by Gary Weston
'I...'
'Can't hear you. You got something to say to my sister?'
'I'm sorry, Sandra.'
'And?'
'I'll never hit you again.'
'You do,' said Bernie, 'You'll have me to deal with.'
He let her go and watched her in tears, running for home. That night, Sandra had gone to his room. 'Thanks, Bernie.'
'You're my sister.'
'I hate bullies. Nobody is going to bully me ever again.'
'I won't let them.'
'No, Bernie. I won't let them.'
And nobody ever did from that day on. At least not in school. If there was ass kicking to do, she did it. Bullies were fair game. Any bitch picking on friends of hers often ended up in the school dumpster minus their knickers for total humiliation. So yes. There were signs. It was just Sandra now, dealing to bigger bullies. This time she had set her sights on terrorists bent on destroying the ten leaders of the most powerful nations of the western world.
His problem was, should he tell his niece he had seen her mother, and she now knew her daughter was having a baby and might decide to tell the father to be? He was certain Sandra wasn't about to tell Fred he was going to be a father; not yet. Not until the mission was finished. He was Chief of the country's main police headquarters. Could he ever be as strong willed as his sister? He doubted it.
Debbie let herself in the front door. 'Hi. Okay?'
'Yeah. I'm okay.'
Chapter 50
'It has to be a simple alphabetical conversion, right?' said Nick.
Ferret was patient with a kindred spirit, no matter how limited. 'Stuff that simple would have been automatically translated by the software, once the base language is identified. Basic stuff.'
'Basic? In how many languages have you got covered?'
'Twenty three. Just some of the generic ones. That's all I had time for.'
'The culture of these people goes back hundreds if not thousands of years. The language they use will be ancient, right?'
'I considered that. Greek and Latin are built in.'
'Just those two?'
'Like I said. Time constraints. I must admit. I don't understand the language they are communicating in.'
'How about we go way back? Pre Greek. Pre Latin?'
'You speak those?'
Nick tapped the computer. 'Here. It's all here. Floating. Hundreds of them. Lost in space. Cyberspace. What we have isn't working, right?'
Ferret admitted, 'Not yet.'
'Not ever. We are dealing with five different cultures with a single ambition. One thing they have in common is a hatred of us. What they do not have is a common language, other than English as a secondary one. If I were them, I'd not use an everyday common link. That would make it too easy for hacks like us. They would go way back to a time and language unfamiliar to all of us. They would use a nearly extinct language, then translate it into English as their universal language, using a code. That's what we are up against.'
Ferret looked at Nick in a new light. 'That is not quite as stupid as it sounds.'
'I appreciate the compliment. May I?'
'Be my guest. You're going to be on this all night, right?'
'Sleeping is so last century. Goodnight, Ferret.'
To Ferret, a computer was a musical instrument from which a maestro could extract sublime sounds. Stick one computer hack onto another hacks computer, it became detuned. Ferret never let other hacks loose on his computers. He had been appalled to discover his special baby at the police headquarters had been violated. But Nick had an understanding. His touch was light, his thinking in tune. Nick didn't quite have his finesse, his symbiotic relationship with the software, a true understanding of the hardware, his deft touch of a keyboard, the connection with the mouse, but at least he wasn't a knuckle dragger who would stuff this up.
'Would you like to fly solo?'
This was a big moment for both of them. A computer genius and a young man with something to prove.
'Will you trust me?'Nick tapped the box. 'With this?'
Ferret slapped Nick on the back. 'This is my baby. Change her nappy, feed her, put her to bed.'
'She'll be walking and saying daddy by the time you wake up.'
'Okay. Just remember who her daddy is. Goodnight, Nick.
'Goodnight, Ferret.'
Chapter 51
The next morning, Ferret took two lifesaving black coffees into the old library. He couldn't help a satisfied chuckle at the sight of Nick, slumped over the computer, fast asleep. He knew that look. That neck would take all day to straighten out. That and the aching lower back, lifeless buttocks and wobbly legs. Been there, done that.
'Morning, Nick.'
'Hermm. Hey? What?'
'Coffee?'
'Will it save my life?'
'I'd have added sugar if I'd known it was that serious. Get anywhere?'
'I've identified the ancient language. I only had to go through thirty seven to find it. An old Aramaic one.'
'Brilliant. Well done. I'm really impressed. And you found a common code worked with it?'
'That was easy once the source language had been identified, then translated into English. Two words kept going round and round. The answers kept coming up the same.'
'That it? Two words?'
Nick didn't bother opening his eyes as he slurped the pungent black brew as he handed a scrap of paper to the Ferret.
'These are two big words.'
'Wanna double check?'
'Mind if I do? I wouldn't want to offend you.'
Nick said,'Man who brings life saving black elixir to a dying man? I insist.'
'Shove over.' Ferret let his fingers fly over the path pioneered by Nick and arrived at the same destination. 'Shit.'
'Ah! We're on the same page.'
'I'd be worried with one word or the other, but both words together?'
Nick tapped the screen.'We both came to the same conclusion. Biological and nuclear. Talk about belt and braces. They're going to kill us, then make us suffer.'
Ferret shook his head. 'Not on my watch.'
* * *
'Listen to them, Steve. Ferret and Nick know what they're talking about.'
'Sandra. This is way too big for us. Nuclear bombs and biological weapons?'
'I tried the C I A before. They laughed at me. They said even if there's truth in it, they can handle it. I'm to butt out. I'm not about to do that, while they don't believe me. Besides. We are not alone.'
Fred Ducket looked at his mother in law. Was this a path they both wanted to walk along? 'Sandra. Steve's right. We can't do this by ourselves. It's too darned big for you and me.'
'I spoke to Bernie.'
That shook Ferret. 'You spoke to Bernie? You are unbelievable.'
'Wow,' said Steve. 'Who the hell is Bernie?'
Ferret started, 'Bernie? He's only my.....'
'Ferret. Stop that,' said Sandra. 'And you know why. Especially now.'
It was hard but Ferret stopped himself. 'Poppy?'
Sandra saw it coming and dodged the bullet. 'Not now.'
Ferret looked at a confused Steve and Nick. How much should he reveal? There was a look he and Sandra shared, lost on Steve and Nick, but one that spoke volumes between himself and his mother in law. So many emotions went through his mind, his soul. He had deserted his wife, and her mother sat before him; her eyes pleading for him to button it. He had to get out of there.
'Bernie is...' The three looked at him; two for answers; one hoping for his silence. 'Back up. Very useful back up. We get stuck, Bernie will pull us out.'
He had to get out because he was afraid of what his mouth would say. 'Poppy?'
Sandra nodded and managed a weak smile. 'Missing you. Do this for her and...'
'And?'
'And for all of us. The whole bloody world.'
He walked out of the room. There was nothing else to say.
Chapter 52
Steve Telford had work to do for t
hree days. He loved flying his chopper, but had scaled down the business while they had been organising their criminal activities. In his mind, he couldn't see failure. It had been a good, well executed plan and he should have been able to retire without a care for the future. Now he had to make a living again. Fortunately, it was a good time for crop spraying in the area so he had a couple of jobs booked up.
The chopper was parked at the back of the mansion, and at six thirty on a clear sunny morning, he was in the air. His baby was a red and blue Robinson R-44, bought in ninety seven, and finally paid for five years later. The power-plant was the Lycoming six cylinder flat engine with fuel injectors. He had removed the two rear seats to lighten the load for fuel economy. It was fitted with the Apollo DTM4 spraying system. The tanks were fixed to the belly of the chopper, well below the main rotor, in front of the rotor down wash, the clean air helping to evenly disperse the spray.
The farm he was to spray was only eight miles from the mansion, and he knew the owner well. He took off with the tanks full of the spray solution, and knew exactly what he was required to do. One advantage of the service he provided was to supply the solutions as part of the job, rather than the farmer having to store the dangerous chemicals.
It was one of the advantages of living at the mansion with huge outbuildings in which to store the chemicals. This gave him the edge over much of the competition.
He reached the farm, and allowing for the direction of the slight breeze, activated the pumps that forced the mix along the booms at twenty pounds per square inch of pressure. He stayed between fifteen and twenty feet above the ground, flying back and forth, overlapping so as to cover all the crops. It would take five trips to do the job.
As he flew, he thought about the strange course of events that had turned his world upside down. His heart had almost stopped when a woman and a man had brazenly walked into the rented apartment, minutes before the final part of the plan was put into operation. All eight of them had attacked the pair. He had gone for the woman, and all he could recall were her hands, moving like lightning, a slight pressure on the side of his neck, and then waking up chained to the others, with explosives under their chairs.
How had they done that? He had intended to ask her how and when they had planted the explosives. The empty inner city apartment had been rented for a month and paid for in cash. Whatever they needed for the job was stored there. The only furniture were the seats and somehow, the extra security locks had been breached and explosives had been expertly wired up underneath.
It was crazy that a woman with a geeky young bloke could do all they did. How had they tracked their every move? Where had she learned to be so deadly to go up against eight men, mostly bigger then herself, and without even breaking a sweat, defeating all of them with minimum effort?
As he flew back and forth, returning to the mansion to refill the tanks and back to the farm again, he thought about the woman known only as Sandra. He had admired her body as she swam expertly in the pool, hardly breaking the surface of the water with her precise, delicate strokes. Her body was toned, but not muscular. Her physical strength didn't come from muscles, but from her mind and her spirit, somewhere deep inside her. When she fought, she didn't think about it, just reacted and used her opponents size and weight against them.
She was what, five six? A lean hundred and ten pounds. Her breasts were small and tempting and her legs slim and shapely. It was her dark brown eyes that haunted him the most. She would hold his gaze, and he would lose himself in them, wondering what life and secrets hid behind them. Some of her life was clear to see, in the scars on her body. He was enough of a man of the world to know those scars were not from simple accidents everyone suffered from time to time.
Her scars were her badges of courage, permanent reminders of each adventure. More then anything those scars were who she was.
Steve Telford had spent so much time thinking about this amazing woman, his day's work was finished before he had realised it. The rotor slowed to a stop and he got out and walked across the lawn to the rear entrance of the huge house, eager to see the woman who was filling his mind so much.
He would spend the evening relaxing, perhaps admiring her as she swam in the pool, the tight costume emphasising her beauty. She would torment and tease him, unintentionally, perhaps completely unaware of how each word, every glance and smile with those kissable lips and deep dark eyes turned him inside out.
They would sit together, her naked arms with those tiny round scars, so close he could reach out and gently stroke her skin. He thought perhaps, deep down she liked him, maybe even wanted the caress of his arms, his lips upon hers, his hands exploring and satisfying her. He could only dream.
Chapter 53
'You two look pleased with yourselves.'
'We had a good day, Steve,' said Nick, enjoying the spaghetti bolognese. 'Made some real progress.'
'Still much to do,' said Ferret. 'We are fairly sure we are dealing with forty seven of them. They seem to be scattered around, but all within one hundred miles of the city centre. They have their own areas of expertise, engineering, physics, biology, you name it, they have it covered.'
'But you can't pinpoint their physical addresses?'
'Not specifically,' said Nick. 'But we have a few clues to the whereabouts of the coordinator. Trouble is, we go sniffing about, we risk tipping them off.'
'We only have two more days before the others get here,' said Sandra. 'We need solid information to put a plan together, or you and I will be on our own.'
'Not on our own,' said Ferret. 'We have Bernie.'
There was an awkward silence between Sandra and Ferret that Steve picked up on. He thought better of asking again who this Bernie character was. There was clearly something going on between the two of them. Perhaps it was just the tension of the situation surfacing. He was keeping out of that.
It was the same routine the following day, Steve glad to be out in the chopper, earning a living. Finally the spraying job was finished and they could focus on the mission. It was Thursday. Sandra was in the front garden, sitting on a bench by a large ornamental goldfish pond with a huge fountain spattered with bird droppings.
She had her back to Steve who was so tempted to go and sit by her, sharing her moment of solitude. Something told him she needed this quiet time. Nick and Ferret were busy deciphering the clues, lost in cyberspace. Steve felt out of it in his own home. Wanting to contribute he did a stock-take of food and drink and set off to do the shopping. The evening was subdued, almost uncomfortable, more so for Steve. After spending a couple of hours on maintenance of the chopper, he turned in for an early night.
* * *
Sandra lay alone on her bed, watching the small television on a side table. It was the evening news, showing the International Conference Centre. The female reporter stood across the street from the main entrance.
'This is as close as we are allowed. The centre will be home to ten leaders of the Western world. Security has been tightly coordinated between the various overseas agencies working with our own. Our air-force will be using radar to ensure that the no fly zone is adhered to. Our police are providing policing of the surrounding area and extra officers have been drafted in until the end of the conference. Our army are fully ready to respond to any situation. In a statement from our Internal Security Service, everything humanly possible has been done to ensure the conference will be trouble free and successful. The conference is scheduled to start this Monday. Thus is Julie Farringday for Chanel Nine news.'
Sandra turned off the television. The security seemed to be on top of things. All contingencies had been considered. No stone unturned. Enough to impress most people. Not her. Certainly not the terrorists. Everything the security services had done would be anticipated. What couldn't be anticipated was how the security would be breached. Even she could only guess what their plans would be. Only Ferret and Nick could find out for sure.
By Friday evening, if they didn't have more
to go on, the others wouldn't buy it, and who could blame them. She and Ferret would thank them very much for their hospitality, and they would be on their way.
Her son in law would go home to his wife and baby to be, a baby he knew nothing about. He would probably hate her for withholding that from him. Again she would be alone. She thought about Steve Telford. Trying to deny her feelings for him was becoming increasingly difficult. The ice maiden act was melting. She longed for his touch, to feel his strong hands on her skin, his lips on hers, exploring her body, the manly smell of him,feeling...feeling like a woman again.
She rolled over, grabbed the pillow and hugged it tight. She couldn't remember the last time she had cried. Perhaps a few tears as her fingernails had been pulled slowly out. Maybe a few more as her skin had burned from the glowing tip of the cigarettes. She touched her left nipple and could still feel the pain.
But this pain was different. It was the pain of wanting to love and be loved. It was the pain of knowing she would soon be a grandmother, maybe only ever seeing that child from a shady hiding place. Those pains were real pains, the worst kind. And all she could do was let her tears soak the pillow.
Chapter 54
Paul Rose said, 'Any more security agents and there won't be room for the politicians.'
'Is there anything to that C I A rumour?' Sinclair Carlisle asked.
'They're not dismissing the possibility out of hand. They're adamant the man they killed was the correct one. But then, they would. They are saying that even if it were true, the security is such that everyone will be completely safe.'
'If they're wrong, is there any more we can do about it?'
'Yes. Hold the conference in another country.'
'That's you being helpful I suppose, Rosy?'
'Sorry. Just my way of saying we are doing all we can.'
'Fully armoured car transport from the airport with police escort.'
'Yes. You know all this. The army will have the route covered from every angle. It's just three miles from the airport to the conference centre. Once inside, our visitors will remain there until the conference is over.'
