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

  Baghdad was ready, Belgrade was ready, Kabul was ready; only P'yongyang was reticent. He had a plan to get around that though. He had a friend in the right place there, and with the right circumstances, an 'accident', the powers-that-be could be forced.

  As for the icing, a contact of his, someone highly influential with the Chinese military establishment, was in Tokyo. What if -- he'd put the question to him -- just what if United States and NATO were suddenly overwhelmed with more problems than they could deal with, all happening at once? What would China find it in her best interests to do with that window of opportunity?

  Chapter 34

  'Listen guys, there's pots and pots of money in this business for everyone. If we just be cool, and go for the long shot -- you know, not try to go for too much too quick, we can all end up with more money than we ever dreamed. There's no need to muck it up for everyone by getting upset and resorting to gun play. Guys, this is Thailand, not mob-land. We have to be peaceful. It's a land of opportunity. You couldn't ask for a better place to come and make your fortune, so let's keep it that way. So let's do right by them, and by one another. Let's all be friends. Now, drink as much beer as you want. It's all on me...'

  Sean Flynn, though Irish to the core, had developed and fine-tuned a New York accent from years of working in brokerage houses in the Big Apple. Now he was in an upstairs room of the Irish pub, addressing proprietors of firms that had spun off from his own -- those who were willing to come, that is.

  He was finished. A couple of the guys left abruptly after Sean had finished, determined that the typical Irish 'pint-down-at-the-pub' approach to solving problems wasn't going to faze them. Others seemed more congenial.

  After a few pints, Sean, along with Rod Murphey, Phil Spooner and Peter O'Healey walked down the stairs, and were met by Mr. Q, Sean's driver. He opened the door of the Mercedes. and they piled in.

  'Do you think they responded okay, I mean do they seem a bit friendlier now?' asked Sean, as Mr. Q. carefully navigated a rout to the office through the barrage of taxis and motorbikes.

  'I think so, apart from Jacob and Darrel,' said Rod.

  'I don't think anything's going to shake Jacob,' added Peter.

  Now they were standing still. Somewhere up ahead the signal light was red. Motorbikes were carefully manoeuvring around the other vehicles, filtering to the front to make sure they made the next green.

  Sean shifted track. 'Who do you think is sending us the emails?'

  'I don't think it's any of them,' said Phil. 'It would have to be someone who has a company in Latin America -- or wants to start one.'

  'And someone who's wise to our plan to start up in Rio,' added Rod.

  'Rod, if you and Jessie want to back out of the Rio project, I understand perfectly,' said Sean.

  'I'll have to think about it, Sean. I'll really have to think about it.'

  A policeman signalled for their lane to move along, his shades and smog mask completely obscuring his face.

  Sean said, 'Do you think it's an inside thing?'

  Peter blurted out. 'What I don't understand is why would anybody go so far as to threaten Noland's seven-year-old daughter?'

  'This is bad stuff,' said Sean. 'We've just got to get to the bottom of it, and soon.'

  Mr. Q. had found a short cut through some back sois. It was probably quicker than the other way, but slowed down by the fact that everyone else also knew about it.

  After some silence, Sean added, 'You don't suppose it could be that Russian doctor, what's-his-name?'

  Now, they had reached the office building. Mr. Q let them out by the grand entrance and went to park the car underground.

  They took the lift up to the floor their office was on. As they walked in, there was Les Armstrong.

  'Hey buddy, how's it going,' said Sean.

  Les nodded in return.

  There was something in the way he looked at them that made Sean uncomfortable.

  * * *

  Les walked onto the trading room floor (where the phones were). There, just about dead centre, was Ed Durant.

  Maybe he'd discreetly give him his contact details in case he might want to change jobs later. Ed was a good bloke to have about -- delightfully unstable. Certainly a 'pliable mind' as Stanovitch would have said.

  'Pliable mind -- we'll see who has a pliable mind,' he muttered

  Ed's qualifier, Boz had pulled up a chair next to his desk, and a conversation was in full swing as Les approached from behind.

  'Boz! Boz! Don't tell me that, after all the evil perpetrated by them, you still support the Zionist pigs?' Ed was saying.

  'Well -- er -- I wouldn't have put it in exactly those words, of course, but -- er -- yes...'

  'Boz! When are you going to open your eyes? Look at the muck they're causing!'

  'But if you open your eyes, you'd -- er -- see there's muck on both sides,' said Boz. 'It's called "human nature". One side does something, the other side retaliates, and --er -- it just gets worse. It depends on which side you listen to, who the villain is.'

  'You've been brainwashed by the Zionist controlled media. Protocols of the Elders of Zion: control the media and you can do anything you want. An example: The Holocaust -- it never happened. A media job...'

  'Then, -- er -- what happened to all the Jews who used to live in Poland, Germany and Lithuania and -- er -- all those sorts of places?'

  'They moved to New York and Chicago,' retorted Ed.

  'Well, I'd like to see the population figures for before and after. But, well, why is all this only being said just now? I mean, well, why was nothing said right after the close of World War II, when it could have been, you know, easily verified?'

  'It was suppressed by your friends, the four-by-fives and your Zionist pig propaganda machine that they call the media.'

  'Hmmm. We pigs are on the ball,' returned Boz. 'We invented flight, you know.'

  'Speaking of pigs -- oh! -- I mean, Les!'

  Les said, 'What a relief! For a while I thought you were serious!'

  'About the four-by-fives? I'm darn serious!'

  'So that's why your brother couldn't handle you in his company; you're a Neo Nazi -- is that it?'

  'Correction. He's the Neo Nazi. That's why his company's called "Neo Maazick". Do you think I'd join in with the people that the British fought in both wars? The British are the superior race, not the Germans. Isn't that right Boz?'

  '-- er -- I thought the Irish...'

  'Your brother's a Neo Nazi?' exclaimed Les. 'I don't believe it!'

  'You'd better believe it. He and that Russian bloke, Stanovitch. They're financing the Fourth Reich. Why do you think I wanted to get away from it all?'

  'You'd better get back to work,' said Les, suddenly putting on airs. 'Boz! Back on the phone!'

  At that, he whirled around and walked to his office.

  Boz was just about to walk away himself. Then, he turned around and said, 'You and your brother, you're -- er -- twins, right?'

  'We look like twins. We're really from different planets!'

  'Oh, yeah, just like men are from Mars and women are from...'

  'Yeah, except he's from Neptune.'

  As Boz walked back to his desk, he paused by Ernie's table.

  'I just heard that the Russian doctor is a Neo Nazi. Both him and Ed's twin brother. And -- er -- what's more, Les didn't know about it until just now.'

  Ernie said nothing, but his face registered surprise.

  Chapter 35

  Just as Ibrahim was logged into the Crayton Securities server, the mysterious program went into action. Somebody, somewhere, had initiated the command for a couple of the files on this server to be sent to ... to where?

  Ibrahim followed the signals.

  Costa Rica.

  Only two files were sent, and then deleted. Obviously, it was only a test.

  Just the same, Ibrahim toggled off the 'enable' variable, thereby cutting off wh
oever would want to access the back-door program.

  The word, 'Costa Rica' had appeared in some of the emails Ibrahim had downloaded.

  * * *

  Ernie arrived at work earlier than usual. He saw Phil Spooner walking out of his office.

  'Phil, I need to talk to you. It's urgent.'

  'Can't it wait?'

  'Security breach,' was Ernie's answer.

  Phil re-opened the door to his office and motioned for Ernie to sit down.'

  'I have reason to believe that Len Armstrong, with the full knowledge of his brother Les, has installed a back-door program, and are attempting to remove all the files to a server in Costa Rica. Also, I have a good reason to believe they'll disappear today.'

  At that, Phil hurriedly said, 'Thank you!' and shot out of the room.

  Ernie got up and went to his desk.

  There was Melvin and Boz, just arriving.

  'Looks like Les is off for the holidays,' commented Melvin. 'He was in the lift with us with his golf clubs and weekend bag.'

  It was time to hit the phones.

  Maurie half trotted across the floor and called out to Mic, at the other end, 'Is Les in the computer room?'

  'No, he went out.'

  'Thanks!'

  He trotted back towards the coffee room and called inside. 'Mr. Q, please come with me.'

  He and Mr. Q went out the back entrance.

  Ernie made a few calls, had a pleasant conversation with a businessman who wasn't an investor, was told off by another...

  Sean walked up from behind.

  'Thanks for the tip off there, Ernie,' he said discreetly as walked passed.

  Maurie met him over behind where Rune sat.

  'He's in the admin. room.'

  'Good. Check his bags.'

  They each returned in the direction from which they came.

  Rune glanced across the partition with a look that said, 'What was that about?'

  About an hour later, Les and Len appeared through the back door, flanked on either side by Maurie Bently and Phil Spooner, followed closely by Peter O'Healey. They walked through the trading floor to the computer room. No one looked like they were particularly happy.

  Ernie got out his mobile and called the flat.

  'Ibrahim,' he said in Zondon. 'Better not log into the server here today, okay? It might confuse things.'

  Apart from seeing them all walk back in the opposite direction much later, and qualifying five leads, nothing more appeared to happen that day.

  * * *

  The events were more obvious just two rooms over.

  Noland, the legal consultant, was saying, 'We definitely have more than enough evidence to make a case. We could just turn you over to the police...'

  'Don't think we don't have friends in the police force,' interrupted Phil.

  'Sean's got powerful friends, I also know a few others, I know the top man...' continued Noland.

  'Police Colonel Somboon also knows all about your doctor friend,' said Sean.

  'So if you think the police will give you a good deal, we can call them right now,' continued Noland. 'Or, you could co-operate with us.'

  Peter O'Healey added, 'If you had given this kind of crap to any other company in this city, do you know where you'd be? You'd be at the bottom of the Chao Phraya river by now.'

  None of Les' mind tricks were working. This was probably due to a combination of factors: Sean was a hard nut to crack anyway. He had realised that the first time the two had met. Also, emotions were already stampeding in the opposite direction to any subliminal influence Les could muster.

  Besides that, he now had serious doubts about Stanovitch. His mind was still spinning from Ed's mention of the Nazi connection, and now suddenly out of the blue, this. How the heck had they found him out anyway?

  Now, Len, next to him was almost whimpering, and nudging him to give in. Len had already given them far more information than Les thought he should. Of course, he didn't have the defences Les did.

  Maybe, just maybe, Stanovitch would come through if needed. Knowing what he now knew now about Stanovitch, it was no more than a maybe. Could he risk it? Would Stanovitch put his neck out for just one of many pawns -- especially if he were playing both sides of the chessboard?

  But even if Stanovitch did come through, how would he react to a second failure to take over this company? He had been unhappy with the first. Would Les still be in for a glorious future?

  Even if he were, what kind of glorious future would it be? Pro-British? Nazi? Islamic? Jewish? Whatever it would be, he would have to live with the knowledge that the doctor was fickle in his alignments. It would only be a matter of time before Stanovitch knew that he knew.

  Les decided to give in.

  For the rest of that day, and all that night, he and Len, with Phil, Maurie, Rod and Sean watching closely, went over the computer programming and all the office procedure with a fine tooth comb. All the programming that Len had carefully put in place was undone.

  The following day, a man from Price Waterhouse Coopers, in the building across the street, was brought in to recheck all the computer code.

  After not shutting their eyes for close to forty hours, they finally got some sleep -- in the store room.

  * * *

  Boz had Ernie, Ibrahim, May Lin and Rosa over to his home, where they met his wife, Bless and their nephew, Gift. Also present was Ed Durant, and his girlfriend, Nitaya. They had told him they had important information about Dr. Stanovitch, which also had to do with Les, and Ed's own brother.

  Sitting around the lounge, emptied coffee cups and crumbs from Bless's carrot cake littering the table, May Lin broached the subject:

  'How well do you know Nicolai Stanovitch, Ed.'

  'I've met him on a number of occasions, but it's my brother who knows him. That's where my brother got his head into the Nazi thing.'

  'Your identical twin, right?' said Rosa.

  'That's right.'

  'What made him think your brother was a good candidate for Nazism?' May Lin asked.

  'I suppose, because we lived in North London, which used to be predominantly white, with business owned by Jews. Then, slowly the Pakkies and others began moving in and taking the good jobs and all that.'

  'Would you believe me,' Ernie said, 'if I told you Dr. Stanovitch was a part of a company called Gilderman and Associates?'

  'Probably not.'

  'Do you remember a man named Joseph Gilderman coming to the office?'

  'Yes. He came with Les a few times.'

  'Les Armstrong, Joseph Gilderman, and apparently you brother are all a part of Dr. Nicolai Stanovitch's network.'

  'I find that hard to believe.'

  'But it's true.'

  'Hmmm...'

  'I'd like to ask one more question about your brother,' May Lin went on.

  'Go ahead,' said Ed.

  'Did he ever have dreams about outer space, space ships and all that?'

  Ed thought awhile.

  'You know, he did! When we were eleven or twelve, he'd have dreams about space ships every night.'

  'Did he ever mention anything about a green or blue crystal?'

  'Yes, he did!' Ed was looking mystified. 'But - but...'

  Boz asked, 'Er -- what would that have to do with Dr. Stanovitch?'

  'Everything, in fact,' Ernie answered. 'This is it here, incidentally.' He held up the crystal.

  Ed looked in disbelief.

  Now it was time for the four of them to launch into their story. The shock of their knowing details they couldn't have, apart from some stranger-than-fiction phenomena, and the sheer size of the crystal, had prepared Ed to believe every word of the forthcoming history.

  Chapter 36

  The group of them remained camped out at Boz and Bless' home, conveniently located behind Seri Centre and Secon Square.

  The three story house was in a neighbourhood that was as u
nlike the centre of Bangkok as one could imagine. The neighbourhood was so full of shade trees as to give the impression of a forest. The air was also much cleaner, and not far from the house was the entrance to the Royal Park. Ernie and the others had already been on a long walk through some of the stunningly beautiful flower gardens.

  When Gift was home from school, he and Ibrahim were usually off on the bikes and skateboards, or else building things with Gift's lego set. When he wasn't, Ibrahim did his reading.

  One day, he picked up Rosa's English Bible, and begun reading the first chapter. Though it was a struggle, something was compelling him to read on. It was yet another case of deja vu. He had never read it before, but the words, from the moment he could sound them out and understand them, begged for recognition. In the beginning ... all was formless ... the Spirit brooded ... Let there be light ... the first day ... the second day ... Where had he heard these before?

  Had Zizz told it as one of his stories?

  Was there a connection between them and the pyramids?

  * * *

  Papers signed and promises made, Les and Len walked out of Crayton Securities, Les carrying his weekend bag and golf clubs he had carried up on the lift three days earlier, and looking like he'd been anywhere but on a holiday.

  Standing by the lifts was Ernie, who immediately approached Les.

  'Draz, I think?'

  Les stopped short and looked at him in a daze.

  'I'm sorry -- Les Armstrong?' Ernie said, as though correcting himself.

  'Er -- no -- I mean, what was the first name you said?' asked Les.

  'Draz.'

  'Who are you?'

  'Ernie Magawan, previously known to you as Phondesh.'

  Despite the lift having opened, Les stood there, as though trying to rack his brain for something he was sure he knew.

  'Well -- let's take the lift down, shall we?' said Ernie.