EARTH PLAN (15 page)

CHAPTER 25

Charles spent the two weeks with a mixture of relaxing and thinking about his future. What the professor had told him had shaken him deeply, and he was actually glad he had some time off to sort through it all. This he did over many beers and also a few tokes when his buddy Mike dropped by who liked to smoke.

He couldn't tell anyone else what the professor had told him, as he'd promised to keep it a secret. But he did drop some hints to Mike about secret societies and hidden plans, as he knew Mike was into such things.

They were out on the deck behind Charles's rented apartment, toking late one night and discussing conspiracy theories, getting all paranoid. There was a bit of a cool nip in the air, but the warmth of the pot and the numbing of the beers chased it away.

“I don't know if all those different groups could work together behind the scenes.” Mike said and shook his head. “I don't doubt that they exist, but I don't see how it's as coordinated as you think it is.”

“Oh, they're much more organized that you give them credit for!” Charles said, passing over the dube.

“I believe they can be organized, I just don't believe they all see things the same way. Or have the same goals.”

“Several secret groups, then? Fighting for control?”

“Yeah!”

“Mmm-hhh,” Charles said. He wished he could just spill his guts about what he knew, but that might be a death sentence.

Mike took a toke and then passed over the joint. Charles took it and sucked some smoke from it, looking around.

“What's wrong? You seeing things?” Mike giggled.

“I think I'm being watched,” Charles said as he let out a lungful of smoke. “Actually, I'm sure of it.”

“What? By who? For what? Pot?” Mike took the joint back, which was almost gone.

“Not for that. From my last work. I was dealing with some pretty classified stuff. And I quit in a hurry. Maybe they think something was up.” That's all I'm willing to tell him for now, Charles thought.

“Now I do think you're being paranoid!” Mike said. He dropped the roach into the ashtray before his fingers got burned.

“Oh yeah? Come here!” Charles pulled Mike over to the edge of the patio, past a wall, where they could see the street through some trees. The shriveling leaves rattled in the breeze, some of them tumbling to the ground.

“What?”

“Just look. See that jeep there? There's a big guy sitting in it, right?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Mike peered through the darkness at the jeep sitting on the street.

“Well, that's the security chief from my old job. He's watching me.”

“Like all the time? Doesn't he have to go to the bathroom? What's he do, pee into a cup? Or a bottle!” Mike laughed.

“Maybe he wears diapers for all I know. I've caught him following me a few times. He sits out there in shifts. Another security guy from my old company comes and takes his place every so often.” Charles pulled Mike back behind the wall.

“OK, I see him, but why?”

“That's what I'd like to know. I mean, I didn't do anything to them.” It was burning him up to have to keep the things he'd found out to himself, but he knew it was best to be quiet.

“Maybe they're just pissed about you bailing on them. You said you did work with secret stuff. You had a security clearance, right?”

Charles nodded. “I did. More than one.”

“Well, there you go! That stuff costs a lot for a company to go through. You probably quit too soon for their liking. And, if you were dealing with secret stuff, they'd be concerned. I'd be.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Hey, I was just trying to help!”

“I know, buddy, I know. Come on, let's go back in.” Charles opened the patio door, and they stepped back into his apartment.

What Charles didn't notice was a work van marked as a cable TV company parked further down the street, with a couple of men in it dressed in worker's coveralls who were watching the jeep. And Charles.

The van was filled with cable-installation gear, but hidden under it all was a sophisticated surveillance system consisting of laser microphones, long-distance cameras, and all manner of radio frequency scanners.

The man in the driver's seat, a bald Asian in his late thirties with a large build and a thin mustache, zoomed in with the night vision camera on the security chief in his jeep; the results appeared on the dash monitor. The man in the passenger's seat, a wiry but strongly built black man in his early forties with closely buzzed hair, locked the laser mic on the window of the jeep and turned up the speaker.

“...Come on, bunch of pot heads!...” the security chief said, his voice coming through the speakers in the van. The two men looked at each other and nodded. The voice recorder was started.

“You want to go for a walk, or should I?” the driver asked.

“I don't mind going.” The man in the passenger's seat got out and went to the back of the van. He opened the double doors and stepped inside. He took off his coveralls, revealing regular clothes, with a holster under his arm containing a small gun.

He opened a drawer and took out a small plastic bag with some sort of tiny electronic device, no bigger than a thumbnail. He removed the device from the bag and slipped it into his pocket. Then he opened a cage with a small dog in it.

He took the dog by the leash and carried him out of the van, closing the doors. Then he took the dog for a walk down the street, making for the jeep. In the man's palm he held the device. One side had an adhesive surface, and he peeled off the protective plastic covering.

As he got close to the jeep, he watched for any sign of a threat. If so, he could have his gun out in a moment. The security chief watched him approach in the mirror, but stayed silent.

The man let the dog sniff at the jeep, then he gave a command to the dog, in a very low voice. The well-trained dog had been waiting for this moment and squatted down to relieve his bowels.

“Oh, Jessie! Why do you always do this on the street!” the man said. He made a show of taking a plastic bag out of his pocket and bending down to pick up the poop right near the back of the jeep. The security chief made a face and rolled up his window as the stink of the dog poop drifted by.

While the man had his back turned, putting the poop into the bag, he slipped the electronic bug under the bumper of the car, fixing it in place.

That done, he got up, tied the bag, and continued to walk the dog right by the jeep. He smiled and waved as he passed the security chief who just looked at him like he was from another planet, in his grumpy way.

Back in the van, the driver flicked through the screen until he saw the signal for the GPS the other man had just installed on the jeep. It was working fine and sending out a signal.

The man with the dog walked around the block and out of sight.

A few minutes later, the van started up and drove away, went a couple of blocks, turned this way and that, and found the man with the dog near a park. He picked them up, and they drove off into the night.

A short time later, a small sports car pulled into a parking spot down from where the van had been, keeping the jeep in sight. The driver was the Asian man from the van. He opened a laptop and confirmed the GPS unit from the jeep was still sending a signal.

He pushed a button on the controls and the camera and laser mic systems came up on the screen. The man sat, watching and listening to the security chief.

When he got bored, he switched to the channel from inside Charles's house, listening to Charles and his friend talking conspiracy theories. The man had to smile at how accurate they were about some things and how wrong they were about other things.

CHAPTER 26

Charles was going a bit stir-crazy from spending so much time at home. He’d been reading all he could find in medical journals on DNA, but nowhere did he find any mention of the symbol he had found; not that he really thought there would be, but he had to check. Nor was there any mention of the abnormalities—the obvious tinkering—with the DNA of humans.

It wasn’t until he came across some fringe writings and videos that the puzzle started to take shape. There were accounts in many ancient texts about humans being made by extra-terrestrial beings, or at least the primitive humans having their DNA altered by these beings; just like Stan had mentioned. The result, it was claimed, was a much faster development along certain characteristics than humans would have probably done on their own, like language skills, memory, and reasoning. That was the upside.

On the downside, the DNA sequences that had apparently been turned off by these beings were advanced mental functions such as ESP, precognition, an innate spiritual understanding, and compassion for all life. The altered humans would be more easily controllable this way and make better servants for whoever the beings were that made the alterations. And it wasn't just human life that had been messed with; all other life forms on Earth had been changed.

But there were other stories that told of a good race of beings who worked to counter the effects of the dumbing down of DNA on Earth. Not much was known about them, at least as far as Charles was able to find. He wondered, Could these be the Guild that Stan had mentioned? Are we dealing with real, live aliens, here? Holy crap!

He kept searching until his eyes started to bug out. Eventually, he got up and stretched, then went for another beer. He’d been reading and watching videos for hours and needed a break.

His phone rang, and he jumped. He answered it.

“Hello?” Charles said.

“Charles, it's me, Stan.”

“Jeez, you scared me! I've been reading up about aliens, and DNA, and all sorts of things here by myself. I was wondering when I was going to hear back from you. I left you a message a few days ago. I was about to leave another one. Is everything OK?”

“Yes, just been busy. Sorry for not getting back to you sooner. How are things on your end? Holding up alright?”

“Yeah, it’s fine, I guess.” Charles pulled a beer out of the fridge and opened it. “Been doing a lot of research on the topics of interest. There’s a lot out there to back up what we were talking about, at least part of it.”

“Yes. So, you can see I’m not the only one into this stuff.” The professor laughed.

“No, I didn’t think so.”

“Charles, can you come by the house? Say tomorrow, if you don’t have any plans?”

“Sure, what’s up?”

“It’s time we had another talk, and this time there are some people I want you to meet.”

“Who?” he asked, but he already knew the answer.

“Just come over, and you’ll see.”

“Alright. What time?”

They made the final arrangements, and Charles hung up the phone. “Woo,” he exhaled. “Things are coming to a head.”

He opened the door to his patio and lit up a joint. He walked around to the corner, dry leaves crunching under his feet, hiding the joint in his hand. The jeep was still there. “Doesn’t give up, does he? What he hell does he want?” Charles waved to the jeep. “I see you, asshole!”

He had been thinking about calling the police to report that someone was watching him, but there was no real proof; only the jeep parked on his street. He knew he’d have a hard time proving anything, even though he knew it was true. “He's probably got connections with the cops,” Charles muttered to himself.

He supposed if he told the police that the main person doing the watching was the head of security at his old job, then they might take it seriously, but he didn’t know. His old company was mixed up in a lot of military and secret business, which tended to operate outside the law; police likely wouldn't want to get involved.

In the end, he figured it was more trouble than it was worth to try and explain it all to the cops. He was hoping it was just a matter of routine to be watched for a time after leaving such a position as he had. If it went on much longer though, he was considering doing something about it; just what, he didn’t know. Maybe ask the professor if his contacts could step in.

Up the street, behind the jeep, the small sports car started up, flicked on its lights and drove away.

Charles went back inside and sat down at his computer. There were so many things to read, watch, and listen to about the alternate history of humanity that he didn’t know if he’d be able to get through it all in a week. He thought, Why have I never heard of this stuff before? There were a lot of people interested in a different view of history than he’d learned in school and read in history books. It’s like a whole new world was opening up before his eyes, one that confirmed the things he’d been discovering on his own, at least to an extent.

Yet, he’d found nothing about the marker he’d found on the DNA, the three green circles intertwined. A bit more searching on the Internet in vain made his eyes start to water, and he had to call it a night. He went to bed, hoping the Guild would decide to let him in on the secrets.

The next day, Charles woke up late, around noon, excited to be going over to see the professor. They had arranged that Charles would come by for dinner and meet the mysterious people the professor had mentioned. Though the professor didn’t say it, Charles suspected they must be from the Guild. The professor had said he would mention Charles to them. Charles thought, What else could it be if he wouldn’t talk about it on the phone? He got dressed up and left for the professor’s house.

On the drive he noticed the jeep was following him. He’d taken to waving at it and did so again. This time there was someone he didn’t recognize behind the wheel. “The chief must be taking a break,” Charles said to himself.

Then something strange happened: the jeep made a turn and disappeared. It was the first time he’d not had a tail in weeks. “Thank God,” Charles sighed.

He arrived on time and hurried from his car inside to the professor's; there was a chill in the air, and he could see his breath.

“Good evening, Charles!” The professor said. He closed the door as Charles stepped inside, trailing cold air. They shook hands.

“Good to see you,” Charles said.

“You look happy,” the professor remarked, seeing the big smile on his face. “Not just to see me, I’m guessing?”

“Nope, though that is good, too! Remember I told you the security goons from my old company were following me? Well, tonight it stopped! I was on my way over here, and the guy in a jeep was tailing me, right from my house. They like to park outside, so obvious. Idiots! He was following me, and then he just suddenly turned down another street. And there was no other car that picked up my tail, like they’ve done before, passing off with other cars. There was no one there. It was wonderful!”

“I’m glad to hear it.” The professor smiled.

“So am I. It took some doing, but they finally agreed to back off,” said a man who stepped out of the shadows behind the professor.

He was tall and thin, a bit tanned. His dark hair was showing only the slightest grey at the edges and was cut stylish and close. He wore golden “Lennon” type glasses. He was dressed in black slacks, black dress shoes, and a black turtleneck sweater, with a small medallion of three green circles intertwined around his neck on a golden chain. His age was hard to tell. He looked like he could be in his late forties or early fifties. His speech was cultured and refined. The man was obviously educated, and by the looks of his clothes, he had money. His eyes twinkled with a delighted humour.

“The Guild of the Watchers greets you. Or, at least it's representative, myself,” he said.

The professor turned to the man. “Charles, this is Mr. Aldus Lang. He’s from the group I was telling you about.”

The man held out his hand. “Pleased to meet you, Charles. I’ve heard a lot about you. Aldus Lang.”

They shook. “Charles Fortean. Pleased to meet you, too. You had something to do with getting them to back off?” Charles asked, slightly stunned by the charismatic man and his sudden appearance.

“Yes. Consider it a goodwill gesture on our part, towards someone we believe is on our side. We protect our own, Charles, and we hope that you’ll want to join with us,” said Aldus.

Charles was a bit dumbfounded. “But what did you do? And why were they following me around, exactly?”

“Seems someone did you a favor and gave them a warning to stop.”

“Really? Who? Your group, Mr. Lang?”

“Yes, but just call me Lang.” The man's voice was tough, yet like silk.

Charles looked the man over, clothed all in black, with the funky medallion, thinking he looked like any number of actors he’d seen on TV or in the movies playing a “Satanist” or “Magician” character.

“I prefer the term oculist to describe myself,” the man smiled.

Charles blinked, not believing what he’d just heard. “W-What did you say?” Charles thought, Did he just read my mind?

Lang smiled, revealing perfect teeth. “Some people seem to think I'm a Satanist, or a black magician, or something. Comes up all the time. I just like to set the record straight.”

Charles looked down at the man's hand as he spoke. He noticed a snake on the ring, topped with a large golden eyeball. His stomach constricted.

The man seemed very friendly, but Charles couldn’t help but be taken aback by the strange things the man wore and his display of what seemed like mind reading.

The Asian man from the van and the sports car appeared behind Lang. He was also dressed in black, with the same necklace. He whispered something into Lang's ear. Lang smiled and said, “This is my fellow Guild member, Mr. Alan Chang. He’s very dedicated to our cause, and my right-hand man. Meet Charles Fortean.”

“How do you do?” Mr. Chang said and bowed to Charles. He then held out his hand, and they shook hands. Charles noticed he had the same ring on.

“Gentlemen, shall we retire to the living room and have a drink?” The professor gestured towards the open French doors of the living room.

“Wendy's not joining us?” Charles asked.

“Ladies night out.” The professor smiled, leading them inside.

Over drinks and seated comfortably in the living room, with logs burning on the fireplace, the conversation continued.

“You have the symbols of the snake and all-seeing eye on your rings,” Charles said to Lang. “I know the Illuminati uses those symbols, and they are not at all nice guys. Why would you use the same things?”

“On the contrary,” Lang smiled, “those are our symbols, long ago stolen from us. You’ll notice we wear this symbol as well, which is familiar to you now.” He touched the necklace. “There has been a centuries-long battle going on, a war between the forces of good and evil, or light and dark, if you choose to see it that way. Our group was almost made extinct, wiped out in a program of genocide over thousands of years. Our ways were taken by those who had assumed we were gone, beaten. They were wrong. We are still here and rising again.” He sipped at his red wine.

“Very good, wine, Lang. I must thank you again!” The professor held up his glass, admiring the wine in the light.

Lang raised up the bottle, to which the professor held his glass under it to receive more. Charles looked at the bottle. Seems very old, with a hand-made paper label if I'm not wrong, Charles thought.

“Wine from one of our estates. Very old,” Lang said, again in a seeming response to a question Charles had in his mind.

“How do you keep doing that?” Charles asked.

“Doing what?”

“Reading my mind?”

A smile spread over Lang's face. “That's right, you don't know. We are adepts. We are skilled in the ways of the mind and its operation. For us, reading thoughts is usually a simple matter, at least as far as those who are unskilled in shielding themselves are concerned,” Lang said.

“How did you learn how to do it?” Charles asked.

“That is a long story,” Lang said, sipping some wine. “I will say that it was all worked out a long time ago. You see, the Illuminati are not the only ones who are instructed by beings much more advanced than themselves, in disincarnate form. We also have our teachers, our leaders, who are not in the body, though ours are on the good side. They are beings of pure light. We call them the Watchers. They instruct us and aid us in our battles here on Earth. If not for them, we would have perished a long time ago.”

“How do they...talk to you, then? Spirit communication? Séances?” Charles leaned forward in his seat, desperate for information.

“That's one way, but there have also been written records from antiquity. Have you ever heard of the Nag Hammadi Library?”

“No.”

“They are our ancient sacred scrolls, telling about the origins of life on this planet and beyond.”

“These scrolls...they say...?” Charles felt lost for words.

“They are but a fragment of our knowledge that was written down. Most of it was passed from teacher to student, thankfully, otherwise most of it would have been lost during the persecutions of us over time.”