The Zul Enigma (32 page)

‘Good luck in Madrid! I
hope it doesn’t take too long for them to sort you out. And I do mean that.’

***

‘Carlos! I’m so happy to see you,’ Corrinne bustled out from behind the desk,
her customary puckered lips drawn into a pinched smile as she rushed towards
him and gave him a stiff hug.

‘I just brewed some
coffee,’ Corrinne and her coffee – a panacea for everything. ‘Are you
hungry?’

He shook his head.

The two UN security
staff that had accompanied him up from reception strode into Carlos’s office.
Corrinne called after them, ‘Hello… excuse me… Mr Howard’s instructions are
that you wait outside in the corridor.’

‘Yes ma'am, but we have
orders to sweep Dr Maiz and his office first.’

The familiar aroma of
Brazilian coffee greeted Carlos as he walked through the door. Habit had him
heading for his desk to log in and check his e-mails, but recalling he was
wearing a visitor’s tag he felt foolish and redundant and sat down on the sofa
instead, wondering how long it would be before Greg came in to officially
relieve him of his position and escort him off the premises.

He stared out of the
window. The sky had turned a thick grey and the snow that had been falling for
a couple of hours was covering the city in a white mantle.

‘I packed everything you
asked for in the boxes over there.’

Carlos jumped. He looked
round at Corrinne as if he’d never seen her in his life before.

She took a few steps
towards him and crouched down to his level, one hand steadying herself on the
coffee table. In just a week the confidence, the air of authority with which
he’d left Vienna had vanished. Worse still, in spite of losing weight, his face
was puffy like a lump of pastry, his skin sallow and his jaw a dark shadow where
he hadn’t bothered to shave.

‘I packed everything you
asked for in the boxes over there,’ she repeated, ‘but you need to go through
them before I seal them. Do you want me to do it with you? Make sure we haven’t
forgotten anything?’

He shook his head.

‘The Secretary General’s
upstairs.’ Carlos’s body tensed. He wished he could skip the meeting with Greg.
He wished he could have skipped coming to Vienna altogether. ‘He knows you’re
here. He’ll be down in a minute.’ She paused. ‘And Erika’s popping in,’ she
said in a forced cheery voice.

Carlos’s face was blank,
his eyes vacant and glassy.

‘Erika Stone. Your
friend from Maryland. Drew Robert’s old girlfriend.’

Jesus Christ! Just the
mention of his name was enough to make Carlos want to vomit.

‘She’s got some
magazines for you.’

The vintage music
magazines. Now he remembered. It seemed like a lifetime since they’d spoken.

‘She’s been inundated
with other offers and I didn’t want you to miss out. I cleared it with the
boss. I thought you’d like to take them with you to Madrid.’ Carlos’s eyes
drifted back to the window. ‘I thought they might help cheer you up,’ she
continued, but her words had no impact on him. He clearly wasn’t listening.

***

‘Carlos, how are you?’

It took a while for
Carlos to stand up as Greg plodded towards him with an outstretched hand.

‘Been better,’ he
muttered. He’d certainly looked better. Usually a dapper dresser, Greg had
never seen him looking so shabby. His suit was creased and there were stains on
his tie. Carlos’s eyes slid off Greg’s face as he cut the handshake short. He
turned away and caught sight of the tray on the table. ‘Coffee?’ he offered,
mustering some manners.

‘You’re alright Carlos,’
Greg replied, ‘sit down, I can get it myself.’ He perched himself on the couch
next to Carlos, poured himself a cup and slid a couple of chocolate biscuits
onto the saucer.

‘Bob called me
yesterday. Told me you’re checking yourself into a hospital in Madrid. You made
the right decision.’

‘Like they gave me much
choice,’ Carlos muttered, grabbing a biscuit and taking a bite. He wondered
what the food would be like at the hospital – nothing like Mary’s –
that was for sure. Her food had been the only good thing about the safe house.
If only he’d had more of an appetite.

‘He wanted to send you
there direct, but I insisted you come here first.’

Carlos shook his head.
‘Why? All Vienna ever brought me is misery.’

‘Yes… well…’ Greg
cleared his throat and studied the clasped hands resting in his lap as though
he didn’t know to whom they belonged or how they’d got there. ‘I thought it
would help give you some closure. And
I
wanted to see you. There are
some things I want to say. In person.’ He picked up his cup and saucer from the
table and wriggled back into the seat. He looked at Carlos, nodding, ‘It’s been
an honour having you as my OOSA Director. I admire your integrity…’

Carlos couldn’t believe
what he was hearing.

Greg sucked in a breath
and held up a hand. ‘Forget what’s just happened. In my experience you’ve
always acted with the utmost integrity and that quality’s pretty hard to find
these days. You did a fine job dragging OOSA into the twenty-first century.’
Greg took a sip of coffee and Carlos noticed a smear of melted chocolate at the
base of his cup. Greg clunked it back down on the saucer, nudging the biscuits
out of the way. ‘I know it wasn’t easy.’

The timing of this
accolade baffled Carlos, who’d expected Greg to go right ahead and fire him for
misconduct. He started to lift his arms in question, but let them fall back
down by his sides. He looked like a deflated blow-up doll crumpling in on
itself.

‘Over the years I feel
I’ve got to know you pretty well, Carlos. I took to you the moment we met. I
admired your vision. I envied your passion. I respected the way you stood up
for your beliefs, no matter what.’

‘And look where it got
me Greg. Hey?’ Carlos screwed up his face. ‘Just look where it got me.’

There was no longer any
semblance of the passion Carlos had once exuded and it pained Greg. But he
refused to be deterred. He was determined to finish what he’d come to say.

‘Carlos. I feel we’ve
always had something rather more than a professional relationship. When you
were struggling through that dreadful time after Elena… well… Tracy and I? We
felt for you, like you were family.’

Carlos turned his face
away. Those memories were too painful to think about, more painful than ever
now, and he was torn between running out of the room or throwing himself onto
those big shoulders of Greg’s to sob like a child.

Of course he did neither
and taking refuge in thoughts that didn’t feature Elena, he formed the one
question he wanted an answer to. ‘Something’s bothering me. Burning in my
brain. Why did you let the Americans take over? Why did you do that to me?’

Greg stretched out his
small hand palm upwards and shrugged. ‘I had no choice,’ and from his tone
Carlos knew he was speaking the truth. ‘They had me over a barrel. But however
distasteful it was at the time, I now believe it was for the best. It’s brought
a quick resolution. Going to hospital is the best thing for you. You’ve been
struggling on your own for far too long. It’s time you got help.’

‘And why did you revoke
my access to the network? You just told me how much you admire my integrity,
but it didn’t stop you cancelling my tag. How do you explain that, hey?’

‘That was Hans. He was
scared the Americans would commandeer it and log in pretending to be you.’

Carlos shook his head.

‘Carlos,’ Greg reached
out and rested his hand on Carlos’s forearm. ‘There’s something I want you to
know,’ he leaned forward and lowered his voice. ‘You can count on me. As a
friend. No matter what.’

Greg’s choice of words
seemed odd to Carlos. Had he said “Call me” Carlos wouldn’t have been surprised
– but “count on me”? Was Greg sending him a signal? Carlos had felt an
undercurrent of tension in the man who, although outwardly as calm as ever,
underneath seemed untypically on edge. Or was it all in Carlos’s imagination?
He’d been wrong about Barbara. He’d probably got it wrong about Greg too. These
unbidden insights into other people’s emotional states were more likely
symptoms of his growing paranoia.

Greg pushed on. ‘I
wanted to say goodbye to you in person. To thank you for all the hard work
you’ve put in since you joined us. And to tell you I’m really sorry things
turned out this way.’

Carlos stared at him.
Somehow “sorry” didn’t quite seem to get it.

Greg picked up his cup
and took the last sip of coffee.

‘Has he contacted you
again? Zul?’ Greg dropped the name so casually, like he was asking after a
mutual old friend, that it took a moment for Carlos to register.

His gut reaction was
that of a naughty boy being questioned about something he’d done wrong. He felt
like shouting out an indignant “No!”. But he didn’t have the energy and in any
case everyone already thought he was certifiable. Even he had his doubts. There
was no reason to lie.

‘He appeared in a
hologram yesterday.’

‘At the safe house?’
Greg asked.

‘Yes.’

Greg picked up the
biscuits with one hand and with the other stretched forward to put his empty
cup and saucer on the table. He leaned back in his seat. ‘What did he say?’

Carlos took a deep
breath. ‘That there’s a discrepancy in vibration, that the galaxy, our solar
system and the planet are all ready to evolve but we humans are not. This
conflict in energy levels is causing escalating social and physical unrest on
Earth. He said if we don’t raise the aggregate level of human vibration, the
Earth and everything on it will be destroyed, which could also affect the whole
galaxy. They want me to do something about it.’

‘And what does he want
you to do? How can you synchronise this conflict in energy vibration?’ Greg
asked without a hint of ridicule.

‘The key, he said, is
love and unity. We must use our free will to increase spiritual awareness and
dedicate ourselves to leading good lives. If we can raise our energy by living
less selfishly, then there’s a chance our Earth will survive and make a
successful evolutionary shift on the 21st December.’

‘The end date of the
Mayan calendar,’ Greg nodded his big head up and down. ‘I see.’

‘When Zul explained, it
all made sense. But now? Telling you? It sounds crazy.’

‘But what Zul’s asking
you to do is beautiful, Carlos. It reinforces the essence of what the UN stands
for.’

Carlos’s face was so
pale in contrast with his dark brown eyes sunk deep into their sockets, rimmed
with red and ringed with black. His hair, standing up in frizzled clumps, gave
him the look of a madman.

‘There’s more,’ he
whispered.

‘Go on.’

‘The Americans must have
listened to all my communications – they were spying on me, right? But
they didn’t mention Zul. Not one word. They acted like nothing had happened.’

‘And you think that’s
odd.’

‘Greg… I’m beginning to
believe it
is
all in my head,’ he said.

‘Carlos – what you
went through after Elena was murdered – the anger, the grief, those
powerful feelings of guilt and responsibility, the unbearable sadness and
loneliness? Perhaps this is your cry for help. Perhaps subconsciously you’re
saying, “I don’t want to be surrounded by negativity any more! It’s time I
moved on.” Perhaps this is your mind’s way of expunging the guilt, of
empowering yourself, of giving yourself permission to be hopeful and happy,
maybe even to love again. Perhaps this is a message that you want to share with
others who have gone through what
you’ve
gone through. A message you
want to share with the world.’

Carlos was fixated on
the crumbs scattered down the front of Greg’s white shirt, the remains of the
biscuits. He couldn’t take his eyes off them. ‘I don’t know,’ he murmured. ‘I
just don’t know.’

‘Come on Carlos. You
need to get checked out. Keep a grip, son, and don’t worry. You’ll come through
this stronger than ever before, you’ll see.’ Greg leaned over and patted his
arm, as if the physical contact could camouflage the banality of his words.

But Carlos didn’t see.
He didn’t see anything. All the uncertainties buzzing around in his brain, they
were driving him insane. He clutched his head and shook it, trying to drive out
the Babel of warring voices inside.

Corrinne knocked on the door and after waiting only a moment walked in. Carlos
hadn’t moved since Greg left. He was still sitting on the sofa staring out of
the window with an empty expression on his face, his untouched coffee on the
table in front of him.

Whether he heard
Corrinne or not it was hard to tell, since he didn’t acknowledge her presence.

‘Erika’s here.’ she
said.

He turned his head
towards her.

‘Erika’s here,’ she
repeated.

He blinked.

Corrinne walked over to
join him on the couch, wanting to tell him that as a result of their phone
calls she’d got to know Erika over the previous week and found her to be a very
nice woman. She had grown to like her easy manner. Erika had the knack of
leaving her smiling every time they said goodbye, which made her feel good and
in spite of the age difference, the two women were becoming friends.