Date: 6th January 2002 Location: Swiss Alps
Bill Gatwick stood staring in astonishment. Sir Nigel Stansen, who entered the small meeting room behind him passed by the shocked billionaire and went to the table.
“Mr Gatwick,” he said as if making an important announcement, “I think you know Jason King?”
Bill Gatwick stared incredulously as Jason stood up from the table where he had been working on his notebook computer and came towards him.
“Bill,” he said smiling,” I assume you got the contracts?”
It wasn’t often the computer guru was stuck for words.
“I, uhh…” he stammered,” my god, I thought you were…”
“Dead,” interjected Jason!
“Err, yeah how?”
“Well,” continued Jason, putting his arm around the billionaire and walking him to a chair, “I was dragged half-dead from the World Trade Centre by Sir Nigel’s French troops and brought here to recuperate. Sir Nigel decided it might be an advantage to take me out of the picture for a while until we had an edge over the competition. We figured you and Pietta could run the business for a while.”
“Does she know,” he asked?
“No,” answered Jason in a particularly sombre tone, “that was one of the toughest things I had to do but we figured if this was going to work properly the whole MIA thing had to be convincing.”
Gatwick looked relieved perhaps because he hadn’t been the only one being misled. He sat down at the table and Jason sat down next to him while Nigel seated himself opposite.
“So if you’re alive, what about Fujimo,” asked Gatwick, a worried expression clouding his face?
“We were hoping that my death would encourage him to come out of hiding if he was alive, but so far nothing and we can only assume he isn’t. Especially, since he let you take over the company,” replied Jason.
“Well it hasn’t been quite that straightforward,” said Gatwick,” his family has contested the contract and it looks like they may be successful.”
“So what does that mean,” asked Jason?
“It means that they will probably be able to control the production of the super chip and have a say in its distribution through the family company.”
Jason looked at Sir Nigel.
“The Ong,” was all Sir Nigel said.
“How is Pietta,” Jason asked, turning back to the billionaire?
“She’s taken your loss bad Jason,” he said sincerely, ” but she’s keeping herself busy with the company and doing it well, as always.”
Bill Gatwick looked at Jason who looked down at the table then placed a hand on his arm.
“You really should tell her Jason, she has suffered allot.”
Jason had thought about her every day but had convinced himself the outcome would justify their actions. He knew they were close but until now he had not realized just how close.
“I think we can now,” said Jason, almost absently.
“Mr Gatwick,” said the grey-haired scientist, interrupting the moment intentionally, “we had better get down to the reason we have invited you to come here today.”
“What there’s more,” answered the billionaire, looking over at the scientist and removing his hand from the arm of Jason?
“Considerably more,” said the scientist, as he tapped a remote control in his hand.
A screen slowly dropped from the ceiling. Sir Nigel rotated Jason’s notebook to face him. He moved a cordless mouse and on the screen appeared a picture of a big black ball sitting in what looked like water surrounded by ice or snow.
“We have made some astonishing discoveries over the last twenty years and till now we have kept them an official secret from the world,” continued the scientist. “This black orb, or metal ball you are looking at, is one of several we have uncovered that link the future to the past.”
Bill Gatwick looked at the two men with an expression of confusion.
“What do you mean future,” was his only reply?
Nigel Stansen went on to tell him about the last thirty-plus years of his life. Jason sat quietly and listened, occasionally typing on his laptop, while Bill Gatwick sat completely still, an expression of disbelief written clearly across his face.
As Nigel finished with an explanation of the Ong cult and their involvement to date, Bill Gatwick stood and walked slowly towards the picture of the orb on the screen.
“That is amazing,” was his only comment, not taking his eyes off the screen with the big black metallic ball on it. “So what do you want from me?”
Sir Nigel looked at Jason and then back to the billionaire.
“To have you on our side for one thing,” he said honestly, “but the other thing is a plan we have. A plan that is going to cost more than most countries have to spend.”
Gatwick turned smiling.
“Go on,” he said, as he seated himself across from Jason. Jason looked up and spoke.
“Bill, I am prepared to put every cent my company has into this and there will be billions coming in from Sir Nigel’s benefactor countries, but it still isn’t enough. We need all your money and resources as well.”
Gatwick looked bemused and he looked from the professor to Jason and back again.
“What do you mean all,” was all he said?
Chapter fifty five
The Resurrection
Christopher Golde
And he said to me,
‘Do not seal up the words of the prophecy of this book For the time is near.
Let the evildoer still do evil,
And the filthy still be filthy,
And the righteous still do right,
And the holy will be holy.’
John Revelation 22:10