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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.”
The doomsday conspiracy chapter 30: probably another creditor
Frank Johnson was recruited because he had been a Green Beret in Vietnam and was known among his comrades as “the killing machine”. He loved to kill. He was motivated, and highly intelligent.“He’s perfect for us,” Janus said. “Approach him carefully. I don’t want to lose him.”The first meeting took place in an Army barracks. A Captain was talking to Frank Johnson.“Don’t you worry about our government?” the Captain asked. “It’s being run by a bunch of bleeding hearts who are giving the store away. This country needs nuclear power, but the damned politicians are stopping us from building new plants. We depend on the damn Arabs for oil, but will the government let us do our own off-shore drilling? Oh, no. They’re more worried about the fish than they are about us. Does that make sense to you?”“I see your point,” Frank Johnson said.“I knew you would, because you’re intelligent.” He was watching Johnson’s face as he spoke. “If Congress won’t do anything to save our country,then it’s
The doomsday conspiracy chapter 32: like an accident
Day Eight Waco, TexasDan Wayne was not having a good day. As a matter of fact, he was having a dreadful day. He had just returned from the Waco county courthouse where he was facing bankruptcy proceedings. His wife, who had been having an affair with her young doctor, was divorcing him, intent on getting half of everything he had (which could be half of nothing, he had assured her lawyer). And one of his prize bulls had to be destroyed. Dan Wayne felt that fate was kicking him in the balls. He had done nothing to deserve all this. He had been a good husband and a good rancher. He sat in his study contemplating the gloomy future.Dan Wayne was a proud man. He was well aware of all the jokes about Texans being loud-mouthed, larger-than-life braggarts, but he honestly felt he had something to brag about. He had been born in Waco, in the rich agricultural region of the Brazos River Valley. Waco was modern, but it still retained a flavour of the past, when the five Cs had been its suppor
The doomsday conspiracy chapter 32: Switzerland's glass eye
Day NineFort Smith, CanadaFort Smith, in the Northwest Territories, is a prosperous town of two thousand people, most of them farmers and cattle ranchers, with a sprinkling of merchants. The climate itself is demanding, with long and rigorous winters, and the town is living proof of Darwin’s theory of the survival of the fittest.William Mann was one of the fit ones, a survivor. He had been born in Michigan, but in his early thirties he had passed through Fort Smith on a fishing trip and had decided that the community needed another good bank. He had seized the opportunity. There was only one other bank there, and it took William Mann less than two years to put his competitor out of business. Mann ran his bank the way a bank should be run. His god was mathematics, and he saw to it that the numbers always came out to his benefit. His favourite story was the joke about the man who went to a banker pleading for a loan so that his young son could have an immediate operation to save his
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