“Ye can sit it if ye want, son, but ye’ll have tae go back tae St Margaret Mary’s Secondary after the three years. Ah cannae afford to pay the fees once the bursary is up.”
Gary looked earnestly back at his father Frank.
“Don’t worry, dad, ah’ll pay the fees myself.”
Frank Mackintosh roared with laughter at Gary. However, when that time came, Gary stumped up the fees to the amazement of his parents. Annie told her son that it was a gift from God and that she would light a candle at Mass for him. Gary just laughed and said that it was a gift from gaming. In his first year at Glasgow High, Gary had been fascinated by the economics class and he showed a keen interest in the laws of supply and demand and stocks and shares. He became much less interested in pitting his wits against gamers hooked on winning money through playing soccer, sorcery and death and destruction games online. Gary found a whole new world of international stock markets, which were quite amenable to accepting Gary’s avatar so long as he was putting up the money. He slid seamlessly from the gaming circuits and started investing heavily in stocks, shares, investments and commodities and the money kept rolling in. It was at the start of Gary’s second year at Glasgow High and this new guy had marched right up to the empty desk beside Gary, as he sat alone in the maths class.
“Hi, I’m Ewan Sinclair – mind if I sit here?”
Gary did not mind at all, because he was a bit of a loner, the computer geek that most of the other boys just ignored. It was the start of a great new friendship and the two boys were like limpets at school, stuck to each other like glue, helping each other with their studies. Gary hated chemistry and physics and he relied on Ewan to help him with his homework. Ewan tapped into Gary’s obvious adeptness at computer science. Together they made a great team and they became the closest of friends. However, for Gary, it was never close enough. Gary began to realise that he was gay. He loved Ewan the moment that he had sat beside him in class, he still did. Gary felt destined never to reveal his love for Ewan, because Ewan was as straight as they came. Gary discovered he was fairly popular with many of the girls at school, probably because they tapped into his sexuality. He presented no threat to the girls and he seemed to be able to tap into their femininity. Gary seemed to be Ewan’s conduit to getting all the good-looking girls and Ewan made the most of it. It was actually Gary who had known Jill Geeson from school and again he would later be the one to introduce her to Ewan. Gary always thought that the pair were the real deal and he ended up being the shoulder to cry on when Jill eventually split from Ewan. Gary thought Ewan was probably still in love with her. Maybe even the Schenkler story had become so important to Ewan because he saw that it was a pathway back to Jill, now apparently single again following her split from Khan. For Gary the story was just about making more of his beloved Money and even then he knew that he did not really need it. God, if only Ewan knew his online portfolio had a balance of around 30 million Euro in stocks and shares. If Gary could not love Ewan then he could devote his life to his Money. How sad, he thought. Then, as Gary watched the sombre procession on TV, slow tears trickled involuntarily down his cheeks. Ewan just happened to look across from his work momentarily.
“Are you crying, Gary Mackintosh? I thought you didn’t give a toss for royalty?”
“Why don’t you fuck off, Ewan!”
*
At the Times office Jill and Ruthie were also watching the funeral procession. It had now reached the Cenotaph, which stood like a great white granite sentinel halfway along Whitehall. Jill had been trying unsuccessfully to contact Khan on the phone. She wanted to tell him that she was pregnant and she believed Khan that the £20 million property deal was genuine. Jill was going to ask Khan if he wanted to make another go of it and come back to Kew. She also knew Khan had a lot of contacts in the Arab and Muslim communities around Britain and he might be able to give her some sort of lead into information on the terrorists. If indeed the terrorists were of Middle Eastern or Islamic origin, which was a dangerous assumption to make at this point in time. Jill had found that even the police were struggling to get any sort of lead. The cops’ insiders and Jill’s ‘snitches and grasses’ had heard nothing on the underworld grapevine. Ruthie had even managed somehow miraculously to get in touch with Dinky Budge, wherever in the world he was, but even he had not heard a cheep. Although, Dinky Budge warned Ruthie not to try and find him again. He said that it was too dangerous for both of them. Ruthie was preparing to type up her main story on the Prince’s funeral, while she simultaneously watched it proceed on video feed on the corner of her laptop. She began to type her first draft and an emotional lump welled up in her throat. Ruthie asked herself, why do we Americans get all mushy over royalty? The BBC commentator’s voice came across the airwaves in deep hushed tones.
“Today, it is as if the world has stopped. Stopped to hold its collective breath and to shed a universal tear…”
*
Earthdate: 16:30 Thursday February 13, 2081 GMT
Two hours after the TV broadcast had ended Gary was sitting staring at Ewan in a state of awe and love. Ewan was aware that Gary was in awe of him, but he was oblivious to his love. However, Ewan was not in awe of himself at this moment in time. He was wracked with self-doubt about what he had actually achieved this afternoon while Gary had watched the sombre events unfold on TV.
“I don’t know, Gary, what if all this is just a pile of mince?”
“But if you’re right, Ewan, Jill gets the story to end all stories –“
Ewan shook his head dubiously.
“We can’t take this thing to Jill now - just on my say so. We are going to need someone else to corroborate this. It’s too big to be wrong, Gary!”
“Well, what about yer mates up at CORSAIR? Get it to them to have a wee look at it –“
“Jesus Christ, Gary, if they find out that we were up there without authority, they’ll probably get us thrown in jail!”
Gary nodded in agreement.
“Aye, yer probably right.”
The two of them sat silently mulling over the problem when Gary came up with a suggestion.
“Ah’ve got it! Why don’t we get yer pal Schenkler to look at it? Ah mean to say, he’s got the Nimrod telescope to play with that found the comet in the first place –“
“Gary, please tell me you’re kidding. Schenkler would have the whole of NASA down on top of us before we could say boo to a goose!”
Gary gave a wry smile and a raise of his eyebrow.
“Not if Schenkler thought we were NASA –“
Ewan made to interrupt and Gary raised his palm to stop him.
“Naw, Ewan, you’ve done your bit, but this is where ah come in. We have access to Schenkler’s email, right? On it we have his NASA contacts and in turn they have their NASA contacts and their NASA contacts, et cetera. Ah dig around in the E2MSN and find a NASA guy who Schenkler is unlikely to know. Now hear me out here! We send Ari an email from this guy saying that he has picked up the Nimrod footage and kicked it around a bit. The NASA guy says that he has researched it further and what we do is send your stuff attached to Ari’s email. We then ask Schenkler to independently verify your results as a matter of urgency.”
Ewan looked at Gary unconvincingly.
“But - what if Schenkler twigs what we’re up to - and what about NASA? Won’t they know what’s going on?”
“Ewan! It’s Gary boy yer talkin’ to. Ah’ll have this NASA guy’s email cloned so well that if he ever saw it – which he won’t – he’d swear on the Holy Bible that he had actually sent it to Ari Schenkler himself!”
“Gary Mackintosh, I could kiss you!”
Gary grimaced inside and he wished that Ewan would do just that.
*
Earthdate: 18:55 Thursday February 13, 2081 IST
Ari was in big trouble. His wife Ava had booked a table for eight o’clock at
the Yoezer Wine Bar on his recommendation after he and his team had dined there on Goldenheim’s expense account lunch. But here he was just before seven still tidying up in the office at INSACC. To be fair, it had actually been a very productive day. In the afternoon, Ari and his project team had gone through the final dry run of the 2082 Nimrod SH2 presentation in front of the Center Director and his boss Yosep Goldenheim and it had actually been received really well. In fact, it went much better than Ari had expected. The team’s options for the 5% and 6% budget cuts held up well under intense scrutiny, considering the short timescales that Ari’s team had been given. The Project Director and Goldenheim had only requested some minor adjustments and Ari and Jerzy had worked late to finish the final presentation. Jerzy, who had gone home just ten minutes ago, had been happy to stay on with Ari to get the job finished. Jerzy knew Ari was on the night-shift Friday night on Nimrod and it would have meant the two of them coming in over the weekend as the NASA team would be arriving on the following Monday. Ari had a weekend sea-fishing trip booked off the coast at Joppa and Jerzy had a family wedding to attend in Nazareth. It suited both men to work late tonight and get things finished. Well it did suit until Ari realized that he was starting to run late for his date with his wife. He scolded himself aloud in the empty office.
“Time I was out of here!”
Ari started packing his briefcase with his laptop and papers to work on Sunday night before his big presentation the following day. He made to shut down his desktop monitor when it pinged! An email had just arrived in his inbox marked URGENT. He could see it was from someone in NASA. Another glance at the marching clock made him speak aloud again.
“I’ll look at you tomorrow night –“
Ari bent over to boot down his machine and something made him stop. What if it is some last minute request from NASA about Monday’s meeting, he asked himself? What if I need to see Yosep about it tomorrow? He opened the email, which was from someone in NASA he did not know of and he quickly scanned through it.
From: Beth O’Donnell, NASA HQ – Classified
To: [email protected]
Date: 10:57 Feb 13, 2081 CST
Subject: Investigation of Nimrod SH2 scanning error
Ari’s heart sank. Someone in NASA was just about to give him another roasting about the money wasted as a result of his error. He quickly looked at the wall clock but could not resist reading on.
Dear Ari,
I am responding to your email of Jan 21 2081 regarding your instruction to ignore the 2’ 11’’ of incorrect footage taken by Nimrod SH2 telescope that same evening. As a matter of routine this was passed to my office and in researching the Nimrod film, I have discovered that it actually contains material of important interest. I have conducted further more extensive research on this data and I would like to have your valued opinion on it. I need your results ASAP, no later than Saturday morning Houston time. Please find attached files containing your original footage, a further 110 minutes of footage gathered subsequently, a CGI model and my research notes, calculations and conclusions. I look forward to hearing from you on Saturday.
Beth O’Donnell, NASA.
Ari could not believe it. The two minutes and eleven seconds from Nimrod had actually turned out to be of value after all. Wait until Yosep Goldenheim hears about this. Ari’s cell phone rang shrilly in the empty room making him jump out of his skin. It was his irate wife Ava.
“Ari Schenkler! Where in God’s name are you? You should have been home already!”
Ari slapped his forehead. Ari you dumb schmuck!
“Ava, darling – Jerzy and I had to work late to finish the big presentation for Monday…”
Ava showed a blatant disregard for the big presentation.
“Are we going to Yoezer’s tonight or not, Ari?”
Ari had to think quickly.
“Look, Ava, tell you what. You jump in the electri-car and drive up to Yoezer’s. You’ll find it at Ish-Habira Street, near the old Clock’s Square in Jaffa. I have a clean top in my locker here. I’ll do a quick wash and brush-up and then grab a cab and meet you there. I’ll phone the wine bar and tell them that we will be five or ten minutes late. How does that sound?”
Ari could tell that it did not sound too great at all to Mrs Ava Schenkler.
“Oh, you bloody scientists – full of logic, but no common sense. You better be there, Ari, or else…!”
Ava cut him off. Ari thought to himself that he better leave the email until tomorrow night’s shift back at INSACC and that he had also better get cracking down to Yoezer’s.
Chapter 12
Earthdate: 10:30 Monday February 17, 2081 GMT
The six men sat around the small table. Five of them looked perplexed because they were not actually meant to be there. Not for at least another two weeks. They were at a safe house in Leicester but most of them did not feel that safe. Khan al Ahmed who spoke first certainly did not.
“Why in Allah’s name have you called us together so soon, Mahmoud? Even Jill has been trying to reach me and I have been avoiding her calls.”
Hassan was in general agreement with Khan.
“Khan is right, Mahmoud. The police and Security Services are crawling all over the place at present. It is dangerous for us to be together like this –“
The Mohammad brothers also mumbled their dubious agreement. Mahmoud tried to placate the agitated Group.
“Brothers! Brothers! Please stay calm. Brother Suleiman has spoken with me and the infidel leaders have talked with him and he is sure that they are still fishing around in the dark.”
Khan was still unsatisfied.
“Even more reason to stay apart until the heat cools down. This is the second time you have changed our plans without consulting the Group – first Aisha, now this!”
Mahmoud remained calm.
“As your leader, Khan, sometimes I need to make the difficult decisions. The reason that I have called you all together today is that something new and very important has come to light.”
The Palestinian, the one in the Group who was nameless and had remained quietly sinister in the background, spoke with his usual low hiss.
“I pray to Allah it is a new mission, brother Mahmoud. Let us strike at the infidel cur while he still lies on the ground bleeding!”
Mahmoud nodded to the Palestinian in agreement and he related to the Group about his luck in coming across all of Dr Marcie Venters’ plans for the development of the DNA superstores at the various sites within existing Western medical facilities. He had discussed his ideas with President Suleiman and the esteemed Mullah was in full agreement with them. Mahmoud’s plan would be for three of the Group to be chosen as martyrs to Islam and to carry out suicide bombings on the relatively ‘soft’ targets identified: St Bartholemew’s in London, Harvard Medical Center in Boston and the Toronto University Hospital in Canada. The bombings on the three targets would be carried out simultaneously in early to mid-March. When Mahmoud had finished his presentation, apart from the Palestinian who was grinning horribly, the others sat stunned and pale. Khan was first to express his doubts.
“In the name of Allah, what kind of a devilish plan is this, Mahmoud? We all agreed that one day we would be martyrs for our great Allah, but since when did we begin attacking hospitals?”
Mahmoud could see that the Mohammads and Hassan also looked gravely doubtful, but he remained calm and rational.
“Fertility is becoming one of the great battlegrounds of the late 21st century, Khan. The inability of many of the human races to successfully procreate nowadays has led the West to develop these unethical ideas. If we strike at the heart of the infidels’ barbaric and inhumane plans for these DNA superstores - devised by that accursed Jew doctor - then we are following Allah’s will.”
The Palestinian leaned across the table towards Khan and hissed.
�
�Well, I for one am in. You can strap a bomb to me right now. Allahu akbar!”
Mahmoud then lifted his hand which was clutching some small items. They all then saw he was holding straws.
“I commend your bravery in Allah’s name, my Palestinian brother, but we do this fair and square. I have here three long straws and three short ones. We each pick one – agreed?”
There was a kind of mumbled and dubious assent from the Group. Mahmoud passed his hand around each one. The Mohammad brothers both chose long straws to their relief. The Palestinian chose a short straw to his own delight.
“Allah be praised – give me St Bart’s and I will take the Jew doctor to the hereafter with me, Mahmoud!”
Hassan also chose a short straw and he went even paler than before. Mahmoud held out his hand to Khan and they looked each other bitterly in the eye.
“It is you or me, Khan –“
“What if I don’t want to choose to die a martyr for this accursed plan, Mahmoud?”
It was the Palestinian who answered.
“Then you had better watch your back, Khan al Ahmed! Better to die a martyr to Allah than to die a traitor to the cause of Islam.”
Khan flashed a look of hatred at the Palestinian and then he reached his hand across to Mahmoud. Khan drew the short straw.
*
Jill was fuming. She had been trying to reach Buckley all morning but he had not been around. His News Editor had taken the editorial meeting and he said he did not know where Buckley was. The second-in-command said Buckley would be back later in the morning. Jill had just written the exclusive of the century for Buckley and her ‘bucking’ Senior Investigative Editor had gone and pulled it from publication. She could not believe it when she checked the Times ‘Bloid’ this morning. It was not there. She scrambled around on the Leaks websites and nada – nothing!
2084 The End of Days Page 17
