The God Complex: A Thriller (14 page)

It had been over ten minutes since Giles Tremellan had given the DIS team inside the conference center the ‘go’. Still nothing had happened.

“What’
s happening in there?” he asked. They were getting down to the wire, the speeches had started.

“
We’re unable to ensure whether all data has been secured on site,” replied one of the agents quietly from the conference hall.

“Confirm it and make it happen
. You’re running out of time, the window is closing,” he said urgently.

“It’s just handwritten notes,” was the next message Giles heard.

Giles didn’t hesitate. “Make sure you get them and then we are a go, I repeat go, once notes are in hand.”

“So that’s your speech?” asked the officer, stepping towards Yvonne. “Anything juicy?” she asked, reaching out.

Yvonne reluctantly let them go
. When police officers asked for something, people reacted in two ways, trusting or not. Yvonne had been brought up, despite her background and black heritage, to trust the police.

“I have them in hand,” said the officer into her mic
.

Yvonne hadn’t even felt the long
stiletto blade enter her left side. It was only as the officer withdrew the thin blade and she felt the wetness that Yvonne realized she was in trouble. Her ability to scream was already disabled, the stiletto had entered her throat almost immediately, killing any sounds from her, other than a wheeze as her body gasped for air.

The officer ste
pped back, placed the notes inside her stab proof vest and exited the restroom. Yvonne Winston was already dead, her mind just hadn’t quite cottoned onto the fact as her eyes searched desperately for help.

“Exiting now
,” advised the female officer and member of the DIS team. “Mission complete.”

Giles Tremellan saw his officer cross the street towards his building as chaos broke out below. The Special Protection teams kicked into action, cars screeched into the grounds and the royals, followed by the Prime Minister, were rushed away at speed from the scene of a murder and major breach of security. The Mayor was last out, his security team looking desperately for a car for him to escape in. None was available. It was at times like that, that you discovered your true worth, thought Giles with a wry smile.

“
Piece of cake,” said the female DIS agent, handing over the notes and stripping out of the Metropolitan Police Force uniform they had procured for the operation.

Giles scanned down the notes
. Something in them had required the young black woman’s death. He had read up on her. She was a rising star with a very bright future. Politics and cabinet for sure, if not the first black Prime Minister. Whatever she had uncovered had put an end to all of that.

Giles scanned down
the pages. Her history was tragic. Her mother, raped at 13, gave birth to her at 14 and after abandoning her child had died at the age of 18 in a drug den. The programs that had warranted such acclaim and delivered the results for the borough were nothing short of common sense. The statistics of underage births were surprising, particularly as he was unaware that girls as young as ten and eleven were included in them. He was pleased to see that the handful of pregnancies across the UK each year amongst the 12s and under had been eradicated completely in the previous two years. Again, nothing earth shattering, so he read on. The statistics for the under 12s was the same across Europe where the handful had been a few hundred and across the world, where it had been a few thousand each year. Giles stopped reading, withdrew his lighter and set the papers alight. He didn’t need to read any further.

No one
under the age of 12 had become pregnant anywhere on the planet in the previous two years. Giles wasn’t a statistician but he wasn’t stupid either, that was not a chance coincidence, that was by design.

Cash asked whether Sophie minded if he told Kyle that they were going to leave him with his grandmother and Uncle Bill at the lodge while they flew to Bolivia. As with almost every growing teenager, the fight to get them into bed was only beaten by the fight to get them out of it. Kyle grunted a ‘yeah fine’ and promised to take care of his grandmother. Cash left a note by his bedside to remind Kyle of the conversation he felt sure had gone in one ear and straight out of the other.

“
Ready?” asked Cash when he arrived back at the entrance door to meet Rigs, Sophie, and the recently roused flight crew.

Sophie gave him a look
. She knew all too well how good her son was in the morning.

“I left a note,”
said Cash. “And they’re far safer here anyway.”

“Safer
?” queried the captain.

“Figure of speech,” Cash
said, quickly bending and zipping the satchel of weapons that Rigs had laid out by the door before the crew caught sight of what was inside.

“
Pile in,” said Uncle Bill, directing them to the jeep for the short drive down to the airfield.

“
Are you not worried the authorities will check?” Sophie asked, stopping Cash and Rigs in their tracks, aware of the implications of the fugitive status of her travel partners.

“Off the grid,” said Rigs
. “My dad’s a bit of a prepper too.”

Cash smiled
. Rigs was becoming comfortable speaking around Sophie. Normally that breakthrough took far longer.

“
And the paperwork trail for the aircraft charter?” asked Sophie.

“Through a trust that has no ties to my f
amily; it’s clean,” said Rigs. He hoisted the weapons bag into the trunk with a metallic clatter. Sophie glanced furtively at the flight crew. “Be careful with my instruments,” she said.

“Sorry,” said Rigs
, under the gaze of the flight crew, closing the lid shut.

“The crew are going to see our faces somewhere,” Sophie
whispered to Cash, walking around the jeep.

“There’s no internet, TV
or cell coverage here,” Cash replied quietly, “so the most they’ve done is use the landline to call their families. Next stop is Bolivia. I doubt we’ll be top of the news there.”

“And after there?”

“One problem at a time,” said Cash. He opened the door for Sophie to climb into the front of the jeep.

“Bolivia,” said the pilot referring to a small handheld device
. “El Alto airport is the nearest airport to El Paz.”

“What’s that?” asked Cash
when he realized the pilot had some type of tablet in his hand and worried he might be connected to something.

“
A flight planner,” said the pilot, not picking up on Cash’s concern.

“Very cool,” said Cash
, straining to see the screen. The pilot turned it around for him to see. ‘
Garmin aera 796’
, Cash read from the plastic above the screen that showed the details for El Alto airport.

“So you can’t get anything else on it?”

“Don’t think so, although perhaps if you pay extra,” he pondered.

Cash, Rigs and Sophie relaxed again.

Boarding the aircraft a few minutes later, Bill became refueler as he helped prep the plane for takeoff. Bolivia was within reach to complete the journey non-stop.

“Your
trust fund must be taking a hammering,” Cash remarked, soaking in the opulence of the Global 6000 again.

Rigs shrugged
. “Can’t take it with you.” He held his champagne glass aloft for a refill, in a diva-esque fashion, very un-Rigs-like, much to Cash and Sophie’s amusement.

With a champagne glass by her side, Sophie buried herself in the laptop
. She wanted to know exactly what they needed to do when they landed. Rigs, set his seat back for more sleep. Cash also pushed his seat back, with every intention of doing the same, but it stopped halfway. The steward rushed across to assist, pulling out files from beneath the mechanism of Cash’s chair.

“Do you need these,
sir?” asked the steward, bundling the files together.

Cash was about to say no,
then he remembered the files held the evidence that implicated them. Proving that evidence wrong was as key to understanding everything else.

Cash set his chair back to
the upright position and joined Sophie in the hunt for clues, only his were slightly more current and didn’t require a doctorate in Astrophysics. At least he hoped they didn’t.

Antoine exited the elevator on the sixth floor of the Atlas Noble
headquarter building and hugged his cousin, Conrad, who awaited him. The view from the top floor boardroom stretched out across Lake Geneva.

“Our ancestors
’ secret is safe for another thirty thousand years,” joked Conrad, taking the seat across from Antoine.

“I’m delighted you handled it personally,” said Antoine
. “I believe it could have been rather explosive.”

“
From what I saw, let’s just say it would have raised a lot of questions.”

“Questions we
’re in no position to answer right now. Soon enough, when we can’t hide what’s coming, we can explain. Until then, it’s imperative that the secret remains guarded.”

“Of course, although if you don’t mind me saying,” said
Conrad cautiously, offering Antoine the deference to which he was entitled, “the actions in America do seem a little extreme and may well raise more questions than we’d like.”

“Extreme but perfectly thought out,” said Antoine
. He selected the C-SPAN feed on a monitor. The President was on screen entering the Senate Chamber.

“You’ll have missed it d
ue to your flight but he’s already had Congress ratify the disarmament treaty. He only needs the senate and it’s a done deal.”

“Without any hassle?” asked
Conrad. He’d thought the ratification might have taken weeks.

“No
hassle at all. The plan worked perfectly. Nobody dares speak out against the treaty for fear of being labeled a traitor with the conspirators.”

Conrad
nodded his head in appreciation. “And there’s hardly a mention of the Hubble 2’s demise.”

“The
President will receive overwhelming approval. There’ll be a few diehards who’ll vote against but not enough to cause a problem.”

“Genius,” said
Conrad.

“Not all down to me,” said Antoine
. “Thank Bertie, it was his quick thinking and effort that put the pack together for your DIS guys to deliver.”

Conrad
looked up at the screen. Senator Bertie Noble had taken the podium to introduce the President before his speech. As Chairman of the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence, Senator Noble was one of the most powerful members of the Senate and thanks to his family, certainly its wealthiest. The Noble family had infiltrated many of the world’s democracies, none more so than the US’. With two senators, seven congressmen and three sitting governors, they were the political elite in the US and the largest political contributor in most elections across the nation. However, they did this under so many different guises that only those who were the ultimate recipients ever really knew who had bought their loyalty.

“He’s one shrewd old bastard,” said
Conrad, admiring their uncle.

“He is that,” agreed Antoine
. “All the other parliaments and governments are holding special sessions as we speak, to ratify the treaty and make it happen.”

“Unbelievable
! In less than twenty four hours, signed, sealed and ratified.”

“And all thanks to
Uncle Bertie,” said Antoine. “Although, the pack of evidence he put together quickly was remarkably well prepared.”

“Nothing to do with me or DIS,” said Conrad
.

“Which is
somewhat concerning,” said Antoine, thinking out loud. “My father always told me be careful of Bertie, his ambition always outstripped his position.”

“
He’s not said anything to me,” said Conrad.

“It’s probably nothing, ignore me,” said Antoine. “He delivered what we needed, let’s not forget that.”

“But just a tiny speck in the ocean of what’s still to be done,” said Conrad.

T
he disarmament treaty was important and would reduce future risk of interference but, as Conrad mentioned, it was only a small part of a very large plan, of which only Antoine was fully aware. The task that had befallen the Noble house was a task entrusted to them and them alone. Their doctrine forbade them from ever sharing their knowledge and ensured that every cent they earned was devoted to the task. The population’s future rested in their hands alone. To date, they had kept to the doctrine, as had the countless generations before them. Even though the first transports would be required to begin their journeys shortly, the knowledge of what was to come was too devastating for the masses to ever fully comprehend.

“
So how can I be of assistance?” asked Conrad turning the focus back to why Antoine had summoned him.

“We may have an unexpected problem,” he said
. “Anya has informed me that with the correct information, Hubble 2 is not required. Current technology, given the exact co-ordinates of where to look…”

“But that problem has been resolved!” said
Conrad. Security was his responsibility and within that, DIS.

“The son escaped your grasp.”

“And is being hunted as public enemy number one.”

“That may be but he was there when his father died, a man who had worked out exactly where to look.”

“Thanks, Anya,” blurted Conrad, knowing of his cousin’s friendship during her university years with Charles Harris.

Antoine’s look of displeasure at
Conrad’s criticism of his sister, however warranted, was very clear for Conrad to see.

“I apologize, it was not my place,” he said obsequiously.

“However, we are where we are,” said Antoine sternly. “And it’s your job to rectify it. Let’s not forget, the son slipped through your team’s hands!”

“I’ll get right on it,” said
Conrad rising to leave, the mood in the room having dropped significantly.

“Obviously, the last thing we need is Cash Harris in the US
government’s hands. God knows what they’d uncover before we want them to,” warned Antoine. “I’ve also made Bertie aware of the problem, he’ll assist you as much as he can.”

Conrad
nodded and left the room, wondering exactly what he was supposed to do. He had a few hundred operatives scattered across the United States, whilst they had millions of law officers and every citizen in the land looking for him.

“Bea,” said
Conrad, greeting his cousin as he exited the boardroom. Beatrice Noble headed Atlas Noble’s pharmaceutical and medical division.

“
Conrad,” she said warmly, standing to hug her cousin. “Good mood?” she nodded towards the boardroom and Antoine.

“Sorry, he
was
,” he said sheepishly.

“
Wonderful,” she said, raising her eyebrows before hearing her name being shouted out by Antoine from behind the door.

Antoine’s secretary looked over apologetically
. “I think he’s ready,” she said politely.

“Antoine,” she said
, entering the room.

Antoine waved towards the seat opposite him, not taking his eyes
off the report in front of him.

Bea sat and waited patiently
. Antoine finally raised his head, his mood having improved. Whatever was in the report had cheered him up.

“It worked,” he said pushing the report away.

“Yes,” she said proudly.

“Down to that level.”

“And beyond if required.”

“
Beyond? How so?”

“Well
, say for example you wanted to exclude a particular eye color from a particular race, or hair color or any number of physical traits, we can do it.”

“Fantastic.
Can we do above a certain age?”

“
I don’t see why not. Do you have the final numbers?” she asked.

“Not yet
, but obviously seven billion is a number that doesn’t work. Even with an eighty year window.”

“Don’t forget the birth control
initiative will significantly hamper the birth rate in future.”

“But there are still only about 56 million dying each year
. Even with no births that still leaves 2.5 billion and that’s too many, even with no births at all.”

“So you want to start more radical controls?”

“We should at least conduct trials on them. I’d like to know what we can do if need be.”

“Of course
. Any thoughts on size of the trial?”

“Nothing too dramatic
. We still want to keep things low key,” said Antoine.. “Say between a quarter to a half million?”

Bea opened a file on her tablet and scanned down a list. She stopped a third of the way down. “
Got it. I’ll get the virus coded and we’ll start delivering tomorrow.”