Dark Matter (32 page)

The exit, now fully resolved, they passed through it and onto the road outside.  They were free.

At the hotel Jane arranged with the owner to forward her mail and keep the room.  She paid up front for it and added the extra necessary for his trouble and his silence.  They packed and left for the airport.  It was time to report back to Jayanti.

19:11
              14 December  [01:11 15 December GMT]

La Guitarra Mine, Nr. San Simon de Guerrero, 60 miles south west of Mexico City.

'The two Brits said I should talk to you.'  Evening meal was one of the few opportunities that prisoners had to move around a bit and mingle.  Leroy had taken the chance to sit with Saeb and Benjamin, curious as to why he should be talking to them.

'Why do you think that is?'  Saeb asked, ever cautious.

Leroy smiled, he knew evasion when he heard it, having little to lose he threw caution to the wind.

'Look.  You don't have to say anything, but those two weren't geologists, heck I know more about minerals than they do.  My guess is that you are as unhappy with the situation as I am.  Prison was one thing, forced labour another, but to be under the control of aliens?  No access to the outside?  That's just plain wrong.  If you are planning anything count me in.’ Leroy looked at them both, his sincerity clear from his demeanour.

'Care to join us?'  Benjamin said after exchanging a glance with Saeb, waving Leroy to sit down.

They filled Leroy in on their conversation with Jane and George.  Revealing some of their backgrounds and the situation that faced them.  Leroy's heart grew heavy with the knowledge of it.

'I thought this was just a local thing.  You know, a deal between the Sunarr and the Mexicans.  Dozens of other camps all around the world, that changes things.  Changes things a lot'

'Yes it does.'  Confirmed Saeb, 'What we need urgently is a way to get messages to the drop.'

'I think’ Leroy said, a glimmer of hope returning to raise his spirits, 'I know just the man to make that happen.'

'Can he be trusted?'  Benjamin asked.

'No, no at all.'  Leroy replied simply.

'Then why would we use him?'

'Because he can't be trusted.  We need someone who is used to not trusting or being trusted.  We need someone who asks few questions.  Someone who is used to dealing in the black market and bribing people.  Yes, this is the right man; we just have to find something to barter with.  Compose your first letter.  I will make the necessary arrangements.'

Leroy stood to leave; keen to get on now he had a purpose again.  He found Chuck Holford sat on his own.  Leroy sat next to him unbidden.

'You don't like me do you?'  It was more a statement than a question, but Leroy waited for the response.

‘No.’ Chuck replied as he continued to eat.

'Is it me or my skin?'

'Your skin.  Mainly.'

'Good, thanks for your honesty.'

Chuck was more than a little disappointed, he thought his reply would trigger a violent response or at least an argument,
good
hadn't entered his mind.

'What do ya want?'  Chuck asked, his interest peaked.

'I want to do some business.'

'What kind?'

'I need to get some letters out and in and some stuff in too.  Do you think you can handle it?'  Leroy's challenge seemed to hit the right spot, he saw Chuck's body stiffen, his face set.

'Yer I can handle it.  Question is why should I?'  Chuck could think of a hundred things he might like, but none that he wanted enough to do business with this fella.

'Well it seems to me that there must be something you need.  Maybe something on the outside that you can't control from in here.'  This time Chuck's eyes flashed,
yes
, thought Leroy,
I have hit it
.

'Nothin' you can do 'bout it.'

'Try me.'  Leroy said calmly.

‘Well,’ Chuck began taking a deep breath.  'I have this place in Chicago, the mortgage is paid from an account I have, only my regular source of income has dried up since I've been inside.'  It pained Chuck to think that all his long hard years of building up his business and it had virtually disappeared over-night thanks to his Lieutenants taking over whatever the authorities had missed.  He wasn't exactly penniless, but couldn't access anything he had remotely; it all had to be done in person. 
Asset rich and cash poor, never a good situation.

'I can get your mortgage paid, and enough to cover your other bills.'  Leroy said leaving Chuck in no doubt that he meant it.  Chuck didn't really care all that much for his apartment; his real motivation was what would happen to his cat Trouble.  The one thing in the world that he loved and it seemed to love him too.  However, he wasn't going to tell this fella about Trouble, not him, not anyone.

'I'll need access to an account outside, one from which I can make incentive payments from.'  Chuck informed Leroy, pushing further still.

'OK.  I can make the arrangements with the first letter you get out.'

'How am I supposed to do that before I have the money?' 

'That's your problem.  You in?'  Leroy asked, not offering his hand, knowing that Chuck wouldn't appreciate it.

'I'm in.  Get your letter together, leave the rest to me.'

15
Build Up

21:12
              10 December  [22:12 10 December GMT]

Barra di Moretti,  Bari, Italy.

Solomon finished washing the last dish and piled it with the others on the draining board.  It had been over a month now since they had left Ankara in Turkey.  She never knew whether the Turkish authorities had searched for them.  She and Natasha had left by bus to Istanbul and changed for another headed to Thessalonki, then on to Igoumenitsa on the western coast.  They managed to get passage on a ship bound for Bari on the Italian coast and their finances all but depleted she had to get a job. 

Washing dishes was new to Solomon, but it suited her just fine.  Paid in cash with no questions asked she was not in public view so she had little to worry about on that front.  Natasha troubled her though.  Leaving her daughter for twelve hours a day whilst she worked was not ideal by any stretch of the imagination.  Leaving her alone in their room in the hostel broke her heart.  However, she was not in a position to do anything else.  Getting Natasha into a school required papers they did not have, questions they could not answer.  The time had come however, they could finally move on.

She picked up her final pay packet and thanked Alberto Moretti the owner, spontaneously giving him a kiss on his cheek.  Alberto, used to having migrant workers move through his bar, was a little surprised at this display of affection, but having a daughter about her age he just gave her a hug and wished her well.  He was sad to see her go.  She had proved a diligent and reliable worker, who it appeared to him, had fallen upon hard times.

Natasha was asleep when Solomon returned to the hostel.  She looked down at her daughter, sleeping peacefully with Sheepy snuggled under her left arm.  Solomon stroked her daughter's hair, Natasha moaned gently at the attention, but did not wake. 

'I'll always make sure you are safe.  I promise that life will be good again.'

08:17               11 December  [07:17 11 December GMT]

Stazione Centrale, Bari, Italy.

The sudden realisation that they had only one more border to cross to reach Switzerland was almost more than Solomon could bear.  Her daughter had long given up any pretence that they were on some magical journey.  Instead, Natasha had adapted to life on the road, knowing that her mother was frightened; she had resolved to be as good as she knew how.  Besides this was the most time they had spent together for as long as Natasha could remember and she wasn't going to do anything to spoil it.  The only thing she really missed was her pony, Blacky.  The toys, the house, the servants, none of this mattered to Natasha.  She had the love and attention of her mother and if leaving everything behind made her mummy happy then that was just fine by her.

The train pulled out of the station, starting its long journey to Rome.

11:15               11 December  [08:15  11 December GMT]

Kremlin, Moscow, Russia.

General Bondarenko is in a foul mood,
his aide Sergey noted as he left the general’s office having delivered a written report on Operation Allies
.
 

This was not uncommon, though.  The General only having three different moods, Bad, Foul or Rage.  Today it was foul.  The search for his daughter and granddaughter had drawn a blank.  They had almost certainly escaped Russia and that being the case Bondarenko had ordered that they concentrate on Switzerland.  He was only playing a hunch, as the letter had originated from a law firm in Zurich, but without any better idea, it was the best thing he had to go on. 

‘I can't let that bitch foul things up, not now, not when I am this close.’  General Bondarenko muttered to himself as he sat back in his comfy executive chair. 

The chair had cost a small fortune having been manufactured by a specialist company in Germany, but he hardly gave it a thought,
men in my position deserve such things
, he reasoned.  He picked up the file in front of him and studied it some more.  It was the proposed tripartite exercise with the Americans and British.  When he had first heard of it he had objected strongly, arguing that it would give too much intelligence away about how effective the armed forces were.  His argument had found much support amongst others in the military and with his connections in the government, the plan had been shelved, much to the frustration of General Ivanskiy. 
Ivanskiy, that dog
, he raged to himself,
should be taken out and shot as a traitor to the motherland
.  Things had changed drastically with the arrival of the Sunarr however. 
Here
, he thought,
is the salvation I have been waiting for.
  The long waiting and not knowing whether the day would ever arrive had taken its toll on him.

As soon as he had detected the Sunarr's signal, he had been elated. 
Getting rid of that troublesome Professor Doran was unfortunate but necessary,
he had judged. 
Firstly, it was necessary to avoid panic and any possible military response before they landed.  Secondly, I needed to prevent any chance of my communications with them being intercepted and decoded.  Thirdly, I had no wish to explain how I was in contact with the Sunarr before anyone else even knew they existed.  If that had been found out, it would have been me in front of a firing squad.  To have waited all this time, this impossible time, and to be killed before the moment of rescue, that was why the Professor had to die and his work with him.

Bondarenko returned to the file.  His discussions with the Sunarr had radically changed his opinion.  He agreed that having two of the major military powers involved in an exercise close to another major military power would keep them occupied and out of the way.  Bondarenko had worked extensively with the Sunarr on planning, making corrections where necessary.  They had the forces and he knew how to get them in place. 
This world is going to be ours and they will even thank us, if everything goes to plan.

Since the Russian Government had given the official go-ahead to the exercise, things had moved along swiftly.  Advanced units of the British and American's had already arrived on the ground and had met up with their Russian counterparts.  More were arriving every day.  Tens of thousands would soon swell into hundreds of thousands.  This would be the largest military exercise of all time.  Stocks of ordinance had been drawn down on all sides, orders for replacements already made.  It would take time to re-stock however.  Few in any of the governments saw this as a problem however.  The arrival of the Sunarr had brought a new age to mankind and whilst they were all lobbying for access to the Sunarr technology, there was a genuine feeling of hope amongst the countries of the world.  A hope for a better world.

Bondarenko pulled open his top right-hand desk drawer.  The communication device was lying on top of a pile of papers; he picked it up and placed it in his right ear.

'This is Bondarenko.  The pieces are in place.  We can proceed whenever you want.'

'That is good.  We are nearly ready, the last batch are processing now.  Contact us again this time tomorrow.'

Bondarenko replaced the communications device in his desk drawer and locked it. 
So
, he thought to himself,
it might be as early as tomorrow.  That is good news indeed.

The general's aide in the next room heard a jaunty tune being whistled from inside the general's office. 
That's strange
, Sergey thought,
the general has no visitors
.

14:30
              11 December  [05:30 11 December GMT]

Southern Siberia, Russia.

T
he build-up was well under way now.  Huge tracts of land had been rented from their owners, assurances made around repairs and reparations for any damage caused.  Unexploded ordinance was a major concern and whilst one could never be one hundred per cent certain, the combination of laser guidance and military tracking would mean that every shell expended would be confirmed as a detonation or recorded for disposal later.  Camps had grown up outside the zone.  A combination of the people displaced and worldwide media, who, for the first time, would be given direct access to near-live feeds, the delay built in necessary both for assurance that any accident would not go out and to prevent the other side from gaining any tactical advantage using unofficial communications.  Handheld and other personal devices would be prohibited.

General Gregori Stephonovich Ivanskiy, leaning over the map table, looked at his watch. 
It is time
.  He stood up and pulled on his jacket and went outside, ready to meet them.  A procession of light military vehicles drew up before him.  General Sam Colt and General Charles Beaconsfield climbed out of their respective vehicles, their doors held open by two Russian Colonels who had travelled with them from the air base.  Ordinarily they would have travelled with their own troops, but this exercise was about cooperation and that had to start at the top.

They exchanged salutes first, then handshakes. 

'Good journey?'  Ivanskiy asked.

'Yes thanks.'  Charlie replied brightly.

'Not bad, I had a little chop over the Atlantic, but otherwise OK.'  Sam said, considerably understating the storm his military flight had gone through.

'Good, good.  Come, we have much to discuss.'  Ivanskiy waved them into the temporary command post; the proper one for the exercise was still being finished.

The room was a little darker than they had both expected, as their eyes adjusted, they could see the reason.  The General's Hungarian Oak map table occupied a fair proportion of the available space in the war room.  A topographical map of the area was projected onto the glass screen from below.  Other details, such as real-time data of troop dispositions were projected from the ceiling.  The result was quite stunning.

'This is the heart of the operation.  All the real-time data is live and fed from the Doran Communications network we are operating.'  Ivanskiy announced proudly.

Sam and Charlie had both heard of this.  Neither had seen it in operation though.  It was something that troubled the NATO alliance greatly.  Professor Doran's communications breakthrough had had a huge impact on the telecommunications industry, with most manufacturers and operators licensing the technology, the rest likely to follow. 

Ivanskiy noted their keen interest and decided to instruct them.

‘It is its military application which is most important to us.’  He began, ‘Unlike Cellular technology which relies upon a network of masts that pickup and relay the communications messages, the Doran technology actually creates its own, but in a viral, not cellular way.  In practical terms this means that, every device acts as a relay for every other device.  This provides many practical benefits.  Two communications devices out of range of any others can communicate with each other directly.  Add in another and all three can communicate, as, unlike radio, the third does not have to be in range of the first, as the second relays between them.  Then, as soon as one of the devices comes in range of a regular cellular network, all of them immediately have access too.  Thus, we get the benefits of both private and public networks together.  The system is secure and the throughput of data truly astonishing.  Any one device is able to handle over a thousand other devices communications simultaneously.  With your agreement I suggest that each side has access to its own network and these displays.' 

'That would be...’  Sam tried to find the words.

'Truly excellent.'  Charlie finished for him.

'Good, that is settled then.'  Ivanskiy clapped his hands together, 'A drink to toast perhaps?'

A waiting aide dispensed three vodkas.  They threw them down in one and slammed the empty glasses back on the desk.

'You have more of these displays?'  Sam asked, still somewhat shocked at the very generous offer made by his Russian counterpart.

'We have twelve available to us.  Two will be kept for the moderators, four for each side to use how they see fit.'  Gregori Stephonovich tapped on the table's display.

'What is that?'  Sam asked, a split-second before Charlie.

They could clearly tell that it was displaying a military unit.  Gregori Stephonovich zoomed in on it allowing them to make out the individuals.  Each one was displayed in colour, most were green, some were yellow and one, well away from the others, was red.

'The colours’ Gregori Stephonovich began, 'indicate the relative health of each individual according to set parameters.  Green obviously is good, the yellow will be where they are exerting themselves, this unit is helping in the construction, the Red, well there was a rather serious accident and one is in the infirmary.  In this way, we can monitor the health of all our combat troops.  When you zoom out the display colours the Unit according to the proportional health of the unit.  Thus this one is Green and Yellow; you can change the sensitivity of the display according to your needs.'