Prophecy. An ARKANE thriller. (Book 2) (11 page)

Martin flicked on a screen in front of him and accessed the powerful ARKANE search engine to highlight his points as he continued.
 

“Francis Galton was one of the great British polymaths of the nineteenth century and the Chair of Eugenics at University College, London. He was a statistician, an explorer, an inventor, an anthropologist and was also one of the early eugenicists, as well as being cousin to Charles Darwin.”
 

The picture of Galton on the screen showed a stern man in a three piece suit, thin-lipped and heavy browed, his bald head tonsured with hair extending down into sideburns popular at the time.
 

“Galton had a phenomenal mind,” Martin spoke rapidly, his words running together in his enthusiasm. “He applied statistical methods to the study of human difference. He devised the first weather map, discovered standard deviation, regression to the mean and crowd-sourcing … ”

Jake interrupted again. “OK, so we get he was incredibly intelligent, but what has this got to do with eugenics?”

Martin adjusted his glasses.
 

“After Darwin published ‘On the Origin of Species,’ Galton devoted himself to investigating differences among humans. He traced great men through generations to see where their unusual abilities dropped away. It was Galton who actually coined the term ‘eugenics.’ At the peak of its popularity, it was supported by politicians like Winston Churchill and Roosevelt as well as great thinkers such as HG Wells and George Bernard Shaw.”

“These are all men,” Morgan noted, “but I can see how women would also be interested in this. I mean, doesn’t everyone want the best for their child, starting with superior genes?”
 

“Actually, one of the more infamous proponents of eugenics was Marie Stopes,” Martin replied.
 

“The campaigner for women’s rights and birth control? Isn’t the organization she founded still active today.” Morgan said.

“Indeed. It’s actually one of the UK’s leading providers of sexual and reproductive healthcare services, and of course does an amazing job. But looking back at the founder, you might be surprised at what she believed.”

Martin tapped his screen and it changed to show a black and white picture of a woman seated at a laboratory bench, microscope in front of her. Her hair was piled up on top of her head, wisps flying out.
 

“Stopes called for compulsory sterilization of those unfit for parenthood,” Martin continued. “When her son married a short-sighted woman, she cut him out of her will and after her death, a large amount of her money went to the Eugenics Society, now called the Galton Institute for obvious reasons.”

Jake was still puzzled.
 

“So some upper class Brits liked the idea of eugenics because they didn’t want more useless mouths to feed. But that doesn’t make it something that was accepted everywhere, does it?”

Martin shook his head.
 

“Incorrect Jake. It was huge in America, which is where Hitler got his ideas from. The original sterilization of ‘unfit’ people started in the USA, with over 64,000 people sterilized by the various states. The Nazis used this example as justification of their own sterilization regime and this was expanded into the ideas of racial purity that still persist today.”

“But eugenics was never supposed to be the basis for genocide,” Morgan said. “It’s important to remember that. In America and Britain, it didn’t turn into killing those considered unfit, merely that they shouldn’t have children.”

“And how does eugenics relate to our current investigation?” Jake asked, frustration evident in his voice.
 

“I agree with Martin that it makes sense if there are two prongs to the fulfillment of the prophecy,” Morgan replied. “If a quarter of the world must die, then who are they, and who will be saved? For that scale of attack there needs to be a huge plan in place and the prophecy mentions sword, famine, plague and wild beasts, so there’s quite a scope of options to carry it out.”

“As I said, plague would be easiest,” Martin replied. “There’s plenty of nasty viruses around.”
 

Morgan paced as she spoke.
 

“Hmm, yes, perhaps, but there is a theological motivation behind this so I would suspect something less biological and more religious in nature. For example, why were Thanatos interested in the Pentecost stones?”
 

“Think about it,” replied Jake. “If you wanted to ensure some people died and others lived, the Pentecost stones were evidence of a way to resurrect, to heal as well as to destroy. But they’ve clearly moved onto other things now.”

His phone began to buzz. He ignored it.
 

“Racial targeting or religious destruction was exactly what Hitler aimed to do to the Jews. My father and I would have been included in the destruction,” Morgan noted.

Martin sat down, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes.
 

“Me too. I’m considered defective, not worth breeding into the next generation. People like me would have also been destroyed.”
 

Martin’s phone buzzed next. He also ignored it, engrossed in the discussion.
 

“So, we can see the arguments for this in a truly ideological sense,” Morgan continued. “I mean we would all improve the human race if we could, but it can’t be done without gross violation of human rights. Thanatos seems to be emerging as a self-appointed God-like organization deciding who deserves to live or die. So how might this be done, and how can we stop it?”

The desk phone started to ring and the ‘Jaws’ suspense music filled the room. Martin grimaced.
 

“That’s Marietti. Guess it’s urgent. Something must have happened.”
 

Zoebios Head Office, Paris, France. 1.25pm

The door to the anteroom opened and Maria looked up. Armen Harghada walked in, and brought with him an atmosphere of regret that sank her heart. His face was set in a mask but she knew he was never sent to talk to successful funding candidates. Even as he stood in the doorway, she was already calculating what she could do next to salvage her research, perhaps take it to another institute.
 

“Dr Van Garre, if you would please follow me. There are some matters we need to attend to.”

She stood and walked to the door. Maria felt desperate but Harghada still held the ear of Milan Noble. What if she could convince him of the need to continue the research?
 

“Perhaps I could show you the research personally, sir?”

Harghada paused. “I think that might be a good idea. How long did you say the results take to manifest?”

“With the highest pulse frequencies and some susceptibility to obedience, we can see an effect in as little as one session,” she replied, trying to hide the hope in her voice. “Certain drugs increase susceptibility.”

They entered the elevator and she noticed as he swiped his card that there were levels she had never seen before that looked to be below ground. He caught her attention.
 

“There are more wonders here at Zoebios than you could ever imagine,” he said, but Maria thought his smile was hollow, and his eyes belonged to a man who had seen haunting things. No matter, Maria knew he could still save her research and so she would turn on the charm and prove her research had potential.
 

They walked into the lab and the groups of people waiting for news melted back into their work at Maria’s stony gaze. She showed Harghada to her office.
 

“Perhaps you would close the lab for the rest of the day,” he said, “and we could examine your research together in private. Is that to your satisfaction?”
 

The question was rhetorical of course. She felt his penetrating gaze on her back as she went to tell her staff to take a well-earned afternoon off. The lab cleared out fast, and Maria returned to her office to find Harghada gazing at the Escher print.
 

“How true this is,” he said. “I think perhaps the Zoebios emblem should be replaced by something like this. It more accurately reflects our path in the world, for it takes death for new life, and darkness for the light to stand out.” He turned to face her. “Now Doctor, convince me not to shut this lab down.”

“Of course. I’ve prepared some videos so you can witness the response of subjects under the treatment regime. If you would sit here, I’ll talk you through them.”

Harghada spun round, his eyes narrowing. “I’ve seen all your facts and figures and it’s not enough. At this point I need more practical evidence. Show me how it works with you as the subject.”

Maria frowned. Of course she had tried the equipment herself, at a mild dosage in order to experience some of the effects, but never without supervision. “It could be dangerous. I would need one of my team to assist.”

Harghada shook his head.
 

“I’m afraid not. I shall be your assistant. If you want to convince me to keep the lab open, then this is your only chance.”

Maria considered how to proceed. It could be done as long as he followed her directions. After all, she believed in her research, and what harm could come to her in her own lab?

“OK,” she nodded warily. “The treatment room is at the back of the lab.”

She led him through the now empty floor, past the evidence of a busy lab suspended for the day. She pointed at a row of booths at the back of a side-room. There was a bed in each, with a pair of enlarged earphones lying on the blanket. Syringes and other medical equipment lay in sterilized pouches at the side of the room.
 

“What has been your most effective case so far?” Harghada asked.
 

Maria suddenly realized what he would ask her to do. Could she lie to him now? But he had already seen the results in the presentation and he was leading her into a trap of her own making. Her heart pounded as she considered her options.
 

“Come on Doctor, surely you know your own results,” he said, goading her. “You have had other people under your care. Would you not subject yourself to the same situation? I’m a medical doctor, so I can assist with whatever you need. I have a meeting with Milan later and your own test results would go a long way to deciding what happens next with this research.”

Maria took a deep breath. All her instincts said she should not give this man power over her but she couldn’t walk away from this last chance.
 

“Fine, but I need to show you how it all works before I go under.” She walked ahead of him into a glass-walled area. “This is where we record the suggestions to go under the binaural beats. They are fed into the headphones you can see on the beds. They’re modified to stimulate the temporal lobe so the commands are paired with the perception of the Other.”

Harghada leaned in to look more closely at the recording unit.
 

“I’d like to make a new recording without you knowing what I’m saying. That way I can be sure that you aren’t faking your response.”
 

“I don’t think that would be ethical or practical,” said Maria, a little panicked now. “Perhaps this was a bad idea.”
 

She turned to walk out of the booth. He grabbed her wrist and twisted her back towards him, his grip tight but controlled, as if he could snap her wrist if he applied just a little more pressure.
 

“Dr Van Garre,” Harghada purred, a cat playing with its prey. “Now is not the time to be coy about your research. You will show me how this works.” He let her go, his voice cajoling. “Trust me. I just want to see if you were telling the truth this morning. Prove it and I will be the strongest advocate for your work, personally guaranteeing your funding.”

Maria was shaking now. If she ran for the door, she knew he would stop her. His eyes were feral, a wolf whose jaws were itching to clamp down on her soft flesh. She bit her lip, willing herself to stay in control, and pointed at the controls.
 

“It’s quite easy. We’ll use booth one, so you click the button for 1, record the message and click it again. The message will be repeated under the binaural beat rhythm at different levels. The subject needs to be guided in slowly, as the highest frequency is too much straight away, but that’s controlled automatically by the program.”

Harghada nodded.
 

“Go and lie down while I do the recording.” She started to walk out. “And don’t try anything, Doctor. It would always be your word against mine in this building. Just be a good girl, and let’s do this experiment together.”

Maria smarted at his words but, feeling like she had no choice, she walked back into the booth area and lay down on the bed. She pulled her pinstriped suit jacket closer around her, trying to warm her body against the chill of fear. She could see Harghada recording something, his fleshy lips moving silently behind the glass. She pulled on the headset and waited, wondering what he was saying, fearful of the thoughts that would enter her subconscious. But then he came out of the booth.
 

“I think you’ve forgotten something.”
 

Maria sat up again.
 

“No, that’s all you need to do for the audio channel.”
 

“I clearly recall you mentioning that the best results were binaural beats paired with a drug regime.” He walked to the table of syringes, his fingers running over the sealed packets. Maria felt the blood leave her face. “You said the effects were enhanced with a hallucinogen,” Harghada continued. “If we’re trying to give you visions of God, then we’d better make the experience worthwhile. I bet you have some LSD somewhere, since your research is influenced by Aldous Huxley.”

“Huxley voluntarily took drugs, and I will not.” Maria stood up and faced Harghada, shaking with anger and indignation. “I will sacrifice my research but not my safety and I’m leaving now. I don’t believe you ever intended to consider this for further funding. I don’t know what you’re doing but I won’t be part of it.”