Attrition of the Gods: Book 1 of the Mystery Thriller series Gods Toys. (40 page)

“If the Host is as bad as you say,” she says, “why did he save all these people? Why not just allow them to die in the rapture and be done with them? Surely he would prefer an Aryan-only world?”

“Good question, and one you will soon know the answer to.”

“Oh my God! Will you ever actually answer a question?”

Chamuel looks a little shocked. “Oh, okay, well I can give an answer but it’s not a simple one-answer question.”

“It’ll be one more than you normally give.”

“Now you’re starting to sound like your mother and before you ask, yes, I did know your mother. But in answer to your first question, Reuben believes he has won a game. A game that was played over thousands of years, a game for dominance. His reason for keeping all the non-Aryans, and the Aryans for that matter, is simply because who would he dominate over if they were all dead?”

“And that’s the reason?”

“No, but it’s one of them. The other is one you need to learn yourself and once you see this,” Chamuel taps his breast pocket where he’d placed the disc, “you will have some idea why.”

Ember sighs. “Can you at least tell me where we are going?”

“We are getting off at the next stop, actually. You are going to meet one of the most amazing women ever born: smart, beautiful and quite deadly. Donegal Gillespie.”

“Strange name.”

“Well, around these ways it is. Her father was of Irish descent, her mother Italian, so she was either going to end up as a nun or a gangster. Fortunately she opted for the latter.”

The Sky Dome, Jinn City, 2146

The Sky Dome hovers two thousand metres above the centre of Jinn City. It contains the central hub for the security forces and from it almost three thousand video cameras from around the city are monitored as they scan the streets below. It’s also the base for eight thousand gun drones and houses six Aircopter gunships that regularly patrol the streets. The Dome has only one controller who has total command over its utilities and uses them to keep the people of Jinn in line, and Solfrid very much enjoys her position of power.

The most powerful woman on Earth has many titles in the New World Order: High Priestess, the First Minister of the Council, Commander in Chief of all military forces but the one she cherishes the most is Prime Enforcer and Protector of God’s Law.

After the failings of Procurator Conrad and the brutally inept Mackies to capture Raphael’s two accomplices, and Freya’s incompetence during the original operation, Solfrid has decided to take matters into her own hands. She tells Reuben of her plan to draw the youths out from hiding and then she summons Procurator Conrad to her office in the Dome.

Conrad expects the worst and prepares himself to do whatever he needs to do to save the most precious person in his life. He is accompanied on his trip to the Dome by Freya Mortensson and two of her guards, sparking a worrying suspicion that he may now be viewed as more of an enemy of the state than an upstanding official. Things can change quickly in the hierarchy of Jinn City and Conrad has seen many others disappear overnight after losing favour with the Host. He is also aware that neither Freya nor Solfrid are likely to support him if he has lost the trust of Reuben.

As soon as he arrives at the entrance to the Sky Dome he is rushed up to the office, which sits right at the top. As he enters the room he can see hundreds of screens all scanning the city, focusing on any possible exits out of the Pitts. Seated at the large cube-shaped glass desk are the two Mackie brothers. Standing behind it with her back to them is the distinctive figure of Solfrid. She is looking out to the city below through one of the large glass windows that make up the four walls of the room. Even with the severity of his situation Conrad feels the awe of the vista from here.

“So,” says Solfrid. “You all failed to find her and rumour has it she has now left the Pitts.”

The two Mackies look at one another and mumble something, Conrad looks at them inquisitively.

“That’s not possible,” Colin Mackie says. “The girl could not have left the Pitts, not without one of our spies hearing of it and surely one of your drones would have seen her? I mean, I assume they are all working, right?” Colin is nudged by his brother to shut up.

Solfrid waves them away and turns her attention to Conrad and her voice softens.

“We need to bring her home, Conrad.” She sounds so sincere that Conrad allows himself to accept her concern as genuine, but only for a moment.

“She is my little girl,” he says quietly. “No one wants her home more than me.”

Freya expresses her disagreement by expelling a loud grunting noise. “You have had your chance, Procurator, and I must say I question your loyalties in this matter. How did a young girl who has never left the confines of upper Djinn escape a whole legion of police and your own security force? Hmm? Someone must have helped her.” Freya’s look leaves Conrad in no doubt who she is blaming for this knowledge.

Solfrid turns and walks back to her desk. “You may all go, except Conrad. Wait for me in the debriefing room and I will join you soon.”

“But I thought we…” begins Freya.

“To the debriefing room, please.”

Conrad recognises that “please” as the most loaded and deadly in Jinn City. Fortunately for her, so does Freya.

“Yes, Your Worship.” As soon as she leaves Solfrid indicates for Conrad to sit.

“It is a bad situation, Conrad. Freya is not the only one who expresses concern about your loyalty.”

“What of you, Solfrid? Do you question my loyalty?”

“No. I know how loyal you are. My only worry is
who
you are loyal to.”

There is a minute’s silence as Solfrid looks out to the city, her back to Conrad. A small gun drone appears in what Conrad assumes is an attempt at intimidation.

“You love your daughter dearly. I understand that. I’m sure you often think of the day she was born, the day your beloved wife gave birth to her.”

Suddenly Conrad felt nervous, and for good reason. He had never told anyone of Ember’s true origins; after all, there had never been any reason for anyone to suspect anything. But for the first time since this crazy situation started he realises that her origins and the events may be linked. He also guesses that Solfrid must have made the same connection, but how? She couldn’t possibly know the truth, could she?

“So,” she smiles. “Tell me all about the day she was born.” Solfrid adopts a more sinister demeanour as she sits on the edge of the cube desk and looks hard into his eyes, her own like the diamonds.

Conrad is aware of her ability to get into his mind. SHE KNOWS. She will know if and when he is deceiving her. SHE KNOWS. He feels torn, can’t think straight. He needs to act fast. SHE KNOWS. Why is he here, discussing an innocent beautiful girl, whose life he has cherished since he first set eyes on her? SHE KNOWS. He dare not lie to Solfrid, she will know and may then guess the truth. SHE KNOWS. They both know he will never put his Ember in harm’s way.

As he looks into the eyes of the High Priestess he feels as if he is falling under a spell. She is one of the divine who came to save us all. She is the Protector of God’s law, sent by the divine creator himself to prepare the Aryans for their ascension on the coming of the Nibiru.

He realises he really has no choice left if he wishes to tell her nothing. Although he had been expecting it, he now knows he will definitely die today. The plan will most likely include severe torture. Perhaps his slow death will be made public so as to entice Ember out. No matter, he will not betray her, not ever. Once he makes this commitment he feels calmer. Solfrid leans closer as if attempting to pierce Conrad’s mind, the narrowing of her eyes indicating that she recognises the planned disobedience so he must act quickly. He must act now!

With a sudden explosion of speed he leaps from his seat and grabs the gun drone. Conrad is very familiar with these and knows this model well. He quickly switches the controls to manual and directs it towards the large eastern window. Solfrid suspects he is trying to assassinate her and dives for cover behind the cube-shaped desk, pulling out her dart gun in one fluid move. She readies to neutralise Conrad but the rapid gunfire persuades her to keep her head down. Conrad is not interested in killing Solfrid, however; that won’t save Ember. Instead he keeps firing at the window until the safety glass finally shatters and he can see the clear sky outside. There is a rush of cold air that gives him the impetuous to fulfil his plan. He runs at the opening.

Solfrid realises his true intentions and rushes to fire the dart, hitting him right between the shoulders and paralysing him within seconds. Conrad feels distraught as his legs suddenly stop obeying him. Helpless, he topples but the opening is still coming nearer as his inertia carries him the last couple of feet. He seems to totter at the edge for a split second with the whole city laid out below him. And then he is falling, just out of reach of Solfrid’s desperate grasp. The sensation of the fall is dulled by the immobiliser but inside he is smiling as he sees Solfrid’s contorted face.

It is such a long way down from here. Unable to flap his arms or even close his eyes he just tumbles and spins. His whole life doesn’t flash before him, just the most significant day of it; the one that changed his life forever.



It was seventeen years ago, late on a Monday night. His wife, Katrina, began screaming from the kitchen and he’d jumped sleepily from bed and ran into the room to find her huddled on the floor, crying, clasping her blood-soaked nightdress. He knew what had happened and the devastating effect it would have on them both. They had tried for years and finally she was pregnant; to lose the child now was more than they could cope with.

Dave Hughes, the family doctor and a close friend, lived next door. He attended the house and assured Katrina that, although it was a traumatic experience, physically she was fine. He suggested she rest and then register the loss in the morning. The next day the distraught couple headed for the office of birth and deaths. Conrad did not feel able to drive so he and Katrina bravely boarded the loop. His poor wife was only just functioning. Her mind was broken, his heart shattered, her hopes crushed. Thankfully she had fully expelled the miscarriage but for no reason she could think of, except that she couldn’t just flush it away, she had placed the tiny foetus in a sealed bag and put it in the garage freezer. The thought of leaving it there consumed her with sadness.

As the train carriage had pulled away they noticed a young girl sitting opposite them, crying uncontrollably while holding a large bottle of clear liquid. Although caught up in her own grief Katrina approached the girl and asked if there was any way they could help. Conrad remembers his thoughts on how compassionate his wife was; her own heartache not stopping her from trying to comfort this child. The girl was barely fourteen and was pregnant and the father of the baby was the master of the house she worked in. She was a Caucasian girl living and working in an Aryan household. She didn’t exactly protest his advances but how was she expected to keep her job and her home if she had refused him?

After she discovered that she was carrying his baby she went to him but he went crazy. He threw her out, promising to kill her, the child and her family if she told anyone it was his. She was not capable of raising a child, even if by some miracle she survived until the birth. Who could she turn to? How could she go back to her family like this? How would she survive with no credits? And the unspoken horror was, what if the baby looked Aryan? She’d be stoned for sure. She was so desperate she had stolen a bottle of gin and was hoping to get rid of the baby herself.

“I think we must have met by fate,” Katrina had said to the girl. “Just this day I have lost my very much wanted baby and you have one you cannot care for. Surely the solution to both our problems is clear?” She had looked at the girl and then at Conrad who appeared clueless. “God has brought us together today. He has given us all a second chance.” Katrina’s face shone with faith as she took the young girl’s hand. “We will look after you and your baby.”

The plan developed quickly. The girl would stay at their house but tell no one of her pregnancy. They would not register the loss of their own child and, with the right planning, and a few props there was no reason for anyone to discover that this was not the child Mr and Mrs Jones had been expecting. With the help of their dear friend and medical professional, Dave Hughes, they would be able to care for and deliver the baby safely without any intervention.

After the birth no one ever questioned that Ember was theirs. The young girl, who never told them the father’s name, gave birth and left, not even taking any of the money they offered her. The only thing she asked was that the child be called September and that they love her as if she was their own.

Everything just seemed to fall into place, even the unfortunate accidental death of bachelor Dave Hughes assured that the story could not possibly come out. Then tragedy struck when Ember was only eight years old and Katrina passed away. Conrad was left to bear the secret alone. A secret he had never revealed and was now taking to his grave. His last thought before he hit the ground was of the girl they had met on the train. She was like an angel that had come to save them from despair. She even had an angelic name: Amitiel.

The Nuevo Favelas, Hispanic Sector, 2146 AD

In the Nuevo Favelas of the Hispanic sector, the girl who Conrad had raised as his own sits on the steps of a small alleyway. She is deep in thought about her daddy and hopes to see him again soon. Chamuel has gone into the brightly coloured building opposite. The sign hanging above it names it “Gillespie’s Bar”. Chamuel has asked her to wait outside while he checks the place out. She can hear quite loud conversation coming out from the open windows. In fact it could be arguing so Ember decides to move closer and listen in.

“Of course I wanted to contact you but you know how it is, honey.”