Diamond Rain: Adventure Science Fiction Mossad Thriller (The Spy Stories and Tales of Intrigue Series Book 2)

by Michael James Gallagher

  Lau clicked and the video started up again. This time the focus was on two young men as they stood outside their simple homes. The invisible drones were relaying words in their dialect, words which had a haunting, insistent quality. The message said “woman” backwards. The preprogrammed response was obvious.

  Lau smiled and indicated the screen.

  “This man is called Jiang. His friend is called Shi. Watch what happens to them.”

  The first target of the drone’s initiator word stumbled. It was clear that he was affected. Thomas and Sue Ann watched as he searched his backyard for something. He started digging frantically with his bare hands until he uncovered a makeshift knapsack. He put it on his back and started walking. Though he looked sure of his moves as he opened the gate in front of his house, he felt strange and Sue Ann could see his indecision when his neighbor, Shi, came into view with a knapsack exactly like Jiang’s. With only a nod, they both started walking. The silver reflection of a drone passing over them, visible to the video feed but not to the men, left behind a trail of grayish mist that descended on them. As the fog passed over, their steps quickened as if they were somehow emboldened.

  Thomas knew how the nano fog felt. Thousands upon thousands of them feeling the power of the suits, he thought. He shuddered. His conviction to find and exploit any weakness in the Chinese technology was growing by the minute. Cold drops of sweat ran down his back as he watched the empowering effects of the fog on the two young men in the video.

  Lau stopped the video once again. He turned to his guests and invited them to comment. When they did not respond, he continued.

  “Now you will witness the miracle of telepathy. Bear in mind that I am showing you but two examples of Chinese progress. The same occurred with millions of men all over China that night.” Lau clicked on his remote. He grinned as English subtitles accompanied the speech of the Jiang and Shi.

  Shi stood staring at his hands in the moonlight. Jiang’s laughter burst into the night and his words appeared in English at the bottom of the screen.

  “Shi, my old friend and neighbor, you should not wonder how those hands will feel on the breasts of the women we will soon find.”

  “What are you talking about? How do you know my thoughts?” asked Shi.

  “She smells sweet, like fresh petals of Jasmine, does she not?”

  Shi stopped and looked at his friend and light shone in his eyes too. The suit had just permitted him to see into his friends thoughts. Jiang took control of the situation.

  “Now we walk to find the others,” he said, in a commanding tone.

  Thomas noticed that Shi followed as if the phrase uttered by Jiang triggered a programmed response in Shi. Some are leaders. Some followers, thought Thomas. That’s significant. I might be able to use that information.

  When Jiang and Shi approached their village, both of them covered their ears. The young men of the village were running amok, bumping into each other and looking distraught. Jiang recovered first just after a drone passed over the central square of their village. He did not speak but rather focused all of his attention and his fellow ‘walkers’ snapped to attention. They picked up their knapsacks and started marching out of town.

  Thomas could imagine the onslaught of hundreds, no thousands of uncontrolled inner voices. These young men, he thought, must have believed they were going mad. Yet somehow Jiang managed to get control of them in a few seconds after the drone replenished the fog. That’s it! Replenishing is the key to the Chinese fog’s weakness. Thomas sensed their collective sense of purpose. He turned his attention back to the screen.

  “Please close communication,” Shi was saying to Jiang.

  Jiang nodded. They had learned the first lesson of their new collective being: how to silence the throng without cutting themselves off from the power of unity. They walked on as new drones replaced the old ones overhead, always seeding the ‘walkers’ with the energy of collectivity. The second long march had begun.

  Lau concluded the recording and handed Sue Ann a memory key which he said contained the video.

  “This interview is over, but rest assured, we will be in touch. Show the world our achievements, Miss Sue Ann. Tell everyone what awaits.” He ushered them out of the room.

  Lau walked behind them, confident that he had misled them into believing there was a weakness in the technology. He rubbed his hands together as he thought of the next generation Quantum computer that was being completed to his design. Very soon we move to Phase Two, he thought. Today, replenishment was an issue. Tomorrow, it will be far less significant. He smiled again as his guests entered the elevator.

  Qatar Falls

  Shortly after takeoff, the pilot of Colonel Lau’s Gulfstream announced a change in the proposed flight plan to his two passengers.

  “Your original destination has been altered. We are flying to a private airport in Qatar where transportation will await you. Colonel Lau suggests you will be interested in covering an unfolding story. Thank you.”

  “He’s taking teacher’s pet a bit far, isn’t he?” chided Thomas.

  “I guess the stories’re worth it, but it’s a bit creepy, eh?” said Sue Ann. Inside she asked herself why she was drawn to Lau.

  When they arrived, a conventional helicopter stood waiting on the tarmac, courtesy of the Colonel.

  The helicopter flew over a U-shaped docking structure just off the Qatar Flour Mills. Two medium-size cruise ships were docked at a beautified section of Doha’s Port Facility.

  “I don’t see any news here. Just some tourists arriving in Qatar,” said Sue Ann as they circled over the thousands of people getting off the ships.

  Thomas pointed his camera lens and shook his head. He spoke while looking through the viewfinder. “They’re all Chinese and there’re too many people on the dockside for just two cruise ships. They must’ve been packed in like sardines.”

  Sue Ann addressed the pilot.

  “Put us down over there on top of one of the buildings across the harbour and turn off the engine when we land,” she said.

  “My orders are to keep you secure. I can’t stop the engines,” replied the pilot.

  “Then circle some distance from us so we can get some video without your engine noise. You can keep us in full view.”

  “Roger that.”

  Sue Ann and Thomas couldn’t help but notice the festive atmosphere on the docks and all around the Doha Port Facility. People were milling about, thousands of people. Men women and children, all oriental, presumably Chinese, were disembarking in an orderly manner to the blasting sound of pop music piped over loud speakers on the decks of the two cruise ships. Damaged signs in Chinese and English about China’s Year of Marine Tourism still proclaimed “renao” or festivity from the bulwarks of the upper decks.

  At first, all looked crowded but normal. Thousands of individuals streamed off the ships. The whole recently improved docking area contained people mingling, laughing, or just standing in place. All of this was happening less than a 15 minute walk from the ‘Emiri Diwan’, or the Emir’s Palace. Lines of Mercedes taxis stretched from the dockside all the way to Al Corniche Street. Some taxi drivers, anxious for a fare, were not so gently coaxing the newly arrived Chinese tourists into transportation. The Chinese, for their part, politely resisted and remained beside the taxis.

  “Let me see the camera with the telephoto lens, Thomas,” Sue Ann said. There was an insistent note to her voice.

  “Here,” said Thomas. Sue Ann peered into the viewfinder, then lifted her head.

  “Have you noticed?” she asked. “They have the same expression as the guys in Samarkand and at Lake Khanka. It’s some kind of peaceful invasion, but why here?”

  “I’m getting great footage and we got another scoop, thanks to your friend Colonel Lau.”

  “He’s not my friend.”

  “C’mon. Did ya see the way he looked at you. He was eating you up with his eyes.”

  “Fuck you. We got the stor
y because we do the best coverage of this issue in the world.”

  “I hear ya. But I’m not blind.”

  “You’re insufferable, but it stinks, doesn’t it?” Sue Ann said a little unconvincingly to Thomas' ear.

  “Who cares. Get the story. What the-”

  At that moment, several Blackhawk military helicopters started circling.

  “Get this, Thomas,” Sue Ann shouted above the noise. Loudspeakers from the military helicopters ordered the journalists’ transportation to leave the area. Sue Ann and Thomas remained on the Doha Flour Mills roof. They lay prone. Thomas panned his camera across the unfolding scenario. The six helicopters landed at strategic points around the passive throng of Chinese tourists and thirty-six Special Forces officers established a perimeter around the tourists, effectively blocking the only exit to the city proper from the industrial dockside. Snipers took positions on the highest buildings.

  “I can’t believe they’re letting us film this,” said Thomas.

  “Save some film and battery time. It’s a developing story. Is your phone working any better than mine?”

  Thomas checked.

  “No, mine’s dead too.”

  “Damn it. We need a live feed, yesterday.”

  More and more tourists got off the ships, forcing the Special Forces to give way a little as the Chinese nearest them simply walked up to the soldiers in large numbers and the press of the smiling crowd obliged them to move.

  “There’s no luggage. They’re just walking slowly towards the city. It’s the same thing again,” said Sue Ann.

  “Eerie, eh?”

  “You said it.”

  At 10 pm local time, the Qatari Special Forces widened their perimeter substantially, allowing the Chinese tourists access to MIA Park, the sea and the Corniche Promenade. The Emir’s Palace, the seat of power in Qatar, was just minutes from them. A text message on Sue Ann’s Blackberry beeped. She took her phone out and crossed herself.

  “Thank you God. It’s Al Jazeera. Somehow they got through the electronic block on the phones. Thomas, take my phone and get us a live feed to your Internet camera.”

  “I’m filming now.”

  “Give me the camera and get us that feed.”

  “I’m on it.”

  Sue Ann watched as Qatari regular soldiers, arriving by truckloads, took positions some distance behind the Special Forces. “We’re live,” said Thomas. “Shut down that camera and take this mike.” He raised his hands and counted off with his fingers. “Three, two, one-”

  “This is Sue Ann Lee, live from the dockside in Qatar, where events suggest that a repeat of actions at Lake Khanka and Samarkand are unfolding in front of us.”

  Thomas was filming Sue Ann and the dock area out to sea. His face grew ashen. Sue Ann turned to see a familiar cloud forming over the Persian Gulf. It was advancing fast. As Thomas filmed, Sue Ann lifted her microphone and spoke: “It’s happening again.” She pointed out over the Gulf at the grayish cloud as it changed in hue. “It looks like a sandstorm, towering above us as it approaches, but sandstorms don’t come from the ocean.”

  At ten thirty-two pm, the tourists sat down in unison. The precise timing of their action was amazing to behold. The cloud swelled in the direction the Special Forces soldiers. Holding their ground, they scrunched up their shoulders and covered their faces with sandstorm masks. These protective cloth visors had been specially made to allow them to fight even during a storm. They were putting their faith in purely mechanical technology, and it was about to prove inadequate. The cloud enveloped them.

  “I'm not sure what that noise is,” Sue Ann reported into the microphone as she strained to look through the darkness covering the Special Forces’ soldiers. “Wait. It’s the sound of metal hitting the ground and something else too. Voices? I’m not sure what that noise is. Lord no. It's the sound of voices – of men crying out in anguished defeat.”

  Just as quickly as it arrived, the cloud lifted and returned to hover over the Persian Gulf. Sue Ann took a deep breath. Her tone was incredulous.

  “They all dropped their weapons,” she said. “The Special Forces dropped their weapons. Wait. What’re they doing? I don’t believe it. They’re forming up lines and leaving the scene.” She muted the microphone for a moment. “Thomas, get a close up.”

  Thomas panned the confused looking soldiers. Most of them had tears streaming down their cheeks. All were mumbling uncontrollably.

  Sue Ann continued her broadcast in a hushed tone.

  “Look,” she said. “The tourists are getting up. All the soldiers are making way for them. It’s like the parting of the Red Sea in biblical times.”

  At that moment, the communications channel closed and the live feed stopped.

  ****

  Eight hours later world news networks would report the handover of power from the Qatari Royal Family to a recently promoted Chinese General named Lau, as General Chou wished to remain in the background. The accompanying photo shoot displayed the King shaking hands with the new ruler. Since all transport into Qatar was temporarily halted, Sue Ann and Thomas had an exclusive interview with General Lau. In the interview, the General lauded Chinese efforts to spread oil resources more evenly over the world when he announced the legal transfer of Qatari oil and infrastructure to Chinese interests. The world looked on aghast. NATO leaders denounced the annexation of Qatar by China. China denied annexing the country and said the King of Qatar had acted entirely of his own volition, stating, with an unexplainable smile, that China would be better able to administer Qatari oil assets in an equitable manner.

  Sitting in his hotel room that night, Thomas thought: It’s so much responsibility. How can I stop this madness? I’m only one person. But I have to try. I can’t forget the way Kefira made me feel. Together we could do something about these marauders. If I can free her, it’ll mean a new start for us and for the world.

  Thomas’ live video of Sue Ann doing the play-by-play report of the Qatar invasion went viral on YouTube and their observations were tweeted worldwide, making the rising pair of journalists household names. To the surprise of the rest of the world, the situation in Qatar calmed down as General Lau governed without interfering with customary practice in the small island nation. Since it would take some time to redirect cash flows from oil production to China, life appeared unchanged after the takeover.

  ****

  Sue Ann and Thomas sat in Sue Ann’s opulent, smart technology suite at The Torch, in Doha. They were watching reruns of their coverage.

  “That’s your best work ever, Sue Ann. The way you break up an icy cold calculated delivery with controlled emotional outbursts blows me away.”

  Sue Ann’s Blackberry played a distinctive ringtone which disturbed their downtime.

  “Damn, it’s my editor. I have to take it.”

  “Right,” Thomas said. “I guess work never stops.”

  Sue Ann shrugged. She pressed the answer button.

  “Hello Paul," she said, using his first name. He did not appear to notice, or if he did, he didn’t care.

  “If you can believe it, your ‘Berry’ was intercepted by some kind of security system before I could get through,” said Paul.

  “News to me. What kind of security was that?”

  “Not sure. I had to press ‘1’ to speak to you, press ‘2’ for hotel reception, some damned menu. I hope you know I’m not footing the bill if you are really staying at The Torch?”

  “Relax. It’s compliments of the new regime. I’m told all visiting journalists get the same treatment.”

  “Gimme a break, Sue Ann. I know you’re a big star now, but we both know you’re the only journalist allowed to release the story. If the story wasn’t so big I’d have to let you go for conflict of interest. Did you ever read your contract? You’re not allowed to accept-”

  “I get it, Paul. It’s a bit hard to hear you right now,” replied Sue Ann, using a code phrase they shared for such circumstances. She had just conf
irmed that the new regime was listening in on all of her communications. “There, that’s better. So, I’ve got good news and bad news.”

  “Hit me with the bad first.”

  “I need an evening dress to attend a formal meeting with the new leader tomorrow.”

  “That’s not so bad. Dress the part, but don’t go apeshit with the gold lamé and sequins and then bill me. Now what’s the good?”

  “Another scoop, of course.”

  “Really.” He sounded unconvinced. “What is it this time?”

  “Apparently they’re going to let me interview one of the Special Forces commandos.”

  “Sounds like a plant, but get it anyway. Gotta go. Soon.”

  The phone disconnected, but not until there was a succession of chirping noises like a dozen recording devices all shutting down at the same time.

  Louis 14 Revisited

  The next morning a stretch white Mercedes was waiting for Sue Ann at the front of the hotel. At the last minute, Thomas’ transportation had been changed to a Land Rover, ostensibly because he had a lot of equipment which needed special handling. Sue Ann’s car made its way to the Al Udeid Air Base just west of Doha and Thomas followed. As US forces had been sent home, the regional headquarters of US Central Command (CENTCOM), which dominated the base, lay abandoned. After passing through a cursory security check, Sue Ann’s transport swept towards a small hangar near the back of the complex.

  As she left the checkpoint, she looked over her shoulder just in time to see the entrance guards pull Thomas out of his Land Rover. They commenced upon the most comprehensive security check of his person and his vehicle that could be imagined. It would last for an hour. I knew it was too good to be true, she thought.

  “Driver, stop right now. I need my cameraman to make the story complete.” Sue Ann was shouting.

  Watching from a video display, Lau congratulated himself. That pesky cameraman’s out of the picture now.