The Zul Enigma (71 page)

‘Dr Fisher,’ the nurse
said, ‘your friend’s here to see you again.’

The old man grunted, his
chunky fingers creeping over the cover, feeling for the control pad that
adjusted the bed.

‘I’ll do it,’ the nurse
said, fiddling with the mechanism to raise him up.

‘No!’ he croaked in a
hoarse voice. ‘Too much. Take it back down. Twenty degrees.’ The authority of
his tone gave Rachael a thrill as she realised his intellect was as keen as
ever.

The nurse looked back at
Rachael and raised a brow. ‘I’ll leave you to it, then,’ she said, and bustled
out.

A fan set on low paddled
the air, struggling to diffuse an odour of decay Rachael hadn’t noticed on her
previous visit. Joseph’s forehead glistened with sweat and he looked weaker
than before. She sat down on the visitor’s chair and leaned towards him.

‘Dr Fisher,’ she began,
‘is your leg…’

‘I listened to the
book,’ he interrupted in a rasping voice, ‘and the diary. You’re his daughter.
You should know the truth. What else have you found out?’ he demanded, and she
told him about her meetings with Scott.

Joseph lay quite still
with his eyes shut. She wondered if he’d fallen asleep and was filled with pity
for this old man who had outlived all his friends and family.

Then he snorted, making
her start. ‘Americans!’ he said, ‘but the military did want Anderson and your
father out of the way. And a secret group of imperialists
was
acting as
the shadow government of the world.’

‘What else do you know?’
she asked.

‘It’s a long story. So
get comfortable. I’ll start with the cabal,’ and he smoothed the blanket under
his heavy hands.

‘Back at the beginning
of the century that secret group’s objective was to keep control of the planet.
Although for a long time members had encouraged strategies like meddling in
global financial systems to build greater wealth and power and promoting
conflict between feuding factions with the hidden agenda of gaining
sovereignty, they were starting to realise that in the big picture they were
losing ground. Winning the odd battle wasn’t good enough. They needed to win
the war. This led them to question the logic behind their strategy of
perpetuating conflict for their own gain. And they saw it was unsound.

‘After months spent
analysing and debating, they knew they were facing a slew of problems:
overpopulation; religious conflict; territorial conflict; ineffectual
leadership and flawed systems of governance. They weren’t stupid. They
acknowledged their part in the fiasco, but they also knew to achieve their
ultimate objective these problems had to be resolved.’

Joseph edged himself
onto one elbow, the muscles round his eyes flinching from the pain the movement
sparked off in his leg. Concerned, Rachael leaned closer, but he waved her away
with a flap of his hand. ‘You see,’ he went on, ‘the majority of these people
didn’t have evil intent as such, but they did consider themselves superior.
They believed only they could do the best for the world. Most of the time their
objectives were sound… but too often their methods were at best… well…
questionable,’ and he slid his elbow out to the side and eased his head back
down onto the pillow.

‘One day the group
decides to play the “What If?” game. What would we do if we could do anything
to make the planet function better? So they analyse each of the problem areas,
hoping to find a way to eradicate them for good. They hold regular no holds
barred, anything goes, nothing is too stupid, nothing too horrific,
brainstorming sessions… “What If?” sessions.’

Joseph licked his lips
and sighed. ‘It’s obvious that reducing the population is the most pressing
problem on the list. Back then ninety-eight per cent of the world’s population
growth was in the developing world. They look at countries with high-density
populations. China, India, Pakistan, many countries in Southeast Asia, Africa,
the Middle East and South America. Places where huge numbers of people live in
shocking poverty. Places where sickness is rampant and starvation a daily
event. Places where too many people have less than zero quality of life.

‘They discuss why
conditions in these places never seem to improve. Perhaps the leaders are only
interested in filling their own pockets. Or perhaps religion, or the conflict
between religions, keeps the people poor. Perhaps it’s a tribal problem because
one race dominates the others. Perhaps it’s lack of employment opportunities.
Perhaps it’s lack of education. Or perhaps some countries are too poor to look
after their own people. There is one common factor though – uncontrolled
breeding – and even though the group had already half-arsed tried to do
something about that under the guise of different family planning
organisations, it had made very little headway.

‘The majority of
countries, it seemed, didn’t give a shit about their poor. In which case, why
should anyone else? Remember,’ Joseph said, tapping his fingers on the covers,
‘the group doesn’t feel guilty talking like this because it’s playing “What
If?”

‘I’m thirsty,’ he said,
turning his eyes to a drinking bottle on the bedside table. Rachael picked it
up and held it for him as he struggled onto his elbow again and took a few sips
from the straw.

‘In a perfect world,’ he
continued, ‘only two children should be allowed per family, with the occasional
extras thrown in here and there to stop the population shrinking. That’s easy
to legislate. But what this group was looking at was reducing the population
instantly and drastically. So… who should go? The obvious answer is the poor
and the sick. They’re a drain on everyone else. They have no quality of life.
It would stop their suffering instead of prolonging it. And it would stop them
breeding more poor and sick.’

Rachael screwed up her
eyes and shook her head.

‘But how can they do
it?’ he went on, shrugging his broad shoulders. ‘Someone suggests implanting
chips that will store an array of data including the level of current personal
wealth. At a pre-agreed time an electronic message could be sent out causing
death to those with a financial balance below the minimum level. Of course the
method of death would be instant because if they’re going to cull the
population – which is what they’re discussing – it has to be done
in a humane way,’ and he coughed. Or was it a laugh? Surely not a laugh,
Rachael thought. How surreal this was – listening to someone talking
about exterminating all the poor on the planet with no more emotion than if he
was describing the weather.

She shook her head again
and fought the instinct to put her hands over her ears and run.

‘Then,’ Joseph
continued, ‘someone comes up with the idea of a biologically engineered virus.
But how would it determine between the rich and the poor? And how would they
distribute it?

‘Through the UN, some
bright spark says. It’s always giving out free vaccine to the poor. The virus
could be put in the vaccine. And so the germ of an idea, excuse the pun, is
planted and the longer they think about it, the more attractive it becomes.

‘Later, they talk about
numbers. How many is too many? How many is too few?

‘It
is
a
solution… but of course they’d never put such a plan into action. All they’re
doing is playing “What If?” However, a few in the group just can’t seem to let
it go… and without the others knowing, they continue meeting and planning.

‘They would need a cover
story – one that prepares the population for extensive culling without
igniting mass panic. And how would they dispose of the dead? How would they
ensure the distribution of food, fresh water and fuel to the survivors? With
such a reduced population, how would they keep business and the financial
system going?

‘They talk about the
shock such an event would cause and realise they could use that to their
advantage. It would keep people quiet while they establish their global
government system manned by handpicked protégés. Their new world order.’

‘Then the method of
harnessing hydrothermal energy was developed in the US.’

‘Why was that
important?’ Rachael asked.

‘Because, even with a
global population reduced by eighty-five per cent, the world would still use
almost the same amount of energy. Energy was the domain of the rich – the
poor couldn’t afford it. With the advent of hydrothermal energy the
stranglehold traditional oil and gas producing nations in the Middle East had
over the rest of the world was broken.’

Joseph snorted again.
‘At first an entirely hypothetical plan, over time they elaborate… and refine…
and the longer they discuss it, the more desensitised they become and the
easier it is for them to imagine one day putting it into action, so much so
that when the global economy was fixing to crash big time and news came in
confirming the reality of global cooling… well… they decided to go ahead with
it.’

‘How do you know all
this?’ Rachael asked.

He answered her question
with a question. ‘And you said you and Mr Fuller thought some intelligence
agency was involved?’

She nodded.

‘I can tell you about
that too,’ and Joseph’s lips twisted into a grimace and he grunted, ‘although I
don’t know how happy it’ll make you.’

‘I’m not here to find
happiness.’ She flicked her dark curls out from under her coat collar. ‘I’m
here to find the truth.’

‘Of course you are.’ He
cleared his throat, ‘and this is how it went. A spokesperson representing the
cabal approached the Director of the foremost intelligence agency at that time.
He told him what I just told you. Explained why and how the group had developed
their master plan. He asked for the agency’s help to refine it and put it into
action. The Director agreed. He chose his best agent for the job. Of course it
was a highly classified operation. Apart from the cabal and its spokesperson,
only the Director and… the Director and…’ Joseph looked towards the drinking
bottle and signalled with his hand. Rachael picked it up and held it out for
him again. He looked flushed, she thought. He took a couple of sucks on the
straw, drew a breath, and settled his head back on the pillow.

‘Are you okay?’ she
asked. Sweat was beading on his brow and his eyes had turned glassy.

‘It’s the fever. It
comes and goes. So… only the Director and his agent knew anything about it.’

‘You mean just one agent
was responsible for the whole operation?’

‘Of course the operative
had the agency’s entire resources at his disposal. And he used other people to
play critical roles. But none of them knew what they were involved in.’

‘Who came up with the
idea of using the Mayan calendar and inventing Zul?’

‘The agent. Then when he
got wind the US military wanted to muzzle Anderson and your father, he realised
he could use Zul to do that too, without taking Carlos out of the game too
soon.’

‘What about the virus?’

‘The cabal had a chemist
engineer it, funded the majority of its manufacture, and manipulated the UN
into distributing it to all the poor and low-income families round the world.
But the operative worked out how to trigger it with a high frequency radio
wave. And he triggered it himself. The group didn’t want to get their hands too
dirty.’

‘It’s horrific.’ Rachael
said, covering her mouth. ‘How many were in the cabal?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Did the agent know
their names?’

‘No. Nor did the
Director. It was a big secret. That’s why they had a go-between.’

Rachael sighed. ‘I
suppose I’ll never find out their identities, but do you know who the
go-between was?’

‘Even if I told you, it
wouldn’t mean anything. In any case, he’s long since dead.’

‘Then tell me which
agency it was.’

‘I’m surprised Scott
Fuller didn’t work that one out. He
was
in the business after all.’

‘Of course he knew
whoever was involved had the communications knowledge and equipment to pull off
the plan and the surveillance capability to bug my father’s office and his
flat, to watch you, Drew and Erika. They must also have known about cosmology
to come up with the Zul story. In fact, he thought one of them played Zul.’

Joseph twisted his lips
into another grimace. ‘He was right. The operative did act out the part of
Zul.’

‘Scott said they set up
the car accident so my father could escape, because they had no surveillance in
the safe house and they needed to know what the Americans were planning.’

‘He’s right about that
too. The Americans gave the agent a lot of headaches at the beginning. Taking
your father to the safe house. Then wanting to put him in a mental hospital in
Madrid. The cabal could have pulled strings had it needed to, but…’

‘They controlled the
President?’ Rachael gasped.

‘Of course! But that
would have drawn unnecessary attention. That would have been the last resort.
What else did Fuller say?’ Joseph asked.

‘That they were expert
at psychology, that they profiled my father so well they knew exactly how to
manipulate him. That they had the ability to readjust and refine their plan at
a moment’s notice to accommodate the unexpected.’