BISENTIENT, page 25
“Who?”
“The British Government.” said Bartholomew. “I was their guest for a while and they know about the device. They must have detected my friend investigating the drawing you memorised. They seemed very interested, very interested indeed.”
“Do they know about the stuff in the mountains?” asked Plater. “What did you tell them?”
Bartholomew explained how he had handled the interview with the man from the Home Office. He explained that he’d played the part of an eccentric pseudo-occultist in the hope they would dismiss him as irrelevant, a nutcase.
“It would sound wild.” said Plater. “I certainly had trouble with the idea to start with.”
Bartholomew was thoughtful.
“As I recall they didn’t seem so surprised by what I was saying.” he said at last. “Almost as if they knew about at least some of it.”
Plater stared at Bartholomew for a few moments.
“Do you think that’s possible? That somehow the Government knows about the Realm, about the Others?” he said.
“We have no evidence of that.” said Bartholomew.
“Wait, could that have been why they wanted Gail for some experimental program?” said Plater.
“Under the guise of trying to treat her condition? Could be I suppose. They may have people that can transition like you.”
“Well that’s good right?” began Plater. “I mean it must be better if a wider number of people know what’s happening, surely?”
“It depends how a Government would want to handle this. I’m reminded of the situation with UFOs or UAPs as they seem to be known nowadays. In that situation the Government had evidence of phenomena they couldn’t understand but were afraid to publicise it for fear of appearing either ignorant or weak, or perhaps to avoid panic or civil unrest with the implications. This situation seems to have parallels. We may find that Government involvement will make effective action against the Others harder.”
“Do you know where Gail is?” asked Plater. “I think we need to work out how we handle this.”
“Gail likes to spend time by the lake near the centre of the city. There’s a Greek style building, reminiscent of the Parthenon, we may find her there.” said Bartholomew.
Gail Hartston was sitting at a table of a cafe in a small, cobbled square less than a hundred yards from the temple building. She smiled as she saw Bartholomew and Plater approach.
“Do we have any news from Molly?” she asked.
“Molly is safe as far as we know.” said Plater. “But you need to hear what Bartholomew has to say”
Gail looked across at Bartholomew who began to tell the story of his last twenty-four hours and the new players in the game. As Bartholomew came to the end of his explanation Gail placed a hand to her forehead and pinched the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes.
“Are you okay?” asked Plater.
“Yes.” said Gail. “I have been feeling a little tired these past few days, perhaps something has changed in my meds?”
“You don’t look great, I’ll check if anything is different.” said Plater.
“So we believe that this could be why you were selected for that experimental treatment.” said Bartholomew. “Perhaps the Government has access to others that can do what Mason can.”
“That would help us if they could.” said Gail, her eyes still closed.
“We should be careful.” said Bartholomew. “At least until we know their motives. I didn’t mention either you or Mason by name so you both have some freedoms for the moment.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
“THAT HAS TO be it.” said Carver, studying the details on Braberson’s laptop.
“Yes.” said Braberson. “An almost exact match of expected output and the disturbance measured in the US.”
“This is incredible, who can be doing this? The Americans?”
“Early indications suggest not sir.” Braberson opened another window on his laptop “This is a purchase record from a US Government auction from ten years ago. It shows the site being purchased by a front company. The company appears to be fronting a religious organisation called the Church of the Reclamation. Led by a Rev. Daniels, the one in the Presidential race.”
Carver was silent. He read through the auction details on the screen and then scrolled to a window describing the Church and another showing a biography of Rev. Daniels. After a minute or so he pushed himself up from the desk.
“What the hell does a Church want with a device like this?” he asked. “How did they develop this technology when the finest minds we have thought it impossible? This makes no sense.”
Braberson paused for a moment, considering whether he would sound insane for what he was about to suggest.
“We spoke to a person who also had possession of plans for this device.” he began. “He had a rather fantastic story about how it came into his hands.”
Carver looked intently at Braberson.
“Well, go on.” he snapped.
“The man was a dealer in antiquarian books, the occult, ancient religions that sort of thing. He claims that there are individuals that can operate in some sort of parallel world. He claims that it was in this parallel world that this information was found. He also claims that there is an intelligence operating in that world that means us harm and is using people that can enter this parallel world to do its bidding in the real world. He claims that the intelligence wanted this machine built but he doesn’t know why.”
There was a silence.
“This is incredible.” Carver said at last. “If this is true then, well all that we have been doing, all the speculation about a hostile intelligence from outside our world could be true. I never really believed…” his voice trailed away.
“We now have precise coordinates for the location of the device.” said Braberson. “I have redirected the Horus-7 satellite and we now have constant real-time images and data from the area.”
“Good, have you contacted our cousins yet?”
“A secure channel call is scheduled in…” Braberson checked his watch. “…three minutes, with Mrs Cantrell.”
“Good, what about this person you spoke to, where is he now?”
“We have him under close surveillance and Sentinel is installed on his mobile device and all other devices he has access to. He is currently at his residence in Suffolk.”
Braberson busied himself setting up his end of the encrypted channel and exactly on time the crest of the United States was replaced by the furrowed expression of Faith Cantrell, sat in a panelled room, somewhere in Washington.
“James.” she said.
“Faith.” said Carver. “This is Edwin Braberson, he’s heading up the experiments our end.”
“Mr. Braberson, doing fine work from what I hear.” said Cantrell. “So what is this news that couldn’t wait?”
Carver summarised what Braberson had told him about the device and its connections outside their organisation.
“What do we know of these other folks you mentioned?” inquired Cantrell.
“We have full surveillance on the bookseller, so we’ll soon have a better picture.” said Carver.
“What if we need to take direct action to neutralise this device?” asked Cantrell.
“That could be difficult.” began Carver. “We don’t have access to unlimited manpower or hardware. Since they’re holed up in one of your ex-military bases I presume any assault would be somewhat challenging?”
Cantrell held her hand up and the screen flipped back to the national emblem of the United States Government. Carver breathed out and turned away from the screen. Within seconds Cantrell was back.
“Sorry about that.” she said. “Just needed to check. There might be a way to resolve our problem.”
“Am I going to like it?” said Carver.
“I’m not sure anyone will like it.” said Cantrell. “There are eleven separate intakes for air hidden from aerial view. Based on our data from your Special Operations guys we also know that this CoR did not think to install air filtration units. They just suck in air from the outside and pump it straight round the base.”
“You’re thinking we get in that way?” asked Carver.
“No.” said Cantrell. “Nerve gas.”
“Nerve gas?” exclaimed Carver. “You mean kill them all?”
“That may be our only reasonable chance of success.” said Cantrell.
Braberson looked from the face of his boss to the stern face of the woman on the screen. Nobody spoke.
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
ZACH WAS LYING on a metal table with a rolled towel under his head. As he glanced to his left, he could see CJ busying herself with her laptop connected to an open case with electronics inside. Zach could see some green and red lights inside the box and multi-coloured wires looped and threaded between circuit boards and makeshift connectors. He looked back at the ceiling and wondered again whether this was a good idea. CJ had suggested that she could try to find the frequency at which the implant was activated and that by knowing this she could build either a jammer or a shield specifically for that frequency. This should enable Zach to move freely without fear of being tracked or having the device activated without his knowledge. Zach still didn’t understand the purpose of the implant and was reluctant to find out but he understood the sense of being able to block the device so he agreed to let CJ try.
“I have a program that will gradually work through all frequencies.” said CJ without looking round at Zach. “The whole run should take no more than fifteen minutes. You have the safe switch right?”
Zach could feel the tubular device in his left hand which had a button on top. He rested his thumb gently on it. If pressed it would immediately stop the test and shut off the frequency generator.
“Yep, ready.” said Zach, not entirely sure he was ready but just wanted it over.
“Alright we’re starting low, in three two one, now.” CJ touched a key on her keyboard and the program started to run.
Zach felt nothing and time seemed to slow down as he studied the ceiling of the warehouse in minute detail. He had no idea what to expect when the correct frequency was applied. He glanced over at CJ but she was watching the output from her program and Zach could see lines of text scrolling slowly up the laptop screen.
He couldn’t be sure, but he thought the area on his neck near the site of the implant was getting warm. He didn’t dare reach up to touch it and tried very hard to remain calm. It was then that he started to fall. He thrust out his arms for balance or to grab a handhold to stop himself but his hands grasped empty space. Then he realised he was standing up. He didn’t recall getting off the table. He reached up to his neck but his skin was cool to the touch. He looked down and was puzzled as he seemed to be barefoot but he was sure he’d been wearing his trainers. A breeze brushed his cheeks and he saw he was outside. In a city street. Two people were coming towards him, they were talking and walked straight past him. He turned and watched them recede and saw what looked like a giant pyramid in the distance, and something that reminded him of the leaning tower of Pisa to his left. He could feel unease welling up. He had no idea where he was or how he’d got there. Unease was rapidly becoming unrestrained panic. Then he felt a hand on his arm.
“Can I help you?” said the owner of the hand, an older man with bushy red hair and a concerned expression “Are you lost?”
Zach looked blankly at the man for a moment then said “I’m sorry, I don’t know where I am. What is this place?”
“You’re in the city.” said the man. “Is this your first time visiting us? It can be a little confusing at first.”
Something in Zach’s memory pushed to the front.
“Is The Drowning Swan near here?” asked Zach.
“Yes, it’s not far. Down there, take the third on the right, then left at the fountain, about a hundred yards down, you can’t miss it.”
The old man smiled and began to walk on past Zach.
“Thanks.” said Zach and headed off in the direction the old man had pointed.
Zach noticed that the architecture of the buildings was a real mixture. There were ornate stone constructions that looked classical European sitting next to ultra-modern steel and glass buildings that could have come from Far Eastern mega cities or Gulf States. Just from the buildings it wasn’t possible for Zach to tell where he was but then he came to The Drowning Swan and found a pub that could have featured in a Dickens novel. It was almost leaning out onto the street and didn’t seem to have a straight or perpendicular wall at all. He stepped through the narrow doorway and immediately remembered where he’d seen it before.
“Zach!” a voice called out from the depths of the crowded bar.
Zach looked towards the voice and recognised the woman he had met in this same pub before.
“I thought it was you.” said the woman squeezing through the crowd. Seeing Zach pause the woman continued “It’s Diana, do you remember? We met here once before.”
“Yes, of course, Diana.” said Zach trying to remember something of their previous meeting.
“I’m pleased you came back.” said Diana “Do you remember what we talked about last time?”
“I’m not sure.” said Zach. “Something about this place but I can’t quite remember.”
“That’s not surprising.” said Diana. “But you’ve found your way back here so that’s a start.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
MOLLY WAS FINDING it hard to sleep properly and was at breakfast early. She was sitting by herself when Dawn sat down opposite.
“Hey.” said Dawn.
“Morning.” said Molly.
“We didn’t get a chance to get acquainted.” said Dawn. “Are you British?”
“Yes.” said Molly. “I’m kinda here by accident.”
Molly gave a very quick version of how she had come to be at Redemption.
“What an asshole.” said Dawn. “You’re better off without him.”
“Yeah.” said Molly. “So how did you come to be here?”
Dawn paused for a second or two before continuing.
“I had a kinda falling out with my mom.” she began. “She had my life planned out for me you know? Work hard at school, go to college, meet some nice man and have kids.”
Molly looked at Dawn but was still chewing her scrambled egg.
“I just thought there should be something more.” said Dawn, her voice trailing away as if overtaken by a memory. “My dad left us too so my mom was working all the time. I didn’t want to end up like her I guess.”
Dawn was toying with a pancake without showing any signs of eating it.
“Your mum sounds like she was doing her best.” said Molly.
“I guess she was.” said Dawn. “But I saw Rev. Daniels on TV one night and he was talking about how the Church was doing all this positive stuff, like building schools in Africa and helping drug addicts in the US and it just seemed like I’d be doing something good.”
Molly finished her eggs and sipped her coffee.
“So, is the Church all you hoped it would be?” asked Molly.
Dawn looked up and seemed surprised and suddenly wary. After a second her expression softened again and she returned to forking her pancake.
“I guess it is.” she began. “But things are different now.”
“Different?” queried Molly.
“When I first joined it was fun. There were about eight of us, mostly women, that joined about the same time. We worked together and it was great, you know? We were like a team. Then it all changed.”
Molly waited expectantly for Dawn to continue.
“One day they just split us up.” went on Dawn. “We all went to different locations, Susan even got sent to Germany.”
“Susan was your friend?” asked Molly.
“Yes, she was real funny.” said Dawn, rather wistfully. “I don’t even get letters from her now.”
“I guess good works are needed everywhere.” said Molly.
“It was all different after that.” Dawn continued. “The work got much harder. There was no time for anything. Just work, eat, sleep. We were all exhausted. Then one day they came round and offered us this big chance to do something special. To ‘make a real difference’ they said. I’d never even heard of this place.”
“Redemption?” injected Molly.
“Yeah. I hadn’t read Rev. Daniels’ books by then. Only read the first one even now. This place is weird.”
“Were you at the last test?” Molly asked.
“Yes.” said Dawn. “It was pretty scary, that poor man.”
“Victor told me.” said Molly. “Do you have any idea what that machine is for?”
“Uh-uh, they don’t tell us that stuff. Although Rev. Daniels did say we would all ascend to see the Lord, maybe that’s how we’ll do it?”
“It’s a bit secretive, isn’t it?” said Molly. “Why don’t they tell us what the project is?”
Dawn paused then said:
“There was something odd the other day.” she began. “I was coming back from dinner and I saw that Clayton guy and two of the guards. They had these two men in kinda army clothes. They had ‘em tied up and it looked like one of them had cut his head.”
“What were they doing with them?” asked Molly.
“They took ‘em to one of the storerooms over by the main entrance.”
“You say they were tied up?”
“Yeah, they had those plastic strap things round their wrists.” said Dawn.
“So you think they broke in or something?” asked Molly.
“Guess so.” said Dawn. “But that’s not the worst part.”
“Go on.”
“The day after I saw ‘em I had to get a box of those anti-static gloves from the store room.” Dawn stopped and looked sideways as if seeing if someone might be listening. “I think they’ve done something to those men.”
“What do you mean?” said Molly, not liking the thoughts that were forcing their way into her head.
