Christopher Golde
Chapter zero
Ground Zero
In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth.
And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep.
Genesis 1
Date: 26th December 2004
Location: Singapore
Time: 15:00 hours
The University of Singapore auditorium erupted with what was for this crowd unconventional cheering and applause, as the grey-haired speaker made his final statement in a speech that had enthralled the ‘to capacity’ filled the amphitheater.
“Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, you have been an inspiring audience and I hope today's discussion about the future of our world has inspired you all to achieve the highest academic levels of this great University. Earth will certainly need many more great scientists if we are to survive.”
Professor Nigel Stansen was more than just a guest speaker at the University, he was a headhunter. He lectured around the globe and at the same time scoured the Universities and laboratories of the world looking for the brightest of the bright. He needed as many of the world’s great minds as he could find. They were running out of crucial time and the events that had unfolded this last night and day had brought it home to him like a brick.
As the audience continued to applaud and gradually all got to their feet, still applauding and even whistling, Nigel waved and walked from the stage his assistants and bodyguards surrounding him and guiding him from the auditorium into the bowels of the University.
“Mr Stansen,” called someone from behind him. Nigel turned to see his Chief of Security, Scott Owens approaching holding his mobile phone in his hand. “It’s you know who Mr Stansen,” said Owens, in his usual military tone. As Nigel took the phone he could read on the screen ‘Jason King’. He knew he must take this call and he knew why he would be calling.
Date: 26th December 2004
Location: London
Time: 07:50 hours
Jason King sank back into the plush lounge chair of his rented apartment. It was one of the few places in the world he did not own an apartment. He had never enjoyed coming to London all that much, or Great Britain for that matter. The history fascinated him and it was not as if he did not fit in. In fact, he had always had a strange feeling of belonging when he was in Britain. A sort of ‘de Je’ Vu’ everywhere he seemed to go. It generally drove him crazy, as it seemed to be stronger in this country than anywhere else on Earth he travelled. It was probably why he did not care much for coming here. Then there was the ‘what he called’ dull and unexciting weather and people.
He had made himself a coffee with the espresso machine that came with the apartment and he joked with himself that he had probably just made the best coffee ever made in Britain. ‘Probably a few Frenchmen in the past had made a few good coffees while they were here, but in his opinion, the current inhabitants had no idea.’
He chuckled to himself and wondered why he was in such a mood. Normally, he was tolerant of all cultures and countries and although he did not like Britain as a destination, it usually did not make him as picky as he was on this trip. Maybe he was coming down with something, or maybe something was about to happen.
He picked up the remote for the television and switched it on. It went immediately to what was obviously a news report and it was just beginning. The camera rotated on a seated female news reporter with short blonde hair and the BBC logo faded into the bottom right corner of the screen.
“Good evening,” she began, as the camera settled fairly on her front profile, “more than eleven thousand people have now thought to have been killed in southern Asia after an undersea earthquake sent enormous waves rolling across the Indian Ocean.”
Jason sat bolt upright and in doing so spilt his coffee and then dropped the cup to the table without taking his eyes from the screen.
“The quake measured eight-point-nine on the Richter Scale, the biggest in the world for forty years. Waves up to ten meters high engulfed the coasts of many countries. The quake’s epicentre was off the coast of the island of Sumatra in North-Western Indonesia where more than four thousand people are thought to have died.”
Jason could not believe what he was hearing but listened intently to try and gauge the scale of the event.
“In Sri Lanka officials say more than three thousand people have been killed and more than a million affected. In Southern India, three thousand people, mostly fishermen, are reported dead. At least three hundred have been killed in Southern Thailand, including some tourists, and hundreds of people are missing. And waves swamped the low lying Maldive islands leaving the capital Male two thirds underwater.”
The screen now changed to pictures of the disaster as she said, “Garath Thirby reports.”
Jason watched in disbelief but was not listening anymore and reached for his mobile phone. He speed-dialled a number and waited.
When it answered it was not who he was calling but then he expected that more often than not.
“Can I speak to Dr Nigel Stansen please,” he requested, being as restrained as he could in the situation? After a short burst of surrounding noise and the muffling of someone putting a hand over the phone, a British accented gentleman answered.
“Hello Jason, how are you?”
“Where are you,” answered Jason bluntly?
“I am in Singapore Jason, and I am well thank you,” replied the professor.
Jason did not really care for pleasantries at this moment.
“I take it you have seen the news?”
“Yes,” was the solemn reply!
“You do remember what I told you,” Jason replied?
“Of course,” answered Nigel Stansen.
“It is exactly as I told you,” said Jason, vindication and desperation a mix in his emotions and obviously affecting his calm thinking. “You know how bad this will be then?”
The voice at the other end said nothing. Jason assumed the clinical mind of Nigel Stansen would be calculating the implications.
Jason listened to the silence and tried to calm himself.
“It shows that I was not imagining it,” he finally said, “we don’t have as much time as we thought we might have.”
“I am aware of that,” said the stately voice.
“I am now glad I told you,” said Jason, “at least you will not think me crazy now.”
There was another long pause.
“I never thought you crazy Jason,” said the voice, “why do you think I have watched you and followed you for so long. You were always either the cause or the cure.”
Jason looked back at the screen of the television and saw people walking through ruins of buildings and streets in despair, one carrying the body of a young child.
“The cause,” he said softly, almost solemnly.
“I did not mean you are the cause. I said, in the beginning, we did not know if you were cause or solution. I now truly think it is the solution.”
Again a long pause while Jason watched more pictures of the disaster passing on the large apartment flat-screen TV.
“Then if I am the solution let’s get to it,” he said softly.
“Do you want to meet with me,” offered the voice?
Jason paused and thought.
“I’m in London,” he said absently.
“I know,” said Nigel.
‘Of course’, Jason thought, ‘he always knows where I am’.
“No, I will be alright, I will see you in two days in Australia as planned.”
He just hung up the phone without a goodbye or acknowledgement. He knew that was rude, especially to an Englishman like Nigel, but he knew Nigel would understand. What he needed to do was understand many things himself. He needed time and space to think.