The Aurora Conspiracies- Volume One

by Sam Nash

  It read: Transcript from recordings at the Investor’s Ball

  Dr Parth Arora – Let me introduce you to a very big fish. Constance, meet Professor Cyril Plender, Head of Biochemistry at the University and his wife Yelena. He is conducting many fascinating studies that I am sure you will want to ask him about. Plender, this is Constance Cadot, respected freelance journalist. She has a few questions for you. If you will excuse me, I need to return to my wife.

  Yelena – Nice to meet you, Constance, but I need to speak with the catering staff. Excuse me.

  Professor Cyril Plender – Pleased to meet you, my dear. Say, that is a lovely dress you are wearing.

  Constance – I thank you, Cyril. Kind of you to notice. Here, let me straighten your pocket square. There, you look very smart.

  Mary skipped down the page, balking at Cyril’s attempts to woo Connie. Connie must have had some wireless recording device stashed somewhere. Her dress was far too revealing to have secreted it on her body. Mary read on.

  Constance – Won’t you introduce me to your friend?

  Plender – I’d rather keep you all to myself. Would you care to dance?

  Constance – Perhaps later, Cyril. It would be trés rude, would it not? He is walking this way.

  Plender – I’ll hold you to that promise, young lady. Ah. Lars Visser, this is the lovely Constance Cadot. She is a freelance journalist.

  Lars Visser – Mademoiselle, charmed.

  Constance – You are not a doctor or professor monsieur?

  Visser – Alas no. My expertise lie elsewhere.

  Constance – Oh? What do you specialise in?

  Visser – Investments of course. Is that not why we are here tonight?

  Constance – I have read about your philanthropic efforts in Holland and Germany, Mr Visser. Do you intend to fund British orphanages too, or are you channelling your billions into something specific? Research perhaps?

  Visser – Yes indeed. Cyril has many interesting projects worthy of investment, as do many of the University departments.

  Constance – but perhaps your interests lie in a more pseudo-science. What is your opinion of Psi Phenomenon, Mr Visser? A little Aboriginal Dream-Time or a spot of astral projection? Do you believe in funding projects that analyse the efficacy of Amazonian hallucinogen, Ayahuasca or other DMT rich concoctions? Perhaps you prefer to fund studies into the synthetic version. Are you trying to have a spiritual revelation, Mr Visser?

  Visser – So many burning questions you have, Ms Cadot. One might think you are having a personal crisis of faith.

  Dan Wildman – Forgive me gentlemen, but I’d like to dance with my girlfriend.

  Visser – Ms Cadot? My card. Call me. Perhaps we can arrange a more formal interview.

  Plender – Jesus Christ, man. Why would you encourage her? Where did she get all that from? We’ve hardly begun the planning stages of the study yet.

  Visser – Calm down. She’s fishing. That’s what reporters do. Here…take this.

  Plender – How does it work?

  Visser – Wear it like a ring, with the device sitting in your palm. Press the button on the side to prime it, then touch it against his back to discharge the pulse. You get caught – you’re on your own.

  Plender – What happens next?

  Visser – Get your department organised. We will be mobilising very soon.

  She’s a shrewd woman. Must have slipped Plender a small bug. Her original recording would surely be enough for the Police to investigate The Walrus’s heart attack as an attempted murder. I wonder if she reported it to them.

  Plender – Your tall companion dumped you for his beautiful French girlfriend, I see.

  Yelena Plender – Your jealously knows no bounds, husband dear.

  Plender – Another new gown, dear?

  Yelena – Is that hint to raise your allowance? How about you tell me what you and that perfumed ponce were talking about and I’ll consider it.

  Plender – It was business, and none of yours. Now if you’ll kindly move out of my way, I am going to dance with my Chief Technician.

  I was wrong then. Yelena can’t be working with Plender and Visser, or at least, wasn’t at the time of the ball. But then, why did Flynn shoot at us? Whether he genuinely is Yelena’s lover or not, she admitted that they were connected.

  “Brekkie is almost done.” Dan shouted up the stairs. The steam was condensing on every surface. Mary cranked open a window and slid into the bath, balancing the file on the toilet seat.

  “Okay, won’t be long.”

  Ducking under the surface to rinse the shampoo from her hair, Mary squeezed the water from her nose and eyes, then reached to the rail for a towel. A quick exploration of the sink cupboard uncovered a Perspex box containing new wrapped toothbrushes and paste. She flipped to the last pages of the document while she brushed, scanning the sentences for any useful material.

  Turning the page, Mary found a photocopy of a funding notification from the Ministry of Defence. The letter stated that the section for Intelligence and Countering Adversary Networks Programme was awarding a bursary of nine and a half million pounds. Constance had identified and followed Government funding trails under the Public Information Act. An accompanying application form listed the University as the site of study, but did not specify the department.

  The applicant’s signature was scruffy and had a jagged chaotic flourish, but the title printed beneath was clear enough. The Chief Financial Officer for the University – Yelena Plender.

  Connie had made the same assumptions as Mary. Both had thought that the married couple were in league with one another over Cyril Plender’s study to create DMT type hallucinogens without the need for inhibitors that cause the critical side effects. Mary stopped brushing and spat out the used foam. Tilting her head under the running water of the tap, she gulped a mouthful, swilled it around and let gravity remove the waste. She picked up the file and scrutinised the small print in the boxes. There in font size eight lettering were the words Zone Six, Project Sleepwalk.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Dan collected the plates, washed them and left them to drain dry. Mary found a beige cotton cardigan and T shirt to coordinate with the linen trousers from Connie’s wardrobe when she returned the research to the box file among the running shoes. Connie’s shoe size being much larger than her own, Mary laced her tatty canvas pumps back on and followed Dan out of the French windows, leading across the small lawn and down to the cliff path.

  The salt breeze stung her cheeks and gave them a healthy blush of colour. Rays of delicious warmth struck her forehead and tingled for a moment, before puffball clouds blocked their intensity. Dan turned and led the way northwards along a well maintained path. The sea defences obscured the ocean view but they could hear the gulls bickering over the tourist’s offerings along the seafront and the roaring waves confirmed that it was high tide.

  It was refreshing to be out in the open air again. She took deep breaths, clearing her lungs of hatred and misdeed that had been her only means of survival. Dan restored in her a tranquillity and balance that she had last known sitting at her grandfather’s knee playing cat’s cradle. He did not pester her with demands or questions, neither did he set schedules for her to follow or medication for her to consume. They wandered along the sandy path content in their thoughts which at times, overlapped and found a voice to verbalise them.

  “I haven’t thanked you – for rescuing me.” She said, scrambling down an embankment to the concrete esplanade framing the beach.

  “There’s no need. I’m just glad I could help you. We need to figure out how to tell the authorities though. Particularly if, like you said last night, this Visser bloke is planning more attacks.” Dan grabbed her arm to steady her as she trod along a wall and jumped down onto the pavement.

  “I’m hoping that losing me slowed them down a bit. Alexi said that Visser is not as strong with his gifts as I am.” The sun broke through the clouds and made them squ
int.

  “Even so. If it wasn’t for those experiments that we did together, I might have found your story hard to swallow. How will we convince the police that we aren’t bat-crap crazy?” They made their way onto the shingle, scraping out seat-like depressions with their feet. Mary didn’t answer. She had no answer. They sat down in their pebbled seats and gazed at the grey horizon. Dan said, “Don’t you think we should tell Parth that you are alive, at least?”

  Mary swallowed hard. Her misgivings bunched up in her mouth, paralysing her top lip. “I don’t know whose side he is on. What if he is working with Visser like Cyril Plender is? What if he takes me back to the Hive?” The roof of her mouth pinched and watered as she battled against tears.

  “If he was, Plender would have been collaborating with Parth over the DMT licences and studies. You said that the Post Grad student wouldn’t allow Plender into the Crypt.” He squeezed her forearm in reassurance.

  “But Parth is working with Yelena, and she is from the Soviet Union. She handled all his funding and has suspicious meetings with him all the time.”

  “That’s her job, though. That is what she is supposed to do. There is no evidence to suggest that she is in league with Visser, despite her accent.” He was still clutching her arm, dipping his head to look her in the eyes as they talked. “Don’t you think it more likely that direct government funding for Parth’s research indicates that they are working against Visser, rather than for him?”

  “You read my mind?” She gasped. “You knew that I found Connie’s notes?”

  He chuckled. “Uhuh. I saw you inside my head. It distracted me enough to drop an egg on the kitchen floor.”

  Dan had a point. In her exhausted, flustered state she had assumed the worst of her husband and friend and had fit the evidence to suit her theory. It took Dan’s clarity of mind to put things into perspective.

  “If Parth is innocent, why isn’t he grieving my death?” They locked stares for a moment, contemplating her question.

  Dan’s brow furrowed. “I don’t know.” They watched an empty crisp packet skitter along the beach in front of them and get sucked up into the wash. “I do know that he made it very clear that you belonged to him at the ball. He nearly crushed my hand. It’s obvious that you mean the world to him.”

  “I used to think so. He was so sweet when we first met. Do you know… he brought me a cup of tea to the Ladies’ dormitory in the hostel every morning on that field trip where we met? It drove the other students mad.” Mary picked up a pebble and balanced it on top of another, smooth flat one. Dan lay back in the shingle and let her ramble. “He coached me on exam techniques and sourced the periodicals and studies I needed to read before my finals. He was so attentive…”

  Another pebble, dusted and carefully placed in her growing stack. “He met my parents for the first time…and last time, on my graduation day.” Mary stopped building, examining the pitted marks on a matt grey stone surface.

  “What happened?” He left it there, hanging in the air, without apology or excuse. She turned the rock in her hands, trying to ascertain which of her ready-made deflections she should employ. There could be no hiding from Dan. His sense of her was too acute.

  “Parth wanted me to stay with him after the ceremony. Go out for a celebratory meal with our friends. Dad had to get back for work and insisted that I return home with them to Brighton. Apparently, Grampy had organised a little do for me. I was horrible. So arrogant and pig headed.” Her shoulders slackened and her jaw clenched. “I suppose I was a typical only child – expecting the world to bow to my whims.” She scratched her nail under a dried blob of tar marring the rock’s natural perfection. “Anyway, after an exchange of words that I am not proud of, I relented and packed a few things, throwing them into Dad’s car in temper.

  “The drive south was slow going and hot as fire. We kept getting stuck in traffic and the aircon was on the blink so we had the windows wide open. I could see that mum was wilting and starting to get a headache. She went ashen and very quiet. Dad was in one of his argumentative moods. Kept needling me about how much trouble Grampy had gone to on my behalf and how selfish I was. He was right of course, but I couldn’t see it at the time.” She placed the pebble between two others, a little castle wall. A sharp flint of tan and white caught her attention. She levered herself up, leaning on one arm to reach it, before lowering herself back into the bottom shaped depression. Its contours reminded her of a miniature axe – chiselled on one side and knuckle rounded on the other. Dan watched the clouds evaporate and reform overhead in nebulous swirls, listening to Mary intently.

  “He kept listing all the things that they had done for me. The additional days that my mum had worked to pay for my accommodation and fees, the living costs that Grampy had deposited into my account to reduce my graduation debt, the summer jobs that my dad had arranged for me each year.” She ran the keen edge of the flint across the print of her thumb, testing its capacity for harm. “I suppose I just flipped. We had a blazing row. I still dream about those final words we screamed at each other.” There was a long protracted silence.

  Dan sat up. “And then?”

  Mary steadied her shivering chin. “And then, the airbags deployed. An electrical short they said, much later. We careened off the motorway, tumbling over and over down a steep embankment…” She threw the tiny axe flint at her wall of stones, smashing them down in an instant. There were no tears, she had not earned them. The knots in her stomach doubled and tightened.

  “Electrical short?” Dan looked at her anew. The weight of her grief hooded her fixed eyes. “You think that you…?” She nodded, resting her chin to her chest. “Oh Mary, I am so sorry.” Dan touched her shoulder, shuffling himself forward in offer of comfort. Mary sat rigidly upright, flinching from his hand. He moved it away. “But you can’t have known that would happen. You aren’t to blame.”

  “Not at the time, no. The forensic report took ages. Grampy dealt with all the authorities over it. I was too much of a basket case then. I recall him saying there was something fishy about the results and the insurance company quibbling over blame. In the end, some Big Wig from the police section investigating the crash stepped in and recommended that both the insurance and car company coughed up or face a massive legal dispute.” Mary let her head shift to one side. She watched the progress of a container ship along the horizon, grateful for distraction.

  “How long have you suspected that you were the cause?” Dan clasped his knees, digging his heels in the shingle.

  “After the accident, Parth caught the train down to Brighton and we both stayed at Grampy’s. I couldn’t face being in my parent’s house. I remember sitting on the guest room bed, blurting the whole thing out to Parth about the row and flashes of light and sparks flying. He was the one who assured me that I must have been mistaken in the turmoil and that the sparks had originated in the front dashboard, whereas I had been positive that they had started in the back, near me.” The sun reappeared, briefly wrapping them in its eternal warmth.

  “And that was when your electrical abilities began?”

  “It must have been, although it was dormant for a very long time after. I was quite a mess back then. I was petrified about getting in a car and the flashbacks and sleepless nights seemed endless. It got to a point where I was practically a recluse. I think it may have been Grampy’s idea, but one day Parth just announced that he was taking me travelling and he wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

  The beach huts behind them were filling up with day trippers and their petulant children, dropping bags of chips and attracting noisy gulls in flocks. Wailing little sisters claiming older siblings were taunting them and mothers struggling with a superhuman amount of chores. Mary got to her feet, brushing the salty dust from Connie’s linen trousers.

  “Come on, let’s walk for a bit. Get away from all this domesticity.”

  Dan slipped and righted himself on the pebbles till he was at Mary’s side. They walked towards t
he town centre, stopping for the obligatory ice cream on the way. “So, you see I have a lot to thank Parth for. He took control of my life and made all my decisions for me at a time when I was unable to fend for myself. I suppose I let him go on doing it for far too long, truth be told. It was a habit he hasn’t been able to break.”

  They wandered the lanes and streets, peering into shop windows and grinning at eccentric locals who barged past, grunting their resentment at tourists. A chilly breeze funnelled between the buildings, prompting them to retreat to a café that had just one vacant table left. Mary hurried over and secured it, while Dan ordered for them both at the counter.

  “I love this little town. It was a favourite of my parents for family holidays.” He placed a wooden spoon upright in the sugar sachet container. It bore their order number in marker pen on its concave surface.

  “Do you have a big family?” She asked.

  “No, not at all. It’s just me and mum now. Dad passed away a few years back. They couldn’t have kids of their own so they adopted me. I was just an infant at the time so they are all I have ever known. Mum always went overboard on making me feel like their own son. She gave me the car we came here in after Dad died.” The waitress carried their drinks to the table, assuring them that their sandwiches would follow along shortly.

  Stirring the prettily decorated milk foam into his coffee, Dan raised the subject again. “We still need to tell someone in authority about Visser’s plans.”

  “I agree, but who? And what can we tell them? I don’t know exactly what he will do next, or when. I know that he has the ability to take control of people in key positions, like at that Alaskan research facility, but according to the Captain of the Hive, he is also infiltrating the stock markets around the world. He could even be using politicians to further his cause.” Mary was talking in hushed tones, aware of how close their table was to the tourists around them.