The Zondon: Terrorists and Aliens (an International Suspense Thriller)

  Ernie asked Boz, 'Your leads go to Edmond Durant, don't they?'

  'Er -- that's right.'

  'How is he?'

  'He's a -- er, well -- interesting person to work with,' was Boz's careful reply.

  '"Interesting" is an understatement,' remarked Roary.

  'He's been fired three times now, hasn't he,' said Melvin.

  'And he's quit twice,' added Roary.

  'Either Sean is very forgiving, or he has something going for him,' Rune put in.

  'Les is what Edmond has going for him, I think,' said Melvin.

  'Didn't he come to the company with Les Armstrong?' asked Ernie.

  'Er -- he told me Les financed his brother's company or something like that,' said Boz.

  'What kind of company?'

  'A record shop, erm -- I think. In London.'

  'Really? Which one?' said Ernie.

  'I don't remember. You could probably ask him.'

  Ernie though it interesting that anyone as halting in his speech as Boz, could do so well on the phones. By memorising his pitch he could repeat it without punctuating it with 'er', and 'ah' all the way through. By adding some bite to his voice, he actually sounded convincing. But everyday conversation wasn't the memorised sort, so it sometimes required patience to hear him out.

  'You're something like a spiritual advisor to him, aren't you, Boz?' said Rune.

  'Er -- something like that. I'm not sure what exactly,' said Boz.

  'What does Les do for the company now?' was Ernie's next question.

  'He was the boss for a while, but fortunately, Sean took it back,' said Roary.

  'Sean was going to retire and open a pub, and let Les run the company,' explained Melvin, 'but nobody could take Les' style, and the brokers all threatened to quit, so Sean came back and took it over again,'

  'Sean knows how to run a company. Les is a total idiot,' said Roary. 'He was going to fire anyone that made less than ten leads a day. If you think the quality of the leads is bad now, just see what happens when they all qualify just any old bloke just to get the ten minimum!'

  'How did Les respond to Sean coming back?' asked Ernie.

  'Well, I should think he responded just fine,' said Melvin. 'Sean gave him a hundred thousand dollar bonus!'

  'Then he raised our weekly pay from 200 to 300 dollars and -- er -- shortened our hours.' added Boz.

  'I'd have responded very well to a hundred K,' commented Rune.

  'Yeah, but that Les is a total idiot,' said Roary. 'Now, Len, his brother is an all right chap though.'

  'The bloke in the computer room?'

  'Yeah, him. It's hard to believe the two of them are twins.'

  When he had finished his fried rice, Boz excused himself to go to the supermarket nearby. As Ernie had long finished his rice and curry, he decided to tag along.

  The supermarket was up the next lane, or soi as they're called locally, along the way to the rear entrance of the Bangkok Bank building. It catered to Western tastes, offering things like bagels and smoked salmon. Boz was there for the croissants and cheese for family breakfasts at the weekend. Ernie also got a few things.

  'So -- er -- where does the Russian doctor fit into all this?' asked Boz.

  'It's really a long story,' said Ernie. 'I'll need to sit down with you and explain it sometime.'

  'Would Ed be involved as well?'

  'It's hard to say. How close is he to his brother?'

  'Er -- it doesn't sound like they're really on speaking terms,' said Boz.

  'His brother wouldn't be a twin, by any chance?'

  'I think he did say they were twins, but I'm not sure.'

  'Hmmm.'

  After a thoughtful pause, as Ernie reached for a jar of Vegemite, he began again:

  'What more can you tell me about Gilderman and Associates?'

  After some thought Boz said, 'I think what I told you was all the detective found about them, unless -- hmm -- I could give you the names of some of the -- er -- companies linked to them, maybe. But -- er -- oh yes! A gentleman named Gilderman, or something, came to the office with Les once -- er -- just a day or two after I started.'

  Boz glanced at his watch, and said, 'Oh dear! We've only got five minutes to get back.'

  They paid for their groceries and walked as fast as they could back to the street, up the pedestrian bridge, and into the giant building, the one billed as the biggest office complex in the world.

  'Good afternoon, Gentlemen,' said Maurie Bently, with his characteristic scowl, as the two walked in.

  It was indeed eleven o' five; still morning, but five minutes past the end of lunch hour. Maurie had decided to call a meeting of the qualifiers. The next fifteen minutes were spent listening to why they had to not only increase the number of leads, but their quality as well.

  When that was over, there was the usual muttering about the impossibility of that expectation in light of how much more difficult the market was becoming, and how did Maurie fare back when he was a qualifier anyway?

  Then it was back to the phones.

  Before the day was over, Ernie found out from Melvin and Rune that the mysterious Joseph Gilderman had visited the office several times while Les Armstrong was in charge.

  Chapter 32

  The planet Zus is the cultural and administrative centre of the Zondon interstellar nation. However they aren't alone on the planet.

  Zuz is not like most habitable planets. There's no solid ground there to speak of. Only an atmosphere that gets more and more dense as one goes down until at the crust of the heavy core, it's too dense to sustain life of any sort. The Zondon inhabit the upper atmosphere. There, it's slightly less dense than Earth's is at sea level. Thus, humans, were they to live on Zuz, would probably prefer slightly lower altitudes. The Zondon walk about on artificial floors. Some of these are held up by flotation devices, and others are suspended from a tangled network of giant vines whose roots reach down into the denser atmosphere on which they float.

  Much lower in altitude, where the atmosphere is so dense that one can swim in it, live the Zish. The Zish's bodies are streamline, and built to live in the high pressure atmosphere of the lower world. To descend so deep the Zondon must wear special suits. Nevertheless, they descended.

  One of Ibrahim's favourite memories of his life as a Zondon was of his descents to the domain of the Zish. Whenever the group of them were doing the crystal, he often found himself refreshing his memory of these beautiful creatures.

  Zish society is every bit as advanced as Zondon, but not in ways that are obvious. They're quite content to stay put in their part of the planet. Indeed, they can only go so high before they begin to find the atmosphere unswimmable. Even if they do ascend higher to where the Zondon live, they need protective clothing to keep their bodies pressurised. Such suits come with mechanical legs for walking on solid floors. However, they tend to find these too cumbersome, and the act of walking disorienting, so they don't feel it's worth the bother to travel far from home. Thus, Zish aren't interstellar travellers like the Zondon and they are largely ignored by the Glaat as being too unsophisticated to bother with.

  They are, however, a pleasant and friendly people, which is one reason Tsav and other Zondon enjoyed visiting them. Another, is that they grow the grot fruit, which is a delicacy in the upper world of the Zondon.

  In addition, the Zish are great storytellers. Their stories are not limited to their own small world. Indeed, they are also great collectors of information about the other parts of the galaxy, places they never go themselves.

  A favourite pastime among Zondon living in Zuz is to pay visits to families of Zish with whom they have developed close relationships. So close are these friendships, the Zish count their regular Zondon visitors as family members. Pictographs sculpted into the various niches of their dwellings, or projected as holograms often depict their Zondon friends along side their closest kin. When the Zondon visit, they brin
g along gifts from the upper world and then spend days at a time just talking. The Zondon relate any new discoveries that have been made regarding distant parts of the galaxy, and then listen in fascination as their Zish hosts spin stories including those bits of information, along with the rest of the world of knowledge they've acquired.

  Of course, on the homeward trip, the Zondon visitors take along a grot bag full of their favourite fruit. A grot bag is especially designed for carrying the fruit from the dense atmosphere of the lower world to the low pressure Zondon habitats, without the fruit exploding on the way. The bag depressurises in such a way that the grot fruit is whole and intact when removed at the destination.

  Tsav had known the Gaz family for at least a thousand years, judging from Ibrahim's memory. The elder Gaz, Zizz, was one of the more renowned of the storytellers, who specialised in ancient lore. Sometimes, he made up his stories based on his rich repertoire of facts, but often he recounted actual events. Some of his knowledge reached so far back, nobody knew how he came by it. When asked, Zizz would only smile, and launch into yet another rich tale of ancient times.

  Zizz would treat Tsav like a son every time he visited, which he did at least once after each mission. Tsav would bring something of interest, and a titbit or two learned in distant places, and some of the younger members of the Gaz family would weave them into their stories. Zizz would usually tell of some the ancient history of the place Tsav had been.

  Ibrahim didn't remember the stories nearly as well as he did the experience of hearing them. He did have a vague idea of some of them, but they were the stuff of dreams.

  On a couple of visits that Ibrahim remembered, Zizz would launch into a story about somewhere totally unrelated to the place Tsav had just told of. Then Tsav would report for duty a few days later, only to find that he was being sent to that very place.

  Something like that happened on his last visit. The details were hazy -- there was some assortment of facts about something or other that happened, a detailed history, a group that went there -- or something like that. The memory of it just wasn't there.

  Probably one reason for not remembering, was that Tsav never had the chance to recall the story. He didn't even know that that was where they were going until later, in middle of the flight, when Zhondri jolted his memory by saying, 'Isn't that the forbidden star?'

  At that instant Tsav made the connection, but he was distracted by the Glaat vessel, just then gaining on them.

  Now he wished that he had given himself a better point of reference. Try as he might, even with the crystal, he couldn't recall the story.

  Sometimes, in his dreams, Ibrahim would verge on remembering. He only knew it was about Zizz's last tale to him before launching on this mission, and somehow, though it was ancient history, it was about this mission. It infused the present with a meaning and depth that neither Ernie, May Lin, nor the crystal ever hinted at. But it would all evaporate with the morning light.

  Then he wondered if his deja vu about the pyramids had anything to do with it, so he would spend a part of his time browsing the Internet for information on the Great Pyramid and the Sphinx.

  Ibrahim's English was developing well, so that he could now not only carry on a simple conversation, but also read simply worded text. He also found out how to browse web pages that were in Arabic. The pyramids were, after all, in Egypt, so that was a good language with which to read about them.

  Information was abundant. Theories of who built the Sphinx and the Great Pyramid ranged from rational down-to-earth explanations, to those arguing that maybe the early humans had extraterrestrial help, to theories that the entire history of the human race had been mapped out in the passages beforehand. But there were no clues that Ibrahim could latch on to.

  Ever since he first used the computer for the FBI interrogation, Ibrahim had been learning to program and surf. He didn't pick it up the same way other boys do. He started with Boolean algebra and binary code, and worked his way up through Java script and C language to simple browsing and word processing. Like a baby learning to lecture on the sciences before he can say 'mama', Ibrahim had learned to hack before he could surf.

  While Ernie was away at work and the girls were out somewhere, Ibrahim did it all. Some of the methods he had picked up while using the crystal were simple enough to remember with his natural senses. Other times, while using the crystal he would obtain passwords that he could also use later.

  Ernie and the others decided it would be a good idea to have access to the server at Crayton Securities, as well as other key locations. They did, of course, tell him to exercise restraint in his activities. With that, he could be trusted.

  One day, as he was using Ernie's laptop to explore the server at Crayton, a curious piece of programming caught his attention. Was it just someone's innovative idea on how to work while away from the office? If so, why would anyone need to have all the data on this computer suddenly diverted to another one, and then deleted from this one, all with one keystroke?

  The one who appeared to be in charge of the system, was someone named Len Armstrong. There were emails to and from Len, which Ibrahim decided to download, and show to Ernie when he got home.

  Chapter 33

  No stint in Bangkok would be complete without at least one trip to the Hungry Donut. Ernie wanted to show May Lin his special place. He also had another reason for taking her.

  'So, how do you like it?' he asked. He wanted very much for May Lin to like it.

  'Nice la.'

  'As nice as curry and nan at the Smugglers Bazaar?'

  'That was romantic one, ah? -- until Ibrahim barged in on us,' remembered May Lin. 'But I must say, I like the makan here better.'

  'The curry puffs? I seem to remember we were discussing something about the availability of durian on the Amierooian planet.'

  'We weren't actually eating it though, were we la!'

  There was a pause as Ernie visibly collected his thoughts.

  'Speaking of Ibrahim, and -- er -- romance, he's been dropping a few hints lately -- you know, about...' he paused to grope for a discreet word.

  'Yes? About...?'

  'Yes, you know...'

  'Adoi! How do I know if you not tell me, what?'

  'Well,' Ernie said finally. 'He's of the opinion that the two of us ought to consider matrimony.'

  'He's of that opinion is he?' she respomded, suddenly using her British English, 'My goodness! And what opinion would you be of -- er -- Mr. Jones?'

  'Actually, we're Mr. and Mrs. Walker now, remember?'

  'So, Mr. Walker?'

  'Mrs. Walker,' Ernie ventured, 'How would you like to become Mrs. Magawan?'

  'I'd love to! What nationality are the new passports?'

  'I was thinking of getting the name in your Malaysian passport changed,' said Ernie, 'and maybe the little bit under "marital status".

  May Lin just looked at him with an expression that was hard to read.

  Ernie continued, 'You know, so we won't have to keep hanging up sheets every time we check in to a hotel.'

  After a pause, May Lin said, 'Ah, who's idea then, your one or Ibrahim's?'

  'I must admit I had a bit of help from Ibrahim, but the fact is, the idea was in my heart before he joined us. He just helped me put it in perspective.'

  The way May Lin looked back at him encouraged Ernie to speak further.

  'I do love you, May Lin.'

  'Oh Ernie! Do you know how long I've been waiting for you to say that?'

  If ever a film is made from this book, the author hopes that the music editor chooses a score for this scene in which violins are prominent. The sweeter and slower the music the better, because otherwise, the open day-lit visibility of the coffee shop prevented them from doing much more than taking each other by the hands and May Lin pressing Ernie's to her cheeks, and Ernie finally kissing May Lin on the forehead. As it was their conduct elicited some looks and smiles from other diners, an
d at least one passer-by who noticed them through the plate glass window. It did seem to the pair that the angels themselves were supplying the score with their finest, so if the music editor doesn't do likewise, the script will be left without a proper love scene.

  They did retire to a posh dimly lit French restaurant later that day, but unless the scriptwriter changes the order of things outright, it still wasn't the stuff of romantic films. Then again, how much romance do you expect in a piece of science fiction?

  What they did do was decide that they ought to rout the next leg of their journey through Penang, so Ernie could meet the Tan family. If possible, he ought to come up with some funds to be used as a dowry, to be presented to the brides parents in a special ceremony. After that, they must definitely pay a visit to Ernie's parents in Ireland.

  As for the wedding itself, that could be decided later...

  * * *

  Stanovitch was positive that someone among the Zondon was using their extra-human abilities to hack into just about every information storage server there was. They had slipped through the fingers of the FBI, and now, he couldn't find a trace of them, even on servers that had previously included them. The only hint he could find that they had travelled to Bangkok was that the passenger manifest of a flight from San Francisco to Bangkok included a 'Luke Skywalker', who sat next to 'Harry Potter', who was seated just across the aisle from 'Florence Nightingale' and 'Little Dorret'. Obviously, whoever chose these names had more Zondon sense than human -- probably the little boy he had just heard about on his stop-over in Kabul. This also told him that the group had increased to four, which explained yet another 'disturbance in the force' he had sensed earlier on. Apart from looking out for literary names on passenger lists, it would probably be pointless to keep trying to put them back on the watch lists. Who knows what names they would be using, anyway?

  At least he knew they were in Bangkok, probably not far from Les. He would be a harder nut to crack than the others they had awakened so far. That would keep them all busy until he himself arrived on the scene.

  Meanwhile, he had an important appointment -- the icing on the cake.

  He hadn't planned to start this until much later, but with the Zondon on the move, it was now time to take the offensive, the sooner the better, while there was opportunity to pre-empt their ultimate objective. His contacts in Kabul and Baghdad had been ready for a long time. He had just made a stop in Kabul and had Turkish coffee with the grand sheikh himself. And surprise of surprises, his two rabbits had also been their guests, along with a third -- the boy. After a few discrete questions about his 'two young friends', he realised why the attack on the NYSE would never happen. It was just as well anyway, as the timing wouldn't be right for his own liking. For the 'mother of all wars', to borrow a phrase coined by his Iraqi friend, everything had to be timed simultaneously.