Chapter One
The Mirror
EARLIER…
Whenever Aaron woke up in the morning and looked out his window, he was struck with the absurd thought that he was not in Kansas anymore.
It was difficult not to think this way when the view outside his window was the magnificent city of Tirion constructed by the Noldor and Vanya elves on top of the hill of Túna in Calacirya, the Pass of Light. The city was a construct of white pearl and crystal, with jewel-encrusted walls and terraces of with pristine gardens. It stood high enough for its occupants to enjoy a panoramic view of the sea as well as the equally breathtaking Pelóri Mountains. Whenever Aaron found himself greeted by the resplendent beauty of this ancient land, there was a brief moment when he wondered if he was truly awake or was this all a product of a particularly enchanting dream.
After a year in Valinor, it was still a difficult thing to distinguish.
Since their arrival in Valinor, the mysterious land built by the Valar in ages so far in the distant past, it could not even be considered pre-history, Aaron had found his perceptions of the world altering drastically on a daily basis. Everything he had ever thought he knew about the world, which the elves called Arda, was nothing akin to the truth. He was a product of twentieth century thinking, where Darwinism and physical science purportedly had all the answers to one's role in the scheme of things. Until that fateful day when he had unknowingly accepted the charge of a new patient whom he had labelled Moses, Aaron had never considered that what he knew amounted to very little.
It was a little more than a year after that day and Aaron found, not only the woman that he knew he would spend the rest of his life with, but he was sharing that life with her in a place with whom not even dreams could compare. Since their arrival in Valinor, Aaron and Eve had been permanent additions to the House of Elrond in the city of Tirion, in the lands of Valinor called Eldamar, the portion of the Undying Lands allotted to the elves. Aaron did not think he would ever be able to wrap his mind around the notion that the elves shared the same island with their gods. However, as far as he understood it, the pantheon of gods the elves referred to as the Valar were apparently created by a higher power called Iluvutar who did not reside on the same plane as any of his creations.
As a psychiatrist, this was the hardest concept for him to grasp, the fact that he and Eve were the only modern humans to be provided with irrefutable proof that there was a supreme being and that the afterlife was not a fanciful construct of organized religion but a reality that was awaiting them some day. There was life after death because he and Eve were living proof of it. They had been a hundred thousand years ago, Aragorn Elessar and Arwen Evenstar, lovers bound in fate and time that had found each other again.
However, he was happy to have his beliefs challenge because living in Valinor meant that he could hear the Valar sing.
And for that privilege alone, he would have believed anything.
Living in Valinor was like taking a step through time, to a more innocent age. There was a profound sense of reverence for all living things so therefore the land was cherished and nurtured. The elves constructed wondrous cities that appeared to blend into the natural beauty of Valinor instead of against it. It was a place dedicated to music, artistry and thought, a monument to civilisation once greed, lust and war were forgotten. Aaron had never thought he would experience this peace in his lifetime but in Valinor it was not an ideal to be pursued, it was a way of life.
In his youth, he had backpacked across Europe and though the old world had built great cities, compared to the majesty of Tirion, Valimar and Alqualonde, they seemed crude and unfinished. Yet it was more than just the architecture and land that made Valinor so remarkable, it was an understanding that even though they lived apart from the world, they cared what happened to it. T
Aaron wished that the rest of the world could feel the same way.
At first, he had thought he would never get accustomed to living in this place because he was too much a product of his race to ever be content with the serenity of Valinor. However, Elrond and Celebrian had welcomed Eve and him into their home, treated them both like long lost kin which in truth they were and opened a whole new way of existence to them. There was so much to see, so much to learn. Aaron upon discovering that Elrond was a healer had spent a good deal of time with the elven lord, letting Elrond teach him what he knew.
Elrond had said with a smile, that he would be happy to share his knowledge with Aaron again.
There were portraits of Aragorn and Arwen in Elrond's house and Aaron were struck by how closely he resembled the very accomplished king he saw on the canvas. The man who was adventurer, woodsman, healer and king who had brought to end a thousand years of uncertainty for his people and had made his kingdom a beacon of light for centuries until the dark ages had reclaimed the world. It was no wonder that Legolas had recognised him immediately. They were almost identical, even without the four days growth that Aragorn wore on his face. Aaron would have thought being king might actually require the man to shave but supposed in those days, grooming was not exactly a high point, even for a king.
It was Arwen's portrait that took his breath away however. Eve was beautiful to him in away that transcended physical appearance but when he saw the Evenstar for the first time, he could very well understand what had driven Aragorn Elessar to move heaven and earth to make the lovely elf maiden his. Though they were identical in appearance there was something luminescent about the Evenstar when she looked at him from the canvas. It was able to make one forget body and soul just by being in her presence. Elrond had said that she was the fairest elf maiden of her day and Aaron could very well believe it. He tried to imagine Aragorn at twenty, meeting this vision of beauty and realised the future king never really had a chance but to be smitten by her.
It pleased Aaron to know that the king in the portrait did win his elf maiden and that they lived a long life together. It gave Aaron hope that even when his own life was done, somehow he and Eve would find each other again. The hope of that made death a little easier to bear.
When he was not learning the healing arts with Elrond, he went travelling with Legolas who was eager to show he and Eve, the richness of the Undying Lands. From Eldamar, they sailed to Tol Eressea and Alqualonde on the Anemone, the vessel Aaron and Eve had sailed to bring Legolas, Elrohir and Elladan home to Valinor. They walked the woods of Orome and visited the gardens of Lorien where Gandalf who went by the name of Olorin on these shores, resided. If Aaron had thought living in this utopia would have stagnated him, he was highly mistaken because there were aeons of knowledge in Valinor that appreciated a new mind to shape.
The exchange was mutual however because the elves were thirsty for knowledge regarding the outside world despite their decision to remain in cloistered in their eternal paradise. As the Firstborn who had taught all the other races the power of speech, they had been eager to learn English and any other language that Aaron and Eve was able to teach them. It was quite something to discover a group of elves trying to conjugate verbs in Spanish and even more startling to hear them attempting to speak it. Aaron would tell them about man's progress (such as it was) since the early days of civilisation. Some of them had ventured forth from Valinor as late as three thousand years ago and found nothing they could consider progress, which was why none had wanted to return since.
Unfortunately, Aaron and Eve's stories about a mechanized, urban world with its threats of deforestation, environmental pollution, thermonuclear Armageddon and global warming did not improve their view that the world had not changed for the better. In truth, as the two humans described it to their immortal companions, Aaron could not help thinking that they were right. How the Valar regarded these tales, Aaron was uncertain but Gandalf seemed to think that the recent excursion beyond Valinor had given them much food for thought.
It was quite a sobering experience to know that the gods walked among them, that to look up the peak of the eastern Pelóri Mountains was to see Taniquetil, the home of the Valar gods Manwe and Varda. The gods in Valinor co-existed in the same manner that English lords might have ruled their lands in medieval times, taking active part in the lives of their people but remaining separate nonetheless, the class distinction being replaced by deification. Fortunately, while the Valar were held in reverence, they regarded the elves the way parents would watch over children. They moved about formlessly for most part but could take on corporeal form whenever they needed to converse with the elves or some other duty that required a physical presence.
The Valar that did make himself known to Aaron and Eve was Aulë, who appeared to them in the guise of a big, fiery haired man who looked as if he had walked out of a movie about Vikings. He had a booming voice, a red bead and a fascination for everything on board the Anemone. As he went through the motor yacht, examining everything from the ice cream scoop to the television and video recorder, he demanded explanation on how it all worked, how it was made, what materials were used to make it. Explaining plastics to a god had very nearly sent Aaron into therapy himself.
In fact the trawler-style motor yacht that they had used to sail to Valinor was a source of great fascination to all the elves, particularly the Teleri who lived in Tol Eressea and an elf Legolas introduced to them as Cirdan who in his day, had been a master ship builder. Cirdan, like the Teleri had built the great ships that brought the elves to Valinor. During the first few weeks of Aaron and Eve's arrival, many had come to the main island just to inspect the vessel.
The Teleri found the Anemone functional and luxurious in its comforts though not very aesthetic. After seeing some of the magnificently crafted ships in their harbour, Aaron could understand why. Sleek, long and grey, when looking at them through the mists a man could be forgiven for thinking that he was staring at a great bird gliding through the water. The ships were graceful in their construction with a quality about them that was as enchanted as the rest of Valinor.
Aaron was to learn later that technically speaking, the Anemone should not have been able to reach Valinor at all. Only a vessel made in the manner of the Teleri elves could make the crossing. The construction of the magical grey ships was imbued with the power to reach Valinor, which was why no ship was able to breach the curtains that kept Valinor in its isolated dimension. However, Gandalf had explained that the Valar had anticipated the Anemone's arrival following their part in uncovering Melkor's presence on this earth and were more than happy to open the gateway to bring them to Valinor.
However, Aaron sensed that there was more to it when Gandalf had made this explanation, though he could not say what had precipitated this suspicion. The psychiatrist in him was too much a student of behaviour to miss the slight nuances in the Maia's manner when he made this revelation. After all, in the real world, Gandalf had been his patient and though it was probably completely unnecessary, Aaron still felt a professional obligation to the old man. He was certain that there was something Gandalf was hiding but despite Aaron's insistence, Gandalf remaining maddeningly tight lipped about it.
In the end, Aaron shrugged it off and decided Gandalf would tell him when he was ready.
Until the day that Aaron was summoned to the house of Celeborn and Galadriel.
When Haldir, devoted march warden of Galadriel and Celeborn, escorted him to their presence, Aaron did not know what to think. In truth, it was Galadriel who had made the request for his presence but that made little difference in the scheme of things. Being summoned by Galadriel, former Lady of Lothlorien, Noldor Princess and grandmother to Arwen Evenstar, was not to be taken lightly. In the months since his arrival in Valinor, Aaron had come to learnt that the lady did not make summonses lightly even though they saw each other often when Galadriel came to visit Eve, whom she considered her granddaughter.
A summons was a formal request made only when there was something of great importance to be discussed and Aaron wondered what business he could have with the great lady to warrant that.
While Aaron was more than happy to acquiesced to her summons, he was apprehensive as well. That nagging sensation in the back of his mind that told him Gandalf was keeping some secret from him had returned with a vengeance when he was led to the mansion occupied by the Lord Celeborn and the Lady Galadriel. Like all the buildings in Tirion, this one was carved out of ivory and pearl and yet looked perfectly natural against the backdrop of tall trees, overhanging branches and vines, laden with flowers. His journey through the mansion came to an end in Galadriel's garden, a place with soft verdant grass, multi-coloured flowering shrubs and strong, trees whose leaves clenched together to form a canopy overhead that gave plenty of cool shade.
Galadriel stood before an ornate pedestal holding a silver basin and an equally silver ewer next to it. An exquisitely beautiful woman with cascading hair of gold, she had more regal dignity in her one finger than the entire royal family of England since the Tudors. It was difficult to imagine that she was already ancient when the elves had left the world because she did not look all that much older than him. However, one only had to look into her eyes to see the great wisdom of her years.
Standing next to Galadriel was Gandalf and the expression on their faces at seeing him was severe. Something was wrong, Aaron concluded immediately to himself.
"You asked to see me," Aaron addressed Galadriel after she had dismissed Haldir, his gaze shifting briefly in Gandalf's direction as he spoke.
"It was I who requested that Galadriel summon you here Aaron," Gandalf answered before Galadriel could.
"Why?" Aaron asked, feeling a tightening in his chest. Was it time for Eve and him to return to the outside world? Were they being asked to leave? Aaron prayed it was not because he rather liked being in Valinor, there was so much to learn, so many people he had come to care for here. It would hurt Eve to leave the people behind she considered her family, Elrond, Celebrian and so many others.
"Still your heart Aaron," Galadriel said smoothly and as always her words reached into his heart with ease. "You are welcome here for as long you live, you need never fear being turned away from this place."
Galadriel was one of the few people capable of appreciating that Aaron was not Aragorn Elessar, the Elfstone but rather a person in his own right who was in possession of an old soul. It was one of the main difficulties that Aaron had encountered since arriving at Valinor and finding himself surrounded by elves that remembered his earlier incarnation. Only a few people could see that it made him uncomfortable to be bombarded with a history that he did not remember, even though he could feel the person he had been at times. Galadriel reminded him of an old college professor he had once, who seemed capable of listening with good humour to the youthful prattling of all his students and offered advice not as a teacher but as a friend.
Aaron had become accustomed to Galadriel's ability to know what was on his mind and did not react to her statement but rather her response. "I'm sorry, I should let you tell me before jumping to conclusions."
"All is forgiven Aaron," Galadriel smiled and then continued to speak, "you have been brought here at Olorin's request and also because I have need your assistance. Of late, I have been visited with visions of a troubling nature that I am unable to explain or understand. I believe they are images of your world and what I see frightens me greatly."
Aaron met Gandalf's eyes, "you can't tell what they are?"
"To some extent but not all," Gandalf replied sincerely. "My memories as Moses are a mixture of lucidity and delusion, it is difficult to separate the two at times. It is Melkor's legacy unfortunately. I prefer not to rely upon them. It is important that you see for me."
There was something more that Gandalf was not telling him but Aaron decided not to press. Gandalf's statement was not entirely untrue because Legolas had told him that whenever Gandalf returned from death, his old persona became something in his past, even if the memories and the friendships of that life remained intact. It was difficult for Aaron to grasp but no more than anything else he had encountered in Valinor since his arrival.
"What do you need me to do?" Aaron asked with a hint of apprehension thought he would never think to refuse.
"Look," she instructed as she poured clear water into the basin and beckoned him forward. "Tell me what you see."
Aaron gave her a look of scepticism but did as he was asked. The elves had given both he and Eve sanctuary from the outside world and had welcomed them with open arms. If helping meant taking a look into a silver basin, then Aaron was happy to do so without hesitation, even if he was certain that Gandalf was lying to him about the reason. Taking a step forward, he dropped his gaze into the basin below him and stared for a moment at the bottom of the silver receptacle.
"What am I looking for?" He asked when he was confronted with the reflection of
the sunlight bouncing off the settling surface of the water.
"You will know when you see it," Galadriel answered, accustomed to his impatience and wondered if he would find it amusing to know that he shared this trait with Aragorn Elessar.
"Whatever you say," Aaron declared and furrowed his brow in concentration.
The reflection on the water showed the branches overhead with points of sunlight spearing through the leaves. The radiance of the sunshine was difficult to keep staring at for long but then the leaves began to rustle even though there was no wind. Amber light contracted into a single burst of bright white, so intense that he had to glance away for a moment. Suddenly, Aaron found himself confronted with at parched, arid landscape with dusty winds that was reminiscent of Arizona perhaps, he was not quite sure until the a mushroom shaped cloud surged through the air like a towering skyscraper and put an end to all his questions. As did the shockwave that spread out in a rolling wall of dust and fire that swept away every thing in its path like a gust of wind blasting everything out of its path.
For as long as he knew, the world had lived with the threat of nuclear destruction but what he saw in Galadriel's mirror was no threat, it was the reality. Images flashed at him like exploding suns and in the aftermath of blinding glare, he saw the world decaying in the wake of the nuclear fire. The cities that survived the initial blasts were slowly poisoned by the nuclear winter as the world and its people began to die in the millions. In a matter of seconds, Aaron saw the world he knew, the one that gave birth to him, die in a slow choking death and it was not even the end of the nightmare. It was just the beginning.
"What is this?" He gasped but no one answered because his journey was not done.
He saw a mountain made of skeletons, bleached white from fire and the faded sun trying to see through the darkened skies of ash. He saw a throne carved from human bone, fingers taping arm rests made of skulls, fingers belonging to the arm of he who was now master of the dead husk that was once Arda. The master whose face Aaron could not see but who was staring at him with red eyes glowing with evil, pure and incarnate. Aaron wanted to recoil from that malevolent gaze, a cold shiver running through his spine as he saw other things taking dominion over this devastated world, things not human but strangely familiar.
The skies were filled with them, the dark things. Their enormous wing flapped through the tainted air, breathing fire, killing those who did not die or who had not succumbed to becoming food of the black, crawling beasts that moved over the dead or the dying like an infestation. A landscape designed by Dante, made a reality because of nuclear fire. This couldn't be! It was impossible! Yet, amidst the wreckage, he saw a silhouette behind master with the red eyes that made him realise that this was real and it was the future.
Because behind the beast was the Statue of Liberty.
That was all Aaron's mind could manage before he pulled away from the mirror and stumbled backwards in near terror. He thought he had been afraid when he had faced the creature beneath the Malcolm Building, he learnt later on was a watcher, but this terrified him beyond that because it was yet to happen. Aaron did not know how he knew, but with every fibre of his being, was convinced it was the truth. He had been shown this for a reason, a reason he suspected Gandalf and Galadriel already knew.
"This is the future?" He demanded once he was able to compose himself enough to speak.
Galadriel and Gandalf exchanged glances before Galadriel nodded grimly. "It is the future."
"How?" Aaron exclaimed. "How could this be the future? Malcolm was destroyed!"
"Indeed he was but he has many agents in the world," Gandalf answered sombrely. "He was in your world for four centuries, biding his time, planning for the eventuality you saw in your vision, the vision that Galadriel, myself and the Valar have seen."
"Then why didn't they destroy it when they destroyed him?" Aaron shouted, his heart pounding with fear as the images of that hellish world appeared in his mind again. He knew where this was going and he was scared to death of it.
"Even during the War of the Wrath, when the Valar emerged from Valinor to fight Melkor, some of his agents escaped notice. They know how to hide well, they have done it for a long time and now they use the bodies of men to hide, the way Melkor hid within the body of John Malcolm. He has had four centuries to bring his servants from the Void into Ea, to give them new life as he was given life," Gandalf explained. "The time for the Valar moving about your world is over, they only emerged because Melkor was beyond any of you to destroy, his agents are not."
"So its up to us to clean up the mess?" Aaron hissed with more anger that he
intended. "I can't stop what happened in that vision. I can't stop a nuclear
war! My people have lived with nuclear weapons for the past fifty years and the
best alternative they came up with is to never use the damn things! If
Malcolm's agents have gotten their hands on a nuclear arsenal then it is over!
They only need to launch one and that will enough to start a chain reaction across
the planet and you know why? As terrified as my people are to use the things,
they're even more terrified of being attacked first! They'll launch a counter strike, which will no doubt be
interpreted by someone else as a hostile act and the entire fucking planet will
fry!"
"Are you quite finished?" Gandalf gave him a stern look when he had stopped ranting.
Aaron sucked in a deep breath and felt somewhat embarrassed for his outburst especially in front of Galadriel, before answering in a decidedly calmer tone, "I think so."
"Good," Gandalf replied and resumed speaking. "I suspect this vision would not
come unless there was time to stop it from happening. Iluvutar is not so
callous as to allow us to see what we cannot change, so there is time. I have been
sent forth to find this evil and stop it but I cannot do it without you. After our encounter with Malcolm, it is
clear that I need a guide through the world of men or else I may fall into the
same trap I did once before. I need your help and that of Eve's to battle this
threat. You may refuse and I would understand if you did. Both of you have done enough service to your
people in aiding the defeat of Melkor. There is no shame in choosing to stay
here in Valinor, you will still be welcomed."
Aaron turned away, hating the choice before him. He wanted to stay here with Eve, to live in this paradise for as long as time allowed them to be together but he could not do it, knowing that the world he had left behind was burning in the fire of that hellish vision. Aaron knew the choice that Eve would make. She could no more stomach it then he. The world that had given them both life was not Valinor but it was their home once and to some degree, always would be. It deserved to live. It and the people who lived there deserved the chance to be all they could, in the proper course of time.
It did not deserve the end he had seen in Galadriel's mirror.
"I am not a soldier," Aaron said softly. "I'm just a doctor."
"You have a brave and compassionate heart," Galadriel met his gaze. "That above all else made Aragorn Elessar great, not his skills as a warrior or his wisdom to rule. He was a man who cared about others and was willing to protect them to the best of his ability. That is sometimes all the difference between life and death but you will not be alone. Olorin will be at your side, as will Eve and I am certain Legolas will insist on accompanying you."
"I think you are right," Aaron agreed. He seriously doubted that Legolas would let him go into any dangerous situation without being there at his side. Good conscience would require Aaron to try and talk him out of it but Aaron had learnt one thing by now it was that the elf could be exceedingly stubborn when the mood took him.
"There is one other thing," Galadriel replied, her voice dropping an octave lower as she spoke. "There was a further part to the vision that you did not see but I did. I believe it will help you in your quest to find the darkness that awaits in the outside world."
"What is it?" Aaron asked and noticed Gandalf nodding at her to continue.
"It is a riddle to which we have the answer in part though what it means to your quest, I cannot say," Galadriel confessed. "The visions are not always exact. You must interpret them as best you can."
"Nothing new there," Aaron shrugged sarcastically. "Please, go on."
Galadriel closed her eyes and spoke softly,
The hour dawns near when all must end,
Evil perpetuates its own sire and child
Infusing it with old spirit
The one who made it, the one unmade it and the one was unmade by it
The circle of gold binds them together,
He who failed in one life must redeem himself in another
To protect the one he did not protect before,
To save the world and give peace at last to the Son of Gondor.
"What does that mean?" Aaron looked quizzically at Gandalf and Galadriel.
"We are not certain," Gandalf answered truthfully. "The circle of gold sounds a good deal to me like the One Ring."
"The One Ring," Aaron mused, recalling a little about the War of the Ring as told to him by Legolas. "Wasn't that destroyed or something?"
"It was," Galadriel nodded slightly. "Frodo Baggins unmade it in the fires of Mount Doom. It ended Sauron's reign in Middle earth."
This was getting more bizarre by the minute and Aragorn was forced to ask the obvious question, "well if this Frodo didn't fail, then who did?"
*************
TODAY
Bryan Miller sat outside the door to his section supervisor's office and knew this interview was not going to go well.
He supposed he should have expected this sooner or later but even the cynic in him had hoped it would be later. Still, he had been living on borrowed time since the destruction of the Malcolm Building and it was only a matter of time before he was made accountable for his activities since them. In truth, Bryan had sincerely believed that he would have found some irrefutable evidence that his suspicions were right, that he had not been wasting the last year and a half of his life on a fruitless investigation. Unfortunately, the vital evidence he had needed remained out of his reach and even MI6 had its limits in how long it wished to indulge its agents, even one as respected as Bryan Miller.
Six months before the Malcolm Building had been so spectacularly destroyed in New York, Bryan had been just another field agent in MI6, affectionately known to insiders as "The Firm". Bryan had started his espionage career in the SAS with the Royal Marines before he was recruited and trained at the facility at Fort Monckton in Hampshire. A twelve year veteran, Bryan had survived more than his share of dangerous assignment and had seen people from all walks of like, from respected statesmen to parasitic vermin masquerading as men.
His life spent moving about in the shadows of the intelligence world and until
a eighteen months ago, had come to the firm conclusion that nothing was capable
of surprising him anymore. That is, until he stumbled upon the possibility that
one of the world's biggest conglomerates might be secretly funding terrorism on
a global scale.
At first, Bryan had thought it was insane.
John Malcolm's reputation as a businessman and entrepreneur simply did not fit the profile of a terrorist sympathiser. Like all large companies, Malcolm Industries had a vast connection of contacts throughout the world. MI6 and no doubt every other intelligence agency in the world, knew that Malcolm liked to keep people in his pocket but assume the reason for it was to further his commercial interests. It never occurred to them that this vast network might have a more sinister purpose that had little to do with corporate ambition as in global power. Once Bryan stared to pay attention, the possibilities demanded investigation, especially when it appeared that Malcolm might have been funding a secret organization known as the Black Serpent.
Until that moment, Bryan had thought Black Serpent was little more than a myth. A convenient scapegoat that other agencies used whenever a bombing or an assassination could not be attributed to any particular group. From what little was known about it, the Black Serpent had all the characteristic attributed to groups like the PLO or Al Qaeda. Powerful, elusive with a wide network of operatives. Unfortunately, proof that there was even such an organization was scarce. However, upon further investigation, Bryan had learnt that if it did exist, it was set apart because of one rather curious aspect; Black Serpent did not seem to have a political agenda of any kind. A great deal of money was supposedly funnelled into organization, distributed across the globe to fund various terrorist groups, yet possessing no specific ideology.
It was bizarre.
Bryan had only managed to learn this much because of an informant and the man had managed to get himself killed within hours of revealing the existence of Black Serpent and its possible links to Malcolm Industries. Until then Bryan had believed what everyone else did, Black Serpent was a myth. However, as he began to look into the possibility of its existence, he found that it was even more elusive than that. No one could confirm who had first produced the name, only that it had been spoken about in whispers and then accepted as a joke, it not an outright fabrication. Fortunately, when he brought this information to his superiors, they were willing to give him a little latitude in investigating the possibility.
After all, Malcolm Industries was a world conglomerate and terrorists' links to such an influential company had to be investigated.
Bryan's efforts from the beginning were met with indifference to every agency he approached. The CIA thought he was chasing a phantom, the links between Malcolm Industries and the group a fabrication, fed to him by an informant looking to save his own skin. It was not long before Bryan was being met with the same response across the intelligence community. If he did not know any better, he would think they were trying to avoid the subject but that would mean a conspiracy he could not even begin to imagine and dismissed it.
He was almost ready to give up when a bombing at the Pakistani embassy in London, produced some interesting results. Twelve people had died and MI5 who had conducted the investigation following the destruction, turned up some unusual evidence. The weapon supposedly used by the Indian terrorists claiming responsibility for the destruction had a Soviet detonator, one of many such devices that were lost and sold on the black market following the collapse of the USSR.
Bryan followed the money trail from the sale of the weapon and through some rather unorthodox methods involving contacts and acquaintances that would not at all been approved by his superiors, he found the Indian arms dealer who had made the purchase. Bryan was not able to prove that Black Serpent was responsible the plot but he did learn that the money had been siphoned through a dummy corporation belonging to a subsidiary of Malcolm Industries. It was the first tangible piece of evidence that Bryan was able to find that Malcolm Industries was guilty of something, if not exactly what.
Unfortunately, before he could acquire the warrants needed to take a closer look at the company and its CEO, the Malcolm Building was levelled by what appeared to be a terrorist attack equal to the destruction of the World Trade Centre.
In the wake of its destruction, Bryan was in stupor of disbelief. Suddenly everything he had been working for during the past six months felt into doubt. He had utterly convinced that Black Serpent had links to the company, perhaps as an agent of chaos to destabilise selected regions in the world for commercial profit. With the attack upon the corporate head of the company the subsequent death of John Malcolm, it seemed Malcolm Industries was exonerated of any wrong doing in the eyes of Bryan's superiors. It was an opinion that Bryan was unable to change, especially when what proof he had was scant to begin with.
He had flown to New York following the destruction and stood before the pile of rubble in the middle of Manhattan, watching dispassionately as work crews took on the arduous task of clearing away the debris. He did not know how long he had stood there, trying to make sense of it and finding after hours, that he could not.
Something did not feel right.
There were too many questions about the calamity. The fact that other than a small portion of C4 detected when the investigators shifted through the rubble, there was no trace of any other explosive, certainly not in the amounts required to demolish a skyscraper the size of Monolith as locals called the building. Structural engineers examining the wreckage had equally baffling reports of their own. The type of fractures running through the wreckage seemed to indicate a seismic disturbance not an explosion. However, since a localised earthquake around one building was a virtual impossibility, it was decided that the terrorists had used some form of designer explosive not known to the authorities.
If that inconsistency was difficult enough to swallow, so was the FBI's main suspect; a man called Aaron Stone, an American psychiatrist who until that particular day had no prior record of any kind. Stone was a doctor at a New York hospital until he was fired a few days before. The hospital board had discovered that he had illegally liberated one of his patients. Stone's history indicated no affiliation with any kind of terrorist group. If anything, he was the least likely candidate for blowing up a building. The FBI had decided to label him a lone gunman in the way Timothy McVeigh had been but everything they knew about the good doctor was academic because six weeks after the explosion, Stone and his patient had vanished and not been seen since.
Bryan had made an attempt to find him but to no avail. Wherever Stone had gone to ground, it was clear he was not coming back.
**********
"Agent Miller," a soft, feminine voice interrupted Bryan Miller's thoughts as he sat outside his supervisor's office, waiting for the man to see him.
Bryan looked up and met the gaze of Alicia Perkins, the pretty secretary who kept a vigil outside the old man's office. She offered him a little smile, one he had been familiar with ever since she took over the role from her predecessor. It was a smile of romantic interest that Bryan had sense enough to ignore. Even in MI6, office romances were not a good idea and he did not need another woman in his life who would tell him he was a bastard after six months.
"He'll see you now," she informed him dutifully when he looked her way, careful
to keep eye contact with her instead of noticing the scandalously low cut
blouse she was wearing beneath her smart, navy suit.
"Thank you," Bryan rose to his feet and made his way to the door, giving her no more attention that that.
In truth, he was not looking forward to this meeting because he had some idea
how it was all going to play out. When he was told that Caldwell wanted to see
him earlier today, he had mentally prepared himself for the worst. After all, he was perfectly aware with how
many regulations he had broken in order to chase down what everyone was
starting to call his obsession. Bryan
wanted to disagree with them but in the last twenty minutes that he had been
sitting here, waiting to see Section Supervisor Caldwell, Bryan had realised
that his life was his job and for the last eighteen months, his job had been
Malcolm Industries.
It disturbed him even further to realise that without his job, there was little else in his life. Being in the game meant it was difficult to form relationships. After all, he was called to travel the world at a moment's notice and keep his whereabouts a secret, and there was that annoying little thing about possibly getting killed on assignment, not exactly the ideal ground to establish permanent attachment. Most women he had been foolish enough to become attached to, worked out within six months that his job was his first love and everything else was filler.
Section Supervisor Caldwell was old school.
He had been old when Bryan was still a novice and seemed to never age, only grow balder as the years go by. There was a joke that his smooth skull could deflect signals from enemy surveillance equipment but no one dared to say it to Caldwell's face, not unless they wanted to be posted to someplace hellish, like Antarctica or worse yet, Whitby. Bryan had a great deal of respect for Caldwell and knew that if he was in here, then it was for good reason. Caldwell trusted the people under his authority and only cracked the whip when he felt it was needed, unfortunately for Bryan.
Upon entering Caldwell's office, Bryan saw the man at his desk, perusing the files he had accumulated during his investigation of Malcolm Industries beginning with the initial report from his dead informant to Bryan's most recent investigations into the heir of the Malcolm estate, David Saeran. Caldwell's grim expression at Bryan's entry into the room caused the field agent to stiffen involuntarily and reminded him of the days when he was sent to the headmaster's office at school. Caldwell acknowledged his arrival with a quick glance from over the top edge of the file before gesturing at him to take seat.
Bryan would prefer to endure this whole ordeal standing but supposed this was not the time to be difficult, particularly if he wanted to keep his job. He was starting to suspect that it might already be too late but permitted his pride to suffer a little if it meant he would be allowed to continue his investigation. Caldwell was a good man and a better friend. Even Bryan had to acknowledge that Caldwell had given him a good deal of latitude before reaching this point and was probably justified in what he was about to do.
"Bryan," Caldwell began, obviously deciding to skip the formalities and launch directly into the heart of the matter. "I thought we had an understanding that you were going to drop the investigation into Malcolm Industries."
"With all due respect Sir, you had an understanding that I didn't share," Bryan replied having reached the conclusion in the last few seconds that Caldwell had already made up his mind and if he had, little that Bryan said now would make any difference. Therefore, there seemed little point in hiding his feelings regarding the matter. "I think the company bears further investigation."
"Not according to your own files," Caldwell retorted, dropping the file onto the desktop. The papers contain within it slid out of its confines across the polished oak surface. "All I see here is circumstantial evidence and hearsay, which I might add appears less credible since its central headquarters was reduced to a pile a rubble of rubble in the middle of Manhattan!"
"Sir, we have no idea if the destruction of the Malcolm Building was motivated by terrorists. Don't you find it odd that no one has stepped forward claiming responsibility? If Malcolm Industries is a front for the Black Serpent organization, then this could be a retaliatory response to some agenda that we are unaware of!" Bryan insisted with just as much determination.
"You're speculating Agent Miller!" Caldwell cried out in exasperation. "This is MI6, not some Fleet Street rag! You are not justified in chasing down your pet theories, especially when you have provided not one shred of real evidence that such an organization even exists. This phantom that you've been chasing has made you the laughing stock of the entire intelligence community and I will not have you using our resources to give validation to a rumour that makes British intelligence look like tabloid hunters!"
The insult stung more than Bryan wanted to admit because he knew he had been the subject of some ridicule but until now, had not suspected the full measure of it. Did his entire department think him insane?
"I know I'm right," Bryan insisted, refusing to let Caldwell see that his words had struck home. "There is something there. Something that no one suspects and unless we pay close attention to it, we are going to wake up one day and find a disaster on our doorstep that will make the bombing at the World Trade Centre look like a walk in the park!"
"Bloody hell Bryan!" Caldwell exclaimed loudly, standing up in his chair and leaning forward. "You've produced nothing that would indicate that and I see by your surveillance reports that you have been watching David Saeran as well?"
Bryan sucked in his breath, trying to restrain his own temper before it got the better of him and forced him to say something that he would really regret. "David Saeran is John Malcolm's Vice President and heir to the entire Malcolm fortune. Malcolm ran the company from across the Atlantic but Saeran controls the European division. The money that came through the dummy corporations to Gupta Singh for the attack on the Pakistani Embassy came in Deutsche marks. It is entirely possible that Malcolm knew nothing about Black Serpent and every possibility that Saeran is the one funding the organization!"
"So now you don't think that Malcolm is responsible, you think its Saeran?" Caldwell demanded in disbelief, his expression showing clearly that his patience with Bryan had finally reached its end.
"Yes," Bryan answered in resignation, realising at this moment that his battle to convince his superior was over. Caldwell thought he was obsessed and perhaps he was but Bryan was certain that he was right. There was something about Malcolm Industries that warranted caution. No one had heard of David Saeran until after the destruction of the Malcolm Building where he had been produced by the company's board of directors as the new Chief Executive Officer and subsequent heir to the Malcolm fortune. The company PR people had claimed that Saeran had been Malcolm's right hand man in Europe but almost nothing was known of the man.
"Bryan," Caldwell lowered himself into his leather chair, a sure sign to Bryan that he had come to a decision. "I think you need to take some time off. You've been on this investigation for too long and you've lost your objectivity. You're a good man Bryan and I don't want to lose you but you need to step away from all this while you can."
"I don't need a rest," Bryan insisted but suspected the decision was out of his hands. Caldwell was obdurate once he made up his mind. "I'm telling you there's something here. I just need a little more time."
"Bryan," Caldwell said firmly. "This isn't a request. I'm ordering you to take leave. Don't assume that I won't make this official if I have to."
Bryan opened his mouth to protest but knew anything he said to Caldwell would only condemn him further in the eyes of his superior. The last thing he needed was for Caldwell to think that he was insubordinate as well as obsessive. Right now, the most important thing was to walk out of here with Caldwell suitably appeased. The rest he would figure out later. If he wanted to get to the bottom of things with Malcolm Industries, he would need the resources of MI6. As a wise man once said, it was best to play dead for the time being.
"Alright," Bryan let out a heavy breath, feigning capitulation. "I'll take a break if that's what you want."
"Its what you need," Caldwell insisted, relaxing a little now that it appeared Bryan was willing to listen to reason. "Take a month for yourself, go sit on a beach somewhere."
"Can you possibly imagine me at a beach?" Bryan gave him a look, shuddering at the thought even if he was operating under the illusion that he had accepted Caldwell's advice.
"Not really," Caldwell cracked a little smile, "as long as I don't imagine you here."
"I don't suppose there's any way I can get you to change your mind?" Bryan pressed once more, hoping that their long standing friendship might convince Caldwell that he had not gone off the deep end as so many agents tended to do in this line of work.
"Not unless you want to work elsewhere," the older man said with flint in his eyes. Bryan knew Caldwell enough to realise that he would be true to his word if Bryan did not obey him on this matter.
"Point taken," Bryan replied with a sigh of resignation. "I will take a break."
"Good," Caldwell nodded in approval. "I'll see you in month and we can talk about a new assignment."
Bryan hid the frown that almost crossed his face at the prospect of abandoning his labours for the past eighteen months. While Bryan respected Caldwell and his hard-nosed demeanour, the MI6 agent wished his superior were not so obtuse. Bryan was absolutely certain that his suspicions regarding Malcolm Industries were not unfounded, even if he could not prove it to Caldwell to any satisfying degree. Unfortunately, his enforced holiday meant that he had only a month left to get to the bottom of things or he would be taken off the case permanently.
Hopefully, this would work to his advantage. What he did during his holiday was nobody's business but his own. If he chose to spend that time continuing his investigation discreetly, he was within his rights. Of course, it would be preferable if it did not get back to Caldwell what he was doing because technically speaking, that could be construed as disobeying direct orders. Fortunately, Bryan was more than accustomed to skirting the edge of trouble.
It was a skill that came with the job.
*************
The black Mercedes rolled silently up the darkened street of Huntington Road, Riverside shortly after midnight. Its engines rumbled low as it crept along the kerb and came to a halt in front of a crimson post box.
The neighbourhood was quiet one and at this hour, most of its inhabitants were safely tucked in bed. It was a cold night that ensured that everyone was driven to either take refuge under the covers or in front of equally warm fires. The ocean breeze had carried the fog in and Cardiff had a decidedly vague look about it this evening. The fog carried with it the faint stench of the sea, though not many noticed it at this hour. Cardiff had a decidedly country atmosphere, therefore folk tended to rise early and go to bed in the same manner.
The driver had chosen his waiting place well. There was no moon tonight, certainly none that could be seen through the heavy clouds overhead. The streetlight provided some illumination but against the fog, the glow was slight. The car waited in the spaces between the radiance of light and watched the house in the corner that was shrouded in darkness. He had been waiting there for several days now, waiting for word to come that this was the one they had been searching for so long.
Six years they had searched the globe, travelled far across the world looking for the one who had brought the ruin of them all, thirsting for vengeance. Six years of disappointments, of eliminated possibilities, of finally nearing the end of the list, knowing that if the prey was not here, they would have to continue searching in more obscure places. That would mean a delay that would anger the one who was wronged the most.
The potential had no idea regarding the presence of the black cars that had taken up vigil over its home the past week. The driver wondered if the prey felt the net closing in, whether insight or premonition warned of the danger that was tightening the noose slowly but surely. Fortunately, it appeared that the occupants of the house were oblivious to everything and completely unaware that time was running out for them.
Perhaps it would not be tomorrow or even the day after, but time was indeed dwindling for the occupants of the house with the red roof and the gnome ornaments in the front garden. They had been waiting too long for this moment. Before the inevitable revenge however, there would be a meeting.
Finally, after a hundred thousand years, they would face each other.
************
Fred could not sleep.
She had waited until mummy had turned of the lights and gone to bed before she dared to slip out of the covers. Padding across the floor in her bare feet because it made the less noise, Fred crept to the windowsill and looked past the glass into the street below. It took a moment for her to find them in the fog but she had no doubt they were there. They had been there the night before and the night before that and how much father beyond those two days, Fred did not know. She only noticed them last night when she had another one of her terrible nightmares. She had felt them very strongly and had awakened screaming once more, frightening mummy to no end and driving daddy to distraction.
After they had put her back to sleep, Fred had ventured out of bed and went to her window, taking care to ensure she was not seen and sure enough, her worst fears were confirmed. They were there in the darkness, waiting for her. All her life, she knew they were searching for her and until now, had prayed that it was a terrible dream and a mistake. But when she saw those dark cars, with their even darker windows that no one could see through, she knew that they had found her. She thought maybe she could run away but she did not know how. She knew that if she stayed, mummy and daddy might get hurt but she knew of no way to slip from under their notice without causing more harm to her parents.
So she stayed and watched them, wondering how long it would be before he followed.
Before she saw him face to face at last.
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