The Angels of Destiny (24 page)

Pyongyang, North Korean Capital

Ahmed Shah and Ramazan-Ali stood outside the 43 story twin towered Koryo Hotel, looking at the thirty-foot wide jade dragon's mouth that led into the expansive marble-like hotel lobby. Next to them stood a uniformed, armed guard who spoke broken English. He and others had been their constant chaperones since they exited the Air Koryo flight from Bangkok at Sunan International Airport some two hours before. The hotel boasted five hundred rooms. Most of the year only fifty or so rooms would be taken, mainly by international arms dealers. There were bars, a swimming pool, restaurants and a casino in the basement for guests and party members only. One of the rooms was permanently taken by an American citizen.

They were instructed to stay in the hotel overnight and be ready to be picked up at eight o'clock in the morning by an official, for a meeting at a nearby government building that the guard had pointed out only moments ago. Ahmed Shah looked around at the spacious empty plaza. The evening sun was shining and warm on their backs and the willow trees all around wavered gently in the breeze, softening the hard sterile feel of the city. Where is everyone? The guard gestured with his arm and the two new arrivals walked through the dragon's mouth into the hotel.

"Luggage already in rooms please." The guard informed them, looking back at them as he walked away.

Shah didn't like the feel of the place but then that didn't matter. They would be gone tomorrow, a lot richer after the North Koreans had bought their wares.

Shah looked at Raman-Ali. "Breakfast at six forty-five, because we have a lot to talk about."

He nodded his approval. His facial expression showed no emotion but he looked uncomfortable.

The morning came quickly and Shah had already showered and dressed by six o'clock. He was wearing a black suite, white shirt and blue tie, not his normal attire but something appropriate under the circumstances. He felt on edge and lit a cigarette to calm himself. Looking out of the hotel window he could see the Taedong River that flowed through the capital city. The sun was up and the sky was a cloudless azure blue. A nice day to do business.

Opening his laptop he started up the slideshow presentation and mentally rehearsed his pitch for each of the slides. He knew that any more than ten slides would be risky if some of the military audience didn't speak English. Four of the images showed American nuclear warheads being transported and positioned on Israeli soil by US troops. One slide showed a supposedly official military document with approved US target coordinates for the nuclear warheads as Pyongyang and three other suspected nuclear testing and manufacturing sites, two in the North and one four-hundred-miles south of the capital. Shah would only have one shot at this and it needed to sound convincing. Nobody pays a million dollars without a very good reason.

The White House, Washington DC

Joseph Turay was fifty-one-years-old and the Secretary-General of the United Nations. As a child he had experienced real poverty and, as a child, he nearly died of starvation. But those memories were fading with everyday that passed. His African homeland of Ethiopia, known now as the Federal Democratic Republic of Ethiopia, was somewhere he had not visited in over two years. His homeland had no appeal anymore. It was so far removed from the lifestyle he now relished, yet he was clever, manipulative, assertive and confident, very confident. He is one of the Oromo people and lived with his three sisters and three brothers south east of Addis Ababa in the region known as Oromia. The name Oromo means 'The Powerful
’
. Whatever the President wanted him to agree to, was not going to be easy, if he didn't see a good reason for it. The chair creaked under his large mass as he fidgeted impatiently in his expensive Italian suit. He was not used to being kept waiting.

Double doors opened.

“
Joseph.
”

"Mr. President.
”
Turay forced his large frame into a standing position and held out his big hand.

"Good to see you again. You look well. I'm sorry to have kept you waiting." Both men shook hands enthusiastically "Please come in, I've arranged for your favorite tea."

Joseph Turay adored Earl Grey and shortbread cookies, and their imminent arrival brought a wide smile to his face exposing an array of gleaming white teeth, exaggerated by his ebony skin.

"Please sit down, tea won't be long." The President pointed to two leather chesterfields separated by a low table in front of an open fireplace that housed a black wrought iron log cradle made up with apple wood logs which gave off a sweet scent not unfamiliar to Turay.

"Thank you. You know, when I was a boy in Africa, time went sooooo slow. Now, life is just like a runner-wayyyy trainnnn."

As Joseph Turay sat down the tea and cookies arrived on a tray carried by a maid. As she placed the tray on the table in front of him the subtle smell of bergamot oil filled his nostrils.

"Thank you, Alison...I now exactly what you mean Joseph. There's not enough hours in the day anymore.
”
The suit, the watch, the shoes. The Patek must be worth ten primary schools. This man likes the good-life that's for sure. Use it to your advantage. "How's my favorite city, Joseph?"

"New York...She's doing jus fine, tank you."

"That's good...Okay my friend, let's get down to business. You are, I know, fully aware of the situation and it appears to be worsening by the minute."

"Dis morning, North Korea publicly accused da US of planning a nuclear strike from sites in Israel."

“
Yes, I know, Joseph
—
I can only assume they want to attack us, because that is a complete fabrication."

"You are telling me dat... it is not true?"

"Joseph, you have my word. My problem is convincing the military that we should not preempt an attack by North Korea, and that my friend, is getting harder to do by the day. We are watching them via satellite and the activity is disturbing. They are moving hardware and rockets into areas we consider to be their nuclear facilities. We cannot allow their propaganda machine to put the blame on us when it's them that are the aggressors."

The Secretary-General sipped his tea and looked deep into the President
’
s eyes. "Are you asking de United Nations to back a preemptive strike by da United States on North Korea?"

"If it gets to that point, yes."

"Der is no way dat will happen."

"What if we can prove an attack is imminent?"

"How would you do dat, Mr. President?"

The President paused and breathed in..."More tea, Joseph?...You are, I know, aware that if we cannot get the UN's backing on this and we know that a nuclear strike is imminent we will go it alone."

"I hope dat day never comes."

“
Joseph, so do I, but we cannot bury our heads in the sand. We are dealing with a county that has turned its back on the world. Most of its people are starving and completely brainwashed. It is a dangerous, paranoid regime that we are dealing with here". The President leaned forward to make the point even more poignant. "Only yesterday we found out that there is cooperation between North Korea and a terrorist group operating out of Pakistan. Who knows what they're planning?"

"You can never be certain, can you? Nothing in dis world is certain, except death of course. If you preempt dem with a nuclear strike of your own it could be da end of all of us. As da President of da United States are you prepared to take dat risk?"

"Every US President, since the introduction of weapons of mass destruction has had to accept that the situation could arise and therefore by accepting the presidency we carry that burden every day. We hope to God that it will never happen."

"By using Israel as your base you have already alienated Russia, China and every Muslim country in da world." Joseph Turay sipped his tea and waited for the reaction.

"By that statement I can only assume Joseph, that you don't believe a word I've said." The President's tone had hardened. "If we are to go it alone we will need considerable funds. It will be necessary for me to advise the Secretary of the Treasury to pull back on any foreign aid to Africa." The President sipped his tea and waited for Turay's reaction.

Turay wrestled with the words for a while. "Dat would not be good for millions of people. People dat don't have enough food or clean water to live on; even today."

"Joseph, off the record... you know and I know that Africa is poor because the people who run Africa want it that way."

Turay lowered his head to avoid eye contact. "They are power mad despots with private bank accounts that are bursting at the seams with foreign aid money that was meant for their people
—
People, who are unfortunately, a secondary consideration to their leaders
’
egos. Corrupt leaders, you and I despise."

Turay looked up and made eye contact again.

"Let me ask you something, Mister Secretary-General. What can the US do for Joseph Turay, that will guarantee us the support of the United Nations?"

“
Dat, Mr. President, is a very different question." Turay said, smiling broadly.

"I believe the Security Council meeting in New York is planned for tomorrow. Is that right, Joseph?"

"Yes, dat is correct. In de morning, at nine o'clock."

"Then we have work to do my friend."

The Ellington Building, Houston

It was just after ten o'clock a night and McPherson was still working in the control room when the call came from Hunter to join him in his office. When he arrived Hunter was on the phone and he gestured to McPherson to sit down.

"Michael this guy is definitely alive and we need to know what he's up to. Do you have the information about his time at Aldermaston?" Hunter put his hand over the mouthpiece and whispered to McPherson. "Michael Dench
—
MI6."

McPherson nodded in acknowledgement.

"Yes, that's right, Michael". Hunter then listened intently to Dench about the information MI6 had gathered
…“
Can you send that through to me please?...Have you got him on the wanted list now? Thank you my friend, I owe you one. Have a good day." Hunter replaced the receiver, took a deep breath and rubbed his chin thoughtfully....
“
Well, Rob, it's not good news. It appears that your college friend definitely worked at Aldermaston and was actively involved in nuclear weapons research."

"So, he's selling that knowledge to the North Koreans?"

"I think that's exactly what he's doing, Rob."

"Oh my God!
”

"Adam Domaradzki was a real threat to us and we dealt with him appropriately but this is not our problem. We need to give the information to the people in charge of national security at the CIA so that we can focus on our job. Leave it to me please; you just concentrate on breaking that alien code. Oh, and by the way, it's nearly ten thirty. Isn't it time you went home?" Hunter said smiling.

“
Yeah, but I'm in the middle of an important matrix run at the moment using a new symmetrical cryptanalysis algorithm." Hunters raised his eyebrows.

"What?"

"SCA for short. If this motherfucker doesn't crack their code nothing will."

"Did you know George Washington used codes to send messages to his agents?" Hunter said nonchalantly.

McPherson just nodded. "I'll be here for another hour or so I'm afraid. Vicki knows I'm going to be late tonight."

"Okay, don't let me keep you from your work and good luck with that...symmetrical thing... whatever it is."

“
Thanks." McPherson smiled and made his way back to the empty control room. He sat down next to his cold coffee on the central console, tapped the keyboard and the flat screen display lit up again. The room was quiet and the main lights were dimmed. Lots of small flashing red, green and yellow LEDS on the console and the main wall displays gave the room a strange aura that McPherson never really noticed. He was deep in thought, remembering his days at Cambridge with Habib and wondering what the future held for his son, Daniel. Was this the start of another Cold War?

"Please don't feel afraid." The voice shocked McPherson and he spun around on his chair. In total disbelief he stared at the two people standing in the corner of the room. He was desperately trying to comprehend the situation.

"We are not here to harm you Robert."

"Who the hell are you guys and how did you get in here?" McPherson stood up and reached for his gun. The one that he'd left at home.

"We've met before, Robert
—
In Washington, DC."

"Who are you and what do want?" The two intruders walked slowly out of the shadows towards McPherson. As they approached he recognized them.

"Oh my God, you're the two aliens that escaped from the tank."

“
Please don't feel afraid, it's not our intention to hurt you."

"Then why are you here?" McPherson was clearly shaken by their presence. Their skin appeared human like and their eyes were bright blue but with no iris. Where the hell are you from?

"We are from a place a long way from here."

"Oh my god you can read my thoughts." When they moved it seemed to McPherson that he could see through their tall bodies. They don't appear to have feet, they're just suspended, floating bodies.

This time the other alien spoke. "Your world is in great danger."

"From what?"

"From yourselves... Earth, as you call it, was chosen as a home for humans and now it is very feasible that humans will destroy themselves. Total annihilation of the human race, in the near future, is a very strong possibility."

"What are you talking about, chosen...home... total annihilation?" McPherson was confused and on edge. "Why are you doing this? Who are you? Where are you from?"

"We are best described, as guardians."

“
Guardians, of what?" Rob was struggling to comprehend the whole scenario unfolding in front of him. Is this just a dream?

“
No, it is not a dream, it is very real. We are guardians of what you call the soul. The soul is a form of energy that has been given to humans; it cannot be destroyed but it can be trapped forever between dimensions. Mankind is on the verge of just that."

"I don't understand a word of what you're saying,"

"We don't expect you to understand, Robert, but we can, with your help, prevent the human race from losing that precious gift. The soul has a journey that it must go on. It takes a direction I believe mankind calls fate. If that journey is not allowed to happen the soul is forever trapped, like an elevator stuck between floors. The soul is an energy that must never be trapped."

"This is madness. It makes no sense at all to me"

"Do you want your child to have a future?"

“
Yes, of course I do." McPherson's tone hardened and he felt his pulse quicken even more.

“
Please, do not see us as a threat, we are here to help you. Negative forces are being nurtured on earth that if left unchecked would take every child's future away, not just yours. Their souls would be trapped just like the elevator. You can stop that from happening Robert."

"I'm completely confused, I have no idea what to do. How the hell can I be of any help? What negative forces are you talking about?"

"You will know them, when the time comes."

The sound of the phone ringing on the control room console woke McPherson with a start.
“
Rob speaking." He said groggily into the receiver.

“
Rob, are you okay? It's one o'clock in the morning. Are you ever coming home?"

"Yeah...yeah...sorry darling, I've been very busy and lost track of time. I'm on my way, I'll see you soon." What a crazy vivid dream that was. McPherson stood up to leave and noticed a clear crystal pyramid, some six inches tall, on the console next to his computer keyboard. Where on Earth did that come from?