“Jaap did well on the golf course in Sweden. It seems like the mission went well.”
The other man nodded.
“Yes, our brother is talented” he paused, “Have we gotten the death confirmed?”
“No, not yet but it must just be a matter of time.”
The man nodded thoughtfully.
“How does it look with our mission?”
“Looking good. Our robot friend is ready to go and do some work.”
They worked quickly and silently. Large screens inside the car gave the space a surreal feeling, but they were professionals and focused on the mission. They had done this before and they knew what was expected of them. Up on the van's roof a valve opened soundlessly and after a few seconds an artificial machine crawled out from the valve. Gently the dragonfly ascended from the roof of the van, flew up to Topps’s apartment and entered through the ventilation system.
* * *
Once inside the apartment it navigated in to the living room and flew up to the ceiling, placed itself upside down. Straight under it the target sat. Dennis was sitting below, unaware that he was being monitored. After a couple of minutes, the phone rang and he answered.
“Yes?” he was silent a couple of seconds.
The dragonfly could without a problem forward what the target said to the van down the street but it could barely register what the voice in the phone said. It turned up its sensors to the max.
Topp continued his conversation.
“What do you mean, onto it? You have been so careful, how could’ve somebody discovered it?”
The dragonfly had increased the sensitivity on its sensors to the max but there was a limit though where even it came short. Below Topp had started walking around in an inpatient circle while he was talking.
“Ok, I will do that, you be careful too. See you on Saturday. Good luck,” he hung up.
* * *
Below in the van the men at the control table worked efficiently. One of them cleared the noise from the rain, impurities and other interferences on the recording that the dragonfly had forwarded from the apartment and opened a special computer program that started to process and enhance the voice from the phone.
* * *
Up in the apartment Dennis sat and watched the live broadcasts from Hong Kong. The situation there were of increasing chaos. The journalist walked on the deserted, blocked off streets in the million people sized city. In recent weeks the authorities had imposed curfews to curb the more increasing disturbances. Dennis thought back at that time when he was a boy and lived with his father, Dennis Topp Senior, in Hong Kong.
His father had been working in a bank and when Dennis mother had died in a car accident when Dennis was six years old, his father had been offered an overseas stationing and he had said yes and brought his son to Hong Kong. Dennis had lived there for eight years and Hong Kong had shaped much of his upbringing and he still had a deep bond to it despite not having visited it for over twenty years. He listened to the journalist who summed up the situation.
“Here we now see the effects of the curfew imposed by the authorities. Street after street that is completely abandoned.”
At the end of the twentieth century, China had partially regained governance over Hong Kong who had been under British rule since the Opium Wars in the 1840s. In 1997, Hong Kong had transitioned from the British to the Chinese, but Hong Kong had been promised 50 years of its own governing, free from Chinese involvement, under the slogan One Kingdom, two systems.
A surprisingly similar process had taken place with Macau. Macau was a former Portuguese colony which was the last European colony that was returned. In 1999, Macau was returned to Chinese rule with the similar 50-year promise given to Hong Kong, but as they approached the end of the fifty years, the unrest had grown.
Violent factions had emerged and fought increasingly desperately for freedom. The Chinese, who saw that both Macau and Hong Kong would of course should be back in Chinese hands became increasingly annoyed. In the end, the powder keg had exploded. Dennis shook his head. That they never learned. He turned off the screen and got up.
Dennis downed another whiskey, prepared himself for bed and walked into the bedroom. He took off his clothes and folded them neatly and put them in place on the chair next to his side, he looked at his wife's peaceful face as she slept and smiled. Carefully he laid down in the soft bed and the warmth from his wife's body welcomed him.
Eleven minutes later, the dragonfly registered the regular breathing of the couple in bed. It lifted softly, flew into the bedroom and hovered half a meter above Dennis's head. Kathy laid beside in deep sleep. The dragonfly hung in the air. Immobile. As a small black hole that magically floated weightlessly above the unexpected couple. A minute passed. One more.
Dennis turned and came over on his back. He stretched in his sleep. Another minute passed. Dennis snored in his sleep and opened his mouth, the dragonfly saw the opening. While Dennis was yawning, the dragonfly saw its chance and quickly collapsed into a hard ball and fell silently through the air into his mouth. The hard little ball continued rapidly down the throat. Dennis coughed heavily a couple of times and fell back to sleep. The ball continued all the way down to the stomach where it started to unfold itself again.
Once inside the stomach the dragonfly started to excrete an artificial chemical that were designed to seek its way deep into the arteries where it started to reshape itself until it looked like the plaque that naturally is built up in every persons veins throughout the years. The process went fast. Way faster than the natural that took many years. This only took a couple of minutes.
Dennis kept sleeping for a while but woke up with a twitch. He rubbed his chest. The heart pounded and panic creeped up over him. He sat up and looked around, saw Kathy lay next to him and swung his legs down on the floor. A slight pinch crawled in his left arm and he stretched it instinctively. Thousand tiny needles stung it and he massaged it.
He stood up and slipped his feet into his slippers next to the bed. Unsteady he went out to the living room, around the couch and out to the kitchen to get some water. He took two steps when it tightened in his chest and he stopped, gasping and had to lean on to the edge of the couch. The pain over his chest tore as a flaming fire and with his right arm he tried to massage away the cramp. It tasted metal in his mouth and he saw that it was dripping small drops of blood on the top of his hand.
“No, no. Not now, not now.” He gasped.
Wheezing, he leaned forward while the cramp spread in his chest. His right leg buckled and he went down on his knees. Inside his body his heart was fighting to maintain the pressure in his veins but the artificial plaque grew bigger by every heartbeat.
He tried to call for his wife but only croaking sounds left his lips. Staggering, he stumbled into the bedroom against the bed where Kathy still was sleeping. Before he made it to the edge of the bed his legs collapsed beneath him. When he fumbling pulled the cover, Kathy started to wake up. The croaking escaped again from his mouth, higher this time. The pain in his body was excruciating. Each time, blood rushed past the artificial plug in the veins, it further increased some micro centimeters and now blocked almost the entire passage. The pain he experienced was different to all he had previously experienced, he opened his mouth and tried to breathe but no air came into his lungs.
Kathy drowsily sat up and stared in horror at the distorted person who sat crouched by the side of the bed. There went a few seconds before she recognized her husband and her horror was mixed with panic. She shouted and threw herself forward.
“What’s happening, Dennis!” she took his face in her hands and looked at him in despair.
Dennis tried to talk but instead of the croaking came now a deep hissing instead. His head felt like it would explode by the pain, as molten steel was poured through his body.
“Tell me what I should do, please Dennis! What is happening?” Kathy continued to hold his face with her hands as if she could cure this terrible
illness with laying on of the hands.
Dennis body was paralyzed and his limbs did not obey his will. He stood on his knees, struggling to stay upright with both hands convulsively pushing against his chest as if he tried to push out the evil in his body. The pain poured over him again and he fell down on the side with a dull thud. Blood splashed from his mouth when his chewed up tongue hit his teeth’s. He lost control of his bowel movements and the sharp smell hit him. Kathy screamed. The last thing he saw before faith and darkness took him was Kathy’s twisted face that desperately shouted after him.
*
Outside Tabula Rasa, Madagascar.
2048-12-29
The one who seeks, shall find. Silas Bommer sat on the hard chair in the fish shack and looked out through the dirty window for the hundredth time over the port at Madagascar’s west coast while his fingers tapped the table. The sky was covered with cumulus clouds and the sunlight struggled to penetrate the cloud cover.
The fish smell was heavy in the hut, but it did not bother him at all. His father had been a fisherman and his grandfather too. Silas had grown up with the expectation that he would follow in their footsteps. But he had already at an early age realized that he would never follow his relative’s career choices because of the simple reason that he became seasick.
He had at several occasions tried to go with his father when he was working but instead of being of any help, Silas had constantly been hanging and vomiting over the railing. And as the pollution of the oceans increased, the fish disappeared more and more. In the end, his father had been forced to throw in the towel and abandoned his profession as the catches got smaller and smaller. He remembered with bitterness the sorrow his father had experienced and how he became a broken man after that.
Silas hard, hardened fingers continued their drumming, now against the book that laid in front of him on the table. Silas had brought the book just because he knew it could become more stressful to sit and look out after the man. Therefore, he had brought his favorite book. Journey to the Center of the Earth by Jules Verne. He loved it and had read it tens of times throughout the years. But today he had not had the peace of mind to read, he looked again at the watch and started to regret it. The man might not come. Backmann had said that the one Silas would help into Tabula Rasa would come around dinnertime.
Backmann and Silas had known each other for many years. Backmann had been in South Africa on a stationing many years ago. He had met Silas during a period that Silas had worked as a liaison officer for the South African army during the construction of the mega complex Helder Ster outside Johannesburg and they had become friends. Much later, when Silas wife had got sick and needed advanced medical assistance that was only available at two specialist hospitals in Europe Backmann had helped him for which Silas had been forever grateful. His wife had gotten help and had lived for three more years but when she was on her way home from the last follow-up visit she had been stopped by robbers that wanted her car. She had not given it to them fast enough and the robbers had shot her and she had bleed to death in a ditch in western France. It was seven years ago.
Silas looked out again, but saw only a weak reflection of his weathered face in the window. Backmann had called him the night before and unexpectedly asked for a favor. Silas had promised to help Backmann with whatever he wanted. He and Backmann had agreed that Silas would help a man that was called Jonathan from their organization into Tabula Rasa and then help him to get out again when his mission was done. Backmann had told that Jonathan needed an access card that gave passage for Jonathan and four guests and Silas had promised Backmann that he would do his best to arrange that.
Immediately after their conversation, Silas had called an old friend that he had in Tabula Rasa who would send the codes that Silas needed to update one of the many fake access cards he had. The problem was that Silas was still waiting for his friend to send the codes, without them it was impossible to get in. Cold sweat made his back moist.
Backmann had said that the man named Jonathan would wear a green cap. But now Silas doubted that their plan would succeed. He had been waiting for more than ninety minutes, still no Jonathan and no codes. Doubtfully he stared out again over the port and a shiver slid over the cold back.
* * *
Jonathan's heart was pounding and he took a few deep breaths to calm down. He stood behind a tree looking down at the small village. A group of small wooden houses with worn walls and windows that were in a crescent around the port. Beyond the village, along one edge went the forest boundary. Tall palms stretched upwards and waved in the wind. From a couple of the small wooden houses rose slow lanes of smoke from the chimneys. The houses looked worn, the wood that the houses were made of was old and worn and the color flaked from the walls. Here and there were sporadic fishnets strung up for repairs on high poles but most of the poles were empty. The village looked relatively abandoned.
The port consisted of two breakwaters that stretched out into the sea like the arms in an incomplete hug. Inside the port were perhaps a dozen small, rickety fishing boats scattered, some of them looked barely seaworthy.
The damp heat was like a warm breath against him, and Jonathan wiped his forehead and squinted. He saw a few people moving in and around the village. A couple of children ran and played with a dog, a woman seemed to carry something against one of the houses.
* * *
Silas went despondently out of the fishing hut and closed the old wooden door behind him. He laid his hand on the red pennant that was attached to a string outside his door when he looked up. Completely random. There. Over by the tree line. There was something that looked like a man's shape. The man stood there. Partially hidden behind a tree, but Silas could clearly see the man's green cap. Silas's heart skipped a beat. The man did not move. It must be him.
* * *
Jonathan stood by the tree line. The soft sand was warm and his feet sank down into it. He looked down at the eastern cottages, looking for the red flag that was the sign. There. Farthest. A man came out and laid his hand on the line that hung a red pennant. The man looked up and froze in his work. With a straight face, he released the line and went into the house again. The seconds dragged on. The adrenaline flowed through Jonathan's veins and took a couple of deep breaths to calm down. He started moving towards the fishing hut farthest away.
* * *
Silas gently closed the door and rushed to the window. He pulled the old curtain to the side and looked out. At first he did not see anything but after a few seconds he saw the man with the green cap moving down towards the village. He ran quickly. Silas saw how the man approached and disappeared out of sight behind a couple of houses, his pulse increased.
Thirty nervous seconds passed when it knocked weakly on the door. Silas let go of the curtain, left the window and went up to the door. He took a deep breath and opened, let in the man with the green cap and then closed the door. The men looked at each other in silence. Silas opened his mouth first.
“Hey, it's me who is Silas.” Silas offered his hand. Jonathan took it and answered.
“Hey, my name is Jonathan.”
Silas nervousness subsided slowly.
“It was close that we missed each other. I was on my way out of here.”
Jonathan nodded.
“Yes, it was close, wasn’t it? I got delayed down on the beach. Nothing serious but it took a little time.”
The nervousness rose in him again.
“Delayed? Were you discovered?”
Jonathan smiled in the weak light.
“No. I lured away the guard so nobody knows that I’m here.”
A certain relief slid over Silas eyes and he nodded again.
“Good, good. That was good.”
Jonathan looked around in the room, a small work desk was filled with different knifes, net and lines that were used by the few fishermen who still struggled on. He turned to Silas.
“And now what? What is the plan?”
“The plan?
” Silas laughed unsurely, “I will help you into Tabula Rasa. You will do what it is that you should do and then shall I get you out again.”
Jonathan saw Silas insecurity.
“Is there any problem?”
Silas did not answer directly but nodded finally slowly.
“For the access card to work, the codes must be updated.” His unsure eyes looked at Jonathan, “But the problem is that my contact inside Tabula Rasa has not yet sent them. The access card does not work.”
Jonathan nodded bitterly. Time for plan B. There had not been time for a longer planning with Backmann before he had to leave. He touched his ribs and rubbed them gently. They hurt when his fingers slipped over them but he was still fascinated by how well those injections Marie had given him had been. He had broken a couple of ribs once before during a soccer game and they had hurt for several days before the worst was over but this had gone much faster. It was less than twelve hours ago that he had got the injections and already was his ribs a lot better than he had expected. Jonathan pulled out his phone and sent a message to Elisabeth. He crossed his fingers and hoped that she would receive it.
“Ok, no problem. In that case I have to improvise. I will get myself in there as soon as possible and then find the persons that need help.”
Tabula Rasa Page 18
