The Bergamese Sect (7 page)

The Cessna had taken off from an airfield close to the farmhouse, rising quickly above the orange network of roads spreading out to the horizon. Within ten minutes, they’d been crossing the coast.

Before leaving the farm, Henric had taken Matt’s laptop, hooked it up to a portable electricity supply and made two copies of the hard drive. One of the disks he’d wrapped in plastic, taping it securely closed. Then he’d disappeared for ten minutes with a spade. Another copy they’d stuck in an envelope. This they posted at a lonely village post box during the half-hour drive to the deserted airfield.

Matt looked out the window of the tiny aircraft. They were low, gliding over a vast expanse of open, flat land. In the dim light, he could only just make out the boundaries of fields and roads. Gerry throttled down and they lurched sickeningly toward the ground.

‘
Where are we?’ Matt asked, but no one answered. Clara gave him a smile and began putting the papers into her bag, popping the penlight between her teeth. The two men hadn’t heard him.

They banked sharply to the left and the engine noise reduced to a faint purr as they floated lower. Matt grabbed the back of the chair in front and pulled himself up to look out the front of the cockpit. He could see nothing. Not even the lights of a runway. Just then, the plane levelled out and immediately hit the ground with a noisy jolt. The engine whined into reverse and the plane rumbled across the grass to a walking pace. On the far side of the field, Matt saw a large tin-roofed building bathed in orange light. They headed slowly toward it.

Gerry whipped off his headset and turned to those in the back. ‘It’ll take about twenty minutes to refuel,’ he said. ‘I’ll do the talking.’

Outside it was chilly. Not like the warm night they’d left behind. Matt immediately smelt something intangible in the air, some odour faintly recognisable but foreign.

Gerry was talking to a man outside the airfield’s hangar. The man disappeared, returning within a few minutes with a small fuel truck. He manoeuvred it toward the plane.

‘
Come,’ Clara said and led Matt off.

Walking across the stained apron toward a small wooden shack, they came and sat on a low wall surrounding a pool of heavy oil. The night was clear, the constellations spanning above them. The northeast horizon was rapidly lightening. Matt looked across the fields to the distant line of bordering trees. The airfield was large and isolated. Beyond its perimeter, he could see the ochre glow of a nearby town beaming toward the sky.

‘
You wanted to know what this is all about,’ Clara said.

‘
Sure,’ Matt replied.

He’d dropped off to sleep soon after leaving England. He was exhausted, the drugs still making him unsteady, fatigued. He wiped the sleep from his eyes.

‘
Okay,’ Clara said, ‘it’s hard to know where to begin.’ She thought for a moment.

Matt watched her intently. He preferred long hair, but the short crop of spiky blonde suited her. She was very attractive, slim, almost bony. Her face was oval, perfectly smooth and unblemished. Even in the dim light, Matt could see the beautiful depths of those blue eyes. Just a tiny crease at their corners revealed the confusion in her mind.

‘
We work for a global organisation,’ she said. ‘Our purpose is regarded as subversive by governments, so we work covertly. What we’re trying to expose is extremely sensitive and other covert agencies will stop at nothing to prevent it becoming public domain.’

‘
I’ve gathered most of this already,’ Matt said.

‘
Sure,’ Clara replied. She paused then looked him straight in the eye. ‘What I’m about to tell you is deadly serious. I want you to put aside all your prejudices, to forget everything you’ve ever read or heard about this subject. It’s no joke, and whatever you think about it, you’ll soon discover there’s more truth to the myth than you realise.’

There was a frightening tone of seriousness in Clara’s voice. Matt sensed an inner passion in the girl – one not to be challenged. She fidgeted with the rope handle of her bag.

‘
Just get to the point,’ Matt said, ‘and this better be good, or I’m walking out of here.’

‘
You’d regret it.’

‘
And you’ll regret kidnapping me once I walk into the local consulate office.’ Matt stared out across the airfield. His threat seemed ridiculous given their location. He looked back at Clara, wiping any emotion from his glare. She was unmoved.

‘
This isn’t a game,’ she said.

‘
You’re damn right!’

‘
Perhaps you’ll realise that when someone puts a gun to your head.’

‘
Don’t try and scare me. I react badly under pressure. We had a deal. I want to know what the hell you think you’re doing and what it’s got to do with me.’

‘
Okay, I’ll tell you. I just want you to be prepared for a shock.’

Matt just pursed his lips sarcastically. ‘Go for it,’ he said.

Clara fingered her bag again. ‘In the early ‘70s,’ she said, ‘a man went missing in Illinois. Not a vagrant or a criminal, but an average man with a home; a wife and kids. He simply disappeared. His car was left in the drive. None of his clothes were missing. His bank accounts were untouched. There was no note. The police hunted for the man, appealed for information, delved into his personal life. But they found nothing to suggest why he might run away. He had no mistress, wasn’t involved in any crime; had nothing in his past to be ashamed of. His relationships with his wife and children were perfectly happy. The guy just vanished without a trace. Two months later he shows up wandering through the hills, can’t remember what’s happened to him or where he’s been. Of course, the police closed the file, although the case was never officially solved.

‘
Twenty years later a journalist is looking at some CIA documents just released under the Freedom of Information Act. In there he finds a report with this guy’s name in it. Not just a missing person’s report. This document suggested the CIA knew where he’d been for those two months. They knew what had happened.’

‘
And where had he been?’

‘
The details had been deleted before the document’s release, large amounts of the text scored through with black pen. It’s what the US government does when they think there’s something in these files that might jeopardise national security. They say it’s to protect methods, sources, individuals. But in reality, they just delete anything they don’t want people to see. The public’s right to inspect official documents only goes as far as the government wants it to.’ There was a look of scorn on Clara’s face as she spoke the words. ‘Needless to say, this journalist tracks down the guy who went missing, they take the government to court, force them to reveal what they know.’

‘
And did they win?’

‘
Yes, the unedited documents were released. They said the man had been kidnapped by Native Americans, kept hostage and used in some weird occult ceremony. Apparently, they’d drugged him, hypnotised him and made him forget everything that happened. Native Americans, for Chrissakes! They’d blame the very people they’ve exploited for generations.’

‘
And I take it you think that was a lie?’ Matt said.

Clara sneered. ‘The journalist was suspicious. He got an expert to compare the original document with the one they’d forced the government to hand over. Tiny details didn’t match up. The thing was a fabrication. They’d invented some story so they didn’t have to reveal what was really in those files. The journalist went back to court, lost the case, the government denying any sort of cover-up. The Supreme Court found no evidence that the documents had been changed. Anyway, six months later they find the journalist at the bottom of the Potomac River, the brake lines on his car severed.’

‘
What?’ exclaimed Matt. ‘They killed him?’

‘
Seems likely. Anyway, the guy who went missing? He disappears again.’

‘
The government took him?’

‘
No. He’s hiding from them.’

‘
Hiding?’

‘
Yeah, he’s scared they’ll kill him too.’

They both looked over the airfield. The fuel truck was still busy pumping aviation gasoline into the Cessna, Henric and Gerry discussing something with the man operating the pump.

‘
What’s this story got to do with you?’ asked Matt.

Clara paused. ‘I’m telling you this because I want you to understand that these things happen. Sure, they happen in the movies, in the best-sellers list, but they happen in real life too. Governments have some secrets they’ll stop at nothing to protect. Even murdering their own citizens. Innocent citizens. Innocent citizens like you and me.’

‘
Do you know what really happened to this guy? It wasn’t Native Americans, right?’

‘
We believe we do. But I’m not sure you’ll like it.’

‘
You’re gonna tell me he was whisked off to a biological weapons lab, or used as a psychologically programmed assassin, right?’

‘
Worse than that.’

Clara started fumbling with her shoulder bag again, looked across the field, up at the stars. Matt stared at her, waiting for an answer.

‘
Alien abduction,’ she said.

Matt stood, his expression dropped into a frown. He stared at her; disbelief, anger, etched into his face. ‘Shit,’ he said scathingly, ‘you’re conspiracy theorists?’

‘
No, Matt, we’re not,’ Clara replied, sternly.

‘
Alien abduction? You serious?’

She nodded. ‘I expect a certain amount of scorn, Matt. That’s because most people who go on about this are either deluded, faking it, or are just plain crazy. But don’t get the notion we’re people like that.’

‘
Well, what are you, if you’re not deluded or crazy?’ Matt said, disappointment and ridicule clearly tainting his voice.

Clara shifted her position and stared at the ground. ‘We’re people after the truth. Believe it or not, there’s a sinister agenda out there and many of the world’s governments are a part of it. We already know a great deal about what’s really going on, but we need the justification for exposing it.’

Matt was unimpressed. He turned away, took a few paces and brushed the hair over his head. ‘I don’t believe this,’ he said to himself. ‘I’ve been kidnapped by a bunch of fucking lunatics.’

‘
I wish you wouldn’t see it like that.’

Matt turned back to her. ‘Come on, give me some credit. You expect me to go along with this shit? Aliens living among us, whisking people off to experiment on them. Governments performing autopsies on alien crash-victims and crap like that. People love it, Clara, but the majority of us know it’s a load of crap. I don’t believe this.’ He turned away again, looking to the sky.

‘
It’s not quite like that,’ Clara said.

The idea was nonsense. Matt suddenly felt that tingly heat in his cheeks, the one he’d had as a child when teased. He paced further away, briefly thinking about carrying out his threat and walking off into the pre-dawn light. Leaving these three crackpots to their delusions. But an anger was welling inside him. He stopped, stormed back to Clara.

‘
This is your excuse for shooting two guys in the head, kidnapping me, drugging me and flying me to God knows where,’ he said, angrily.

His anger seemed to have an effect on Clara. She stood swiftly and came close to him, her eyes wet, with rage or frustration, he couldn’t tell. Her blue orbs stared deeply into his, the beauty of them fogged by a cold passion. Matt suddenly realised she truly believed it.

‘
I know I can’t convince you of the reality of this,’ she said, ‘but believe me, it’s not a game we’re playing. Call us cranks if you like, but if you ignore what we’re telling you, you’re a dead man.’

‘
Don’t threaten me,’ Matt replied. He gave her a terrifying look.

Now Clara became angry. Her face darkened, the passion welling up into fury. ‘Shut up,’ she shouted. ‘I’m not threatening you, I’m warning you. If you abandon our protection, you’re as good as dead. I can understand you ridiculing something you know nothing about. But don’t trivialise what we’re fighting for or the threat we’re all under by helping you.’

Matt searched for words, but none came. He wanted to scream at her, call her a fanatic, demand his return to a life of normality.

But he hated anger. It made him shrink. He’d do anything to avoid it. When he was eighteen, he’d taken his Dad’s car out for the night. He was mucking around, trying to impress his mates, and rammed it into a lamppost. The cops came down and asked him what had happened. Of course, he’d lied, he’d had to. He told them two guys had jumped him, stolen the keys, driven off down the road. Bastards! The cops took the details and dropped him off at home. Mum and Dad were so concerned, thankful he hadn’t been hurt. It didn’t matter about the damage to the car. Their son was a victim. How could they be angry?

That’s when he’d realised his talent. His talent for convincing people – convincing them they’d charged him too much; convincing them he should be upgraded to first class; convincing them he loved them. It was all so easy. That’s why he was so good at his job. A job all about duping people into buying stuff they didn’t need, didn’t want. Convince them they need the product. Convince them they can afford it. Simple. And once they’d signed up, convince them they’d have it tomorrow, at a substantial discount. Best of all – convince them you really gave a shit about them. Matt spent his life convincing people.

The only person he hadn’t been able to convince was himself. He tried to pretend he was unconcerned with life’s trials; that the car crash that had killed his parents was just fate; he’d be alright. He didn’t need anyone but himself.

He glanced over at Clara. She seemed calmer now.