“Swerve!” John instructed in a loud voice which Kate could barely hear. “We’re giving them an easy target!”
Kate could feel herself begin to panic as she turned the wheel back and forth at regular intervals. They wouldn’t be able to shake them off. There was nowhere in the immediate area where they could drive through obstacles to try and lose them. The prospect of escaping seemed remote. The terrain provided no opportunity for easy escape. Here was nothing but an endless terrain stretching onward forever. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.
Frantically searching the edges of her vision for one sign of hope, one possible place they could disappear, Kate suddenly noticed a change in the color of the horizon to their distant left from stark, pale blue to a shadowy brown. At the same moment, a strong blast of hot wind grazed her cheek.
“Look!” She pointed toward the far-off outline of the sand-encrusted clay cliffs and the dark, billowing wall rising above them. Another blast of heated air whipped across the speeding 4x4, almost drowning out Ahmed’s cry of alarm.
“It is a sandstorm! We must find shelter!”
“There is no shelter!” Kate hollered over the cacophony of roaring trucks, rushing wind, and tangy clanks of more bullets being fired from behind.
“Try to outrun it,” John called from the back, staring at the impenetrable barrier of dust and sand storming across the desert plain. “Keep driving parallel to it. Maybe we can get around.”
Kate rammed the gas pedal almost through the floor and abandoned her ineffectual swerving maneuvers. They were on a straight course now, flying to get out of range of the oncoming storm. In chancing a glance into the rearview mirror, Kate’s already pounding heart jumped into overtime as the second military truck, which she thought they had lost, slipped back into the pursuit and began firing shots which went whizzing above their heads.
Suddenly, Ahmed yelled out and clutched a side of his face, a few drops of blood trickling down his cheek.
“Let me see!” John reached for Ahmed’s hand.
“Just a scratch, just a scratch,” insisted Ahmed, leaning away. “No worry.”
But Kate did worry. To their left, the storm was advancing towards them. Only a few miles away and closing fast; its merciless winds already pelting them with coarse sand and small, sharp rocks. To their rear, the inexhaustible trucks seemed to be gaining, and the soldiers’ aim improving. It would only take one shot to a tire to shift their status of speeding ducks down to the level of sitting ducks. And that was a risk she was not willing to take. Biting down on her lip, Kate made a split-second decision and pulled the steering wheel hard to the left, straight toward the oncoming avalanche of dust.
“No, you mustn’t!” Ahmed cried in warning.
“What are you doing!” shouted John.
Kate closed her ears to the protests of her passengers and instead watched the reaction of the vehicles behind them. The turn she made had been sharp, and the bulky trucks weren’t able to make it so easily. She had bought them a few moments, at least. “But at what price,” she muttered to herself.
Too late to think about it now.
“Cover your faces!” she ordered, fumbling to pull her own kerchief from her neck up around her mouth and nose. She would be driving blind, unable to see anything within the screen of flying dust. After taking a deep breath and throwing out a hopeful prayer of survival to anyone who might be listening, Kate squeezed her eyes shut and plunged the truck into the darkened maw of the swirling storm.
Chapter 16
The busy London traffic was in its full morning force as James Mode was on his way to work. Though he typically thought himself a good driver, he couldn’t help but feel glad that he didn’t have to be responsible for navigating the currently congested streets. One of the perks of his new position at Global Economic Dynamics was having a hired car available for all work-related transportation. Usually, James enjoyed the 35-minute ride to the office. It was a quiet time. The silent, passing collage of historic and modern buildings provided the perfect backdrop for reveling in deep thought and reflection. He and his family had been here for six months now, living a life that so many people in the world only dreamed about. His wife, Sarah, had gotten a job at the British Museum as an artifact researcher—a dream job for which she had had all the credentials for since before they were married but never the opportunity to use them to their full potential, until now. It thrilled James to come home at night and watch his wife’s eyes light up as she talked about her day examining some interesting artifact or deciphering lines of ancient writing. Harnessing her obvious enthusiasm and talents, her new boss had even (as she put it) “let her loose” in the archival vault a couple of times where she spent the day “living in the secrets of the past.”
And Tolu, their precious daughter, was enrolled in the finest private school in the district. She had already made several friends and was doing exceptionally well in her classes, especially in Computers. Just like her dad, James thought with an inward smile. His first trade, so to speak, had been in computers—though not in a way he could take pride in now. As a teen, he had joined a “brotherhood” of underground computer hackers and scammers working from a local base near his village. His first job had been to correspond with anyone who replied to the blast of “opportunistic emails” which they sent out, smoothing them out of their credit card or bank information in exchange for “a large sum of money that needed a good caretaker because his government wouldn’t let him keep it.” After successfully manipulating several victims to share their financial info with the ring, another level of trust was gained, and some of the members started teaching him the basics of computer language and coding. Even as a young man, James was incredibly smart with numbers and formulas. But after a few years, James’ life changed when he became a Christian and had a change of heart and realized that hacking into computers illegally was wrong. So, he decided to pursue obtaining a good education, and acquired a strong drive to help his community instead of just himself. Since he finished primary school with good grades, James began reaching out and applying for international student scholarships. It took handfuls of applications and several disappointments before the University of Cambridge stepped up to the plate and accepted him into its School of Computer Science and Technology. But once there, his attention was turned from computer formulas to economic ones, and James’ passion and genius for calculating was lifted to whole new heights.
Now, it seemed that he had come full circle, back to where it all began—though London had changed since James last set foot there almost 15 years ago. It was busier, faster—with an aura of restlessness permeating the people and buildings. Careening toward the futuristic horizon which was fast approaching; even his family’s new home seemed to be on the very edge of the technological evolution. Lights came on by simply passing into a room; appliances and electronics operated by voice instruction; an alarm and security camera system could be monitored and controlled by the touch of a button on his phone. Even though James was used to working with advanced technology and its capabilities, in his home it still felt strange. Like foreign ground for humanity. It took thousands of years for mankind to invent computers; and now, in the minute leap of less than a single generation, they had become the foundation on which life and society were built. Though this level of technology was useful and, albeit, exciting, some inner sense, some undercurrent of logic running deep in James kept warning him that the harmony between man and his machines would not last indefinitely.
But perhaps, he granted, this extreme awe with which he regarded the technological functions in his home stemmed more from the roots of his upbringing than in anything inherent in the technology itself. He had been born to a poverty-stricken family. Obtaining daily necessities had been a struggle and was never in the quantity needed to satisfy. Life had been very hard, and now the ease of walking into his kitchen and simply telling the faucet to release a seemingly endless stream of clean cold water, though amazing, felt somewhat out o
f place - too easy and too mocking. It seemed to be mocking all those times he had to scrounge for something clean to drink because the water in his tiny childhood home was often polluted; mocking all those who even in this day and age still needed help. And instead of getting it, they are given the garbage, the dregs of this fast-paced technological society. It didn’t make sense to James that technological innovations claiming to change the world were experienced only in the so-called First World. Shouldn’t the entire world be brought up to an equal level playing field before moving onward? Shouldn’t every citizen of the globe have a decent home before spending millions on habitation spaces for A.I. robots or testing labs for Mars?
Along with the hired driver, it was also James’ conviction to help equalize the world in this way that drove him to work each morning. It was the reason he had left his country and people to accept this new job offered by GED. (That, and the fact that the job provided a very good salary and benefits to support this lifestyle and meet all the needs of his family.)
Admittedly, even after his short time here, he still didn’t know much about the huge corporation except that their main goal was similar to his: end all wars, banish poverty, and create a world in which everyone could enjoy peace and prosperity.
Many times, this promise had come from various governments and organizations; but none had ever translated into action. But GED was different. Instead of being intimidated by international red-tape, the company worked with each country’s government to assess their needs and develop plans involving a wide array of allied and subsidiary corporations to provide employment, harness resources, and address the primary needs of the citizens such as healthcare and education. It was a win-win all around, and James was proud to be a part of it.
“Here we are, Sir,” the driver announced courteously as he pulled the car up by the curb in front of a towering skyscraper.
“Thanks, Bryson. I’ll let myself out.”
“Very good, Sir.”
James stepped from the sleek, black Mercedes and strode across the clean, concrete walk to the revolving door and slipped in. The wide foyer, though impeccably decorated, gave out its usual morning salutation comprising the echoing chorus of murmuring voices and clicking heels. Without meeting anyone’s eye, James crossed the lobby and caught an elevator up to his floor.
After dropping off his coat and briefcase at his desk, he adjusted his tie and headed down the hallway of plush, roomy offices. Before leaving work yesterday, he’d received a memo from the GED London branch’s top brass, Derek Smith, requesting a meeting with him first thing this morning. James wasn’t sure what the meeting could be about, and felt a little apprehensive as he walked to the boss’s office suite. By the time he reached the reception area, he had adjusted his tie several times and cleared his throat a few more—behaviors that perplexed him since James was no stranger to meeting with project managers, heads of companies, and even government representatives.
The space he entered was both professional and comfortable. A double-sided row of thick, black leather reception chairs were arranged in a neat line with dark mahogany tables set at the ends. Against one wall was a small coffee bar with a stainless steel espresso machine as well as a tiered platter arrangement holding muffins and fruit. Mounted on the wall above the bar, a TV was colorfully flashing a commercial slogan; then, abruptly, it cut back to the news program: James casually listened to the anchorwoman as he helped himself to some strawberries:
“Late last night we received word that Israeli bombers targeted and destroyed a complex just over the Syrian border which, according to Israeli authorities, was to ‘neutralize a confirmed threat.’ Currently, the Syrian government denies that the rebel militia ISIS were positioned anywhere near the complex and is demanding proof of the reason behind the attack.
On Israel’s other front, the Prime Minister has again turned down a two-state solution presented by the United Nations. The Prime Minister was quoted as saying, ‘To make a compromise with what the Palestinians ultimately want is to approve of the extinction of Israel as a nation.’
And following up on the deadly epidemic outbreak in South America, the newly discovered Rigula Virus continues to ravage across the continent, bringing death toll up to over 10,000 in just a few short weeks. In an unprecedented move, governments around the globe have begun suspending flights to and from South America, with the exception of those carrying medical professionals and certified humanitarian aid workers. The president of the World Health Organization has come out with a statement saying that, ‘The danger of this virus is that we have no idea what it is and how it spreads. Until these answers are discovered and a cure can be found, efforts must be made to contain the disease as much as possible.’”
“Can I help you, Sir?” A round-faced young woman spoke to James from behind a broad chrome desk against the adjacent wall.
“Yes.” James tore his eyes from the TV. “Sorry. I’m James Mode. Here to see—”
“You can go in,” the Secretary prompted eagerly. “He’s expecting you.”
James gave a curt nod of thanks and walked to the pair of tall, frosted glass doors to her right. The large bronze handle turned down easily and silently in his hand. He pushed open the door and stepped inside.
Chapter 17
James’ shoes sank into the thick, creamy carpet of Derek Smith’s office. The faint, clean smell of wood and leather was present in the air. Derek quickly turned his head of neatly cropped salt-and-pepper hair to see who had entered then turned back to the eight large television screens hanging upon the wall behind his desk. James saw that seven of the screens were displaying various still and dignified faces—making the entire wall look like a collection of distasteful but life-like portraits. On the left topmost screen, a bespectacled middle-aged woman with a tight black bun and large red lips was speaking with a heavy French accent.
With a loud but considerate voice, Derek interrupted her speech. “I understand your concern, Marie. We can talk more about it later. My 9 o’clock just walked in so that will do for now. Ta!” He quickly clicked a button on a small remote he held. Each of the faces on the screens was immediately replaced by the waving image of their individual country’s flag. Then, he stood and offered a warm hand of welcome. “James! Nice to see you again. I trust you’ve been finding GED up to your standards so far?”
James accepted the hand of the man before him. Though it had been several months since they last met, James remembered Derek’s tight-grip handshake, no doubt a function of the thickset chest and arms, which seemed slightly disproportionate to the rest of his body.
“Yes, Mr. Smith,” James answered.
“Please, call me Derek.”
“Thanks, Derek. Everything has been great.”
“And your family? Everyone settling in nicely?”
“Oh, yes. They’re adjusting into London-life nicely. My wife landed a great job at the British Museum and my daughter loves her new school. I’ll have to admit, though, that it might take me a little bit longer to fully acclimatize. It seems Europe has changed quite a bit since I was last here.”
Derek nodded his head in agreement. “It has, James. It has. And the changes keep on coming. Say, fancy a walk? My favorite beverage machine is on the other side of this floor.”
James allowed Derek to usher him out of the grand office and they set off down the hallway.
“So, how do you like my ‘Call Wall’?” Derek gestured with his left thumb back toward his office suite. “I try and chat with all our E.U. reps every morning. Nothing keeps people on their task like a bit of face time; know what I mean? And it’s never been easier than it is right now. Think about it. Centuries of this earth’s history have been spent trying to establish a unified world. And here we are, within a matter of, what?...fifty years… since the Internet ball got rolling. We are unified through global communication. Why, every year GED communicates with—?”
“About half a billion people around the world,” James offe
red.
“You’ve done your homework, I can see.” Derek gave him a complimentary smile. “So I’m sure you also know that we are involved in forty-six percent of the world’s trade.”
“But not much here lately due to the Brexit complications,” James added.
A short chuckle burst from Derek as they stepped onto a glassed-in balcony overlooking the awe-inspiring cityscape. Bright green jungle plants grew tall in the corners—soaking up the amplified heat of the slivers of sunshine streaming through the windows. Several plush chairs and sofas were scattered about dark wood tables filled with glossy magazines and puzzle books. The space was empty now—everyone busy with their morning agendas. But James supposed that, come break time, the room would become quite populated. Derek bee-lined to a row of impressive vending machines, made his selection, and waited as steaming light-brown liquid filled a reinforced paper cup.
“Well.” He turned halfway toward James and continued the conversation as if there had been no lapse. “Between you and me, the boss believes that Britain will be changing her mind here in the near future. That’s one reason he keeps this branch open. Milk?”
“Yes, please.”
Derek pushed a button on the machine and they both watched as a short stream of frothy milk was dispensed. Then, he handed the full cup of tea and milk to James while a second cup was being filled.
“Thank you. Well, I hope Britain does reconsider. I like it here and wouldn’t mind putting down some roots.”
“Well, I think you’re going to like it here a whole lot more in a minute. Sit down, James.” Derek gestured toward a coffee-colored couch facing the window-framed skyline. After both men had made themselves comfortable and taken a preliminary sip of hot breakfast tea, the manager continued.
“A new assignment has come down the pike from headquarters; and I believe that you’re the man for the job.”
The Snare Page 6
