The God Complex: A Thriller

by Murray Mcdonald

  “I thought you landed an hour ago?”

  “Hi, boss,” replied Cash.

  “Sorry, hi,” he said. “A very busy day!”

  “I thought you were both coming?”

  “Rigs is already here,” he said, pointing over Travis’ shoulder to a booth near the kitchen.

  “Jesus, how the…”

  Cash waved him over.

  Rigs took the seat next to Cash, leaning in and whispering, “Six, five now. The one out back needs a bit of assistance in the trash store.”

  “One of your rookies needs a bit of help in the trash store,” Cash told Travis.

  “I’m going back to my old detail,” said Travis. “Even if they do try to kill me, they won’t fuck it up!”

  “So what have you got?”

  “We were kind of hoping you had something for us,” said Cash.

  “I have nothing. We’ve been trying to trace the three bodies you left in Nevada. They don’t exist.”

  “The bodies from Machu Picchu?”

  “What bodies? They were stolen from the police morgue.”

  “What did you get from the pyramid guys?” asked Cash

  “Nothing.”

  “They must have said something,” argued Cash.

  “We didn’t get anything because we didn’t get them!”

  “They couldn’t move. The guy Rigs dealt with couldn’t walk and he was stuck four hundred feet up a pyramid!” exclaimed Cash, his voice rising.

  Travis motioned for him to calm down. “We had a team there thirty minutes after your call. They found nothing. What about the Senator? Did you get anything from him?”

  “Nothing as such, but there was an attempt on Antoine Noble’s life that we stopped.”

  “The same guys?”

  “God no, amateurs, nothing like the guys we were up against elsewhere.”

  “But you have to admit the timing is, to say the least, coincidental?”

  “I have to agree, but from what we pieced together it was an internal family thing, and a fairly botched one at that. It really was nothing like we’ve been dealing with.”

  “I got a call from the Senator before I came here. He told me he doesn’t need our protection anymore. He’d handle it himself,” said Travis, raising his eyebrow.

  “Interesting, but if he’s using the family security that met us at the airport in Geneva, he’s safer than you.”

  Rigs nodded agreement.

  “They missed an attempted assassination in their own backyard.”

  “An inside job. Rigs got lucky and caught sight of a gun being unpacked. Otherwise nobody would’ve stopped it. When the shit went down, they had us cold. They’re very good.”

  “The Senator’s been in the mix in a lot of this though,” said Travis thoughtfully.

  “I’ve thought the same but every time, I come back to one major flaw, they’ve been trying to kill him too.”

  “But not anymore?”

  “Or he doesn’t trust you or us to keep him safe?”

  Travis nodded. “Good point.”

  “So what do we do now? You guys are being hunted and we’re no closer to knowing by whom or—”

  Rigs stood up, holding back the waitress who had approached their table with a handset.

  “There’s a call for you,” she said, looking beyond Rigs to the table.

  “I didn’t tell anyone I was coming here,” said Travis looking around for his bodyguards. They were all still in position.

  “No, not you, him,” she said pointing at Cash.

  “I certainly didn’t tell anyone,” said Cash, reaching out for the handset, intrigued.

  “Hello?” said Cash.

  “Mr. Harris, you and your friend could have killed us both but didn’t. For that I feel I owe you this call.”

  “Joel?”

  “Yes, I wanted to let you know, your bounty has been lifted.”

  Cash looked around wildly, trying to spot anything, anyone that would hint as to how Joel knew where they were.

  “All of us?”

  “Yes, goodbye.” He hung up.

  “Who’s Joel?” asked Travis.

  “The guy from the pyramids,” said Cash.

  Travis rose abruptly from his seat, signaling his team to get him out.

  “No, no it’s okay,” said Cash. “He was calling to let me know we’re not a target anymore.”

  “And you trust him?” asked Travis, brushing past Rigs.

  “Strangely, yes.”

  “Well if that’s the case, twenty-four hours,” he said as his team ushered him out the door. “I need you back in twenty-four hours.”

  Cash nodded. He had a day to sort out his affairs. With everything else going on, it was as generous as Travis could have been.

  Twenty-four hours to sort things out. He had fifteen years to make up for, twenty-four hours wasn’t going to cut it.

  Chapter 63

  CDC

  Atlanta

  The results from Papua New Guinea and the extinction of the Iamult race was as baffling a week after the events as it had been at the time. The diseased river was nothing more than a cover story to stem the tidal wave of panic that would sweep the world should it be disclosed that they had no idea what had wiped out 350,000 people overnight.

  Dr. Paul Lockhart, Director of the CDC had called on every other specialist center he could think of but all had come back with the same conclusion. There was absolutely no reason why the people had died. He had barely slept since the incident. The only sleep he had gotten was due to the fact that, whatever it was, had not affected anyone else.

  It was during adversity that you found out who really cared. The work Atlas Noble was undertaking through its trust was astonishing. With no other explanation for such quick transmission, other than drinking water, the Noble Trust had rolled out a project to upgrade and improve every water treatment plant and resource across the Third World. It was a gargantuan effort that, if undertaken by governments, would have taken years to roll out. The Noble Trust had thousands of engineers working the day after the announcement. Filters were replaced and treatment plants fitted with remote devices that would allow the Trust to monitor quality and would enable them to alter the treatment to maintain quality when needed or in the worst case, switch it off entirely if the risk of disease were too great. In any event, the second there was a problem, they’d know about it.

  Every day, additional engineers were added to the task. The projections for completion were mind blowing. In two weeks over 70% of the Third World’s water supply would be fitted with the new controls. More than four billion people would be protected from future water-borne diseases. The final 30% would take significantly longer, as the more rural and less developed water plants were tackled. With almost a billion not having access to any water to begin with, it was a monumental effort but still, the Noble Trust had promised completion within the year. The costs involved were astronomical, but Atlas Noble had promised the money would be found to ensure the Trust delivered.

  “Dr. Lockhart, I have Bea Noble holding for you,” announced his secretary.

  He picked up the phone instantly.

  “Bea, my dear, how are you?”

  “Devastated, Paul, we have a major problem.”

  It was the call he was dreading.

  “Our hospital ship, as you know, was on its way back across the Pacific. They found a ship, Paul.”

  “A ship?” he asked confused.

  “All dead, the same…”

  “Where?” he asked urgently, grabbing a map of the area.

  “Halfway between Pohnpei and Saipan,” said Bea, her words breaking.

  Paul looked at his map. “That’s good, they’re in the middle of the ocean, that’s what, five hundred miles from either?”

  “They had cargo on board from both. We tried to contact both ports and sent planes,” she caught her breath.

  “God, no,” said Paul.

  “They’ve spotted another two
ships drifting aimlessly as well and we’ve got more planes up to see how far it has spread.”

  “We need to close the area down!” said Paul.

  “I agree, we can coordinate the effort within the zone. We’re probably the only people equipped to do it,” said Bea.

  “Yes of course, I’ll get you some naval assistance.”

  “Paul, our ship is built for this, it has the labs and the crew’s quarters and wards are biohazard protected. Your sailors would have to wear protection 24/7 and risk spreading whatever this may be.”

  “You get the area secured so no one gets in and out and we’ll do what we can in the controlled zone. Send us whoever you can to our ship to help. But let’s keep it from killing anyone else.”

  “Good call. I’ll get the team back out to you ASAP and get the Navy and whatever countries we need to set up an exclusion zone.”

  “Hold on, Paul, I’m getting an update from our Hawaii office. They’ve got a drifting ship a few hundred miles to their East but everything is fine there. So I’d say draw a line from Guam. We know they’re okay to Japan and from there across to Hawaii and down to Samoa and back. It’s a massive area but almost entirely water.”

  Paul looked at his map. There were few inhabited islands within the zone. It was 99.9% open ocean, so closing it was not going to upset more than a few shipping lines, who for the sake of their crews would stomach a few hundred extra miles onto their trip.

  “Paul, I think we’re better safe than sorry here. We’re only talking a few thousand lives, but if anyone gets out of here and this thing spreads…”

  “And you’re definitely happy for your guys to cover the area inside?”

  “Absolutely. We can reach every island within the zone with our planes. We can check and quarantine the unaffected and investigate the islands that have been. We’ve got the equipment and the staff…”

  “I’ll speak to the President right away and get the area closed down, nothing in and nothing out. We’ll quarantine all ships in the area until we know it’s safe to let them go.”

  “I’ll let our guys know your team’s on the way to assist. We’ll beat this, Paul.”

  “Thanks to your help we will,” he said, ending the call and immediately interrupting the President’s cabinet meeting.

  Bea replaced the handset and turned to the council who had listened to every word.

  “The area is shut down.”

  “Excellent,” said Antoine, looking at the map. The rough rectangle they had drawn across the Pacific Ocean had Wake Island right at its center.

  “I know it’s overkill but better safe than sorry.”

  Nobody gave a second’s thought for the tens of thousands of islanders and sailors that had perished only to be better safe than sorry.

  Chapter 64

  The flight back to Montana was quiet. Sophie didn’t stir from her sleep even during takeoff. It was not until they came in to land that she finally woke up, joining Cash and Rigs in the lounge of the aircraft.

  “How did it go?”

  “Okay,” said Cash, telling her about the call from Joel.

  “Just okay?” she asked. “Surely that’s great news?”

  Cash excused himself to use the restroom.

  Rigs looked at her and shook his head in despair.

  “What?” she asked.

  He looked away and down to the land below. “You don’t need him to protect you anymore,” he said quietly.

  By the time Cash returned, they had landed and the door had opened. Kyle rushed on board, trailing Bill behind him.

  “Whoa!” said Kyle walking through the Senator’s luxurious plane. “This is seriously cool!”

  “And seriously late for getting back to its owner,” said the captain with a smile. “I’m sorry, but we really need to get going.”

  “Thank you,” said Cash, guiding everyone off the plane.

  Cash spent the evening with Kyle. The autographs from the band had rewarded him a few hours of undivided attention. Rigs spent the evening with Bill; it would probably be some time before they had the chance to sit together in silence again. Sophie spent the evening with her mother, the two reminiscing and crying for the Chief. It was a quiet, poignant end to a crazy and traumatic week.

  The next morning could not have been more different. Bags and clothes were being thrown around. The CIA jet had arrived early, at 6:00 a.m., to collect them and take Cash and Rigs back to Washington and the Kramers to wherever they wished to be taken, compliments of Travis Davies.

  Rigs joined the group as they were boarding the jeep for the short run down to the airfield. Cash was helping Kyle load the bags while Sophie and Mrs. Kramer took a seat.

  “A bit cramped?” said Kyle, boarding the CIA’s Gulfstream jet.

  “How spoiled are you?” said Cash, pushing him onboard and into one of the sixteen business loungers.

  Sophie spread her papers across the small table at the rear of the jet and pored over them, she had to be missing something.

  “Cash,” she called. Rigs looked around. She had been ignoring Cash since Rigs had spoken to her on their arrival the previous night. “There’s something I’m missing,” she said, laying the papers in order for him.

  He looked over them. “Nothing I can see,” he said. “You’ve even got your decimals in the right place.”

  “But what if we were right?”

  “The guardians have called off their attack dogs, maybe we were right and they simply overreacted.”

  “Do you believe that?”

  “No.”

  “Neither do I. Your father found something and we just need to find what it was.”

  “Do you have to go back to England?” he asked.

  Rigs sat up. Thank God, he thought, at last Cash was going to do something.

  “Yes, Kyle’s missed too much school already. But I’ll keep working on it, I’ll have some of the brightest young minds in the world to help me at the university.”

  “And you’ll call me if you do?”

  “I’ll call you first!” she said. “Now come on, one more hour, keep looking, there’s something your father did that we’re not seeing!”

  An hour later, they touched down at Dulles. Rigs allowed them all a quick hug of himself, something Cash made them realize was a great honor. Cash gave them all a huge hug along with a quick kiss on the cheek for both Mrs. Kramer and Sophie, and promised to call them soon.

  As they waved the plane off, Rigs couldn’t hold his tongue any longer. Something which he had usually not the least bit trouble doing.

  “You just let her go? You’ve been drooling over her for a week, a hug, peck on the cheek, ‘I’ll call you’, that’s it?”

  “Playing it cool,” smiled Cash.

  “So cool you’ll never see her again?”

  “Cool in front of Kyle,” he winked.

  “You didn’t?” he asked. “When?”

  “Last night I got a visit in my room and—”

  A car squealed to a stop at their feet. “Get in!” ordered Travis from the back seat. “The shit’s hit the fan in the Middle East, the Israelis are claiming the Iranians have still got nukes!”

  Chapter 65

  From the moment he had picked them up, they had hardly had a moment to think. Israel was threatening to bring down the entire disarmament agreement unless they were given a rock solid guarantee that they would not face a world where Iran were the only nuclear power. Iran, who had only recently suffered the humiliation of the devastating Israeli bombings were outraged and in no way ready to offer Israel anything. When the Russian Federation stepped in as an intermediate, Iran agreed to talks, assisted by a significant amount of pressure from Atlas Noble.

  The disarmament process was almost complete. The Israeli concern had put a halt to the final batch, which had put all of the nuclear powers on edge. A final batch of less than three hundred warheads awaited destruction. However, Israeli intelligence suggesting that Iran had retained its secret ars
enal in Chalus stood in the way.

  After a week of negotiations in Moscow failed to achieve agreement, the Israelis threatened to pull out of the disarmament process entirely, going as far as sending a detachment of commandoes to retain possession of its arsenal, which was being held under UN security within the Israeli territory while the decommissioning process took place. A similar situation existed across all of the nuclear states. The UN was ensuring the process went without a hitch. Iran had changed all of that.

  After a call from an irate President Mitchell, Travis Davies pulled Cash and Rigs into his office. “Pack a bag, we’re going to Beirut.”

  “Beirut?” asked Cash.

  “Back door channels, I’m meeting with my Iranian counterpart.”

  “You know the boss of the MISIRI?”

  “No but, surprise, surprise, some Brit ‘went to uni with the chap’,” he said in his best posh English accent. “The Nobles have been throwing some serious weight about and I mean serious weight to make things happen and this is it.”

  “So what’s the plan?”

  “I get the okay for you two to take a couple of our weapons experts on a quiet tour of Chalus, check they did bomb the living shit out of it, and placate the Israelis. Easy.”

  Rigs gave a thumbs up from the back of the office, where he waited near the door. It sounded good to him.

  “Well if Rigs agrees, must be good,” said Travis. “Let’s go!”

  Taking the CIA boss into the heart of one of the world’s terrorist hubs was no small task. Although great improvements had been made in what used to be known as the Paris of the East, Beirut was still a boiling pot of tensions between many groups, not helped by a significant influx of Syrians following the Syrian civil war. Travis Davies was taking an enormous personal risk and putting a huge amount of faith in the British old-boy network.

  Their flight touched down in darkness and a twenty-man CIA team met them, as agreed by the Lebanese authorities, on the runway. From there, it was a circuitous and clever misdirection of numerous identical blacked out SUVs chopping and changing with each other before driving off in three separate directions. Almost ninety minutes after landing, Cash and Rigs snuck out of the CIA aircraft, parked in a secure hangar with Travis Davies and climbed into a beat up Toyota sedan.