The God Complex: A Thriller

by Murray Mcdonald

  Anya opened the vault door they had reached at the far end of the chamber and the dawn of civilization. A small sub-chamber appeared with another vault door at the far end. Only once one vault door shut would the other open. The main chamber was strictly controlled from both an atmosphere and security perspective. Constant humidity and temperature were strictly maintained to protect the works. Once the main vault door was closed, Anya opened the second to reveal a corridor that led to a clinical scientific lab, bustling with activity. The Atlas Noble company logo adorned the walls. A wall of glass that stretched the length of the lab, some one hundred feet, had a view of a metal tube approximately three feet in diameter within a tunnel five hundred feet below ground level. The tunnel stretched off into the distance either side of where the glass wall ended, circling for a total of 27km, almost 17 miles. The Large Hadron Collider, the world’s most powerful particle accelerator, lay before them, widely heralded as one of the great engineering milestones of mankind.

  Its purpose, publicly, was to further investigate theories and principles of physics, advancing the understanding of physics and through it, the make-up and origins of the universe. The scale of the project was massive, with requirements that dwarfed the capabilities of any one country, but thanks to Atlas Noble bringing together over one hundred countries and thousands of companies, the accelerator had been completed. It had been Atlas Noble’s single largest ever investment and a personal mission of Antoine.

  Antoine looked away from the most advanced piece of human engineering to the other wall, where the schematics and plans for the accelerator were displayed. Not the ones that had been given to the scientists who had subsequently built the accelerator but the originals. Antoine looked at the stone tablets that pre-dated human civilization, ones that his ancestors had rescued from the depths of the great pyramids in Egypt thousands of years earlier, stored for a time when technology could create the device the tablets described in great detail.

  “Magnificent,” said Antoine, not taking his eyes away from the tablets.

  “Truly,” agreed Anya, her eyes transfixed on the accelerator. Although to the outside world, her title was Head of Archives, her background was as a physicist, which, given the project underway, could not have been more appropriate.

  “How far away are we?” asked Antoine excitedly.

  “Hours, days, weeks at most.”

  “But before the convergence begins?” he asked excitedly.

  “Yes.”

  Chapter 23

  Miller Lodge

  Montana, USA

  Sophie had hardly slept all night. Right now she was staring at the small box that was blocking her access to Professor Harris’ research. ‘One attempt remaining’ was burned into the back of her retinas. Even closing her eyes was failing to release her from the torment..

  “Couldn’t sleep?” asked Cash, stretching as he joined her in the kitchen.

  “Not well,” she said, rubbing at her eyes.

  “I’m so sorry about yesterday,” he said somberly. He’d slept poorly as well, after a night spent reflecting on their losses.

  Sophie nodded and stared out at the lake that appeared to lap at the window’s edge. The view down the length of the lake was nothing short of awe inspiring.

  “He would have loved it here. God, they both would,” she said, smiling. “Look out there, nothing but the wonder of nature.”

  Cash nodded, he knew exactly where she was going. “Not a single unnatural light source to spoil his view.”

  “Zero light pollution, the perfect night sky,” she smiled.

  “Any luck?” asked Cash, turning their attention away from memories and back to business.

  “I’m scared I’ll lose it forever if I put the wrong password in.”

  “Will it not go into a timeout and let you try again after a few hours?”

  “Maybe, but do you want to take that risk?”

  Cash shook his head. “So you’ve tried ‘Sophie’ after what my dad said to me, and we tried Kyle.”

  “Oh my God!” she said. “I can’t believe it!”

  “What?”

  “We never tried you?”

  “But my dad said your name when he gave it to me.”

  “Yes, but what if that’s nothing to do with the password and more to do with understanding what’s in here?”

  “Like, ‘you’re too stupid son, get Sophie, she’ll tell you what this all means’?”

  “Well, in a more subtle way, yes.”

  “So go for it,” said Cash.

  “You sure?”

  “Copernicus. He loved it as much as I hated it!”

  Sophie typed the letters in carefully, the “**********” that appeared in the box wasn’t overly helpful in letting her know if she had typed the name correctly. She hesitated for a moment, then hit enter.

  The password box disappeared and everything else remained the same, the two black circles and their dots remained.

  “Oh well,” said Cash, pouring coffees for them. “We had to give it a try.”

  Sophie took the coffee but suddenly noticed there was a change. At the very base of the image, some words had appeared. The font was tiny, so she zoomed in.

  “The answers you seek, lay around us in our past.” Anya.

  “What does that mean and who’s Anya?” asked Cash.

  “No idea, it’s not a quote I recognize,” said Sophie. “But I’m certain it wasn’t there before.”

  “Anything else changed?”

  Sophie zoomed back out and moved the cursor around the screen, the arrow changing from arrow to pointing index finger as it moved across the dots.

  “The dots have become links!” she said excitedly, clicking on the central dot on the left hand circle.

  Cash rushed over. Sophie clicked the link. The page turned to text, the heading PUMAPUNKA – BOLIVIA popped up with a few bullet points preceding a selection of images and blocks and blocks of text. Cash scanned down the bullets; they simply summarized where and what the site was. The images highlighted a number of the features that made the site so unique. The blocks of text appeared to be detailed notes of what his father had found, although he could only guess. The detail was technical and exactly why his father would have suggested Sophie’s assistance.

  “How’s it going?’ asked Rigs yawning as he entered the kitchen, not seeing Sophie buried behind the laptop’s screen.

  “We just got in,” replied Cash.

  “Shush!” said Sophie, embroiled in the Professor’s notes.

  Cash stood and gestured for Rigs to join him on the other side of the kitchen.

  “We cracked the password and it’s allowed us to click on the dots,” whispered Cash. “As expected, they’re locations, and from what I could gather, each has very detailed notes about the work my father carried out. Although it’s all very technical, he’s talking about angles from the horizon, angles between buildings, blocks and how distances and ratios relate to constellations.”

  Rigs barely whispered, conscious of Sophie’s presence across the kitchen, “Where’s she looking?”

  “Some place called Pumapunka in Bolivia.”

  “Puma, what?”

  “It’s ancient, thousands of years old, but according to my father’s summary, we’d struggle to build it today. It’s incredibly complex and some of the stones used are massive.”

  Rigs looked over to where Sophie was plowing through the research. “Seriously?”

  “Yeah, some over one hundred tons, transported over ten miles, and laid in places that are 13,000 feet up. Some of them are cut so that they’d perfectly interconnect to form walls without any cement or mortar. There are some example images, huge H shaped blocks, that are identical and look like building blocks. It’s crazy, the stuff’s so precise, you don’t even see it today!”

  “Thousands of years ago?” Rigs asked in disbelief, glancing at the laptop.

  Cash nodded. “Yep, you’ll see when Sophie’s finished.”

/>   “How does any of this help with finding who killed your father?”

  “Who knows? It might not even help at all, but my father was keen for me to see it. His dying word was for the sole purpose to help me understand what’s on it.”

  “Guys,” interrupted Sophie, “there are very detailed research notes here but there’s a problem…”

  “What?” asked Cash.

  “His findings. He’s mapped the site, Pumapunka, along with a place nearby called Tiwanaku and between them, following clues left thousands of years ago, discovered what they were trying to tell us.”

  “Maybe he didn’t finish it.”

  “He did, only he didn’t record the answer in the file.”

  “So where is it?”

  “His head.”

  “That’s not very helpful,” Rigs whispered.

  “So this is all useless?” said Cash dejectedly.

  “Well, no. I understand his notes, which are pretty much unintelligible to anyone else.”

  “I noticed,” said Cash wryly.

  “I worked a couple of summers as his research assistant, he taught me his unique shorthand.”

  “So what? She can work out the answers?” asked Rigs, leaning in towards Cash. “She can, but not from here,” replied Sophie pointedly. Noting the look on Cash’s face, she backed off. “Sorry, long night,” she apologized. “I know what he did there, I can replicate that and find the answers he found.”

  “You need us to go to Bolivia,” said Cash suddenly understanding the implications.

  “Yes,” said Sophie.

  “Just as well we kept that plane and flight crew then.”

  Chapter 24

  Burgess Park, Southwark

  London, England

  The noise carried like a wave, cascading towards the entrance of the park, carrying its royal guests in a public outpouring of love and appreciation. The ring of security awaited their arrival at the park gates where the public crowds gave way to the select few, the invited guests, and the obligatory press pack. The event had amassed a far larger press turnout than the Children’s Services Department could ever have dreamed possible. What was to have been a small local event with a national appeal had become an international event. Having said that, the main questions to be thrown at the Prime Minister after his speech were unlikely to relate to teenage pregnancy rates and far more likely to relate to disarmament and the US President.

  Yvonne Winston looked at the list of speakers, the King, the Mayor, herself and then the Prime Minister. She hadn’t slept all night. She had been born to a young teenage mother, victim of a gang rape in South London. Abandoned at birth by her young mother, she had been raised by her grandparents. Despite this, Yvonne had studied hard and overcome the stigma of being a rape child, had recently graduated from university, and joined Children’s Services to help her community. She was to be the spokesperson for the community, telling her personal journey to the world while she promised the young girls in the area a far brighter future, thanks to the fantastic programs being run in Southwark. The statistics she had uncovered the previous day while writing her piece were, she was sure, going to be the talking point of the event and she felt certain, even given the previous day’s events, worthy of the front pages. She had wanted to run through the changes with her boss but he had been flapping around like a wild man since she had arrived. He was just going to have to hear them along with everyone else.

  The noise of the crowds outside reached a crescendo, indicating that the royals had arrived. Yvonne began to shake. She was only a few minutes away from delivering her speech. A sudden need to visit the restroom rushed over her. She had a couple of minutes before the entourage would enter. A line of dignitaries waited to greet them outside.

  Yvonne looked down the greeting line in the conference hall. Everyone looked as nervous as she felt and they weren’t even speaking. The back end of the hall was filled with press, while the front few rows sat empty. The dignitaries and other members of the Children’s Services team would fill them once the visiting entourage had entered. Police officers lined the walls and covered every exit. The security had been excruciating, taking hours to be allowed into the inner sanctum of the conference hall, even given the fact she was one of the only few speakers.

  Her need was pressing. She knew it was nerves but had to give in.

  “Bob, I’m nipping to the loo,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Hurry,” he said.

  Yvonne scurried across the hall to the rest room, a female police officer following her all the way. Almost exactly as she closed the restroom door, the conference hall’s main door opened and the King and Queen entered, greeting the hardworking council workers as they worked their way down the hall towards the stage.

  Bob looked frantically for Yvonne. As the King edged nearer and nearer, the gaping hole left by Yvonne’s absence in the line was evident for all to see. The King came and went along with the Queen, their children, the Prime Minister and the Mayor. Bob took his seat, looking around to the restroom door. The police officer who had followed her had not come out either.

  He needed to check on Yvonne. Bob stood up. At the same moment, the King stood up to rapturous applause and stopped Bob in his tracks. He couldn’t walk across the front of the stage while the King was speaking.

  A short introduction and congratulatory speech was followed by an even more congratulatory speech from the Mayor. Bob looked around frantically and was pleased to see the restroom door open when Yvonne’s name was introduced by the Mayor.

  “Where is she?” asked the Children’s Services’ boss, tapping Bob’s shoulder and turning his attention away from the restroom door as Yvonne was about to exit.

  “A case of nerves, she was in the loo,” he said sympathetically. “She’s coming.” When he turned back around, he saw no one walking towards the stage. He looked back at the restroom, the door was closed.

  ***

  Yvonne had just made it. She checked her watch and could hear the buzz in the hall as the entourage entered. She should have been in the line but there was no way she was going to make it back in time. Sometimes, nature took over.

  “Are you Yvonne Winston?” asked the police officer who had followed her in.

  “Yes,” said Yvonne. She flushed the toilet and heard the officer speaking to someone over the radio.

  “I believe you’re up soon,” said the officer calmly.

  “Thanks, a bit of nerves,” explained Yvonne.

  “I’m not surprised,” replied the officer. “I couldn’t do it in front of that audience. They’re asking if you’ve got any slides you want to display?”

  “No, no slides,” said Yvonne nervously, the pressure building.

  “They’re saying they’ve got autocue if you want to give them the text.”

  “It’s handwritten I’m afraid,” she said opening the door, holding up her notes for the officer to see.

  “It’s just handwritten notes,” radioed the officer, smiling warmly to the nervous Yvonne.

  Yvonne made for the door but the officer instructed her to wait, listening to the small speaker in her ear.

  “We’re going to wait for the Mayor to finish, they don’t want you to cut in front of the cameras.”

  ***

  It had been over ten minutes since Giles Tremellan had given the DIS team inside the conference center the ‘go’. Still nothing had happened.

  “What’s happening in there?” he asked. They were getting down to the wire, the speeches had started.

  “We’re unable to ensure whether all data has been secured on site,” replied one of the agents quietly from the conference hall.

  “Confirm it and make it happen. You’re running out of time, the window is closing,” he said urgently.

  “It’s just handwritten notes,” was the next message Giles heard.

  Giles didn’t hesitate. “Make sure you get them and then we are a go, I repeat go, once notes are in hand.” />
  ***

  “So that’s your speech?” asked the officer, stepping towards Yvonne. “Anything juicy?” she asked, reaching out.

  Yvonne reluctantly let them go. When police officers asked for something, people reacted in two ways, trusting or not. Yvonne had been brought up, despite her background and black heritage, to trust the police.

  “I have them in hand,” said the officer into her mic.

  Yvonne hadn’t even felt the long stiletto blade enter her left side. It was only as the officer withdrew the thin blade and she felt the wetness that Yvonne realized she was in trouble. Her ability to scream was already disabled, the stiletto had entered her throat almost immediately, killing any sounds from her, other than a wheeze as her body gasped for air.

  The officer stepped back, placed the notes inside her stab proof vest and exited the restroom. Yvonne Winston was already dead, her mind just hadn’t quite cottoned onto the fact as her eyes searched desperately for help.

  “Exiting now,” advised the female officer and member of the DIS team. “Mission complete.”

  ***

  Giles Tremellan saw his officer cross the street towards his building as chaos broke out below. The Special Protection teams kicked into action, cars screeched into the grounds and the royals, followed by the Prime Minister, were rushed away at speed from the scene of a murder and major breach of security. The Mayor was last out, his security team looking desperately for a car for him to escape in. None was available. It was at times like that, that you discovered your true worth, thought Giles with a wry smile.

  “Piece of cake,” said the female DIS agent, handing over the notes and stripping out of the Metropolitan Police Force uniform they had procured for the operation.