2041 Sanctuary (Genesis)

by Robert Storey

  The front passenger removed his helmet and pointed to the driver. ‘Down there!’

  ‘Who sent you?’ Joiner said. ‘General Stevens, the Committee?’

  The man glanced round. ‘Jesus Christ, cover his head!’

  A rough sack was pulled down over Joiner’s eyes and the man spoke again.

  ‘He’s fucking seen me now, you idiot!’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ another man said, ‘he’ll never remember what you look like.’

  ‘He’s the goddamn Intelligence Director; of course he’ll fucking remember! Check him for devices.’

  Rough hands searched him. They removed his computer and multi-function card, then ran a device over his body. ‘He’s clean.’

  ‘Good,’ said the man in the passenger seat, ‘let’s get this done.’

  Joiner remained quiet, listening, but the conversation failed to continue and he had to endure an ominous silence for a further twenty minutes before they drew to stop and he was forced out and down some steps. Doors opened and closed, more steps came and went and the air grew cool. Armoured hands guided him to a chair, where his cloth mask was removed.

  Joiner blinked in the half-light. He sat at a table inside a dingy refrigeration room stacked high with plastic crates. Before him, a single Terra Force soldier stood in silent sentry, while another entered the room from behind.

  The newcomer sat down in the chair opposite and Joiner noticed both he and his comrade had removed the identifying marks on their armour. If General Stevens is behind this, he thought, he’s covering his tracks.

  The soldier opened the lower half of his helmet’s mask and dialled a number into a military handset, which he then held to his ear. Joiner recognised him as the man he’d glimpsed inside the Humvee.

  ‘Yes, it’s done,’ the soldier said, ‘it was as you said, they were easy pickings.’

  He paused as the person on the other end spoke.

  ‘How long until extraction?’ he said, and waited again before nodding.

  He slid the device across to Joiner and stood up and – along with the other soldier – left the room, the latter leaving the door ajar.

  Joiner glanced around. He was alone and unrestrained. The door was left open and he was unhurt. What is going on?

  He looked down at the handset and reached out to put it to his ear. No sound came from the other end, but Joiner knew the difference between an absence of noise and the faint whisper of static.

  ‘Who is this?’ he said.

  ‘Malcolm Joiner?’ said a deep, distorted voice.

  ‘I said, who is this?’

  ‘Who I am is irrelevant, Director. What I know is not.’

  ‘If you know who I am,’ Joiner said, ‘then you also know I can bring the might of the entire GMRC down on your head. There is nowhere – nowhere – you can hide from me.’

  ‘There is and I will. You will not find me or those I work for. But we can find you and it is down to us that you are still of sound mind.’

  Joiner’s thoughts returned to the nurse and the magic pill she’d provided. ‘Explain.’

  ‘The woman you met in Tower Central, she gave you something before your evaluation. Did you take it?’

  Joiner didn’t reply. It was a leading question. If he revealed what it was he’d taken, then he’d just given them the answer. ‘Something?’

  ‘The pill, a small white capsule designed to protect your mind from those that sought to control it.’

  ‘What if I did?’

  ‘Then you are still your own man. Listen well, Director, what I am about to tell you is going to change your life.’

  Chapter Seventy Six

  Malcolm Joiner stood up, walked to the open door and peered through. ‘Change my life?’ he said into the handset. ‘There is nothing you can possibly say to me,’ – he moved out into a deserted corridor – ‘that will change my life.’

  ‘Is that so, Director?’ said the disguised voice. ‘What if I tell you that I am able to converse directly with the Committee any time I like? What if I was to tell them that you evaded their attempts to control you?’

  ‘Then I’d say, what was the point in helping me in the first place?’

  ‘The Committee still fears you, Director. They fear and need you in equal measure, which is why they have gone to such lengths to manipulate you to their cause. But if you think you are one of their number, think again. Your induction into their ranks means nothing until you reach the higher echelons; only then will you be beyond their duplicity.’

  ‘Says the person who just had me abducted.’

  ‘Believe what you will, Director. Just know that we can reveal your own duplicity whenever we feel like it. You will do as we say when we say it, or your secrets will come out.’

  Joiner gripped the handset tighter. Do they think me some naïve agent fresh out of training? Don’t they know who I am?! ‘Secrets? What secrets?’

  ‘You seek power for yourself, you always have. You want the Anakim device for yourself. You don’t want to help the Committee, you want to stop them. You want to destroy their work; you want to destroy the key to Project Ares.’

  Joiner moved up a flight of steps. Whoever he was talking to knew more than he’d expected; he needed to trace their signal as soon as possible. He increased the speed of his ascent. ‘Who are you to know what I do and don’t want?’

  ‘We have been watching you for many years, Director. You seek to destroy the God Device. How do you think the Committee would react to seeing a video of you discussing such action with your right hand man, Agent Myers?’

  Joiner opened another door and moved through an abandoned office. ‘I would say you’re grasping at straws.’

  ‘Would you?’ The deep voice gave a chuckle. ‘You know I speak the truth. But if you want further assurance that I’m not bluffing, perhaps you would like to know where these incriminating recordings came from.’

  ‘Fabricated, most likely,’ Joiner said, emerging into fresh air. He looked around and saw he was in the industrial sector. ‘The Committee will never believe a fake.’

  ‘The recordings can be verified genuine if the proper device is used, you know that, Director. And you also know the Committee has the resources to interpret such data.’

  ‘And where have these mysterious recordings come from?’ Joiner said. The sound of a high-speed monotube could be heard in the distance and he headed in its direction.

  ‘It may come as a surprise if I tell you your primary aide was a man of many masters.’

  Joiner felt a knot of anxiety tighten his chest. ‘Grant Debden is dead.’

  ‘That he is, but before the Committee killed him he wired us the recordings of which I speak.’

  Joiner reached a fork in the road and saw an information point glowing in the dark, half a mile ahead.

  He had to trace this call. They’d backed him into a corner and there was only one way out: to fight. He broke into a jog.

  ‘You know as well as I, Director, you have nowhere left to hide. Controlling others has been your stock-in-trade for decades, now the tables have turned. Your only way out is to find and kill us, but unfortunately for you that task will prove futile.’

  ‘Then tell them,’ Joiner said, ‘tell the Committee! I know who their GMRC operatives are, I will eradicate them, root and branch.’

  ‘And if you do, they will act.’

  ‘And I will destroy them, as I will their abomination.’

  ‘Not if you’re dead, Director.’

  Joiner reached the information point, put down the handset and tapped in nine one one.

  A woman appeared on-screen. ‘Nine one one operator, what is your emergency?’

  ‘GMRC alert code level alpha,’ Joiner said, catching his breath, ‘niner five eight eight two kilo whiskey zulu, code in.’

  ‘I’m sorry caller, that code is not recognised, what is your emergency?’

  ‘Check again, Directorate override, GMRC alert code level alpha,’ Joiner said, ‘
niner five eight eight two kilo whiskey zulu, code in.’

  ‘I’m sorry, caller, our systems are down; what is your emergency?’

  The sound of laughter could be heard coming from the military handset.

  Joiner swore and put the device back to his ear and the voice spoke again. ‘Are you there, Director?’

  ‘So you’re going to kill me if I don’t play ball?’ Joiner said. ‘I think not. Alive, I still have potential; dead, and that promise of power has gone. I’ll take my chances with the Committee and then I’ll come for you.’

  ‘You misunderstand, Director, we’re not going to kill you, at least not directly.’

  Joiner removed his arm from its sling and tapped a button on the information point to hang up the operator. He then accessed a messaging system to contact the GMRC switchboard.

  ‘How are you feeling?’ the voice said. ‘How are the headaches?’

  Joiner stopped typing. The back of his head still throbbed with a dull ache and it was the same pain he’d experienced before the car crash.

  ‘Have you not wondered why you woke up in a hospital gown, Director?’

  Joiner’s heart beat faster. ‘I was knocked unconscious; they kept me in for observation.’

  ‘The device they used on your arm and mind wasn’t the Committee’s only play; they had a failsafe if things didn’t go to plan.’

  ‘Tell me.’

  ‘You are partially right; you were under observation, but not for concussion. Dagmar Sørensen and Dr. Laurent conducted a delicate … procedure on you during your enforced sleep.’

  Joiner’s grip tightened on the handset. ‘Procedure?’

  ‘Yes, they call it a Kill Switch, a small capsule placed—’

  ‘—at the base of the skull,’ Joiner said, his heart sinking. He recalled the man Agent Myers had interrogated about Project Ares and the seizure that had claimed his life. ‘How is it rigged?’

  ‘We’re uncertain, but activation due to information dissemination is unlikely, given your occupation. They couldn’t have you drop dead by accident. The most likely alternative is a simple explosive charge set off by a roaming signal.’

  Joiner reached up a reluctant hand and touched the back of his neck. After a tentative search he found a stitched incision on the nape of his neck. He closed his eyes in despair. ‘Sørensen always was old school,’ he murmured.

  ‘The Committee may have the power to end your life,’ the voice said, ‘but we have the power to control it. Your fate now rests in our hands. Do as we say and you get to live. Cross us, and the Committee will see fit to end your life faster than you can blink.

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘What do we want? We want you to infiltrate the Committee, to feed us with information.’

  ‘To what end?’

  ‘To the end we desire,’ said the voice. ‘The life as you knew it is over, Director, you belong to us now.’

  The receiver went dead and Joiner was left listening to the monotone hiss of a terminated call.

  A powerful gust of wind made him look up. A drone hovered overhead and a powerful searchlight illuminated him in blazing light.

  ‘This information point is the source of an unverified emergency call,’ said a computerised voice, ‘remain where you are and await the relevant authorities.’

  Joiner stared unseeing at the light above while a wave of dizzy reality tore through his mind like a storm. Thoughts and long laid plans collapsed to dust and memories of forgotten impotence surged forth from a distant past.

  His grip loosened and the handset slipped, clattering to the ground. The control and power had gone, but Joiner knew – perhaps better than any other – that his nightmare had only just begun.

  Chapter Seventy Seven

  The time was fifteen minutes later than it was before, and ten seconds before she’d question it again. The wait was unbearable! ‘How long did they say, again?’ Trish said. ‘An hour and a half?’

  Jason nodded.

  ‘How long’s it been now?’

  ‘Just over four.’

  Trish stood and paced the waiting room’s white-tiled floor before walking back over to the nurses’ station. ‘¡¿Cuánto tiempo más?!’

  ‘No mucho ahora , señorita.’

  ‘What did they say?’ Jason said when Trish returned to his side.

  ‘The same as the last ten times, not much longer.’ She slumped forward in her seat with her head in her hands.

  Jason put his arm around her shoulders and she lent into his chest for comfort, but just as they’d resigned themselves to more hours of endless worrying, a set of double doors banged open and a surgeon emerged.

  Full of anxiety, Trish and Jason jumped to their feet.

  The doctor said a few words to one of the nurses and then turned towards them. ‘Ah, bueno, you’re still here.’

  She removed her face mask and surgical gloves, dropping them into a clinical waste bin before walking towards the two friends; Trish couldn’t help but notice the gloves had glistened with the sheen of blood.

  She gripped Jason’s arm as they waited for the news, good or bad, but the woman merely looked at them with suspicion and remained silent.

  ‘Well?!’ Trish said.

  The woman blinked. ‘There were complications,’ she said in a rich Honduran accent. ‘Su compañera – your friend – was suffering from serious haemorrhaging throughout her body, including an intracranial bleed.’

  Trish put a hand to her mouth in dismay.

  ‘The slurring speech you mentioned was probably a sign of a stroke. We had to carry out an emergency operation after she was stabilised.’

  ‘But she’s okay now?’ Jason said. ‘Sarah’s okay?’

  The surgeon’s expression remained deadpan. ‘We’ve had to put her into an induced coma; it will be hours, maybe days, before we know if our intervention has been successful. I suggest you let us see to your wound, señorita,’ – the surgeon gestured to Trish’s bandaged arm – ‘you experienced an open fracture, we will need to operate.’

  Trish shook her head. ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘The anaesthetic we gave you will wear off. The wound needs to be cleaned and the bone set; if we do not do this, you risk serious complications.’

  ‘You should do as she says.’ Jason inspected his palms, which had been stitched and wrapped in gauze. ‘They did a good job on my hands and ankle.’

  Trish looked down at the strapping that encased his foot and lower leg. ‘You didn’t need surgery, though; I want to be here when she wakes up.’

  ‘Listen to your friend,’ the surgeon said, ‘let us help you. Then you can get some rest and return tomorrow.’

  Trish shook her head. ‘We’re not leaving her here alone.’

  Jason nodded his agreement.

  ‘Can we see her?’ Trish said.

  ‘No. She is in UCI, intensive care; visiting restarts in eight hours.’

  ‘Eight hours,’ Jason said, ‘that’s ridiculous!’

  ‘Those are the rules, señor.’

  ‘Let us see her and I’ll let you operate,’ Trish said.

  The doctor considered her offer, glanced back at the clock and then exchanged a flurry of words with one of the nurses. She sighed and waved them forward. ‘Vamos,’ she said, and moved towards the doors she’d just come through.

  Relieved and anxious in equal measure, Trish and Jason followed as they were led through a series of corridors.

  ‘Be prepared,’ the surgeon said. ‘You may find her condition distressing.’ She stopped outside a glass wall and gestured inside.

  Trish looked through the window to see a large room housing three beds and a host of medical apparatus. On the far wall, a large wallscreen displayed tables full of fluctuating numbers for each patient, along with various charts and graphs that plotted in real-time. The two beds to the left held male occupants and Trish’s gaze turned to the bed directly in front, where two nurses blocked the view beyond. A moment later they moved an
d Sarah’s stricken form emerged from the surrounding distraction. A myriad of cables and tubes fed into her body and her chest rose and fell in time with a nearby ventilator. White bandages encased the top of her head and her chest, and her hands and feet had been similarly treated.

  ‘She looks so pale.’ Trish said, holding Jason close.

  ‘We’ve made her as comfortable as we can,’ the surgeon said. ‘She feels no pain.’

  Jason reached out to touch the glass. ‘And she’s stable?’

  ‘Yes, stable, but critical.’

  Trish wiped away a tear. ‘Can we go in?’

  The surgeon shook her head and Trish went back to studying her friend as a sense of helplessness sought to overwhelm her.

  ‘We have left the foreign object alone until she recovers consciousness and strength,’ the surgeon said, ‘then we will operate again.’

  ‘Foreign object?’ Jason looked confused.

  ‘Sí.’ The woman pointed to the right hand side of the room where a number of X-rays had been clipped to a light box.

  Trish looked at the images which showed the pentagonal outline of the Anakim artefact positioned squarely on Sarah’s breastbone.

  ‘Yes, the pendant.’ Jason massaged his eyes. ‘Of course.’

  ‘And you say lightning did this, relámpago?’

  Trish nodded.

  ‘Why?’ Jason said. ‘Don’t you believe us?’

  ‘Anything you can tell us, no matter how small, may help us help your friend. What you say to us, the lightning … the necklace and melted shoes are unusual, yes. And this degree of haemorrhaging is also … I’ve never heard of such an extreme case. But the cuts to her palms … and then there is also …’

  The surgeon failed to continue, her expression uncertain.

  ‘Also what?’ Trish said.

  ‘She has high toxicity levels, like she’s been poisoned. Her immune system is attacking itself and we don’t know why.’

  ‘Poisoned,’ Jason said, ‘poisoned by what?’

  ‘We don’t know. The results came back inconclusive. I was hoping you might be able to tell us more.’

  They shook their heads. What could they say? The truth was liable to get them taken away by men in white coats.