The Zul Enigma (7 page)

‘This, Carlos, is why we
are communicating with you now.’

And with that the video
ended.

Carlos ran his hands
through his hair. ‘Who is this? And why contact me?’

‘Clearly they believe
you’re the man to sort it,’ Drew grinned. ‘But I like the idea of
interconnectivity… that the evolutionary process doesn’t just apply to the
species on our planet… that it’s a process the whole universe is going through.
And I like the way he ties it in with vibration and an increase in the
complexity of geometric patterns. Gaia with shapes.’

‘He didn’t give us any
math to prove it,’ Carlos said.

‘But all that harping on
about the Mayan calendar – the evolutionary leap on the 21st of December
– I’m already sick of hearing about it.’

‘But could there be
something to it?’

‘The Mayan calendar?’

‘No! That there’s a
discrepancy between the rate we’re vibrating at and the rate the galaxy’s
vibrating at. Perhaps this is what’s making us so unbalanced – like I
said last night.’

‘Don’t tell me you’re
seriously thinking about this shit, Carlos.’

‘Hey, I’m not saying I
believe it. But what I
am
saying is, look at the planet right now. There
are
too many volcanoes, earthquakes, tsunamis, hurricanes: too many
natural disasters. It’s been bothering me a long time. And there
are
too
many people, too many opinions, too many religions. We
are
too close to
another world war for God’s sake. Everything is in discord. How can we go on
unless we pull some harmony into our lives? With all this conflict, either the
planet will destroy us or we’ll destroy ourselves. That I
do
believe and
perhaps we
should
look into this vibration theory.’

‘Oh please!’ Drew
grabbed a biscuit and took a bite. ‘So, what are you going to call this
extraterrestrial of yours?’

‘Jesus, I don’t know,’
but then Carlos looked up. ‘Hey! Remember that movie “Ghostbusters”?’

‘Yeah…’

‘What was the name of
that fat ghost, the one in the fridge?’

‘It’s years since I
watched that film. How do you expect… hang on a minute! Wasn’t it Zul?’

‘
¡Sí!
Zul. I
always liked that name. I’ll call him Zul.’

‘Zul it is. It does have
an exotic ring to it.’ Drew lowered his voice. ‘Zoooool… and it’s got a good
vibration. Zul the ghoul! Perfect. But now you’ve given your pet alien a name,
don’t get too attached,’ he chuckled.

‘You can laugh.’

‘I know… I can’t get
over it,’ and mimicking a Discovery Channel commentator he said, ‘Presenting Dr
Carlos Maiz… the man aliens have singled out to save the world.’

Carlos flung his arms in
the air. ‘But I just don’t get it. Who’s behind it?’

Drew shrugged. ‘Perhaps
some security company’s trying to market a new product. You know, break into
the UN system, expose a weakness, then when it’s made public, turn up like the
cavalry with the technology that will prevent anyone else trying the same
thing.’

‘But why pretend to be
the Galactic Federation.’

‘To add some spice?’

Carlos shook his head.
‘But why make it so detailed? Imagine how many hours it took to come up with
all this? I mean… what’s the point?’

‘You’re not tempted to
believe it are you? That Zul could be what he claims?’

‘No, of course not. But
why me?’ and he scooped the biscuit crumbs off the counter top into his cupped
hand and threw them in the sink.

Drew walked out of the spare room. ‘I’m off. But let’s get together again
before I leave.’

‘Tonight?’

‘Is your liver up to
it?’ he grinned. ‘Actually I can’t make it tonight. I’m seeing Erika. And I’m
seeing Sophie on Wednesday. How about drinks Thursday evening?’

‘
Muy bien
.’

After saying goodbye,
Carlos went back to his bedroom to finish getting ready. It was nearly nine
thirty. He was going to be late for his ten o’clock meeting.

CHAPTER 5

‘You’re late! I was worried.’

Carlos dropped a laundry
bag containing his crumpled suit beside Corrinne’s desk.

She cocked her head,
fingers poised over the virtual keyboard and one eyebrow raised. ‘Cleaners?’
she queried. He nodded.

The tapping of her
fingers continued as she muttered, ‘When you didn’t turn up earlier I postponed
the meeting by an hour. I hope it doesn’t run on – you’ve got that
interview with
National Geographic
at one.’

‘I meant to call you but
something came up.’ He wondered why he felt obliged to explain himself and
changed the subject. ‘Have you arranged the change of venue notices?’

‘They’ll go out today.’
She didn’t miss a beat in her typing. It was impressive. ‘Hans called. Said he
wants to speak to you the moment you get in. What’s that all about?’

‘There’s no time to
explain about it now, but there’s been a breach in security.’ The tapping
stopped as Corrinne whipped up her head. ‘Hey, don’t say anything, okay? I’ll
explain about it later when I find out more from Hans.’

He walked into his
office, hung his jacket over the back of the chair, poured himself a glass of
water and logged in at his terminal. The first thing he did was contact Hans
and when his face appeared on the screen Carlos could see he was worried.

‘Hi Carlos.’ Hans
adjusted his spectacles.

‘Did you get the new
Incident Report – the one I sent this morning?’

‘Yes. We ran a
preliminary check.’

‘And?’

‘All the messages
originate from the same spoofed e-mail address. Now, even in the case of a
spoofed source domain, there should be some clue as to where the messages were
routed from. You see it’s very unlikely any message would go from the source
domain directly to the target domain. But when we checked the message headers
that get updated with routing information each time a message passes through an
e-mail relay server, we discovered that your messages hadn’t come through the
Internet. The UN domain e-mail log supports these findings. It doesn’t have any
record of messages with the spoofed e-mails’ details coming in from the
Internet either.’

‘So they’ve been sent
internally.’

‘Exactly. Any UN
employee with authorised system access could have sent them. Or someone from
outside could have used one of our people’s RFId tags and log-in code or even
accessed a vacated terminal before its session was timed out.’

‘Christ!’

‘Since the day I started
here, I’ve been emphasising how critical it is that everyone wears their tags
– all the time. You saw my memo yesterday. It makes me furious. How can I
do my job properly when security procedures are constantly being flouted?’

Carlos shifted in his
chair. He was sure Hans knew he was one of the culprits.

‘And five minutes time
out period?’ Hans went on. ‘I’ve said all along, it’s too long. I don’t care
how paranoid people think I am – reducing the time out is top of my list
of priorities. Especially now…’

‘How long before you’ll
know more?’

‘Not sure – a few
hours? But first I need the Notice of Authority to Investigate Personal Space,
authorising us to have a good look into the messages you received at your
home.’

‘Send it over.’

In less than twenty
seconds a document appeared on the monitor. Carlos read it, signed it using the
electronic signature code stored in his tag, and sent it back to Hans.

‘Give us till lunchtime.
I’ll get back to you by then.’

‘Okay, but you’d better
have an answer. And Hans – not a word of this gets out – not until
I say so.’

Carlos cut the
connection. He felt uneasy. What was it all about? It was so frustrating but
there was nothing he could do except go ahead with his day and hope that Hans
and his team would come up with some news soon. Nevertheless, the uncertainty
was overwhelming.

He walked to the window
and stared out over the snow-laden city. He had an urge to call Drew and tell
him that, contrary to his assurance, Hans had still not “sussed” the messages, but
when he pulled out his iTab and saw the time he threw it on the couch, put on
his jacket and stalked out of the office to the conference room.

His head was still
throbbing.

***

Just over two hours into the meeting the phone rang. Corrinne took the call.
She interrupted Carlos mid-sentence.

‘I need to speak to you
outside.’

Carlos excused himself
and walked into the corridor. ‘What is it?’

‘The
National
Geographic
people are here.’

Carlos flung his hands
in the air. ‘Jesus! I’d forgotten about them. You’ll have to take over. We’re
nearly done.’

As he turned to walk off
Corrinne put her hand on his arm. It surprised him. She never normally made
physical contact. ‘Carlos,’ she looked up into his eyes, her face grave, ‘what
about the breach in security?’

He could see how
concerned she was and his expression softened. Regardless how much she
irritated him at times, she was loyal to OOSA, and to him, and cared about them
both. He shrugged. ‘Nothing to say right now,’ he muttered. ‘Hans is still
investigating,’ and with that he spun round and strode down the corridor.

***

In Corrinne’s absence, one of the secretaries ushered a man and a woman, who
both looked to be in their late twenties, into Carlos’s office.

‘Dr Maiz?’ The woman had
an English accent. ‘I’m Rebecca Marshall from
National Geographic
. We’re
running a feature on OOSA in our June issue that will link with our main piece
on the Space Elevator project.’

Carlos stood up and
leaned across the desk to shake hands. ‘Hello,’ he said.

Rebecca smiled. It was a
pretty smile, he thought.

She turned to the man.
‘This is our photographer, Brian Clark. He’ll take photos while we talk. Don’t
let him distract you – in fact just ignore him.’

‘Yeah, just ignore me.
Everyone else does,’ Brian said as he offered his hand to Carlos, who scarcely
managed a grunt in reply.

Aware he should make an
effort to be more welcoming, Carlos extended his arm towards a leather sofa and
two chairs surrounding a low table in front of the windowed wall of his office.
‘Please, over there. It’s more comfortable.’

‘Do you mind if I record
our conversation?’ Rebecca asked as she sat down. Carlos dipped his head in
acknowledgement. At least she wasn’t wasting any time on small talk.

‘To start, I’d like to
ask some questions about yourself.’

‘Me?’ he said,
surprised.

She gave a little laugh
and threw him a sideways look from under her lashes. ‘With technical subject
matter it’s good to include a human element. It balances the scientific side
and makes a story more personal, more interesting for the readers.’

Carlos had never been
called a human element before although, he conceded to himself, that was pretty
much what he’d become of late.

He shrugged. ‘Okay.’

‘Date is Tuesday, the
13th of March 2012,’ she said, ‘and the interview is with Dr Carlos Maiz,
Director of the United Nations Office for Outer Space Affairs – OOSA
– based at UNO City in Vienna, Austria. Good afternoon, Dr Maiz.’

‘Good afternoon. And
please call me Carlos.’

She smiled. ‘Very well,
Carlos,’ and she tipped her head to one side on using his Christian name for
the first time. ‘I know you’re busy, so I’ll try and be quick. Now I understand
you were born and grew up in Spain and studied physics at La Universidad
Politécnica de Madrid?’

‘Correct.’

‘Were you already
interested in outer space – the universe – back then?’

‘
Sí
. It’s always
been my passion. When I was a child I already knew I wanted to do something in
cosmology.’

‘And after university in
Madrid?’

‘I won a scholarship to
the University of Southern California. I did a graduate programme there in
Aerospace Engineering and got my Masters degree.’

‘What year did you move
to the States?’

‘1984.’

‘And after you
graduated?’

‘I joined NASA. In 1986.
Goddard Space Flight Centre.’

‘Near Washington DC,
right?’

‘Yes. Maryland. I worked
at the Laboratory for Astronomy and Solar Physics – LASP – it’s a
Division of the Space Sciences Directorate. Then I got my doctorate in
Aerospace Engineering from USC in 1989.’

‘How long were you at
NASA?’

‘Just over twenty years.
I left in ’07 to take on the Directorship of OOSA.’

‘Why did you leave?’

The question took him by
surprise. Why
had
he quit NASA and given up the job he loved? It was
inspiring working with world experts in engineering and aeronautics, mixing
daily with brilliant although often difficult individuals. He’d excelled there
and received promotions and countless awards. But he’d never intended staying
forever and after celebrating his twenty-year anniversary, knowing it would
only get more difficult to haul himself out of the NASA rut, the unexpected
offer from OOSA seemed heaven sent. He was flattered being invited to take over
from the retiring Director and the employment package was substantial. The
offer stroked his ego and he was attracted by the kudos it would bring.