Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Lugh walked up the center of Boxted Road with briefcase in hand as the morning sun hit northern Colchester. He had been there two days on Charon orders to assess the status of the Gerry Arthur mine leading up to the global unveiling. The assignment was viewed in the press as further evidence supporting the alleged divisions among the Prime Minister’s inner circle on Downing Street. It was also solidified Lugh’s growing influence within the country’s political elite, personified by his new job title: Special Advisor to the Prime Minister.
The outline of the mine’s main tower was visible in the distance across from the arena of the Colchester United Football Club. A few minutes later a local cab sped up the road from the south. “Hello,” he yelled in the direction of the oncoming vehicle. “Hello...yellow...thing!”
The cab continued on toward him with no signs of stopping. Lugh quickly tried to figure out how to handle the situation. I don’t want to do it, he thought, but it is the most efficient action that will not cause a lot of collateral damage. He stepped closer to the sidewalk, closed his eyes and summoned a doppelganger to a spot directly in the path of the car. The doppelganger waited in the road seconds before the grill of the vehicle struck it.
The force of the crash caused the car to rise up on its back wheels like a stallion. It remained upright for a couple of seconds before slamming back to the blacktop. Its engine went silent. The driver, a middle aged Turkish man in a dark green polo shirt, emerged out of the driver’s side door a few moments later. He looked bruised and frightened. “Oh bloody hell, please not now!” he remarked upon seeing the crash from the outside.
The cab driver rushed over to the doppelganger, which was flat on its back. He let out a relieved sigh when he felt for a pulse. He took the body in his arms and carried it to the sidewalk to keep it safe before calling for an ambulance. As he stepped on the concrete, he looked over and noticed Lugh smiling back at him.
“Wait, how did—” He looked down in his arms and saw nothing. “I thought you were over there. Then suddenly you pop up here. I—”
“It was a glancing blow, sir,” Lugh calmly replied, patting the cab driver on the shoulder. “I was able to get back up on my feet as you were calling for an ambulance.”
The cab driver nodded at the explanation given to him. “Is there anything I can do for you for almost sending you to the hospital?” He said nervously, still torn over the crash.
“Oh no, not at all,” Lugh said humbly, glancing at the mine from his periphery. “I appreciate the concern though.”
“Are you certain, sir,” the cab driver replied, friendly patting Lugh on the shoulder. “There must be some way that I can make up for this gross injustice.”
The driver pondered for a few moments, ignoring the increasingly angry traffic beginning to grow behind the idling cab. “What about I give you a ride in my cab?” He asked as a chorus of honking horns blared behind them.
“That’s incredibly generous of you. But I—I’m afraid I could not accept.” Lugh hemmed and hawed as the car horns grew louder.
“I insist,” the cab driver jumped in with a smile as the honking ended. “There must be some place I can take you.”
Lugh looked over at the long stretch of cars behind them on the one way street. He could feel the anger and stress building up amongst the dozens of people that made up the long line. “How about we get off the road before the locals tear us to pieces?” he said.
“Works for me!”
Lugh followed the cab driver back to the car. He dove into the backseat. After some panicked moments trying to start the car, it came to life and the two of them roared on down the road.
The cabbie settled into a comfortable groove after a quick minute and turned on some music. The sounds of Bollywood music filled the cab as it drove past different shops, restaurants and apartment buildings in the city. “So, what’s your name, stranger?” the driver asked, breaking the long silence between them.
“Lucas,” Lugh replied, briefly looking at the cabbie before looking back over at the street.
“I’m Rajeev.” The cab driver glanced at Lugh in his rearview mirror briefly before looking back out at the road. “So, where do you want me to take you this lovely day in May, Mr. Lucas?”
“I was hoping you could take me to the Gerry Arthur Mine.”
“Gerry Arthur?” Rajeev raised an eyebrow in curiosity. “Did you just get hired by them?”
“Not exactly, no.” Lugh pulled his briefcase closer to him. “I work for the Prime Minister’s office. He sent me here to evaluate the status of the complex.”
“You work for…the Prime Minister.” A rush of panic hit Rajeev as the car stopped at a traffic light. He gripped tightly on the steering wheel. “Have I told you how sorry I am for hitting you?”
Lugh laughed at the man’s panicked apologies. “It’s quite alright, Rajeev. Just get me there in one piece, alright?”
“I will, you can be certain of that.”
The two of them passed the minutes discussing the ins and outs of Colchester. Good shops to visit, the best restaurants to patronize while in Colchester. Whether or not the local community theatre troupe was worth visiting and what shows they would perform that weekend. These were all things that Lugh had no real desire to know, but made for a suitable way to pass the time.
“There’s one part about the story behind Gerry Arthur that always annoyed me. Hopefully, you can clear it up,” Rajeev said. “How did the P.M. find out about the Bluetannia if Doctors Gerry and Arthur died on the A-5 to London to announce it?”
“One of Dr. Gerry’s assistants e-mailed the findings to us shortly before he passed,” Lugh replied. “We omitted it from the official story out of the respect for the man’s family.”
“Oh, I see.” The cabbie nodded, satisfied by the answer. “That makes sense, I guess.”
***
The late morning sun drifted over the front gate as the white cab slid to a stop in front of the security checkpoint. The building was no wider than a medium sized closet and had one guard standing inside looking out. The guard was a frumpy looking man dressed in a light blue uniform too big for his body.
“May I see your identification, please?” the guard asked, stepping out of his station as the car stopped across them.
“I have it right here Mister...Hayes,” Rajeev replied courteously, looking at the guard’s name tag as he reached for his driver’s license. Lugh extended his arm from the backseat window and gave the guard his ID as well.
The security guard examined each of them meticulously on his clipboard before handing them back to the two men individually. “You’re free to enter the complex, gentlemen.” He said before walking back to the security checkpoint.
They waited as the fenced gates came to life and slid open. Then, Rajeev drove the car through and into the main parking lot. It took an extra minute for the white cab to traverse the somewhat filled lot before settling against the curb beside the entrance.
“Thank you for the ride, Rajeev.” Lugh grabbed his briefcase with one hand and gripped the door handle. “You saved me a half hour and about five quid in bus fare!”
“It was my pleasure,” Rajeev replied as Lugh stepped out of the car. “If you could extend these kind words to Mr. Temple upon returning to London, I would be most appreciative.”
“I will do my best.”
Lugh closed the door and began to walk toward the glass doors twenty-five feet away. As he walked halfway up the concrete sidewalk, he stopped in order to spruce up his hair and suit coat for the big meeting. I gotta put my best foot forward, he thought. Even for an inferior human.
The interior of the lobby resembled a lot of the spirit he had observed from within the city. There was a power and growing influence in the room evident in the curved desk, light lifts, and beautiful artwork hanging on the ivory walls. There were the sounds of hammers and construction equipment coming from the private contractors working on a separate area yet unfinished, representing the power of labor that created it. Lugh took in the scenery for a couple of minutes as he moved to a brown couch and sat down, waiting for the head of the mine to meet him.
All he knew about the person was the name- George Koetter. A former sergeant in the British Navy who after leaving the service headed one of the biggest renewable energy companies in Western Europe for ten years before jumping on to the project. Lugh expected George to be an old and wise male figure cut of a similar cloth as the All Father or Zeus. What he did not expect to see was a beautiful woman three inches shorter than he.
George stepped from the only functioning lift dressed in a dark blue suit coat, white shirt, black tie, and a skirt hemmed just above her knees. Her curly auburn hair flowed in the breeze as she walked past the construction workers, only stopping briefly to converse with the foreman.
“You must be Mr. Pearson,” George said, stopping a couple of steps from Lugh and extending her hand for a friendly handshake. “I am Georgette Koetter. I’ve heard a lot about you in the press.”
“And I have heard much about you, Ms. Koetter,” he replied, standing up to shaking her hand. “I hope your reputation has been put to good use here.”
“That it has,” she smiled, directing Lugh to the lift. “Let us begin, shall we?”
Ms. Koetter started the tour at the first two floors of office space. She described how they would function as the base for sales representatives to sell fuel centers after the firm expanded globally. The next floor was where the new employees would be trained. Some people who were in the middle of a session looked up as the boss and the VIP guest walked past. Above that were two floors that housed the executive offices and conference halls where the multi-billion pound deals of the future with automotive giants would be made. Lugh pretended to scribble notes inside a Moleskine notebook with a piece of thread wrapped on the right side that he took out of his briefcase as the tour went on.
“Your crew has done some rather impressive work here so far, Ms. Koetter,” Lugh said, looking out at the vast office space on the fourth floor. “Especially on such expedited notice.”
“Thank you.” She replied, walked toward the large windows twenty feet away to the
north. “A lot of credit though should be given to the scientific staff the PM sent our way. Without them, a lot of our big technical stuff would be nowhere close to complete right now.”
“Speaking of that,” Lugh uttered, joining George at the large set of windows. “How is the mine’s excavation apparatus? I imagine they remain firmly on schedule?”
“You’ve seen the documents, Mr. Pearson,” she fired back.
***
The two of them descended to the ground floor and exited to the back of the building. There behind the tower was a long row of Saunders-Roe S2.N1 hovercrafts. George confidently stepped past the guard and into one’s driver’s seat as if she had done it a dozen times before. Lugh followed her lead after examining the edge of the strange vehicle before putting his briefcase inside.
“What is this thing?” Lugh asked, strapping himself in to the seatbelt.
“It’s a hovercraft,” George replied, putting the key in the ignition. “We purchased a bevy of them from the States. It’s the only way we can get to the Fork without hitting the pipes.”
“Pipes?”
The massive vehicle rose up following the steering wheel’s movement. A few moments later, she thrust it forward and the craft got moving. Lugh’s mind briefly turned during the ride to his earliest memory in Avalon, riding on the back of an Alkonost above an endless lush green countryside. What a beautiful beast it had been, he thought with a smile. Even though the sound it made was not that pleasant to the ears.
“We created a series of above-ground pipelines that stretches out between the city and the mine itself,” she explained as the craft hovered over the barren landscape. “They deliver the CV-220 to different petrol stations in Colchester for the citizens to use, as part of the deal with the town council. It’s also sent through lorries to other petrol stations in Chelmsford and Ipswich who were signatories to it.”
Lugh looked over the edge of the vehicle down below. “I don’t see any pipes. Where is this pipeline you speak of?”
“Keep your eyes to the ground, Mr. Pearson,” George reached into her handbag and pulled out what appeared to be a garage door opener and pressed the button.
The ground lit up for a few seconds and a series of intricately positioned series of pipes emanated from the green and brown colored landscape. Coinciding with its sudden appearance was the sound of Bluetannia moving through them, which sounded to him like a creek. “How the—” he uttered, turning his head back toward George.
“It's an Ionic masking system. A brainchild of the lads at R&D,” she proudly proclaimed. “It hides the pipes from any pesky press types who may want to photograph them, or saboteurs looking to steal a sample of the CV-220.”
Lugh settled himself back into his seat a short time later as a speck in the distance could be seen. “This is truly an amazing sight, Ms. Koetter. How did your team create all of this in such a short period of time?”
“That is top secret, Mr. Pearson.” she said, returning her gaze to the sky in front of her.
***
A few minutes later, the hovercraft settled down in front of a massive tower that stretched thirty feet high and resembled an oil derrick. “That is the Tuning Fork,” George proudly declared, unbuckling from her seat. She went back and pulled the two gas masks from the back seat. “The main hub of Gerry Arthur herself. When it becomes fully operational, this baby will send Bluetannia out to every other petrol station in the country in the blink of an eye.”
“Sort of like wi-fi?” Lugh said as he was handed the mask. He unbuckled from his seat and followed a couple of steps behind her carrying his briefcase.
“I guess that would be a good way of putting it.”
The two of them made the walk up to the metal entrance doors to the Tuning Fork. One of the construction workers walked by her, giving his boss a friendly nod as they passed. Next to the doors was an electronic panel that had a nine-digit keypad.
George stepped up to the keypad a couple of moments later. “Standard security protocol,” she said as she typed the code in.
The steel doors slid open and they walked inside. The interior was large and expansive to all sides, befitting its massive exterior. There were light blue strings that looked to Lugh like stars hung all throughout the metal walls. In the center of the space were three clear blue pools of Bluetannia positioned in a triangle with a large cylindrical tube placed at the center of it. Each one was regulated by a team of examiners dressed in multiple layers of protective clothing. The whole operation reminded him of the human brain in its harmonious complexity.
“The tower of the Fork was built from the outer shell of a discontinued ICBM,” she explained as they walked past a couple of the examiners toward the mechanical lift. “Most of its technological apparatus should be installed over the next few days or so. Although there’s some work left to be done in terms of the delivery system.”
“What did you do with the nuclear payload that accompanied the missile?” Lugh asked as George stepped onto the lift’s metal platform.
“It’s all taken care of in accordance to international law.” She replied, grabbing hold of the lift’s controls as Lugh joined her.
“Is it something that could provoke environmentals in the future?” Lugh inquired.
“We’re giving them unlimited energy,” Georgette scoffed, pressing the red button to turn the lift on. “I could give a damn about them!”
A few moments later, the gears of the platform started to grind on a steady pace and it moved upward. As it moved higher and higher up the tower, Lugh could see more of the beautiful blue strings being fastened to the walls by the construction workers and to the Bluetannia pools below. The lift stopped at the top of the tower a couple of minutes later. Lugh noticed some people converged around the control center that was separated by a long metal bridge.
“Across that bridge is the control panel for the complex, nicknamed the Resonator,” said George as they stepped out of the lift. She started toward it with Lugh trailing behind. “The technology behind that little panel is some of the most advanced I’ve ever seen. Even I have trouble wrapping my head around it.”
“What would happen if someone hacked into the system?” he asked, pretending to scribble the information down in his notebook. “A terrorist or radical group, hoping to hijack the pure energy to destroy a major city and cause chaos?”
The workers were dispersed by George as the two of them arrived at the electronic panel. “We run safety tests every week to plan for any possible scenario that the complex would face,” George replied. “Sort of like fire drills they have in school.”
She positioned herself above the monitor and reached into her purse. She pulled out a piece of paper, read it and typed the code into the keyboard initiating one of those safety tests- “TFSECURITY1.” A loud siren blared throughout the entire complex, followed by a series of flashing red lights from the roof. A couple of seconds later, the sound of a robotic voice came from the speakers. “This is a test of the Tuning Fork security system,” it uttered in a monotone voice. “If this were a real cyber terrorist attack, all non-essential staff would be advised to exit the area as quickly and calmly as possible.”
“What happens to the essential staff?” Lugh asked George, watching the workers exiting out of the building.
“They’re summoned up to the Resonator,” she replied, stepping away and directing Lugh to follow. “They type in a series of three ten-digit codes that stops the hacker in their tracks.”
They stood to the corner and watched as the three staff members walked towards them. They arrived at the Resonator a few minutes later and began to type in their individual codes into the keyboard. A few seconds later the red lights stopped. The robotic voice bellowing out as the three people left. “Test is complete. Crisis averted.”
“Impressive,” he uttered, putting his notebook back into his briefcase as they descended in the lift. “My boss is going to be very pleased to read this. I might be able to convince him to visit you.”
George paused. “We would be more than happy to welcome the Prime Minister here.” A few moments later the lift arrived. The two of them made their way out of the Tuning Fork and back to the hovercraft.
***
The clock struck five in the early evening when the hovercraft descended to its original spot behind the complex. The two figures exited the vehicle and retraced their steps to the lobby. “Mr. Pearson,” George asked, pushing the glass entrance door open, “do you have a ride back to your hotel?”
Lugh glanced out at the parking lot. A pair of lights flashed on and off beyond the gated area. “I should be alright, Ms. Koetter,” he grinned. “Thank you.”
They shook hands and Lugh crossed to the paved parking lot, focusing on the flashing lights. A few minutes later, as he reached the metal gate, he noticed that his hunch was correct. The lights belonged to a black Lamborghini Gallardo. Only one person Lugh knew would bother.
He raised a hand and the security guard stepped over to sign him out. As he approached the black vehicle, the passenger side door opened up revealing an interior of the car clad in black leather upholstery. Charon was seated behind the wheel, dressed in his Grecian toga with a seal of Hades pinned on his chest. He beamed at Lugh
“You're on another out-of-office joyride I see?” Lugh quipped, sliding into the cramped passenger space. The car hummed beneath him.
“I couldn’t resist,” Charon smiled, checking the mirror and smoothing his hair before slamming his foot on the gas pedal. “Can’t beat good old fashioned human excess, my friend!”
“So, what brings you up here, besides the late afternoon turas áthas?” Lugh asked. “Could you not have waited till I got back to London?”
“Just thought I’d pop by for a chat. Shoot the shit, as these humans like to phrase it,” Charon said, his eyes squarely focused on the road. “We can talk about the weather, the EPL…our shared enemy, the Guardian.”
“There is no logical way we can defeat the Guardian without making these people fear us,” Lugh said positioning his briefcase on his lap. “It took a Herculean effort on my part to keep them from responding to what happened in Valencia.”
“You don’t need to defeat them in battle, Lugh my friend,” Charon uttered as the scenery outside showed more of the city. “All you have to do is use their cover against them.”
“How precisely?”
“Well, what exactly is it that has driven and sparked the majority of human thought and action since the dawn of time?” Charon asked, stopping for a red light.
Lugh paused for a moment. “Conflict?”
“Yes, exactly.” As the light turned green, Charon turned down a side street. “The more fighting that occurs in the world, the more humans are glued to it at the expense of every other thing in their lives. All we need is something that will distract them long enough for the great plan to come to full fruition.”
“The power fluctuations I initiated at their offices have done nothing but hinder them,” Lugh said. “And there’s still the Halfling we have to deal with.”
“The power problems, they were meant to be the first step in the plan,” Charon replied. “The second step will leave the Halfling and his friends scattered and unable to fight back.”
The car stopped fifteen minutes later at a spot in the small parking lot of a restaurant called The Masonry. The way the car was parked, sticking out over the two parking spots next to it, caused some of the patrons to gawk at the car which stood out amongst the Audis and Volkswagens.
“Why are we stopping here?” Lugh asked, opening the door and stepping out to see onlookers staring at them.
Charon smiled as he stepped out of the car, pulling the key out of the ignition and pocketing it in one motion. He took in a deep breath of English air as his toga morphed a couple of seconds later into a dark blue pin-striped suit complete with red tie. “I thought we’d continue our chat in better environs.” He put his arm around Lugh’s shoulder and led him inside.
***
Early morning dawned for the protesters who had gathered at St. Charles Church in London. Some of them woke up in their sleeping bags while others emerged from tents near the sidewalk to greet the pleasant spring day. A couple of people from Manchester engaged in a debate about whether they thought Manchester City or Manchester United would win the EPL. The day’s General Assembly began to gather on the upper most steps when one of the protesters spotted a black line coming toward the church. The line grew closer till finally its true identity came clear to the three hundred young people on the church steps.
Armed in riot gear with batons at the ready, a sizable contingent of private soldiers made its way to the church, stopping a couple of blocks from the group.. “This is Sergeant Carter of the G4S Security Service,” an officer dressed in black armor with a protective helmet bellowed out through a megaphone. “By order of the Mayor of London and the Chief Constable of the London Metropolitan Police, you are ordered to cease this protest and leave the church immediately.”
“This is a public area, you sodding wanker,” shouted the male leader of the General Assembly. “We have every right to assemble here. If you want to take us out of here, ‘officer,’ you will have to do it by force.”
The young man was joined by dozens of his fellow compatriots, who began shouting insults. “Have it your way!” The former army sergeant sighed, placing the megaphone to his side and signaling to his brethren in position behind him.
The mercenaries moved forward in one line, shields up. The protesters locked arms with one another in a show of resistance as smoke bombs exploded around them. They were able to hold their own for a time as the guards leveled into them with batons and brute force. It wasn’t until the yellow streaks of tear gas rained down and the rounds of beanbag guns were fired at them that the spirit of nonviolence the protesters exhibited shifted to one of active resistance.
Some of them tried to physically fight back against the private contractors using whatever was at their disposal, whether it was rocks or their own fists. But the guards made quick work of the young men and women, pummeling them to the ground and arresting them. A large percentage of the people arrested that day suffered from burning eyes or internal bruises from the guards’ batons and beanbag guns. As they were carried away to the three large vans parked across the street from the church, they cried out “Shame!” to anyone who happened to be passing by.
The tragedy and violence on the steps of the church went viral later that day, quickly grabbing the headlines and the ire of television pundits from both sides. It overshadowed the day’s other big news stories such as economic numbers showing the UK had dove back into a second recession, as well as a report from the independent scientific group based in the United States calling for the unveiling to be delayed until they could complete a full examination of Bluetannia and what effects it may have on the environment. It also overshadowed less important news such as the fight at the top of the EPL table and electoral politics across the Atlantic. The only story that stood out in the public eye that day could be found on the cover of The Independent the next morning. Next to a heavily blurred Internet photograph of Chief of Staff Arnold the headline read- “Chief of Staff in Teenage Flap.”