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The doomsday conspiracy chapter 22: nothing left but ashes
Leslie Mothershed was lost in a golden daydream. He was being interviewed by the world press. They were asking him about the huge castle he had just bought in Scotland, his chateau in the South of France, his enormous yacht. “And is it true that the Queen has invited you to become the official Royal photographer?”“Yes. I said I would let her know. And now, ladies and gentlemen, if you will all excuse me, I’m late for my showat the BBC …” His reverie was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell. He looked at his watch. Eleven o’clock. Has that man returned? He walked over to the door and cautiously opened it. In the doorway stood a man shorter than Mothershed (that was the first thing he noticed about him) with thick glasses and a thin, sallow face. “Excuse me,” the man said diffidently. “I apologize for disturbing you at this hour. I live just down the block. The sign outside says you’re a photographer.” “So?” “Do you do passport photos?Leslie Mothershed do passport photos? The ma
The doomsday conspiracy chapter 23: you lying bastard
The streets of Zurich were filled with weird-looking creatures with odd shapes, misshapen giants with large, grotesque bodies and tiny eyes, with skin the colour of boiled fish. They were meat eaters, and she hated the fetid smells they exuded from their bodies. Some of the females wore animal skins, the remains of the creatures they had murdered. She was still stunned by the terrible accident that had taken away the life essence of her companions. She had been on earth for four cycles of what these beings called luna, and she had not eaten in all that time. She was faint from thirst. The only water she had been able to drink was the fresh rain water in the farmer’s trough, and it had not rained since the night she arrived. The other water on earth was undrinkable. She had gone into an alien feeding place, but she had been unable to stand the stench. She had tried to eat their raw vegetables and fruit, but they were tasteless, not like the succulent food at home. She was called the G
The doomsday conspiracy chapter 24: jackpot
DAYFIVEBern, SwitzerlandRobert had come to a dead end. He had not realized how much he had counted on obtaining Mothershed’s list of names. Up in smoke, Robert thought. Literally. The trail was cold now. I should have gotten the list when I was in Mothershed’s flat. That will teach me to … teach. Of course! A thought that had been in the back of his mind suddenly came into focus. Hans Beckerman had said, Affenarsch! All the other passengers were excited about seeing the UFOand those dead creatures in it, but this old man kept complaining about howwe had to hurry up to get to Bern because he had to prepare some lecture for the University. It was a long shot, but it was all Robert had.He rented a car at the Bern airport and headed for the University. He turned off Rathausgasse, the main street of Bern, and drove to LanggassStrasse, where the University of Bern was located. The University is composed of several buildings, the main one a large four-storey stone building with two wings,
The doomsday conspiracy chapter 25: i have a choice
Plattenstrasse, in Munich, is a quiet residential street with drab brownstone buildings huddled together as though for protection. Number five was identical to its neighbours. Inside the vestibule was a row of mailboxes. A small card below one of them read “Professor Otto Schmidt”. Robert rang the bell.The apartment door was opened by a tall, thin man with an untidy mop of white hair. He was wearing a tattered sweater and smoking a pipe.Robert wondered whether he had created the image of an archetypical college professor, or whether the image had created him.“Professor Schmidt?”“Yes?”“I wonder if Imight talk to you a moment. I’m with …”“We have already talked,” Professor Schmidt said. “You are the man who telephoned me this morning. I am an expert at recognizing voices. Come in.”“Thank you.” Robert entered the living room. The walls were crowded from floor to ceiling with bookcases filled with hundreds of volumes. Books were stacked everywhere; on tables, on the floor, on chair
The doomsday conspiracy chapter 26: i'm wasting my time
Dustin Thornton was getting restless. He had power now, and it was like a drug. He wanted more. His father-in-law, Willard Stone, kept promising to bring him into some mysterious inner circle, but so far, he had failed to fulfil that promise. It was by pure chance that Thornton learned that his father-in-law disappeared every Friday. Thornton had called to have lunch with him. “I’m sorry,” Willard Stone’s personal secretary said, “but Mr Stone is away for the day.” “Oh, too bad. What about lunch next Friday?” “I’m sorry, Mr Thornton. Mr Stone will be away next Friday, also.” Strange. And it became even stranger, because when Thornton called two weeks later, he received the same reply. Where did the old man disappear to every Friday? He was not a golfer, or a man to indulge in any hobbies. The obvious answer was a woman. Willard Stone’s wife was very social and very rich. She was an imperious woman, almost as strong in her way as her husband. She was not the sort of woman who wou
The doomsday conspiracy chapter 27: i need a bloody miracle
Rome proved to be difficult for Robert, an emotional ordeal that drained him. He had honeymooned there with Susan, and the memories were overpowering. Rome was Roberto, who managed the Hassler Hotel for his mother, and who was partially deaf but could lip-read in five languages.Rome was the gardens of Villa d’Este in Tivoli, and the Ristorante Sibilla and Susan’s delight at the one hundred fountains created by the son of Lucrezia Borgia. Rome was Otello at the bottom of the Spanish Steps, and the Vatican, and the Colosseum and the Forum and Michelangelo’s Moses. Rome was sharing tartufi at Tre Scalini and the sound of Susan’s laughter, and her voice saying, “Please promise me we’ll always be this happy, Robert.”What the hell am I doing here? Robert wondered. I don’t have any idea who the priest is, or whether he’s even in Rome. It’s time to retire, to go home and forget all this.But something inside him, some stubborn streak inherited from a long-dead ancestor, would not let him. I
The doomsday conspiracy chapter 28: Bingo!, thank you
Day SevenOrvieto, ItalyHe stopped the car on a hairpin bend on Route S-71, and there across the valley, high on a rise of volcanic rock, was a breathtaking view of the city. It was an ancient Etruscan centre, with a world-famous cathedral, and half a dozen churches, and a priest who had witnessed the crash of a UFO.The town was untouched by time, with cobblestone streets and lovely old buildings, and an open-air market where farmers came to sell their fresh vegetables and chickens.Robert found a parking place in the Piazza del Duomo, across from the cathedral, and went inside. The enormous interior was deserted except for an elderly priest who was just leaving the altar.“Excuse me, Father,” Robert said. “I’m looking for a priest from this town who was in Switzerland last week. Perhaps you …”The priest drew back, his face hostile. “I cannot discuss this.”Robert looked at him in surprise. “I don’t understand. I just want to find …”“He is not of this church. He is from the church
The doomsday conspiracy chapter 29: so, operation doomsday as finally happening
Robert placed a call to Admiral Whittaker. A secretary answered the phone. “Admiral Whittaker’s office.”Robert could visualize the office. It would be the kind of anonymous cubbyhole they kept for non-persons the government no longer had any use for.“Could I speak to the Admiral, please? Commander Robert Bellamy calling.”“Just a moment, Commander.”Robert wondered whether anybody bothered to keep in touch with the Admiral now that the once powerful figure was part of the mothball fleet.Probably not.“Robert, it’s very good to hear from you.” The old man’s voice sounded tired. “Where are you?”“I can’t say, sir.”There was a pause. “I understand. Is there something I can do for you?”“Yes, sir. This is rather awkward because I’ve been ordered not to communicate with anyone. But I need some outside help. Iwonder if you could check on something for me?”“I can certainly try. What would you like to know?”“I need to know whether there’s a ranch anywhere in Texas called The Ponderosa.”
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