I've decided to post this "chapter" in two parts, because if anyone has read the prologue and Chapter One, they'll realise I'm jumping between two characters. The first post deals with the fallout of the action events of Chapter 1, but is relatively mundane aside from a few plot revelations. The second post is the next events in the life of the scientists, and is much, much more eventful. I got goosebumps writing the end! So feel free to only read or critique one section.
I know there's some spelling/grammar issues, but I've decided to write the whole thing and edit those issues at the end.
Enjoy!
Spoiler! :
A dimly lit room filled mostly by a large glass desk greeted Anthony Miller as he reached the bottom level of the Pentagon. He took a seat around the desk with Daniels and was left alone, their guide quickly scurrying away. The room had charcoal walls that looked to be made of sponge but were hard to the touch. The ceiling was reflective so that looking up gave Miller a giddy feeling of hanging upside down.
“Doesn’t make sense,” said Daniels, sitting back in the chair across from Miller, “Armed Frenchmen in a villa in the Austrian alps, yet the place looked like the holiday house for an accountant.”
“Yeah,” Miller agreed, “We go there on intelligence that suggests a large black-market cartel and then, this?” The whole absurdity of the matter had kept Miller awake during the trip from Austria back to Virginia. He couldn’t make sense of it, but then again he didn’t have the whole picture and he was hoping the techies from Intelligence could make some use of the computer they had salvaged.
As if on cue, the door swung open and two men walked in. One Miller recognised as Admiral Beckett, the commander of the United States Special Operations Command. He was of solid build and had greyed, thinning hair that sat atop his head like a horseshoe. A dark, thick moustache dominated his face and made his mahogany brown eyes look almost black.
The other man was a mousy looking youth, no older than 25, who wore glasses and a comical comb over. He was noticeably tense as he entered the room after the Admiral.
“Gentlemen,” said the Admiral, who shook both Miller’s and Daniels’ hands with a little too much force. He took a seat at the head of the table and the other man, who Miller had dubbed ‘Mouse’, sat next to him.
“Firstly, I’d like to congratulate you two on your efforts in Austria. SOCOM can’t conduct covert ops, so we’re always very appreciative of the CIA’s contribution.”
“Not a problem, it’s our job,” said Miller. As part of the CIA’s Special Activities Division, Miller and his colleagues were often asked to conduct missions that conventional military units didn’t have the authority to perform.
“This is Alec Baldwin, he’s from Intel,” said Beckett, motioning towards Mouse. Miller shook his hand, forgot his name, and decided he was Mouse from here on in.
“I’m the one who analysed the data you recovered,” said Mouse.
“And?” asked Daniels, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table.
“Well,” said Mouse, straightening his glasses, “The documents on the computer obviously showed that whoever owned it was taking investments from multiple people, 16 in total. They would deposit into an offshore account which was emptied weekly, probably to another account, or several, for privacy.”
“Okay. What about the expected returns info we found, mean anything?” asked Miller.
“Well yes. You see, I did some research on some of the names and most of them came up with nothing. I suspect the majority are pseudonyms. Of the three that gave me a lead, two had something in common.”
The room was silent. Mouse was a little excited that all the attention was focused on him and darted his beady eyes around the dark space. Beckett cleared his throat to urge to techie on.
“Well, their expected returns were either a week or more overdue, and they were both dead.”
The startling blankness of Mouse’s statement caught the full attention of both Miller and Daniels.
“Dead?” Miller asked, “When?”
“A few days after the returns were late. One guy, a corporate business man in Brazil, was found dead in his bathtub. Seems he slipped getting out and knocked himself on the rim before drowning to death. The other, a CEO in London, died a little less subtly. He was shot four times in the chest at point blank range.”
This new information added a whole new dimension to the proceedings.
“So, these investors put money into a company we haven’t identified yet,” said Miller, “And when they coming looking for their profits after the date they’re promised, they wind up dead.”
“That’s right. It looks like these guys are getting scammed well, and if the scammer has managed to swindle black market personalities then the ones he kills probably won’t be missed,” said Mouse, who Miller was rather beginning to like.
“Hold on,” said Daniels, “You said three gave you a lead, what about the other guy?”
“Oh, of course. Stephen Evelyn, CEO of Siwa-Tech Industries, a US scientific research firm based in New York, he was the third guy. He’s alive, seeing over the opening of some new offices in Rio de Janeiro.”
“He’s alive?” asked Beckett, piping up for the first time in the meeting, “When is he expecting the return of his profits?”
“Two days’ time,” said Mouse. Miller and Daniels looked at each other.
“You two,” said the Admiral to the pair of CIA operatives, “How soon can you have an extraction team prepped and ready for deployment?”
Miller looked at his watch.
“By 1730 sir,” he said with confidence, knowing in his mind already which soldiers would fill the team.
“Good, there’ll be a chopper waiting to take you to the airport at 1800; you’ll be briefed en route.”
“Roger that.”
“Dismissed.”
All the men stood from the table and Beckett left quickly, leaving Miller and Daniels alone with Mouse. As they spoke of who they would choose to fill out their extraction team, Mouse attempted to sneak from the room.
“Mouse,” said Miller, looking directly at the Intelligence Officer so he was aware of his new name, “You ever run logistics on the ground for an operation before?”
“No way, only ever been behind a desk,” he said, half hiding behind the ajar door.
“Well, welcome to Cypher Actual, you’re going to run this snatch and grab.”
Mouse’s face lit up, and Miller could tell that it was not often that Mouse was given an opportunity to take on responsibility. He beamed back at them.
“Cool.”
“Doesn’t make sense,” said Daniels, sitting back in the chair across from Miller, “Armed Frenchmen in a villa in the Austrian alps, yet the place looked like the holiday house for an accountant.”
“Yeah,” Miller agreed, “We go there on intelligence that suggests a large black-market cartel and then, this?” The whole absurdity of the matter had kept Miller awake during the trip from Austria back to Virginia. He couldn’t make sense of it, but then again he didn’t have the whole picture and he was hoping the techies from Intelligence could make some use of the computer they had salvaged.
As if on cue, the door swung open and two men walked in. One Miller recognised as Admiral Beckett, the commander of the United States Special Operations Command. He was of solid build and had greyed, thinning hair that sat atop his head like a horseshoe. A dark, thick moustache dominated his face and made his mahogany brown eyes look almost black.
The other man was a mousy looking youth, no older than 25, who wore glasses and a comical comb over. He was noticeably tense as he entered the room after the Admiral.
“Gentlemen,” said the Admiral, who shook both Miller’s and Daniels’ hands with a little too much force. He took a seat at the head of the table and the other man, who Miller had dubbed ‘Mouse’, sat next to him.
“Firstly, I’d like to congratulate you two on your efforts in Austria. SOCOM can’t conduct covert ops, so we’re always very appreciative of the CIA’s contribution.”
“Not a problem, it’s our job,” said Miller. As part of the CIA’s Special Activities Division, Miller and his colleagues were often asked to conduct missions that conventional military units didn’t have the authority to perform.
“This is Alec Baldwin, he’s from Intel,” said Beckett, motioning towards Mouse. Miller shook his hand, forgot his name, and decided he was Mouse from here on in.
“I’m the one who analysed the data you recovered,” said Mouse.
“And?” asked Daniels, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table.
“Well,” said Mouse, straightening his glasses, “The documents on the computer obviously showed that whoever owned it was taking investments from multiple people, 16 in total. They would deposit into an offshore account which was emptied weekly, probably to another account, or several, for privacy.”
“Okay. What about the expected returns info we found, mean anything?” asked Miller.
“Well yes. You see, I did some research on some of the names and most of them came up with nothing. I suspect the majority are pseudonyms. Of the three that gave me a lead, two had something in common.”
The room was silent. Mouse was a little excited that all the attention was focused on him and darted his beady eyes around the dark space. Beckett cleared his throat to urge to techie on.
“Well, their expected returns were either a week or more overdue, and they were both dead.”
The startling blankness of Mouse’s statement caught the full attention of both Miller and Daniels.
“Dead?” Miller asked, “When?”
“A few days after the returns were late. One guy, a corporate business man in Brazil, was found dead in his bathtub. Seems he slipped getting out and knocked himself on the rim before drowning to death. The other, a CEO in London, died a little less subtly. He was shot four times in the chest at point blank range.”
This new information added a whole new dimension to the proceedings.
“So, these investors put money into a company we haven’t identified yet,” said Miller, “And when they coming looking for their profits after the date they’re promised, they wind up dead.”
“That’s right. It looks like these guys are getting scammed well, and if the scammer has managed to swindle black market personalities then the ones he kills probably won’t be missed,” said Mouse, who Miller was rather beginning to like.
“Hold on,” said Daniels, “You said three gave you a lead, what about the other guy?”
“Oh, of course. Stephen Evelyn, CEO of Siwa-Tech Industries, a US scientific research firm based in New York, he was the third guy. He’s alive, seeing over the opening of some new offices in Rio de Janeiro.”
“He’s alive?” asked Beckett, piping up for the first time in the meeting, “When is he expecting the return of his profits?”
“Two days’ time,” said Mouse. Miller and Daniels looked at each other.
“You two,” said the Admiral to the pair of CIA operatives, “How soon can you have an extraction team prepped and ready for deployment?”
Miller looked at his watch.
“By 1730 sir,” he said with confidence, knowing in his mind already which soldiers would fill the team.
“Good, there’ll be a chopper waiting to take you to the airport at 1800; you’ll be briefed en route.”
“Roger that.”
“Dismissed.”
All the men stood from the table and Beckett left quickly, leaving Miller and Daniels alone with Mouse. As they spoke of who they would choose to fill out their extraction team, Mouse attempted to sneak from the room.
“Mouse,” said Miller, looking directly at the Intelligence Officer so he was aware of his new name, “You ever run logistics on the ground for an operation before?”
“No way, only ever been behind a desk,” he said, half hiding behind the ajar door.
“Well, welcome to Cypher Actual, you’re going to run this snatch and grab.”
Mouse’s face lit up, and Miller could tell that it was not often that Mouse was given an opportunity to take on responsibility. He beamed back at them.
“Cool.”
Spoiler! :
Veit waited with supressed impatience for the creature to wake up. They had released the cloned chimp from its cylindrical artificial womb only two hours ago, yet it had not gained consciousness. A week ago it had been nothing more than an embryo, identical to another ape living somewhere in the labs, except for one thing. This ape had been given a gift, an advantage over his entire species. He had been given intelligence.
Two years ago, as a mere third-year university student, Veit had found and isolated a specific gene within human DNA. This gene was not found in all humans, in face Veit suspected it was only prevalent in about 12% of the population. Scientists had hypothesised countless times that certain people were predisposed to intelligence, and Veit had found proof.
He had found the gene for intelligence, and with it he had founded a new brotherhood. A friend from Russia, Viktor Treshchenkov, had financed Veit’s schooling and together they had created these laboratories. They had recruited others to their cause, ensuring all held the ominous genetic anomaly, and had begun a plan of action that would see a new world order being established.
The animal shifted, moving a hand to scratch its head. Veit jumped and snapped all his focus to the small hairy lump in the centre of the observation room. The creature stirred, sitting up with its back to Veit and taking in its surroundings. Eventually it turned to face him and cocked its head in intrigue. Its eyes darted around, but in the dumb panic that most other chimps expressed in the same situation.
Veit stepped closer and could see clearly that the monkey was obviously examining him. It looked him up and down, its face contorting into perplexed expressions as if it were trying to classify him.
“Hello,” said Veit hopefully. The monkey’s eyes went wide with surprise and Veit was stunned.
“Do you, understand me?” he asked. The monkey gave this thought, looked up, and nodded.
Nodded.
The monkey had nodded.
“Oh my god,” he said, “Oh my god!” Veit ran to his desk and keyed a button on the intercom. He waited for the beep that meant the call had connected.
“It worked! We’ve done it! The thing nodded, it nodded! It can understand me!” he said in a flurry of excitement and disbelief.
“What?,” said Victoria, “Oh my, I’ll be right there.” The line went dead and Veit moved back to the observation window. Inside the chimp was walking about like a human, without the hunched overbalance of normal apes.
Victoria busted through the lab door short of breath and rushed right to the window. She slid down onto her knees, her lab coat spread out around her in a plume of white.
“Hello,” she said in a distant and dream-like voice.
The ape looked up, contemplated the sounds she had made, and then shocked both the scientists beyond belief.
“Hello,” it said.
Veit swore under his breath and Victoria passed out, something out of character for the tough-as-nails Brit. He moved to her and laid her flat on her side. He examined the monkey and simply stared. It was beyond all comprehension and completely surpassed all expectations of the success of the project.
Veit looked down to Victoria as she began to come-to. He looked back to the ape, his mind absolutely filled with a dangerous stream of thoughts.
“Hello,” it said again.
Two years ago, as a mere third-year university student, Veit had found and isolated a specific gene within human DNA. This gene was not found in all humans, in face Veit suspected it was only prevalent in about 12% of the population. Scientists had hypothesised countless times that certain people were predisposed to intelligence, and Veit had found proof.
He had found the gene for intelligence, and with it he had founded a new brotherhood. A friend from Russia, Viktor Treshchenkov, had financed Veit’s schooling and together they had created these laboratories. They had recruited others to their cause, ensuring all held the ominous genetic anomaly, and had begun a plan of action that would see a new world order being established.
The animal shifted, moving a hand to scratch its head. Veit jumped and snapped all his focus to the small hairy lump in the centre of the observation room. The creature stirred, sitting up with its back to Veit and taking in its surroundings. Eventually it turned to face him and cocked its head in intrigue. Its eyes darted around, but in the dumb panic that most other chimps expressed in the same situation.
Veit stepped closer and could see clearly that the monkey was obviously examining him. It looked him up and down, its face contorting into perplexed expressions as if it were trying to classify him.
“Hello,” said Veit hopefully. The monkey’s eyes went wide with surprise and Veit was stunned.
“Do you, understand me?” he asked. The monkey gave this thought, looked up, and nodded.
Nodded.
The monkey had nodded.
“Oh my god,” he said, “Oh my god!” Veit ran to his desk and keyed a button on the intercom. He waited for the beep that meant the call had connected.
“It worked! We’ve done it! The thing nodded, it nodded! It can understand me!” he said in a flurry of excitement and disbelief.
“What?,” said Victoria, “Oh my, I’ll be right there.” The line went dead and Veit moved back to the observation window. Inside the chimp was walking about like a human, without the hunched overbalance of normal apes.
Victoria busted through the lab door short of breath and rushed right to the window. She slid down onto her knees, her lab coat spread out around her in a plume of white.
“Hello,” she said in a distant and dream-like voice.
The ape looked up, contemplated the sounds she had made, and then shocked both the scientists beyond belief.
“Hello,” it said.
Veit swore under his breath and Victoria passed out, something out of character for the tough-as-nails Brit. He moved to her and laid her flat on her side. He examined the monkey and simply stared. It was beyond all comprehension and completely surpassed all expectations of the success of the project.
Veit looked down to Victoria as she began to come-to. He looked back to the ape, his mind absolutely filled with a dangerous stream of thoughts.
“Hello,” it said again.
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