The Hurst Chronicles | Book 4 | Harbinger

by Crumby, Robin

  “That’s where Basson comes in. His research into ethnic cleansing?”

  “Basson opened a door to the future. Being able to identify genetic markers specific to individual races. Reducing fertility was just the beginning.”

  “Work initiated by Nazi scientists. Josef Mengele and others.”

  Something deep inside Zed was screaming. A fight or flight instinct that made him want to run as far away from here as possible, only his legs refused to respond. He felt paralysed, incapable of movement. His head sank between his knees, looking at the bruises on his feet. “Why are you telling me all this?” he half-whispered. “I want nothing to do with any of your plans.”

  “Because you’re going to help me.”

  Before he could answer, there was a knock on the door and, much to Zed’s surprise, Gill was shown into the room. She appeared drugged, her eyes staring off into the distance, barely reacting to her change of environment. No flicker of recognition. She was wearing a hospital gown, her hair lank and unwashed.

  Donnelly placed a black pistol on the floor at her feet. He produced an orange referee’s whistle from his pocket and blew twice.

  “Pick up the gun and shoot this man,” commanded Donnelly.

  Without hesitation, she bent down and retrieved the weapon, aiming at the centre of Zed’s chest and pulled the trigger. To Zed’s immense relief, there was a hollow click. Her face remained devoid of emotion.

  “Put the gun down.” Donnelly turned to the guard. “Take her back to her cell.”

  “What have you done to her?” asked Zed, his voice thin and brittle.

  “Exactly what I’ll do to you, if you don’t start cooperating.”

  “Nothing would make me help you.”

  “Somehow I doubt that. Intelligent design promises a new dawn of evolution, humans genetically engineered to fulfil our species’ potential. Smarter, healthier, more resistant to germs.”

  “Only in your dreams.”

  “In time, we will create a sub-species: subservient, compliant, hard-working. An entire army powering our progress, freeing up the rest to focus on advancing science, technology, culture, the things that elevate us from other life forms on this planet.”

  “You’ll never get away with this.”

  “Don’t you see? We already have. You underestimate just how gullible and credulous those in power can be. Swallowing sugar-coated half-truths like candy. Playing one side against another like a playground game of soldiers. While politicians argued about right and wrong, scientists took full advantage. Politicians made it easy for us, sleep-walking into traps we prepared for them. All those years of austerity, endless cut-backs, resulted in a general weakening of their checks and balances, merging or even eliminating entire departments, unwittingly stripping back command layers. Analysis and intelligence gathering undertaken by a single so-called expert. The world stopped paying attention.”

  “To what?”

  “To the bigger agenda. Fixing elections and influencing referendums were just dummy runs.”

  “For regime change?”

  “The death of capitalism. The end to globalisation. A return to a simpler world.”

  “One where you control all the resources? Food production, oil, agriculture.”

  “Naturally. When this process is complete, the world will be a very different place.”

  “Then you and Hardy managed all this on your own?”

  “Hardy?” He laughed. “Doctor Hardy does what he’s told. He’s loyal, I’ll give him that.”

  “What happened to you, Donnelly? Your country trusted you. Sworn to protect us. The Porton team I remember were so full of hope. They only wanted to make the world a safer place. When did you become so disillusioned?”

  “I woke up. The scales fell away and I saw how the truth had been manipulated again and again to fit with our government’s narrative. Every time my researchers glimpsed a new dawn, politicians tied us up in red tape. Starved us of the investment we needed. Meanwhile, scientists in other countries were making huge strides as we sat twiddling our thumbs. We did what had to be done, we created demand where none existed.”

  “Meaning you started a war to justify an increase in your funding?” asked Zed incredulously.

  “Think about it. Who needs a defensive research programme when there’s no credible threat? Once the funding was available, we all got back to working on the real priorities.”

  “Except Kelly found out. He realised what you were up to, didn’t he? He saw through your little ruse.”

  “David was no saint. He was acutely aware of the nuances and contradictions of dual purpose technologies. In his mind, there was no neat delineation between offensive and defensive programmes. Besides, he was always clear that it should never be the job of a scientist to differentiate good from evil. Determining intent was for politicians to decide.”

  “Then the entire system was rotten?”

  “Not all of it. Just pieces, but it only took a few people in positions of power to influence the outcome. Look, I’ll leave you to make your own mind up. I’ve told you enough.”

  “I made my mind up years ago.”

  “Then perhaps you’re too stubborn to realise there’s still a way back. You’re like Schrödinger’s cat, caught in some quantum paradox.” He seemed amused by the analogy. “Alive and dead at the same time. It’s simply a question of perspective. That’s all. From the outside, everything looks so different.”

  “If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather you shot me now. I’m done arguing the toss about quantum mechanics.”

  “Be careful what you wish for,” laughed Donnelly and slammed the door behind him.

  Chapter 34

  “That’s the last of it,” said Riley as they finished stacking the twenty blue Ikea storage boxes in the covered entrance by the castle’s main gate, ready for collection by Salieri’s men.

  “You mean the half we’re giving back?” smirked Tommy. In truth, they had kept the bulk of the hoard recovered from the Bunnies’ compound at Barton. The rest, an eclectic assortment of broken or duplicated items from other scavenging trips, boosted the overall volume. Without an inventory, Riley reasoned Salieri could have no way of knowing the difference.

  “What time did Scottie say they’re due?” she asked, breathing heavily from the morning’s exertion. Her thoughts returned to Marco, the olive-skinned Italian, wondering whether he would make the journey.

  “He didn’t,” replied Tommy. “At least it’s ready when the Italians show up.”

  “I still don’t see why we have to give any of this stuff back,” whined Tommy.

  “Because a deal’s a deal. If this is what we have to do to get Heather and Jen home unharmed, then it’s a price worth paying. We don’t need another turf war.”

  “I’d like to see them try.” Tommy nodded towards the sand-bagged position overlooking the spit where a canvas tarpaulin protected their tripod-mounted machine gun from the elements, its twin at the other end of the compound. Tommy treated those weapons like treasured silverware, cleaning and polishing twice a week.

  A wolf whistle from the lookout on the Gun Tower made them spin around. In the distance, a vessel was making up tide towards the castle.

  Down at the jetty, Tommy handed Riley the binoculars. “Didn’t Flynn get the message last time?”

  “It’s not military,” she replied, scanning the thirty-foot snub-nosed trawler. Two females sat either side of the skipper, heads bowed against the wind and spray. The craft pitched into a wave and everyone ducked the resulting spray. Riley struggled to keep the figures in focus at this range.

  Behind the relative shelter of the spit, the approaching vessel lost the wind and tide, gently coasting towards the wall of tyres and fenders protecting the floating platform. One of the women removed her scarf, prompting an excitable yelp from Riley. What on earth was Stella doing here? She appeared much altered, her face pale, her belly swollen with child. Sister Imelda helped her upright as t
he boat nudged against the pontoon.

  Seeing her old friend again after so many months of separation, broken only by the occasional exchange of letters, Stella cried and laughed, all at the same time, waiting for the crew to secure lines bow and stern. Riley offered her hand to help the expectant mother ashore, but she declined.

  “Why didn’t you warn us you were coming?” asked Riley.

  “I’m sorry, it’s my fault,” explained Sister Imelda. “It was all very last minute.”

  Stella appeared unsteady on her feet, her cheeks hollow and gaunt. Instinctively, Riley retreated a few steps, keeping her distance. “Don’t get me wrong. Personally, I’m thrilled you’re here. We just can’t take any risks with infection, that’s all.”

  “Of course. Look, it’s not what you think,” claimed the sister. “The Doctor told Stella to take it easy. I thought Hurst Castle would be as good a place as any.”

  “I don’t expect special treatment,” added Stella, wiping tears from her cheeks, embarrassed by the fuss she was causing.

  “I know you’re immune, but you could still be a carrier for the virus,” apologised Riley. “We’ll still need to place you in quarantine.” Stella nodded. “How long have you been like this?”

  “Couple of weeks. At first they thought it was late onset morning sickness, but the symptoms never went away.” Stella’s hands were trembling, shivering against the wind. The sister noticed and took charge.

  “We need to get her out of this chill.”

  Riley suggested she shelter in the castle’s guard house by the front entrance, watching helplessly as the sister supported Stella inside, making her comfortable on a low thread-bare sofa. She closed the door and visibly relaxed. “I’m so sorry to burden you like this, I didn’t know where else to go. Stella insisted I bring her here.”

  “You should have asked me first, rather than imposing like this.”

  “I know, I’m sorry.” Riley had half a mind to send them back where they came from. She could not allow friendship to cloud her judgement. She knew the sister was playing on her good nature. The implication being it would be unchristian to refuse help. Sister Imelda had always liked to manipulate others.

  “How far along is she?

  “Eighteen weeks.”

  “Wow. But she only gave birth a few months ago.”

  “I know. They fast-tracked Stella through the programme again.”

  “Did you bring baby Adam with you?” she asked excitedly. “He must be nearly walking.”

  “Not long now. He’s a good bum-shuffler. He’ll be standing up before we know it.”

  “He’s not here then?”

  “No, Adam’s back in Ventnor.”

  “I thought you might have brought him to meet his godmother,” cooed Riley, secretly furious she had been denied the opportunity.

  “We keep the infants separate.”

  “Why?”

  “Pregnant women are particularly susceptible to the virus. We’ve never had any problems until what happened with Stella.”

  “What’s actually wrong with her?”

  “We’re not entirely sure. She has all the symptoms of pre-eclampsia, but the Doctor said she may also have an undiagnosed immunodeficiency.”

  “That sounds serious.”

  “She has a tiny genetic mutation that gives her high natural resistance to the virus. It’s starting to affect her in other ways.”

  “And is the pregnancy exacerbating her condition?”

  “We don’t know. It’s certainly putting extra strain on her body.”

  “Looks like she’s lost weight too.”

  “That’s a concern,” admitted the sister.

  “In the circumstances, shouldn’t she be in a hospital? We’re not exactly equipped to care for her. What if her condition gets worse or she needs specialist help?”

  “I’ve arranged everything. A local Army nurse will visit every week. They’ll organise another ultrasound to check everything’s progressing with the pregnancy.”

  “Have they considered a termination?”

  “Good heavens, no. There’s really no cause for concern.”

  “Why do I get the feeling you’re more worried about the baby than Stella?”

  “I’m sorry if I gave that impression. Honestly, she’s getting the best of care.”

  “Then what happens if mother and baby’s interests diverge?”

  “We’ll cross that bridge if we come to it.”

  “Surely Stella’s wellbeing should come first.”

  “Not necessarily. The sisters believe all life is sacred.”

  “I just hope you’re not blinded by your faith?”

  “On the contrary, our faith guides us. With a little rest and care from her friends, we’ll get Stella through this, I promise you.” Riley was curious about the sister’s choice of words. She was normally so protective of Stella and the other girls. Something seemed awry. As if anticipating Riley’s suspicion, she continued: “We all want what’s best for her. I would never forgive myself if anything happened.”

  “Well you sure took a big risk bringing her here.”

  “I thought you’d be happy.”

  “Trust me, I am. But look around you. This is a working community. None of us can provide the full-time care she needs.”

  “That’s why I’m volunteering to stay for as long as it takes to nurse her back to health. If there’s anything you need, you only have to ask. St Mary’s will make the necessary arrangements.”

  Riley ran through a mental list of depleted medical supplies: clean bandages, penicillin, antibiotics, morphine. She wondered whether there might be an upside to having Stella around. “Very well. Just until she’s better.”

  “Thank you,” whispered the sister, clasping her hands in triumph.

  From the far end of the compound came a chorus of voices singing the opening lines to Guide Me O Thou Great Redeemer. The sister inclined her head, listening carefully, nodding along in time. “I had no idea you held a regular service at the castle.”

  “Oh, that’ll be Liz. Loves a Thursday sing-along. It’s more community gathering than what you’d consider a church service.”

  “All worship is to be encouraged.”

  “I suppose they give thanks in their own special kind of way,” Riley answered cryptically, thinking of the quantity of wine that was normally drunk.

  “Jack always led me to believe you were non-believers here.”

  “With the exception of Christmas. Doesn’t mean we don’t encourage a sense of community. Jack always insisted we live in harmony with nature.”

  “I suppose that’s a start. So many people these days believe religion has no place in their lives. ‘How could God inflict such suffering?’ they ask each other, their communities destroyed by the pandemic. They lost all hope. Sister Theodora says it was the Godless communities that were some of the hardest hit.”

  “What do you believe?”

  The sister fell silent for a moment in contemplation. “I saw for myself what happened in New Zealand after the earthquakes. People in Christchurch struggled to make sense of what happened. Rather than losing faith, I saw the exact opposite. Tragedy brought them closer to God.”

  “Nothing like a natural disaster to boost church attendance, eh?” ribbed Riley.

  “When did you become such a cynic? I’m just saying we only really learn through experience. I suppose suffering is God’s way of re-educating people when their behaviour or actions become misaligned with Christian values.”

  “I respect your faith, Sister, I really do. There’s too much evil in the world today to believe some supreme being is controlling everything.”

  “You’re entitled to your view.”

  “I never liked the Church trying to make capital from other people’s suffering, playing on their fears.”

  “Personally, I believe religion brings us all together. Without it, society loses its glue.”

  “I suppose I’ve always viewed organi
sed religion as a means of control.”

  “Riley, I’m not as brainwashed or blinkered as you think I am. We all have our doubts. Even me. To doubt is human.” She paused, as if struck by how hollow she sounded. “Being a witness to His true power is something one can never forget.”

  “Or forgive?” countered Riley.

  “You should not blame God for showing us the true path. Are you familiar with the writings of Marx and Freud?”

  “A bit. I studied philosophy for a term at University before switching.”

  “They wrote that religion evolved as a way to explain human suffering, to make the common man look to the heavens for answers, to provide comfort in times of adversity. Sister Theodora teaches that the pandemic is all part of God’s great plan. The Lord’s purpose is rarely seen clearly.”

  “What’s going to happen if we don’t learn our lesson then? A plague of frogs and locusts?”

  The sister laughed in spite herself, enjoying Riley’s playful provocation.

  “I’ve missed your irreverence,” she admitted with a shake of the head, “although I can’t guarantee He won’t turn you into a pillar of salt.”

  “Do you remember what Lot’s wife was called?” asked Riley, remembering the question that was stuck in her mind after the fishing trip to the Needles and the name of the missing rock stack.

  “What a strange question. I’m trying to think. What do I win?”

  “A loaf and two fish?”

  “Very funny. I don’t remember the Bible gave her a name, unless it was Edith. Why?”

  Riley smiled. “Just settling an argument.”

  The singing became louder, carried on the wind. “Once we’ve got Stella settled, I’d like to meet this Liz. Perhaps she’d let me lead a special service? This evening?”

  “I should warn you, she’s massively into crystals and ley lines. It’s more Hobson’s Choice than Christianity per se. She says no one religion has all the answers. Actually, I think she leans more towards paganism.”