The God Complex: A Thriller (8 page)

Gray watched the drone’s feed as long as it was on station, which seemed to be oblivious to the scenes below, staying above the devastation long after the first news choppers had arrived. Gray marveled at how brazen his client was and how well connected he was to have access to an armed drone and a satellite-killing missile. Delivering that capability over a war zone was one thing, delivering it over California was in an entirely different league. A feeling of dread came over him. How could he have been so naïve? These were the missions that required ultimate and total deniability. These were the missions that secretive government agencies used poor patsies to deliver. His head spun around, suddenly everything was a potential enemy.

“Green?”
he said into the radio.

“Yes
?” came the reply. His team was still okay. “Where are you?”

“ETA
, with you, three minutes!”

“Make it two, I’ve got a strange feeling
,” he said ominously, hearing a change in engine revs over the radio as a result.

Gray turned his attention to the Sureno
s’ gang house, a hundred yards down the street. They were the ultimate patsies in the mission.

His burner cell buzzed
with a text message – the only connection with the client: ‘
Take out the Surenos house.’
He looked around again; it was as though they knew exactly where he was and what he was thinking. He leaned out of the car window and looked into the morning sky. The drone had left the hillside. He clicked on the link to its feed. It wasn’t active but it was still up there. There was no reason the feed would no longer be available, unless…

“Green
! Abort! Abort!”

They were watching him.

He looked around. A young mother was pushing a baby in its pram. No one else was on the street. He started his engine. A muzzle flash lit up the Surenos’ window. By the time he engaged ‘Drive’, the flashes had engulfed the house. Not a sound emanated from it. He checked his rear view mirror. Two young men turned the corner behind him. He accelerated, screeching to a halt as the young woman tried desperately to protect her pram from his onrushing car.

T
he two men were still a hundred yards away. He turned to check on the young mother. She stood looking directly into his car, the barrel of a gun pointed expertly at him.

“Shit!” was all he managed as the bullet tore through the
windshield.

“Target down
,” she said into her mic.

A minivan with blacked out windows sped down the street, pausing to pick up the two men before collecting the woman and her prop
pram. The DIS Team Leader, Steve, jumped out and poured a box of files carefully onto the passenger seat next to the still warm corpse of Gray. The box had been couriered to him fifteen minutes earlier, strict instructions made it clear that the files were not to be read nor any fingerprints or DNA deposited onto them.

Another
stop at the end of the street retrieved two further DIS operatives from the Surenos house. Within twenty seconds of Gray’s death, his body was alone on an empty street with enough incriminating evidence to bring down a government.

Deep Space Mission – Last Hope

Log entry 1 – Mission Commander

The last window of opportunity has passed. We are the last hope for our people. While they live their lives as though the future was certain, they know nothing of the devastation that faces us. We are the last of five missions that have been sent to save our way of life. We are the last hope
. The window of opportunity for any further attempts has closed behind us.

We have studied in detail each of the mission logs from those that ventured before us. All end as they near their entry to the planet’s orbit. The belief is that it is simply a communication issue. However, each of the subsequent missions has carried far more advanced communication equipment. None has communicated beyond the atmosphere of the planet we hope will be our future.

Despite that, our mission remains as originally intended. If the previous missions have failed, our mission will already be lost. We can only hope that for all our sakes, it is a communication problem and nothing more sinister.

We, like those before us, mourn our loved ones as we disappear into the night sky but it is for them and our descendants that we must go forward and build a future for us all.

Cash checked his cell. Twenty-three missed calls, all from the office.

“Twenty missed calls
,” said Rigs, appearing silently by his side in the hotel lobby, checking his own cell.

Cash led the way out to the car.
“Let’s go before there are any more.” Rigs eyed the patrol car Sanders had loaned them. “Something a bit less conspicuous perhaps?” he suggested.

“I think it’s perfect
.” Cash jumped in and hit the police lights.

Rigs
’ look of disapproval flickered and disappeared as the strobe lights cried out to his inner child. “Cool!” he said jumping in. While Cash drove, Rigs prepared the weapons. The Surenos were about to wish that real cops were coming to call on them.

Cash’s phone buzzed again, followed by Rigs’
.

“We need to call in at some point
,” said Rigs.

“You already did
,” Cash reminded him.

Rigs looked at him
. “You know I’m not very good with those calls,” he said without a hint of irony.

Cash nodded
. “What did you tell them?”

“
‘Cancel the President’s trip, something’s happened’.”

“What did you tell them had happened
?”

“Just that,
‘something’.”

“You called in and said six words
?” asked Cash, shaking his head. Sometimes he wished Riggs could be a little more talkative.

“I know,” said Rigs proudly
. “That’s good for me.”

“
Yes it is,” agreed Cash, biting his tongue. “After the Surenos, we’ll call in.”

“Son of a bitch!” shouted Travis Davies, Director of the CIA, slamming down the NSA’s handset for what seemed the hundredth time.

“Not answering
?” asked Vince Walters, the National Security Adviser. Travis shook his head. He had been trying to call ‘his boys’ since the call came in about Hubble 2’s demise. Initially, their phones had been uncontactable but they had started ringing out an hour earlier. He knew they were alive. The report in front of him was a transcript of Rigs’ call an hour earlier, precise to the point of uselessness. The man barely uttered a word other than to Cash, with whom he seemed to converse normally. Travis had grown tired of the speculation from the psychologists as to what was wrong with Rigs. He didn’t care; as long as Cash kept him in line and the two did what they did best, he was happy.

“You gave your boys the red line number
?!” screamed the Secret Service Director bursting into the office.

Travis looked
around at his Secret Service colleague, Paula Suarez. She was very sexy when she was angry.

“Jesus, you’ll make me come in my good suit,” he smiled wickedly.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Paula screeched.

“Please,
don’t,” he winced, much to Vince’s amusement.

“Did you or didn’t you?” she shouted, her face reddening.

“I don’t recall.”

“So it’s a coincidence
that a local cop in Santa Cruz prank-called the President at the UN?!”

“
Is that what that was?” he asked, laughing. They had both seen the feed of the President answering the call during the introduction at the UN.

“
It’s not funny,” she chastised. “
Idiots
!” She left, slamming the door behind her.

“Did you?” asked Vince.

“Did I what?” asked Travis, pointing towards where Paula had stood.

“
The number? Did you give them the number?”

“Maybe, in case of
an emergency.”

“Shit
,” said Vince. “She’ll have you for that.”

“Do you think?”
Travis asked with a grin.

Vince looked
at where Paula had stood. “Have you?” he asked again. Travis smiled, but before he could answer, his phone rang. “Travis Davies,” he answered.

“Mr
. Director, it’s Cash.”

“About fucking time!”

“Rigs updated you?”

“
You’re kidding, right? I’ve got a six word transcript in front of me!”

“I’m sorry
, sir,” said Cash looking forlornly at Rigs. Sometimes he wished Rigs was normal; it would save Cash having to do all the explaining. “It’s been a tough night.”

“Sorry, of course, your father
. My condolences.”

“Thank you
, sir. I’m fine, which is more than can be said for the assassins who attacked us last night. One dead here and another three dead in a car we passed two blocks from here.”

“I expect nothing less
.”

“It wasn’t us
.”

“So who?”

“No idea,” said Cash quickly. He was flicking through the files as he spoke. Rigs looked at him with some concern but

Cash shook his head and motioned for Rigs not to interrupt him.

“Anything else?” asked Travis.

“No
, sir.”

“Keep in touch,” said Travis
.

“Why didn’t you tell him about all this?” asked Rigs
, thumbing through the papers.

“Because
,” Cash flicked back the few pages he had just thumbed through and turned them to face Rigs.

“What?” he asked
, glancing at the pages. He let out a low whistle. “Shit!”

“Yep,
we’d have implicated ourselves as part of the hit team.”

“So the
President was the target?”

Cash shook his head
. “Publicly maybe but no, I think the target was the telescope. Come on, let’s get this stuff out of here before the cops arrive.”

“Travis?” asked Rigs.

“He’d have killed us first.”

“Good point
,” said Rigs.

“But he did send us here
…” Cash considered. “You drive,” he said, throwing Rigs the keys.

“We were an obvious choice
, given your father.”

“True
. Twelve blocks west and then hang a left to get us back to the hotel.” He returned his attention to the files.

“Oh my
God,” he said after a couple of minutes.

“What?”

“The Vice President, it’s all linked to the disarmament!”

“
He’s pro-gun,” said Rigs.

Cash shook his head in despair
. “It’s all bullshit, unless you received a $5 million dollar payment as disclosed here?”

“
Don’t think so.”

“
Well I certainly didn’t get the $6 million they’re saying I got!”

“They paid you more than me
?!”

“No,” replied Cash
. “Nobody paid us anything, Rigs.”

“Yes
, but they didn’t pay you more than me!”

“Six is more than five, so yes they did pay me more than you.”

“Yes, that’s what I said. They didn’t pay you…more than me.”

“What?”

“They paid you virtually more than me.”

“Virtually, six is quite a lot more than five
.” Cash grinned.

“You
’re fucking with me, aren’t you?”

Cash nodded.

“Did they even pay you six?”

“No,” laughed Cash
. “They didn’t pay me five, exactly the same as you.”

“I’m please
d to see you can see the funny side of this,” Rigs said. “We’re being set up as fall guys.”

“
We’ve got their evidence, plus we didn’t get the money, we can prove that.”

Rigs pulled to a stop at the hotel lobby
. “Let me see the transfers.”

Cash handed them over and waited
while Rigs used his smart phone to access his bank account. The money wasn’t there.

“See,” said Cash, we’re fine.

Rigs kept scrolling through his account. Several seconds later, he turned the phone around so Cash could see the screen.

“At
5:01 this morning $5,000,000.00 was deposited into my account before being redirected to another account at the same time, which I guess from the code is a numbered private account.”

“So if anyone checks
, you received
$5 million dollars
?”

“Try yours,” advised Rigs.

“I’ll have to call them, I don’t have online banking.”

“So call them
.”

“I don’t know the number or my account details!”

“Seriously?”

Cash shrugged.