics that enhancements are benign.”
The bomber stuck his hand into his pocket and removed a stack of memory chips and set them on the desk. “These devices contain details and working samples of a few new toys your firm can market. The black ones are shielded and should prevent an EMP from affecting a modification. The other items are ideas for new enhancements that might help convince some of the skeptics. Please have your team take a look.”
“Thank you, Henri. You and your father are very generous. How can I repay you?”
“Please don’t worry about that. Seeing our ideas come to fruition is enough reward for us.”
“These concepts are worth billions or even trillions, Henri. Certainly we can share in the rewards.”
Henri smiled wryly and said, “Money is of no importance to us, Hammond.” Finch looked stunned and then began to shiver uncontrollably. “Oh my goodness, I almost forgot.” He stood and dug into a pocket in his jacket. He withdrew a small black box and opened it, revealing a red ball about the size of a golf ball. “This is my personal favorite.”
“It’s not a bomb, is it?”
Henri laughed out loud. “Hammond, you surprise me. If my father or I wanted you dead, that would have happened long ago. My friend, this is an electronic brain. It contains enough space and power to house a human mind. Think about it. You and others could live forever. There are details in the box on how to construct and use it.”
“A robot with a human mind?” Hammond squeaked.
“You and your family are so worried about global war with radiation killing everyone. If you were in a robot, it wouldn’t affect you at all. Think about it.”
“It sounds unbelievable to me, Henri, but we will get
working on it right away.”
“There is just one other thing that concerns us very much, and frankly, we need your help.”
“Of course, what can I do?”
“Don’t let Joshua Carpenter and that Cambridge woman screw up our plans!”
“What do you want me to do?”
“I don’t really care. You can hire them, lock them up, slit their throats, it’s all good. But don’t let them stop what must happen.” Henri smiled and walked out of the office, slamming the door behind him.
Hammond rushed over to a credenza and filled a glass with whisky and drank it down. His hands were shaking so badly that he almost dropped the glass as he tried to set it down. He steadied himself by putting his hands on the top of the credenza and said, “That can’t be good.”
Chapter 7
Chris sat with Josh’s family at the dinner table. Maggie had prepared her house special lasagna, which was Joe’s favorite. A bowl of salad and a bottle of wine completed the repast. “Dinner is fantastic, Mrs. Carpenter,” Chris noted.
“Thank you very much, but please call me Maggie and my husband Joe. We are not formal people.”
Joe poured more wine into Chris’ goblet and asked, “How is the wine? This is my favorite.”
“It’s very good, Joe,” Chris replied, and then took a sip. “I must add some bottles to my cellar.”
“You have a wine cellar?” Joe asked. “You must do very well for yourself. If you don’t mind my asking, what do you do for a living?”
“I am in the family business that my father started. The whole family works together, and yes, we do quite well.”
“What kind of business is it?” Josh quizzed.
Chris shot him a frown and said, “I would have to say it is a conglomerate. We have many different interests.”
“I don’t think it’s any of our business, son. Stop pestering our guest.”
“It’s not a problem, Joe,” Chris replied. “I forget some parts of the business from time to time, because I am mostly involved in our philanthropic interests. That’s why I am interested in your son. The overall Judah Corporation is global and in many industries.”
“That’s funny, I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a Judah Corporation,” Joe said. “How big is it?”
“I’m afraid I can’t answer that, since it is a private company. Most of our divisions operate under other names, the names of the entities we acquired. You are familiar with LIFE, of course?”
“Your company owns LIFE?” Josh gasped.
“We do, but let me be clear. We acquired that asset to make certain it was used for the betterment of man. You can imagine how a less-than-honest person, company, or government could make use of so much personal information. Our team works with their management to insure privacy and access to the data is controlled.”
Josh’s phone began to ring and he pulled it out of his pocket and looked at the screen. “It’s Shirley, I have to take this,” he said as he stood.
“Why don’t you just put it on speaker, Josh?” Chris asked.
Josh answered the phone and said, “Hold on a second, Shirley,” and then held the handset against his chest. “Why do you care, Chris?”
“We both know what Shirley wants to say, Josh. I did not discuss your adventure with your mother yet, but then again, I wasn’t there. Shirley was.”
“You can take the call in the other room, son,” Joe interjected.
“No, Chris is right. This whole thing is going to explode any minute now, so we might as well get on the same page.” He put the phone to his ear and said, “Shirley, I’m going to put you on speaker. I’m having dinner at home with my parents and my friend, Chris.”
“Chris Judah,” Chris said.
“Chris Judah.” He pressed the speaker button and set the phone on the table. “Go ahead.”
“Are you sure this is what you want, Josh?” Shirley asked. “And who is Chris Judah?”
“It’s okay, Shirley. My folks need to know everything, and Chris is a friend, at least I think he is.”
“Wait, I remember that name now. Chris, you are the guy from the Judah Corporation that funds my NEM Alliance, right?”
“I’m glad you remembered, Shirley. I am happy that you are safe on the ground now.”
“Oh my God, that’s right! Josh, how did you do that? How did you get on my flight and stop the suicide bomber? That’s not possible. You are an angel, aren’t you?”
Josh and Shirley explained the events on the airliner to the Carpenters. Joe and Maggie sat frozen, clinging to each unbelievable occurrence. Halfway through, Joe opened a second bottle of wine.
§
Josh awoke from a fitful sleep at 2:00 a.m. The street outside seemed to be bathed in light. He climbed out of bed and looked out the window. Two black SUVs and three police cars were stationed outside. There were officers inside the vehicles, but no one seemed in any hurry to come to the house. Josh assumed this was his security detail, went back to bed and immediately fell asleep.
In his dream, he was standing in a large muddy field, which was blanketed in heavy fog. He could only see a few feet in front of himself, but could hear angry, shouting voices moving closer. There were no words, just grunts and screaming. Gradually, large figures began to appear in the fog, just outlines at first. They were more than ten feet tall and moved slowly through the muck on the ground. As they cleared the mist, he could see they were almost pure black with glowing red eyes. They were very muscular, with long arms and what appeared to be wings on their backs. They stopped and formed a closed circle around him at about fifteen feet away. More and more creatures arrived, forming a massive circle, dozens of rows thick. A booming voice behind him said, “Good to see you again, Joshua Carpenter!”
Josh spun around and saw the beast that the bomber on the plane had become as they fell. “What do you want?”
“I missed you, Josh.” All the monsters began to laugh and point at the man in the center of their group. “Josh, you failed on the plane, and you will fail if you continue along this path. My brothers here and my father want you to stop. Do you want to die now, Josh? There is no one to save you here.” The circle began to shrink as they each took a step forward.
“This is just a dream, beast!”
“Is it?” The beast extended his right arm and made a squeezing motion with his fist. Josh felt a death grip on his throat and grasped at his neck, as though trying to remove invisible hands. The beast brought his fist down, and Josh fell into the mud, gasping for air. “You humans are so pathetically weak. I don’t know why we let any of you live.”
“Enough!” shouted another voice deep in the crowd, and the beast opened his hand. Josh sucked air into his lungs and rubbed his aching neck. The mob of beasts began to move out of the way, making room for an even larger monster. It, too, was black with red eyes, but stood several feet taller and had a long white ponytail down its back. He walked up to Josh and then turned to face the bomber. “That’s enough of your games today!” He put his massive hand on Josh’s shoulder and said, “I must apologize for my children’s games. Let us go somewhere more comfortable.” Josh nodded.
Josh was suddenly kneeling on the floor of a large room clad in white marble. Columns lined the four walls, and a raised area was at the far end, where the giant beast was sitting on a golden throne. Josh noticed he was no longer covered in mud, and instead of his pajamas, he was wearing a tunic and toga. The toga was fastened with a large gold ornament with a very large red stone in the center. Two women similarly dressed approached, helped him to his feet and led him toward the throne. When they arrived at the first step, they bowed, released him and scurried away to their stations behind columns. “This is the strangest dream.”
The beast laughed out loud. “Is this a dream, Joshua?”
“Sir, I was in bed, then I was in a field with monsters, and now I’m here with you. How can that be real?”
“As I recall, you were sitting in your house, then in a
n airliner thousands of miles away. You walked through a door and then fell through the wall of the plane and ended up back home. Was that a dream?”
Josh began to tremble. “Oh no.”
“Please do not be afraid, Joshua. You will be back in your bed soon, and your mind may well convince you this was all a dream. I have no intention of killing you, yet.”
“What do you want, monster?”
“We’ll get to that. You can call me Adlat. Monster seems so impersonal and inhuman.”
Josh smiled and replied, “Well, you don’t look human to me, Adlat.”
Instantly, Adlat was an old man, wearing a tunic and toga, with a long white beard and mass of straggly hair. “Appearances can be deceiving.”
“Is this the real you?”
“There really is no answer to that particular question, Joshua. The beast,” and he was again the monster, “seems to fit my personality better. I guess you could say it feels good. But I can be any form you like.” Now the beast was Shirley Cambridge.
“Please, not her.”
Adlat was the beast again. “Of course, I understand how you feel about her. In fact, she’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Don’t hurt her.”
“I suppose that is up to the two of you,” Adlat replied. “You are being drawn into a series of events, and will likely decide the fate of all humanity, but you will have many choices. I want you to make certain you choose well.”
“You sound just like Chris Judah. I suppose you would prefer other choices than he, or is he another of your children, like the bomber?”
“My son’s name is Barsat, not Bomber. But no, Chris is not part of my family, at least not directly. He and I have a very long history together. He chose poorly and died very young.”
“You killed him? I just had dinner with him.”
“You could never understand the truth, Joshua, but I am speaking of an ancient time when Chris walked the Earth like you. I did not kill him. His neighbors and the inaction of his friends killed him.”
