by Madlen Namro
Kaminsky worked without a breathing spell, finding new fields he could excel in. Soon, aside from cloning, his greatest fascination became constructing weaponry. He managed to adopt various types of weapons to the tasks faced by his troops and created accurate, reliable and deadly weapons, small enough to be easily concealed when necessary. In his spare time, he personally trained his son in using them. Alexander, who’d always been weak and dependent on his father, felt a boost of self-confidence while in the presence of the caliph. He was enchanted by his father’s words and started believing in the supernatural powers Kaminsky could see in his son.
They had spent the last two years on the island of Lanzarotte. They both liked the climate and the volcanic landscape of the island. The rocks were drilled for hundreds of square metres below the surface to create the caliph’s headquarters. Apart from that, Kaminsky had a laboratory installed on the island, the largest and most modern facility of this sort in the world, the laboratory of his dreams.
That night, he decided to take a break and entertain a little. He felt tired from all the work he had been faced with recently. In his underground lair, surrounded by a pleasing, sweet odour, he sat at a long table with a young, beautiful woman at his side. He’d come across her several years before, a lonely, broke teenager with no way to provide for herself. He took her from the poverty of the streets and brought her to his bed chamber.
The woman obediently sat at the table, every now and then glancing at the six girls sitting to her right and six boys to her left. Kaminsky’s newest creations. He looked into the children’s eyes and saw nothing but fear and despair. Yet, he was overcome with pride at their sight as they were clones, each of them bearing a different modification, although all created from the same cell. Suddenly, he stopped eating and looked up.
“Why aren’t you eating, honey?” He glanced at the woman and the paleness of her face seemed to become even stronger.
She barely managed one bite which she swallowed down heavily with a full glass of water. Her hands were shaking. She suddenly recalled that she’d forgotten to take her tranquilising medicine. She noticed Kaminsky was still looking at her, so she reached out for the fork and took another morsel into her mouth trying to control the trembling of her hand. She chewed slowly, preparing for the seemingly impossible effort of a second swallow.
Several minutes later, Alexander entered the room and joined them at the table. His dark, grim eyes pierced the woman, paralysing her completely. His desire for her was so evident it nearly burnt, but she remained his father’s woman. He could never have her. His insistent stare made the woman so uneasy she eventually could not take it any more and ran out of the room.
“Laura!” Kaminsky tried to stop her, but she was gone before he could react.
“Mom!” one of the girls called out and tried to follow her, but Kaminsky, already vexed by the woman’s behaviour, impatiently produced a remote control from his pocket and pointed it at the child. She staggered, turned around and collapsed back into her seat.
Few people were aware of Kaminsky’s successful reimplementation of old Japanese technology created to be used in computer games. He built the remote to control the behaviour of his clones through remote stimulation of the labyrinth and the vestibular nucleus in the medulla oblongata, responsible for the sense of balance. Via small devices implanted into the skin behind the clones’ ears, he was able to control the direction in which they walked.
One of his long-term dreams was to implement this solution on a mass scale, but years of research were still needed before that ambition could be realised.
Once the child returned to the table, he was able to finish his meal in relative peace. He needed his strength for tonight as he was meeting with his co-operators, his most trusted advisers, deputies and commanders.
Handpicked from the best the terrorist population had to offer, the elite group of co-operators were often compared to the United Nations’ commandos. It was their responsibility to realise whatever new plans their caliph devised. They commanded terrorist attacks and recruited new servants of the new age – a term used by Kaminsky himself to describe the years of his global reign which was soon to come.
* * * *
Levi was more than happy to recognise Victor in the mysterious officer leading him out of prison. From the very first moment he knew there was something his friend was not telling him. They had always been absolutely honest with each other and shared everything, but not today. Victor kept asking about Jo and her past and Levi begun to understand something had happened between the two of them as Victor had never been so keyed up about anyone. Victor was usually the embodiment of calm and control, but now his questions about the tests, Fuerteventura and Alec revealed his highly emotional side. The fact that he and Jo had been assigned to work on the mission together seemed to matter to him much more than was to be expected. Levi was puzzled.
Later that day, Victor gave him the plain ticket to Tenerife. He was supposed to wait for him and the other commandos in the local base of Sun City. They said their goodbyes and the commodore waved for a taxi to take him to the airport. Victor got onboard his plane and set off for Cairo to meet David.
On his way to the island, Levi had a lot of time to ponder on his life. He knew he would soon have a chance to meet Jo and apologise to her. He should never have authorised the memory wipe. He shook his head deciding it was time to stop crying over split milk. Instead he focussed on the future and what he’d promised himself he would do. He had to find Laura, but now that he faced possibly the most dangerous mission of his life, he hesitated. Maybe it would be better to wait until everything had settled down. That night in the bar in Washington, he’d spent many hours talking to Victor about his daughter. Talking to him, rather than with him, as his friend seemed strangely reluctant to get involved in his plans. Victor repeatedly tried to change the topic and evaded the commodore’s questions, whenever they touched on the whereabouts of his daughter. Levi had hoped the tracker might have come across some rumours about her. Sometimes he actually got the impression that Victor was trying to hide something from him. He would soon confront his friend and find out everything there was to know.
* * * *
The view from the plane’s window was breathtaking and Victor marvelled at the beauty of the pyramids from above. He loved the world and would do anything to see it free from the tyranny of terrorism. He’d always enjoyed flying space shuttles, but in his mind the whole planet was just one such spaceship, orbiting around the sun, which in turn revolved around the centre of the galaxy, drifting away from other galaxies. Everything was in constant motion.
His thoughts drifted to the peculiar twist the events had taken. It was amazing how everything seemed to intertwine, every meeting resulting in the next, as if everything had long been predetermined. The paradox of time and space made him feel uneasy. So would it be that he had to be raised by the caliph and only to now be able to sneak up on him and kill him? He looked back at the pyramids. The sight was comforting, a proof that not everything in the world was doomed to disappear, that there were things that would survive us all.
He shook off the grim thoughts and focussed on David’s file in his hand. He decided to surprise him. Just the thought of David’s face when he saw him brought a smile to Victor’s face. They did not know each other, but the tracker knew quite a lot about the commando from the file and Levi’s stories. Friendly, helpful, principled and a talented programmer.
Victor had an informer in Cairo who could help him gain access to David’s virtual world.
After landing in Freestation, he hired a cabriolet and took off his shirt, exposing his body to the long awaited sunshine. It had been a long time since he’d felt the pleasure of the sun’s natural heat. He switched on the radio and listened to the Muslim news station whilst sipping on a bottle of cold water. He drove slowly, planning out his next moves as he went.
The sandy road quickly led him to Cairo. His dark glasses concealed the sa
dness in his eyes he did not wish the world to see. For some time now he had felt overwhelmingly saddened by everything that was happening around him. He was a tracker, but step by step he had begun to rediscover his suppressed humanity, his feelings. He worried for the commodore, dreamt about Jo and pondered on his childhood. He was surprised at the extent of damage his mental shield had sustained. He was going soft, his heart speaking louder than his cold intellect. It was shocking to discover that … he was alive.
Once he reached Cairo, he punched a code into his reader and moments later got the confirmation that his message had received. He was going to meet with his informer in a few minutes. He drove to the river and parked in the usual meeting spot. The Nile stank horribly, as always. It was a thick stream of soiled water, the banks overgrown and neglected, with many of the bridges in ruin.
He stepped out of the car and put his shirt back on as he was already beginning to feel the sting of sunburn. He opened the trunk and produced a shawl typically worn by Muslim nomads – he liked wearing it whenever he was in Africa. He spread it out and wrapped it around his head. Even though he’d always loved heat, he would much rather not get sunstroke. He noticed a woman coming in his direction. They smiled at each other and hugged in warm welcome. Milena, a dark-haired Italian, was a petite woman and of remarkable skill when it came to espionage.
“Ciao Vittorio.” She kissed him on the cheek. She had always had a soft spot for trackers and loved working with them.
Victor, charming as always, invited her to walk along the river with him.
“Andiamo? Let’s go for a walk. Cerco David, I’m looking for David.” He quickly got to the point, growing serious as he did so.
“All I hear nowadays is cerco.” She frowned.
Victor looked at her questioningly.
“Some months ago a woman came by asking for Magdalena,” she explained.
“Jo.” Victor nodded. He knew exactly what had happened.
“Si, did she find her?” Milena asked curiously.
“She did.”
“That’s good. It seemed to matter to her a lot.” She looked up at the tracker who bowed down and gallantly kissed her hand.
“This time I need some information.” He looked her deeply in the eyes. He could not deny he had always liked this petite Italian.
“What sort of information?” She put her arm under his and calmly led him for a longer stroll.
They walked side by side, careful not to attract unneeded attention.
“I know where to find him, but what I need is to find out more about that revolutionary programme of his and I need a way in.”
She seemed surprised.
“Uhm, that’s a bit much for a short walk. I’ll need some time.” She pressed at his arm. “We can continue this at my place…”
“I’d rather we didn’t, Milena…” He smiled at her warmly.
“Why? You’ve always enjoyed my hospitality.” She stopped in her tracks and looked at him in genuine surprise. “Remember my cooking?”
“Italian…” Victor took off his glasses and pulled the woman closer.
“Si, I’ll cook something special for you, and then…” She stood on her toes and put her mouth close to his ear as she elaborated on the spicy menu of Italian cuisine.
“No, Milena. I think I’ll have to pass on your… cooking this time.” Victor’s smile broadened, clearly in disagreement with what he’d just said.
“But why? Is there a woman?” Milena was evidently disappointed. “A freelancer like you? Don’t tell me you’re in love.”
“I’m not sure… but there is someone I think about.” To his own surprise, Victor admitted his feelings for Jo.
“Uhm.” She walked on. “And who’s the lucky girl?” she asked unhappily.
Still laughing, Victor pulled the woman closer and said nothing. He’d always been discrete, especially when it came to his own feelings.
“Don’t make me beg.” She put her hands on his buttocks and squeezed gently. She loved flirting with men and hated being turned down.
“All right.” He kissed her on the lips. “You win, let’s go.”
They strolled along the riverbanks for a few more minutes, talking and laughing, before they disappeared around the corner for a good several hours.
Having quenched his thirst for Milena’s charms and his hunger for her delicious Italian cooking, Victor finally got the answers to his questions. Once he’d decided he knew all that he needed, he got back into his car and drove towards the city hall.
The prefecture of the city of Old Cairo was located in the very centre of the Egyptian capital, in one of its few remaining intact streets. Clouds of dust stretched out along its entire length. Victor parked the car and looked around. Few people still lived here. The city threatened by poverty, even before the attack, was now almost deserted.
He stepped into one of the buildings and used one of his many identification cards to get to the first floor and the Department of Urban Planning. Everyone he passed was of obvious Arabic descent, but Victor knew how to adapt to his environment and blend in. No one took much notice of him. He found David’s room and recognised him sitting among the city architects assigned to the rebuilding works. They were all plugged into the computer system as the discussion was taking place in virtual reality.
The on-screen data let him quickly locate David in the virtual city. He sat next to him and strapped on the portal. He immediately found himself standing inside the computer generated world.
He looked with amazement at this artificial Cairo. It looked beautiful. Rebuilt and clean, marked by modern architecture, with parks placed all over, even the smell… but now he had to walk to the district where David was currently working with the architects. He briskly walked past one street after another, noticing painfully that the virtual sun irritated his sunburnt skin just as much as the real one had. He could not help but marvel at the programmer’s meticulousness. Several minutes later he reached the City of the Dead, the cemetery district, where the poorest inhabitants of Cairo made their homes inside the tombs.
“That will not do, gentlemen,” David explained in an excited voice. “We must build houses for these people here!”
“But who’s going to pay for that?” the architects asked, interrupting one another.
“This district has always been the scarecrow of the city. It’s been like this for centuries,” he continued, raising his voice again. “We must do something about it, give them work so that they can provide for themselves and the city must cover the cost of building their homes!”
“This may be possible.” One of the older men spoke out. “But, in a few years, maybe a few dozen. Not now!”
“If you want to rebuild a city, it has to be done comprehensively!” David insisted.
“A very good point.” Victor took the opportunity to break in, attracting all the men’s attention. David was clearly shocked by the tracker’s intrusion. He approached him angrily.
“Yes, I know it is. Pity no one else thinks so.” He shoved his notes into his pocket. “But who the hell are you and what are you doing inside my programme? Someone sent you?”
“Indeed, but we’ll discuss that outside. Victor Berg.” He offered his hand to David.
“David Scar.” They shook hands. “So you’re an architect? One of the city clearing teams?”
“In a way,” Victor answered enigmatically. “I realise you have a busy schedule… but clearing the city will have to wait.”
“What do you mean?” David was now growing rather curious.
“You’ll first have to help me clear the city of the living.” He noticed that the architects were listening to every word they’d said. “I’ll wait for you outside the building,” he added.
“All right, but I don’t have time to waste.” David looked around his virtual Cairo.
“Neither do I.” Victor walked a few paces away before returning to the real world. He took one more breath of the unrealistically aromat
ic air, closed his eyes and for a moment pondered how wonderful it would have been if the city actually did look like this.
This was the beautiful, peaceful world everyone dreamt of; a dream that might never come true.
* * * *
It had already been two days since Levi had arrived at Tenerife. He realised he should be looking for Jo who was somewhere on the island, but he decided it was better to wait a while. Today, he had to climb Pico del Teida, the tallest mountain in former Spain. He felt weak. The time spent in the prison had drained him of his strength and he needed to regain his former physical shape. Sadly the gyms on the island were poorly equipped. He needed to resort to older ways of exercise and go climbing. When he stood on the peak, after the long and strenuous trek, he suddenly felt overwhelmed by the cloudy sky above him. He longed to return to his shuttle.
Ignoring the low temperature biting at his skin, he remained there for some time, gathering strength. Neither the ocean nor deep space could ever give him this kind of priceless energy. He closed his eyes and began to breathe regularly, calming his pounding heart. Even the pain in his forearm which had awoken during the climb seemed to fade as he continued his meditation. He grabbed at his arm and rubbed it energetically. A section of it was artificial but he never told anyone about it. He’d had an accident years before, one he would much rather forget. He concealed the defect from everyone. A commodore needed to be even more fit than his commandos. His position demanded it and he was reluctant to show any sign of weakness. The army would likely discharge him had they found out about his surgery and he could not allow that. His service in the UN military was his whole life.
He pushed all these thoughts away and felt that his mind was beginning to unwind, gathering strength for the mission that lay ahead, its danger and nearly impossible difficulty. For how could one assassinate a psychopath commanding the loyalty of millions of people? How was a small group of commandos going to accomplish that?
He forced himself to shake off his doubts. Their group may be small, but they were all highly trained specialists, people prepared to deal with the very worst the world could ever throw against them. He realised that it was his job to keep their spirits up, not despair in vain. He needed to spur them on to do their best, to motivate them. He was the highest ranking officer in the group and they were bound to turn to him when in need.
