Growth (GAIA Trilogy Book 2) Page 5

  Harrison nodded, "I know that, it still doesn't make sense."

  Helene smiled to herself. She loved him for his sensitivity and was glad she was able to take the hard decisions. She went back to studying the hall in which they would hold the Gathering, looking for security weaknesses and how to strengthen them.

  Harrison was working at a temporary station in Helene's office coordinating the Gaian relief effort in western China. A huge earthquake, 9.0 on the Richter scale, had shaken the area hard and its aftershocks, nearly as large, had rolled through the devastation for days reducing rubble to dust. Thousands had died, tens of thousands were injured and millions had been affected. The Gaians had a touchy relationship with the Chinese government who were reflexively suspicious of any foreign based movement, but many Chinese were Gaians and aid was moving through their hands. Since the Gaians were focused on the health of all and since they took no graft the government reluctantly granted them leave to do the aid work.

  Harrison was spending his time as a virtual clearing house for Gaian donations, directing them to the areas of greatest need and collecting data on the most efficient uses in order to send more to those efforts. Maeve called him every day to check on the orphanages run by Gaians and the state of the aid. She sent daily messages of hope to the area and fielded many requests for help which she passed on to Harrison. Helene, sitting at arm's length, could quickly give the orders that facilitated the movement of goods and money past the wall of Chinese interference.

  Western China had been the first part of the country to have re-wilded areas and was where political dissidents tended to settle which made the government highly ambivalent about their contacts with foreign elements and, indeed, the wisdom of helping them recover at all. Helene's most persuasive arguments, after the graft paid to government officials, was the government's fear of a horde of refugees from the "lawless" areas to the cities where their ideas could spread.

  Harrison had been at the work for several weeks and it showed on his face and in the sag of his shoulders at the end of sixteen hour days. Helene worried about his health while he worried over hers. Sixteen hour days were more common in her work week and kept him on his toes making sure she took in enough nutrition and avoided accidents.

  "Good thing we went to Rejuvenation City," she said, "or else this workload would be impossible."

  Harrison shook his head and went back to the reports of damage and the logistics of supply. There were two aides working in his office who implemented his orders and followed up on the distribution of aid. An algorithm continually searched for the closest sources of material to the scene of the need and another assessed the severity of the need and ranked areas accordingly.

  The task promised to go on for many weeks before enough aid had arrived, weeks more for its delivery and months to years for full recovery. The Gaian effort would carry on into the recovery stage but Harrison's involvement would greatly lessen once the aid material had reached the area.

  When Helene finally was able to leave her desk for the day she tugged at his arm and said, "Your aides are on this. Let's get some sleep."

  Reluctantly he turned control over to his chief assistant.

  "Okay," he said wearily.

  Chapter 14

  Sam was staring morosely at the screen in front of him, reading the list of names of the people who had been in the house or on the grounds when the note was found. Next to most of the names was a checked box meaning "Whereabouts accounted for, background checked." It was not meant to be fully exculpatory but was a working hypothesis of innocence.

  The list contained three names who could not be contacted and the investigators were massing at the search for those three as they finished with the ones whose presence were accounted for. Two of the three were visitors who might already have left the ranch. Possibly, even probably, innocents who were being tracked to their home addresses.

  The third was a worker-volunteer, a young man whose references had seemed straightforward but who was nowhere to be found on the property. Sam ordered a fleet of tiny insect drones into the air and was waiting for their reports to come in. Several of his staff were monitoring the continuous video feeds from each flying eyeball.

  While he watched a ping alerted him to the list and a "found, accounted for, presumed innocent" message appeared next to one of the visitor's names.

  "One down, two to go," he thought. "And then what?"

  The search for the culprit was into the third day and pressure was building to resolve the problem. Visitors were frustrated and Maeve was as well. Sam was obdurate but knew he had to get this event over with or install draconian measures to insure Maeve's safety.

  Night was swiftly moving into the valley and Sam ordered the flying eyeballs back to base and sent a swarm of infra-red sensing drones up in their place. The drones were on their first fly-over when they signaled "human walking" and sounded an alarm. A squad of security officers immediately set out for the area, a region of heavy undergrowth amid tall evergreens on the mountain slopes. Sam's orders were to proceed with caution and identify before approaching. He called Lucas.

  The two men sat at Sam's desk moodily picking at the food prepared by the kitchen robot in Sam's office and watching a mosaic of images. The security officers showed up as weak smudges of light in infra-red at they closed in on the target.

  The person was walking at a steady pace through the dark forest.

  "Night vision goggles?" asked Lucas. "He's moving along as though it were daylight."

  "Could be. Lots of ambient light still, though. But night visions make sense."

  They watched the screen and were startled when the scene was flooded with light and the security detail's chief called out, "Stop where you are. Put your hands up. Lie down on the ground."

  Before he finished speaking the man in the flood light's glare sprinted for the darkness but only got a few steps away before the Entangler brought him down. A mesh net that was fired as a liquid, hardened as it hit the air and entangled anyone it hit in its increasingly shrinking web, the Entangler was an effective, non-lethal tool for stopping escapes or generally subduing people.

  "Got him!" shouted the security officer. "Bringing him in right now."

  The light shone on the prisoner's face showed a fair haired young man who seemed more annoyed than anxious.

  "Recognize him?" asked Sam.

  "No. Do you?"

  "No. But I don't get to see all the recruits anymore."

  They settled back to wait for the security patrol's return.

  The prisoner was carried into the Security offices and first x-rayed and electronically sniffed for weapons and explosives and then two officers cut his clothing and the Entangler off him. The clothes would be inspected and analyzed for any clues. The prisoner, who was, if not cooperative, at least not combative was given a djellaba to cover himself and was left to sit alone in the interrogation room.

  The head of the detail reported to Sam and Lucas.

  "Any identification?" asked Lucas.

  "No. But he tossed this as we closed in on him."

  He held out a communications device.

  "He's not chipped, either," the officer added, "but we might be able to pull something from this."

  Lucas and Sam looked the device over and Sam pushed a button on his desk and said, "Is Luis there?"

  A voice answered, "Yeah, I'm here but I'm busy."

  "Glad to hear it," said Sam, "now bring what you need to analyze a communicator and meet me at Interrogation Room 3."

  They all left Sam's office and trooped to the Security section. Behind the one-way glass wall the prisoner could be seen apparently praying, sitting at the table with head bowed, hands clasped and lips moving though no sound could be heard.

  When Luis arrived, large and menacing in his appearance with his box of electronic tricks dangling from his meaty paw, he gave Sam a huge smile and reached for the communicator.

  Sam said, "You and I will go in there and y
ou'll say nothing but start on the communicator. As soon as you have something take me aside and tell me okay?"

  "Sure thing, Boss."

  The two men entered the room, Luis large and Sam even larger, and the space seemed to shrink around the prisoner. He flinched slightly when they came in but then sat up straight.

  "You have no right to keep me here," he said.

  "And you have no rights at all," said Sam. "At least not until we're satisfied about who you are, where you came from and what you were doing." He paused while Luis popped open the device and began to probe its innards.

  "What's your name?" Sam asked.

  The prisoner licked his lips and looked off into space.

  Sam said, "Right now you're a trespassing intruder who still might be killed trying to escape."

  "I'm not trying to escape."

  "You wouldn't be alive to make that defense." He paused again. "What's your name?"

  "My name is not important. I am not important."

  "What is important?" asked Sam.

  For a long moment the young man stared into Sam's eyes as though seriously weighing the question and his answer. At last he said, "The Word of God."

  "Ah," said Sam. "And which God is that?"

  The prisoner's face hardened, "There is but one God and one Word."

  Sam nodded amiably, "And where would that Word be found?"

  "In the Holy Book."

  Sam looked teasingly at him, "The Koran?"

  "No!" the prisoner said emphatically. "No!"

  "Ah," Sam almost cooed, "You are a Zoroastrian."

  The young man looked slightly bewildered.

  "No. I'm a Christian."

  "But don't Christians follow the Prince of Peace? The Apostle of Love? Don't Christians eschew violence?"

  The young man's face fell into lines of superiority at Sam's ignorance and he said, "Christ is the Son of God the Father who is a jealous God, who says in the very first commandment "Thou shalt have no other gods but me."

  He sat back with a satisfied smirk having delivered what he considered the final word in the argument. Sam sat back as well and looked at Luis who said, "Got it. Take a look."

  The communicator screen was lit up and under Luis' manipulation revealed the name of its owner, Richard Allen Evans, and a list of calls made and received which Sam began to scrutinize. One number was unidentified but formed the single largest part of the calling history.

  "Can you find who that is?" he asked Luis.

  "Sure. Listen."

  He plugged the phone into one of his devices and called the number. The room was filled with the sounds of ringing and then the receiver was picked up and a young woman's voice said "America for Americans, Sadie speaking. How can I help you?"

  Luis' box launched into a pre-recorded sales message and predictably the phone was disconnected.

  "Do you know who they are?" asked Luis.

  Sam glanced at his prisoner who had blanched at the call and didn't answer. "Put him in a cell," he said.

  When Lucas and Sam were alone again Lucas said, "I'll find out who and where they are and I'll let you know. What do you think about him?"

  "He's a tool. Who sent him is important and how many more tools of his type they have."

  Lucas nodded. "Still full security level for Maeve and the kids."

  "Oh yes," said Sam. "Oh yes."

  Chapter 15

  Harrison awoke feeling somewhat groggy. When he reached out for Helene and found she wasn't in bed with him his disorientation increased. He rolled over thinking she might be curled on the far side of their large bed but she was not. He flopped onto his back and looked at the ceiling trying to remember why she was gone and he was still barely rising out of sleep.

  The bathroom door opened and Helene's wet head, fresh from the shower, appeared. "Don't forget we're having breakfast with Leah this morning. Better hurry."

  The mention of Leah brought it all back to him and catapulted him out of bed and into the shower. Leah, from the Anarchic Artists, had been a creative force for the Gaians since the earliest days. She was a fountain of ideas and projects directed at young people and had earned the respect and affection of Harrison and Helene. That respect was the reason they had given her carte blanche for her project to create a long form video about the early years of Gaia which she called "The Making of Moms."

  The night before Leah and Robin who were married to each other and Helene and Harrison had been up talking over her plans for the video and collecting stories from Harrison and files of photos of Moms. There were extensive audio and visual files of Moms giving sermons or making appearances but information on her early life was scarce in public. Harrison, Moms' brother, was the best and only source for her early years and Leah, sitting with his book "The History of Gaia" had asked a series of penetrating questions and plied him with good wine in an effort to loosen his tongue and revive his memories.

  Under the shower his head cleared enough to remember much of the night and to feel the hangover headache he had acquired. Two pain pills later and dressed in clean clothes he was ready for the day.

  They met Leah and Robin in the executive dining room and smiled at the picture they made. Robin was a tall and willowy redhead with a body made of angles and a face made sharp with a skeptic's attitude. Leah was short, round, ample of breast and thigh, cherubic of face and topped with unruly brown curls.

  Robin appeared hard and Leah soft but just a few moments in their company left one with the feeling of being run over by sharp intellects. Their heads were bent together over a screen when Helene said, "Good morning. What time do you have to leave?"

  "Not for an hour yet. Plenty of time," answered Leah. "Go ahead and get some food while we work out some scheduling."

  They were planning to premiere the video at the upcoming annual Gaia Gathering and were working backwards to set a timeline for the production. When the four of them were around the table Leah said, "I think we can do the job as I'd like to in this time frame. I hope so because I don't want to stint on this. Harrison, I may have to meet with you again, perhaps two or three more times. Will that be okay?"

  "Oh sure. As long as we can be flexible about scheduling."

  They listened politely while Leah ran through her list until Helene said, "We trust you, Leah. Keep us informed and ask for what you need. We'll want to see it before its made public, of course."

  "Of course."

  "Good, but I have to leave now."

  Helene hurried off and Harrison got to his feet. "I hope last night helped you. It certainly cost me in terms of hangover."

  "It was great," said Leah. "Do you have to leave as well?"

  "I'm afraid so. China calls and disaster doesn't wait."

  He looked at Leah directly, "I know you'll do a good job. Call on me as necessary."

  "Thank you, and thanks for your confidence."

  He nodded and left for his office. Once there he looked through his messages, skipping the ones from the disaster zone for the moment and paging through the personal ones. When he came across a message from Lucas he had to change to a secure machine to decode it. The message recounted the capture of the young man held prisoner and a promise to update him and Helene as soon as anything substantive happened.

  With those messages attended to Harrison went to his desk in Helene's office and plunged back into relief work.

  Chapter 16

  Lucas was alone with his prisoner in the interrogation room. In his hand he held a screen which showed an ID photo of the man whose name apparently was David Truman, a member of America for Americans. Information on the organization was voluminous as it was a group under surveillance by a number of authorities.

  "So, America for Americans but no mention of Jesus or God. Are they ashamed or are they hiding something?" Lucas' tone was mild and his question was mildly put but blood rushed to his prisoner's face and his lips compressed.

  "And you tried to hide your identity as well. Ashamed or duplicito
us? And that cock and bull story you gave us about the first commandment and doing God's bidding - what's that supposed to mean?"

  The prisoner said nothing.

  "Now David, if that's your name, I doubt Truman is, you're not at all a true man, within the hour the FBI will close the offices of America for Americans and go through their files. They'll find your dossier and then they'll know who sent you and for what."

  He paused - the prisoner said nothing but small movements betrayed nervousness.

  "Would you care to save some time and tell me now or do I have to wait until after the raid? And please, no more crap about God."

  Lucas said the last part sneeringly and was rewarded by another flush of the prisoner's face.

  "It's not crap," he said through clenched teeth.

  "Sure it is. A4A is a political group fronting for corporate interests. Money grubbers, not martyrs for religion."

  "That's not true," the young man's body was taut and his face a fiery red.

  "Sure it is. They're crooks and you're a patsy."

  Sam's voice suddenly boomed into the room, "They're at the A4A headquarters now. The people there deny knowing anything about anyone named David Truman. They say the ID must be a forgery."

  The young man looked surprised and upset by the news and bit his lip.

  "Now we both know they're lying, don't we?" Lucas asked. "They'll be found out soon enough but you see they'll be no help to you."

  "I don't need any help."

  "No you don't, you have all of us to look after you and believe me, we will. You'll be fed and housed and your wounds will be looked after."

  "I don't have any wounds."

  "Not yet. But we take threats very seriously, especially threats to our High Priestess."