Chapter 16
Brooklyn, New York City, May 28 last year
Peri Carlton's cell phone rang. She looked at the time - half past three in the morning - and the number - 'unknown'. She muttered a curse and ignored it. It rang again. And again. She ripped off the back and pulled the battery. "Leave a fucking message," she growled, and tried to get back to sleep.
The door buzzer went off. She muttered a curse and ignored it. But whoever was down there was persistent, and kept buzzing. It was intensely annoying. Peri strode across to the intercom by her apartment's door and her hand slapped the 'talk' button. "What?"
"Miss Carlton, we need to come up." The voice was respectful, and Scottish, and familiar.
"Ewan?" She demanded incredulously. "What. The. Fuck."
"Sorry, Peri," he replied. "Before you say it, yes, I know what time it is. But we need to come in."
"Get lost!" she snapped. "First, because it's half-past god-forsaken o'clock. Second, because it's Friday night, for god's sake. Third, because no, it's not Friday night, it's bloody Saturday morning and that makes it the bloody weekend!"
"Still..." he began.
Peri slapped her hand against the 'open door' button and flounced across to her bed. She picked up a sheet and wrapped it round herself, then returned to her door and opened it.
Three people entered. They wore identical navy blazers with metal buttons, white shirts with blue ties, and dark grey slacks. Even though one of them was female.
Ewan was tall, grey haired and muscular, obviously a fit and athletic man who was keeping himself in shape well into his fifties. "Sorry, Peri," he said. "Please don't shoot the messengers, though." He gestured to his colleagues, and they moved efficiently across the apartment and called out, "Clear," evidently checking for other occupants.
"Sorry, Peri," said Ewan again.
"Will you stop bloody apologising?"
"...but I'm glad you're alone. It's embarrassing having to throw out a - er - sleeping partner."
"It's just me and Captain Buzz tonight."
"What?"
"Never mind," Peri said quickly, but too late. Ewan's eye had already landed on the ivory coloured vibrator on the floor beside the bed. "Shit."
The other two were now walking around the apartment with meters in their hands, paying particular attention to lights and plug sockets. Peri gaped at them. "What the hell are you doing? Ewan, should I be worried?"
The woman - Janice, Peri remembered - glanced across at Ewan and shook her head. Ewan glanced across at the man, and said, "Charles?" He shook his head.
"Right," said Ewan. "Peri, you know our colleagues, I'm sure?"
"Right," Peri answered. "Hi Janice, hi Chas. Now talk, Ewan. You better have a bloody good reason for getting me out of bed at this time on my weekend."
"Steady, Peri. It's my weekend too, and they got me up even earlier. So first, let's get the sweep out of the way. You've only just moved in and you didn't rent this place through the usual channels, so it was due a check anyway. You'll be glad to know there don't seem to be any nasties inhabiting the place. Apart from the usual cockroaches, I'm sure. But nobody's listening in."
"That was kind of the point of renting this myself, Ewan. For the privacy."
He ignored the insinuation and pressed on. "The real reason is that you're needed. There's a meeting in Annex 3, and they want you in it."
"Annex 3?" she echoed. "We won't be rapping at MC Hammar? Who's meeting whom?"
He smiled at her nickname for One Dag Hammarskjold Plaza. "That's right, you're going to the Annex. Mr Wilkinson wants you there." He stopped and looked at her. "Do you have anything on under that sheet?"
"Oh, Ewan," she said, in a mock sultry voice. "Give me a bit more time in bed, and you can join me and find out. What do you say?" She ran a hand over his chest.
"Oh, Peri," he smiled back at her. "You tempting wee silver-tongued succubus, you. But what would I tell Donald?"
She grinned at him. She knew very well that Ewan had a very happy relationship with his partner Donald. "Worth a try," she whispered. "But seriously," she said, a little louder, "I had a late night out with the girls, and I'd kill for another hour in kip. What's the rush? Tell them you had trouble finding me." She frowned and stepped back. She levelled a finger at him, accusingly. "How did you find me, anyway?"
Ewan grinned. "You of all people shouldn't need to ask that question, Peri."
"Geolocation? Really? Is that legal?"
"Perfectly legal, dear. Your employer was simply verifying the location of their assets, namely one cell phone and one laptop. Don't you remember signing the form agreeing to it?"
She punched him in the shoulder. "So they already know you're here," she grumbled.
"Correct. Now get some clothes on before I get Janice to do it for you. Dave's got the car waiting downstairs for you."
Peri moved across to the 'sleeping end' of her one-room apartment. "Get Janice to dress me? With her sartorial sense? You have to be kidding." But she smiled and winked at Janice, who was hiding Captain Buzz and his accessories under the bed, and she winked right back.
She grabbed some underwear, a tee shirt and a pair of cargo pants - all black - and stepped into her bathroom to change.
She splashed water on her face, more to wake up than to wash up, and brushed her teeth. The person looking back at her from the mirror was about five feet eight, and slender. A bit flat in the chest, in fact, but it let her get away with wearing just about anything. Her skin was a rich golden brown, her eyes were dark brown and her narrow face with high cheekbones conveyed a hint of South Asia. Her hair was black and frizzy, and pretty much unmanageable, especially straight off the pillow, so she just pulled it back off her face and into a ponytail secured with a yellow clip. She stepped out into the apartment and began stuffing keys, phones and wallets into her many pockets.
"Okay, folks," she said. "Let's go."
Chas preceded her and opened the door, but she realised that neither Ewan nor Janice was making a move.
"Hold it, hold it, Chas. What the hell - aren't you two coming?"
"No," said Ewan simply. "You need a decent lock and things."
"'Things'? What 'things' would that be?"
"We'll see. Now go on, little birdy, fly away."
She paused, uncertain, but decided to worry about that little smile of Ewan's later. "Okay, Chas, let's go find Dave."
***
Chas and Dave were both ex-FBI, native New Yorkers, recruited for their local knowledge as much as their security skills. At this time of day, traffic was so light that they took the most direct route from Brooklyn Heights - over the Brooklyn Bridge, straight up FDR Drive, past the UN building, then some zig-zagging round one-way streets to get to an anonymous grey building in the shadow of Queensboro Bridge. Much more pleasant than Peri's usual commute, which included a long stretch on the 5 train, or, as she preferred to call it, the Armpit Express,
Chas escorted Peri in, without a word, while Dave parked the car. There were absolutely no signs anywhere that hinted at what the building was used for, and in the lobby behind the main doors there was nothing but a security desk and bored looking guard. Peri strode over to the desk, and held out her ID card.
"Morning," she said more cheerfully than she felt. "I'm Peri Carlton, UK Mission, and I'm meeting Mr Wilkinson here."
The man tapped some keys on what looked like an ancient computer. He looked carefully at her face, her photo ID, and his screen. Finally he grunted, "Room 301, third floor. Elevator through the door." He pointed his thumb back over his own shoulder at a door which gave a loud click as he remotely unlocked it.
Peri headed through the door, and made her way to the meeting room. Checking her watch, she noted that it was almost half past four in the morning, and shuddered as she shouldered through the door and into the room.
"Hey Wilko," she called out. "What's the fucking idea dragging me down to the arse end - oh!"
Four people were
looking at her across a large table, and none of them was Damon Wilkinson. "Sorry," said Peri, "I was expecting to see my colleague, Damon Wilkinson. Am I in the wrong place? This is 301, right?"
"Yes, this is the correct room. You must be Miss Carlton." The speaker was a small, black-haired Asian woman. "As you can see, Mr Wilkinson is not here at the moment. He had to make some urgent calls to his principals - and yours - in London. Let me make introductions while we wait."
Peri looked at the four people opposite, and her remarkable memory immediately supplied names. It would be rude to interrupt, though, so she decided to let the woman go ahead.
"From left to right," went on the Chinese woman, "these are, Mr Andre Montrache, from France; Mr Evgeny Rostovich, from Russia; and Mr Dwight Mitchelson, from the USA. My name is Li Lixia, though you may refer to me as Lisa Li if you prefer."
"Thank you," said Peri politely. "And as you probably all know already, I am Peri Carlton, with the UK Mission." She saw that the table was set out with five places on one side, and one - presumably for Peri - facing them from the opposite side. "Um, the table setup - it looks awfully like a job interview." More importantly, given the early hour and way she was feeling, she saw that the others each had a coffee cup and a plate. "And are there refreshments for the poor interviewee?"
Li smiled. "Please forgive my poor manners. What passes for coffee -" Here she smiled at the American, Mitchelson. "- is behind you."
"Tea, I think," Peri replied.
"Very wise." Li produced a small plate from within her briefcase, containing half a dozen Garibaldi biscuits. She went on, "And I had hoped to surprise you with a special treat, but sadly, it seems that chocolate garibaldi biscuits are completely unobtainable."
Peri busied herself with hot water and a tea bag while processing that last remark. Should I, she wondered? What the hell, yes, I should.
"Chocolate garibaldis? My all-time favourites? Wow, that is a very thoughtful way to convey a message. Thank you so much! And may I take the opportunity to congratulate you on your promotion, Colonel Li?"
Li gave her a broad smile. "Thank you, Miss Carlton. The promotion will be announced on Monday, so until then I am still merely Major Li." She smiled around the room at others. "But I think we have established that we have done our research, and that we all know exactly who we are, so we can skip - what is the phrase?" She glanced at Peri. "Dancing round our handbags, is it? And pretending to be something other than an intelligence officer. That should save considerable time."
Rostovich shifted his considerable bulk in his chair. "You asked a question," he said. "Is this a job interview." Peri thought he looked like a retired weightlifter who had not yet gone flabby. "Short answer is yes." He looked sideways at Li with a questioning look.
"Thank you, Evgeny. I thought we should wait for Damon before getting to the substance of the meeting."
Rostovich shrugged, and Peri wondered that his shoulders didn't split his jacket.
The door opened, and Wilkinson came in, carrying a take-away coffee cup and a brown bag from a well-known chain. "Sorry everyone," he said to the room in general. "I'm last one in, I see."
"Comme toujours," muttered Montrache. "And where are our goodies?"
"Down the street in the deli," replied Wilkinson, with a grin. He switched his smile to Peri. "I'm glad you could make it, Peri, thank you."
"Like I had a choice?" she grumbled back at him.
"Introductions done, Lisa, I hope?" he asked, looking at Li.
"We all know who we are, and which state organ employs us," she replied. "We have not touched on the reason for Miss Carlton's presence yet. I thought we should wait ..."
"Yes, yes, that's all squared away," said Wilkinson. "It took longer than I'd expected, because the Foreign Office insisted on consulting the Home Office, and the Home Office insisted on asking the MOD, and before we knew where we were … well, anyway, it's a thumbs up, they all defer to our judgement, so we can crack on."
Peri shot him a startled look. "Wilko, can we talk? Outside?"
"Later. No time."
She shot him an angry look, but before she could say anything else, Li spoke.
"Peri - may I call you Peri? Please, if you do not like what is happening you may decline, but listen first."
"Does she know that if she declines, we have to shoot her?" asked Mitchelson. Peri was not sure whether he was joking or not.
"Dwight, please, time presses," admonished Li. "First, you will be wondering why this group of people is meeting. Perhaps you wonder why we meet here, and that we meet cordially when some of us are, let us say, natural adversaries. And it will not have evaded your notice that we each represent one of the permanent members of the UN Security Council."
She shot Peri an amused look. "Or perhaps you have already worked it out?"
"Maybe," said Peri. "You're back-room fixers, aren't you? A little back-channel to exchange views and float ideas well away from prying eyes, when the real diplomats are forced to posture and pull faces for their constituencies back home."
Li looked pleased. "We are one of a small number of committees with that role. Formally speaking, this is UNSC Ad-hoc Committee 23, whose role is to work collectively on non-military measures designed to safeguard the lives of civilians should trans-national events occur. You are undoubtedly thinking that is vague enough to cover a great deal, and that is, by design, perfectly true.
"We also provide oversight and direction, jointly with UNESCO, for a small unit whose role is trans-national contingency planning. If an event occurs whose effects are confined within a single country, then it is the responsibility of that country to deal with it. A recent example might be the devastation caused by Hurricane Katrina in the southern USA. However, an event may occur whose effects are felt more widely, and which requires a coordinated international response. The UNESCO and UNSC sponsored body - UN Trans-National Contingencies, or UNTNC - exists to work with UN member states, singly and collectively, to foster joint planning to mitigate trans-national risks and to deal with the impacts if such risks materialise.
"Is it clear so far?"
"Yes," Peri replied. "Just one question, at this point. Are you referring exclusively to non-military events? Such as natural disasters? What about international terrorism?"
The Russian stirred in his chair and leant forward. "I count three questions, not one."
"Fine," said Peri. "Just three questions, then."
"Okay," said Rostovich. "First answer. Yes, but there will be grey areas. Military events are the remit of UNSC. Second answer. Yes. Third answer. No. Terrorism is purely UNSC."
"Thank you, Evgeny," said Li. "Let us move on, because this is purely context for the next part of our discussion. Tell me, Peri, where do you stand on the subject of aliens?"
Peri snorted and managed not to laugh. "Aliens? As in, 'ET phone home'? Star Trek type aliens?"
Li merely smiled and nodded.
Peri frowned. "You're serious. Hey, where is this leading…?"
Wilkinson interrupted sharply. "Treat it as a serious question, and give us a serious answer."
Peri sat back and gathered her confused thoughts. "Okay," she said. "Let me approach it as a question in two parts. First part, does intelligent life exist elsewhere in the universe? And second part, have they, are they, or will they, interact with us on Earth? Is that okay?"
Li smiled and nodded once more.
"First part. Do I think intelligent life exists? Hell, yes, I'm damn near certain of it. Let me justify that position. Start with our own galaxy, the Milky Way. I'm told there are somewhere between 100 billion and one trillion stars in the Milky Way. A widely quoted number is 400 billion, so let's work with that. Astronomical surveys have suggested that most stars have at least one planet, and mostly several planets, orbiting them. Let's call it 500 billion planets, which is pretty conservative. I've seen estimates that one planet in fifty, or thereabouts, have conditions of heat and gravity fairly compatible with Ear
th, which we know are conditions under which life can emerge. So let's estimate ten billion planets in the Milky Way can potentially support life.
"Next part of the argument. Extrapolate to the whole universe. There are about 200 billion galaxies out there, and again, that's probably conservative. Most of them are as big as, or bigger than, the Milky Way. So estimating that the number of planets in the whole universe capable of life as we know it is more than one followed by twenty-odd zeroes. That's one hell of a big number.
"Final part of the argument. Let's assume that the probability of life becoming intelligent enough and sentient enough to be considered as sci-fi 'aliens' is miniscule. Name your own probability. No matter how small it is, once you multiply that tiny number by one followed by twenty-odd zeroes, you get a big number. Make it a one in a billion chance, if you like. That would give you intelligent alien life evolving more than a billion billion times over.
"Anyone see a flaw in the reasoning?"
The stared at her in silence. Then Mitchelson looked at her, and said, "Wow. I mean, just, wow. You worked all that out in your head, on the spot?"
Peri shrugged. "Would it impress you more if I said I did the arithmetic in my head, or if I said I read it once and remembered it?"
"I tell ya, I'd be impressed either way."
"Let it be my little secret, then."
"So," Montrache cut in smoothly, "your argument is simply that the universe is so big that even if the chance of life developing and turning intelligent is tiny, it is a near certainty that it has happened many times."
Peri grinned at him. "That is very succinct, but, I venture to suggest, much less impressive than my version."
Everyone chuckled.
"Okay," said Peri. "On to the second part of the question, which was about aliens visiting Earth. On this one my answer is, hell, no, I don't think so. My justification is pretty much the same as for the first part: the universe is just really, really big, and the probability of an intelligent, space-faring civilisation emerging within a reasonable distance of Earth is just tiny. Do I need to go further?"
Island of Fog and Death: A sci-fi horror adventure Page 9
