Dark Matter (55 page)

The car pulled up in front of the official residence of the British Foreign Secretary, gliding to a halt in front of the entrance.  Jack had hired a chauffeured limousine, normally preferring to drive himself, it was just too inconvenient for these official functions.  He waited as the chauffeur opened his door, and stepped out of the Bentley.  He stood patiently whilst the chauffeur opened Severine's door so she could join him to walk into the reception together.  It was one of the countless dinner parties being held all around the world today celebrating the first anniversary of the arrival of the Sunarr.  This one was the government’s official reception being held by the Foreign Secretary.  All of the ambassadors to Great Britain, known formally as ambassadors to the Court of St. James, that were available were due here tonight.  It was a ministerial function and not a state one so the Royal Family were not being represented. 
That is just as well,
Jack thought,
with what we are preparing to do this night, better if Royalty are not in harm’s way.

It was a huge affair.  Jack would have preferred a smaller one in truth.  However, it was necessary to have ambassadors of most nations in one place to make the transition easier.  They were not going to like it, but once it was done, it could not be undone.  They would have no choice, or rather, the choice was to stand alone or accept salvation. 
Stark but true.
  Jack didn't know everyone who was in on the plan tonight or who wasn't.  Obviously, there had been no official announcement about what was planned, but how far the grapevine had taken the knowledge was anyone's guess.  Jack took two glasses of champagne from a waiter and passed one to Severine.

'To the future.'  He offered.

'The future.'

Jack and Severine spotted some of those who were aware and they decided to split up and meet them.  Not to discuss things, there was after all nothing more to discuss.  Just to confirm, in an oblique way, that everything was ready, that they were ready.  An ambassador from a small, West African nation engaged Jack in conversation.

'So Mr Hamilton, I understand you are a gold dealer.  I trust you have profited well these past months?'  The ambassador inquired jovially.

'Please call me Jack.  I have err...'  Jack had to think if he had made any money from gold dealing, he realised that he had and quite a substantial amount at that.  '...Yes, I have actually.  Your country must have benefitted from the substantial rise in the gold price.'

'You would think wouldn't you?  However money is not the most important thing in life, don't you agree?'

Jack caught the underlying message in the ambassador's tone and inflection.  He decided to play innocent.  The ambassador wasn't having any of it.

'Of course you agree.  You know what is at stake more than most.  How do you think the gold price will be tomorrow after tonight's activities?  Up or down?  I think up then down then up to a new high.'  The ambassador grinned at Jack.

So, you are in the know
.  He too had thought about what effect their actions would have on the price of gold.  First, it would go up, as people rush to the safety of gold.  Then down sharply as they realise that it had been artificially high due to the intervention of the Sunarr.  Finally up again, when news of its true value and purpose becomes widespread. 
Yes
, Jack thought,
a new high is likely indeed
.  He couldn't really care less about its price anymore. 
It is a vital resource for Earth and it has to be protected.  At any cost.

'I guess I will see you later.'  Jack said to the ambassador, giving him a subtle wink at the same time.  The ambassador returned the gesture.

'Yes, you will.  Should be Fun.'  The ambassador said shaking Jack's hand.

That is it
, Jack thought
, Should be Fun, this guy is ex-army, Sandhurst if I'm not mistaken.  “Should be Fun,” it’s obviously been a long time since he has seen any real action.  People dying is never fun. 
It had been a long time for Jack too and he was worried.

Severine walked amongst the other guests, aware that most eyes, both male and female followed her as she walked.  She knew that she was attractive, but when she made a real effort she was simply stunning and she had forgotten how much of an effect she had on others.  Just then, she saw him.  Time stopped, her heart became still and quiet, her rivers of blood ceased to flow; she felt dizzy, panicked, lost.  Jacques Fleubert stood not more than twenty feet away, the same sickening grin on his face.  Her rapist had returned to haunt her.

He looks attractive in his dinner suit,
she thought. 
Damn, where did that thought come?  I hate that bastard more than words can describe.  If I had a knife....
She was furious with herself for the idle thought.  The truth was that she evaluated everyone in terms of their attractiveness, men and women both.  Intensively on first meeting and then causally each subsequent time.  It was just the way her brain was wired
.  It doesn't mean anything,
she assured herself. 

She tried to turn away.  She was fixed in time and space.  The room shrank, the walls closing in on her.  Her heart, recently restarted; now beating like the march of soldiers to the battlefront.  The guests in the room seemed to move with slow precision, their incessant chatter had transformed into a dull monotonous drone.  She tried to move again, this time only her head, her eyes, but they were fixed on Fleubert.  She wanted desperately not to catch his eye, but she could see his head turning towards her, motivated by the stare of the guest he was talking to.
Last chance, move!,
she screamed at herself. 
No too late, he's seen me.
  Despair rained down on her, causing her to shiver.  He looked directly at her, his grin, the one she had always hated, now turned into a distinct sneer, a look of pure malevolence mixed with victory written across his face. 

Time re-started, the noise of the guests returned to her ears, disorientating her momentarily.  Fleubert was now moving towards her, his strides confident, purposeful.  Her feet were glued to the spot, her legs weak but heavy, barely able to maintain her weight.  He stopped right in front of her, his breath a foulness upon her face.  She tried to breath. 

'Hi Sev, how have you been?  I've missed you, you know.'  He attempted a smile but it fell far short.

'I'm fine.'  She hissed, then, dropping her voice to a whisper that only he could hear, she continued, 'you snivelling, disgusting, little fraction of a man.'

'I've missed you too honey.'  He replied as if she had just given him the warmest of greetings, 'I bet you miss our special time together.  We must catch up after.  You look great, really sexy.'  He walked away, not allowing her a response or to be the first to walk away.  He felt another victory was his.  She heard him laughing to himself as he went.  Her head began to swim, her hands tracing circles in the air.  She pulled herself through, not allowing herself to faint or fall. 
That would be too much.  That would be to give in.

'Are you OK my dear?'

She jumped at the sound of a voice next to her.  Her head spun round, causing more dizziness.  She looked at the person who had spoken.  A woman of indeterminate years, maybe late fifties, maybe early seventies, she was quite striking with well-defined features and a good figure, if slightly padded.  She had a kindly face, but an authoritarian presence. 

'Allow me to introduce myself.  I'm Lady Worthington.  I believe you know my cousin, The Duke of Hertfordshire?'

'Yes, yes I do.'  Severine replied before she could stop herself.  She was supposed to be, if not undercover, then at least discrete.  'I'm Severine Pascal.'  She shook Lady Worthington's hand, which was offered in greeting.

'Of course you are dear, who else could you be?  The most beautiful woman in the room, with, if I may say, the most striking colouring.'

Severine never liked being considered different to others.  The thought of being assessed by her colour was the least desirable of all.  The way that Lady Worthington had said it though was as a compliment of the highest order, like referring to the colouring a great artist had used on a canvas.  Severine's appearance was distinct; others appeared too pale in comparison.

'Should be quite an evening when the action starts.'  Lady Worthington said as a matter of fact.  'It's OK dear; I'm one of those in the know.  No need to reply, just wanted you to know.  Who was that thoroughly disagreeable man you were talking to?'

'He was...’  Severine searched for the right words, '...someone from my past.'

'The past has a way of surfacing in our present.  It must be dealt with otherwise it lies in our future.'

Severine was not entirely clear whether Lady Worthington was referring to her or not.

'If I were you I would do something about it.  Well it’s been lovely chatting but I must mingle.  Ah there's the French Ambassador, if you'll excuse me.'

Lady Worthington left Severine's side moving off amongst the other guests.  Severine took a moment to compose herself fully before going to find Jack.  It was nearing the time.

17:30
              10 November  [17:30  10 November GMT]

Unity Command HQ, Berkshire Downs, West Berkshire, England.

The clocks on the wall displaying the time around the world ticked ever closer to the start of Operation Grand Slam.  Named after the four great tennis matches because like them, it involved winning four major battles.  The first for the imprisoned officials, the second for the mines and the third for the stolen gold and the ships it was contained in.  The fourth battle would be political and for another day.

It is time.
  General Beaconsfield opened the secure communications channel to the leader of Unity in the USA, General Sam Colt.

'Sam, I have confirmation that the Sunarr are communications negative.  I am going ahead with Operation Grand Slam.'

'Roger that, Charlie.  We have a GO for Grand Slam.'  General Colt replied.

General Beaconsfield changed channel and took a deep breath as he issued his first order.

'Red Command, you are cleared to proceed.'  He switched channel again, 'Blue Command you are cleared to proceed.'  He continued like this until all twelve of the Command Groups were activated, knowing that Sam would be doing precisely the same.  It all had an air of unreality to it.  He was just a man and he was committing himself and the forces he commanded to acts of high treason. 
I wonder if they'd still hang you for this old boy?
  He smiled at the thought;
I bet Sam would at least get the honour of a firing squad.
  He snorted at this, gaining the attention of some of the other officers in the room. 
At least I won't swing alone.
  Another snort. 
Time to get back to it.
 

He ran his hand along the edge of the map table, the Hungarian Oak smooth to his touch.  It was the same one he had used in the tripartite exercise.  A thoughtful gift from his Russian friend, it allowed him to watch over all of his forces and even those in the US.  Sam had one too, which meant that if one of the Unity Headquarters were neutralised, the other could take full control.

26
War

17:58
              10 November  [17:58  10 November GMT]

No.1 Carlton Gardens, Westminster, London, England.

The meal had been exceptional.  Not that Jack or Severine had enjoyed it or even eaten that much.  Their focus was on the speeches, which were just beginning, and the action to follow.  The Foreign Secretary began what was an unexceptional speech.  Full of bland statements about mutual respect and understanding it focused on the future and gave precious little to the accomplishments over the preceding year.  Those had been few and far between.  Most was of things yet to come, of promises made but yet to be delivered.  Jack surreptitiously checked his watch. 
Nearly time
, the speech was right on cue.  He nodded at Severine, she nodded back.  The Foreign Secretary was just drawing to a close.

'And so it falls to me, on this the first anniversary of the arrival of our friends the Sunarr to thank them for all that they have done for us and to a mutually beneficial future.  Ladies and Gentleman I would like you to be upstanding and the toast is, the Sunarr.'  The Foreign Secretary stood and raised his glass, the guests followed suit.

'The Sunarr!'  The guests said as one.

The lights went out.  The black lights came on.  The Sunarr soldiers stood out in the room, glowing like beacons.  Jack and Severine grabbed their steak knives and headed for their assigned targets.  There was no way to know if this was going to work, but it had been agreed that, visually, the Sunarr soldiers were vulnerable between their helmets and their shoulders.  Severine, with a clearer path to her target, leapt on the solider, wrapping her legs around his torso pushing him backwards on to the floor.  The shock of the impact stunned him; she pushed at the chin section of his helmet with the palm of her left hand as hard as she could, forcing it up, exposing his neck.  She had her steak knife in her right hand, fingers clasped tightly around it as she clenched her fist, the blade pointing down, her thumb covering the end of the handle to maximise the pressure she could exert on the blade.  She hacked at the Sunarr soldier’s throat, from left to right, using a sawing action as she went to great effect.  She could feel the warmth of the soldiers blood as it sprayed across her face, the soldier struggling with her, fighting for life, gasping for air as his traumatised throat had to deal with an influx of blood.  His heart beat quickened as he lost blood pressure and this only exacerbated his situation as more blood leached from his arteries.  The soldier finally stopped struggling and Severine withdrew the knife and shouted out.

'Four down!'

She looked around and could see the Sunarr soldiers partially covered by the resistance fighters.  Their dark shapes against the luminescence of the soldiers armour a confusion of bodies.  More numbers were called out,
seven, twelve, two, nine.
  Then she heard fifteen, Jack had taken out his assigned target.  Two more soldiers appeared, from where she had no idea, that didn't matter now, she charged them both, striking in between them like a bowling ball, sending them both to the ground.  Someone, she couldn't tell who, jumped on one of them.  She leapt sideways onto the other, splashing down on the soldier like a wrestler, with her left elbow outermost, her right hand in her left, adding strength to the force of the blow.  This one struggled more than the first; she couldn't get a grip on his helmet, his head thrashing about.  She stabbed at his neck with the steak knife, unable to get a clear run at his throat.  The blade snapped in his neck, and now she was without a weapon.  She put her knees on his chest and pulled at his weapon, it came free from his hands and she turned it on him.  The blast momentarily lit up the room, the smell was of burning flesh.  She felt with one hand, there was a considerable hole in his chest.  He was quite dead.

Two more soldiers entered the room, this time from the other side.  She pulled the weapon up and fired, they both fell before they knew what was happening.  The final numbers were called out and a voice from the room replied.

'All down, all accounted for!'

The lights came back on.  Most of the guests were still stood at their tables, too stunned to have moved.  Some were under the tables, peeking out into the light, trying to see if it was safe.  Jack stood up, in front of the guests, wiping his bloodied hands on a cloth.  There was a rising commotion in the room now, voices shouting, demanding to know what had just happened.  His officer training took over.

'Quiet!  May I have your attention please?'  His voice a deep resonating blast through the noise.

Cowed by the authority of his voice the guests quietened down.  All eyes turning to Jack, those under the table sheepishly climbing up to return to their seats.

'I am Colonel Jack Hamilton.  You are quiet safe now.  I have led a group of resistance fighters and we have overthrown the Sunarr.  As you may be aware the Sunarr placed soldiers with all top officials, military and civilian.  They suborned our governments.  They silenced the media and effectively took over control of the entire Earth.  As I speak, other groups of resistance fighters are freeing the senior officials of your governments.  We are taking back the Earth.'

A pair of hands from the back of the room started clapping, then another and another.  The room erupted in applause.  Jack waved them to silence again.

'There is much to be done.  We need the support of each and every one of you.  You must contact your governments when it is safe to do so and confirm what I have told you.  Then we must coordinate a strike against the Sunarr forces.  First, however we need to consolidate our defence.  I would like you all to move to the centre of the room and sit on the floor.  There may be other Sunarr soldiers outside and we need to protect you all.  You,’ Jack said pointing to one of the resistance fighters, 'grab their weapons, and set up a perimeter.  Windows and doors first.  Then send two groups outside for reconnaissance.  Severine you’re with me.'

13:08
              10 November  [18:08  10 November GMT]

Unity Command, The Pentagon, Washington DC, USA.

Shit, this is not good!
The communications officer was monitoring the Sunarr, essentially, he was supposed to listen to nothing for hours or at least until the first three phases of Operation Grand Slam were complete.  Now however it was chattering like a cocktail party.  There were hundreds of simultaneous conversations occurring which not only meant that the Sunarr had got their communications working again but even worse that they knew what was happening and were obviously trying to do something about it.

'General!'  The officer shouted across the command centre, 'The Sunarr are Comms Positive.  I repeat the Sunarr are Comms Positive!'

General Colt bolted across the room to the communications officer.  There was no planned contingency for this, none. 

'What have you got Franklin?'  General Colt asked.

'Sir, I have confirmed communications amongst the Sunarr.  At least two hundred events.'

'How long?'

The officer looked at the display.  'Eight seconds and counting.'

'OK, get me General Beaconsfield.'

The officer switched consoles and dialled Unity Command in the UK on a secure channel.  There was a brief pause and then the officer handed the headset to the General.

'Charlie, its Sam.  We have identified Sunarr Communications.  OK you too, we have to assume it’s worldwide.  Yes, that's what I thought.  OK I'll let you get on to him; I don't need to tell you how imperative it is that those communications are brought down.'

18:10               10 November  [18:10 10 November GMT]

Unity Command HQ, Berkshire Downs, West Berkshire, England.

General Beaconsfield ended the conversation with his US counterpart and told his communications officer to contact John Deeth.  The officer gave him a thumbs up when he was connected.

'John its General Beaconsfield.  The Sunarr communications are back online and I need you to do all that you can to take them offline.  Lives depend on it.'

The officer watched as General Beaconsfield visibly shrank from whatever rebuke he received. 
This John Deeth must have one hell of a bark on him
, he thought.

'OK, OK.  I'll let you get on.'  The General hung up.  'Fucking civilians.'  He muttered under his breath as he walked away.

21:08               10 November  [18:08  10 November GMT]

Kremlin, Moscow, Russia.

Shit we're running late!  All those fucking toasts, the politicians like the sound of their own voices far too much.  It shouldn't matter; they said that once the communications go down it would be permanent.
  Gregori Stephonovich was still worried though.  He liked things running to plan.  They were nearly ten minutes late, and were just assembling in the Presidential Regiment parade ground for the demonstration of his Spetsnaz troops.  The Sunarr and the rest of the guests had walked from the Georgievsky Hall of the Grand Kremlin Palace, through the Arsenal building and out into the parade ground enclosed within its walls.  His men were already assembled.  Four rows of fifteen, all armed.  The last of the guests were just spilling out of the Arsenal having already indulged too much.  The Sunarr soldiers were arrayed around the parade ground just observing, not interfering in any way.  Then the mood changed.  The Sunarr dignitary started shouting for everyone to go back inside.  The soldiers readied their weapons, pointing at both the guests and the Spetsnaz troops.  It had turned ugly real quick
.  If we go back into the building, we are as good as dead.
Gregori Stephonovich had no choice;
this will not be a clean kill.

'Spetsnaz Open fire!'  He yelled at his men.  They responded instantly, but so too did the Sunarr soldiers.  Fire streamed in both directions, men and Sunarr falling at an appalling rate.  The guests were being hit too, and this created panic.  They ran in all directions, some straight into the crossfire, dying instantly.  Gregori Stephonovich barked out another order.

'Snipers open fire!'  On the roof, all around the parade ground appeared Russian soldiers with heavy calibre sniper rifles.  Each hit on the Sunarr soldiers saw a large explosion of blood, bone, and flesh erupting from their chests, the impact knocking them off their feet, dead before they hit the ground.  The Sunarr dignitary started ordering his soldiers, Gregori Stephonovich pulled out the pistol he had been given by his aide Petrov and shot the Sunarr through the back of his head.  Brain matter and bone flew out of the Sunarr's face, covering several of the guests who were still trying to escape.  The General placed his right foot on the body and spat on it, 'Eta moray zyemlya'.

As it has so often happened in Russia's history it came down to numbers.  The Sunarr numbered thirty-eight.  The Russian's were sixty Spetsnaz and forty Snipers.  The Spetsnaz trained in close quarters combat, the Snipers were up high and well protected.  Inside of three minutes, the Sunarr were all dead.  Gregori Stephonovich called to his signals officer who brought him a Doran communications device.  He switched it on and gave the order.

'Execute Operation zashsheeteetye rodeenoo.'

With this one order to protect the motherland, General Gregori Stephonovich Ivanskiy planned to take complete control of Russia inside of one hour. 

13:09               10 November  [18:09  10 November GMT]

Northeast Corner and East 57th Street, New York
.

The dinner party was in full swing now.  Jay was picking at her food, not really interested. 
I wish I hadn't drunk that wine earlier.
  She was on mineral water now, but she knew her senses were slightly dulled.  She kept looking at Shiwanevar sitting opposite her.
  Have you any idea what is going to happen?  Do you have a clue?
  She knew she shouldn't be worrying about that now.
If,
she reasoned,
Shiwanevar does know then why would she expose herself by being here?

So many questions.  So many pointless, futile questions. 
Jay looked at her watch, suddenly self-conscious about how many other times she had checked it before that evening.  They were running late.  It hadn't helped that some of the guests had stopped for drinks beforehand and consequently arrived late.  These same guests then proceeded to invest themselves in the aperitifs in the Drawing Room prior to joining the rest in the Dining Room.  It was all bad form really but on any other night Jay would have not given it a second thought. 
Thank goodness that the communications are going down indefinitely this time.
  One of Shiwanevar's personal guards, who were distinct in their red armour, had spoken to her, precisely at the time the communications were scheduled to go down.  Jay was pleased; it was going to plan, albeit a little late.  It was nearly time for her to speak, the cue for the overthrow of the Sunarr.  She picked up her champagne glass and tapped it with a fork, politely drawing everyone's attention.