Timing was perfectly set, the daily codes were about to change. The operation was generated on the main computer and was a task that was solely handled by him. All he had to do would be to send the first set of codes generated to the council room before generating a second set without them noticing it. That was the easy part of the plan. The problem was to create a reason or a security breach threatening enough to make the members lock themselves up in the room.
He definitely would need some help for that part.
Forget that, gun in the palm, sweat dripping down the neck, one jump to set his person in combat. May the Lord have him; this was survival, a new beginning, perfect ending. When a man can’t take it no more, rage exploding, ears whistling, heart pumping, he hadn’t touched this drug in a while. Targets at the door jumping back, TUF TUF, bullets out the silencer, he ducks them, lets the .38 roar, sparks all over the room. Spin move, slow mo’, PAUSE: corner of his left eye, the bastard survived, draws out a 9… BOOM BOOM, shot gun blast from the second gorilla, right through Mark’s still flying jacket, close, retaliation shots, head and neck, Chopin will be playing for him RIP…
His mind quickly came back to reality, would be an heroic moment but even if took the guards down and made it to the room he had slim chances, and it would probably wouldn’t end it all.
Hollywood ending, mediocre results.
He needed something big. And it came to him, like the providential rain 3 weeks into a harsh summer.
Nothing would have to actually happen. No lives besides the ones of his targets would have to be in danger.
For a decade now the Council had started a stealth disarmament campaign. Replace chemical and atomic components from nuclear weapons belonging to a few countries that were judged instable because of the soon to be volatile world political situation.
He looked through the list of official spies alive on the planet, no matter where laid their loyalty. He was looking for the most reliable element.
He soon found the tools he needed. Truth Jeagal was the most decorated North Korea intelligence officer still on the field. She was totally devoted to her government. Miguel Baron was an ex drug lord reconverted in the sale of various information to the best buyer. He too was known to always be dead on and therefore his business was booming.
As fast and calmly as he was able to, Mark compiled the last 20 years of the Council’s manipulation and the exact co-ordinates of the very building he was in into an electronic file before sending it to Miss Jeagal and Mister Baron. No ip address, no name, no demands. Just a signature: F.H, K.R & I.K
He figured Truth would forward the file to her government. Once they would discover who is running the world it wouldn’t take long until they blamed all their problems on his employers. Their wrath would most surely encourage the use of the red button, in that sense the Council was right, there were few out of control rulers throughout the world. That would be his advantage.
Miguel on his side would study the file and select the biggest scandals to narrow the most interested buyers. The more they were cheated by the Council the more the rulers involved would pay.
Soon enough Cuba, Iran, Afghanistan, Iraq to only name those few, would turn against their puppeteers.
Once they would open fire and target the Council location with what they believe are atomic bombs, the alerts from intelligence would come first and only through Marks computer. All he had to do would be to alter the names of the country causing the threats. The U.S, France and England had real and efficient weapons. Those names would strike enough fear in the Council to put the building on lockdown.
That would give him few minutes to forward to them an info, intelligence discovery of the message sent, signed by the infamous initials.
A malicious grin was working his tense face when the first alert came through. North Korea was following the plan as expected. “Or France must I say”.
He felt good, light hearted, he was Moses and John McClain put together, leader and savior.
The first siren ripped through the hallways. The protocol was in the book, and still panic took over the entire organization. The “oldies” themselves couldn’t believe it. What was happening and why?
The head of security was quick to stick to the book and launch the security protocol. Each Council’s members was taken to the safe room, the doors locked behind them before few layers of walls made of different materials started surrounding the room.
He noticed something wrong. The council was “safe” in its room but the rest of the organization workers were locked inside the building. There was no escape. That must have been a little twist from the “direction”. It was expected, they were in all situations protecting themselves, their secrets.
It hit him hard. His mission was kamikaze. This was it. He would have to die to save the world and his loved ones.
No turning back, it had to be done. It was right in his reach, dying a hero was a satisfying idea, Pride and Unconditional Love for his peers and the human race took over.
By the time Iraq had launched its missile the organization’s intelligence sent its first report and attached was the file he had gladly sent earlier.
He picked up his phone for the security debrief. The voices inside the bunker were tense and confused. What could have gone wrong?
Mark felt his moment rising.
“Sir we have received a report that doesn’t provide the source of the situation but the instigating element was recovered. I am transferring the files to your tablets.”
Once the sent button was clicked, he poured himself some coffee and went back to listening to the council. He would distinctively hear Forry Himla, Kim Ruth & Ingar Kjaaergard protest and swear with anger… three of your very own Council members. A rumble and horrified screams soon occurred followed by gun pops and deflagration.
It was still very much a gunfight in there when an insane blast rocked the building. Mark saw a flank of the wall being propelled towards him, he waited for the impact for what seems to be ages but soon the warm wave hit him…
ARRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH He felt like he was jumping out of his body. His head was pounding as if hell had relocated in his cranium. His neck felt stiff and his arms and legs non responsive.
“Laur… Save… I love you…”
“Mark stay with me please”
She seemed so real but everything was fire around him.
“Sir you have done well, keep on hanging on. You will soon be taken care of. You are on a helicopter to Nairobi’s American Hospital. They will for sure know what the matter is. I will to try to keep u stable during the transfer.”
The flames faded to black, the bips from the machines became continue, Laur vanished… Life vanished…
Mark Walters passed away from what was thought to be an extremely aggressive form of meningitis he contracted while on a safari in Kenya, diagnosis made mostly due to the hallucinations he was experiencing during the last hours of his life. It was unclear how he contracted it although he had been vaccinated. Sources were unclear on the subject of those hallucinations; Mrs. Walters was forced to remain silent on her husband’s “gibberish” by the insurance company that paid her Mark’s life insurance. Some 15 years down the line the world would learn he was the notorious virus “Beliator” first ever victim, a virus that decimated earth population, mostly the poor.
He didn’t live on to see Zoe’s wedding and was six feet under when Harold and his wife had their first child. He never saw his family grow richer than they already were, he was spared the great riots and the New World Order…
“We are told our imagination product is abstract but since based on real elements is it farfetched to somehow believe our imagination could draw scenes very much closer to our immediate future than we are allowed to believe?”