The Oleander Effect: Snow in November - Book 1

By Justin Muller

When one man is in control of the world, he cannot make a mistake. One organization must enforce just that, and as the leader of the world grows more powerful, the organization struggles to adapt.
When the son of the leader becomes vulnerable after the disappearance and presumed death of his wife, a friend recruits him into the organisation with the hope of a cure. He is put through training no organisation can match, and has only one instruction. Prevent a mistake from happening.
Although simple in theory, this one event will challenge Julian Gralso in such a way, his very own perceptions of humanity and society will be called into question. Will he accept his wife’s death?
The perfect candidate, the perfect job. If he does complete his training, he will become the most important secret agent in the world.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Justin Muller
• Release date: Jan 1, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310869150

Justin Muller

Justin Muller is a freelance writer from Cape Town, South Africa. He enjoys writing fictional pieces that are partly satirical at times, sometimes semi-humorous, conventional, or non-conventional: “Always fresh,” as he describes his work. He is also as avid writer of children’s literature, and believes that this genre complements his other writing. Academically, he is legally trained and holds inter-alia, an LLB degree. He also worked as a researcher at the law journal of the University of the Western Cape, Law Democracy and Development.

Book preview

The Oleander Effect

Snow in November

Copyright © 2014 by Justin Muller

Smashwords Edition (professionally copy-edited)

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review

First Published: January 2014

Cover Design: Jeanine Henning

For the latest news, visit: www.justinmullerbooks.com

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Epilogue

The Oleander Effect: Throne of Bayonets

About the Author

Other Books by Justin Muller

The Glass Forest

The Oleander Effect Series

Coming Soon – Book 2: Throne of Bayonets

Chapter 1

The desert dunes moved slowly with the hollow wind, and every eye had nowhere to land a sight. An empty void, a chasm laid bare to the universe, and the small hills were never quiet, or still. They moved ever so slowly.

The chatter of machine gun fire flung up a cloud of sand. Two bursts - ammunition was favourable. The early morning still submerged the sounds of the world, and the desert dunes did not hold any more freedom. Different sounds wove their way in-between the mounds of sand at different paces, but the land was bare of most mounds.

The shooter was impatient, and fired again, the tracer rounds burning thin lines into the landscape.

Hold it, said the commander, touching the shooter quickly. They were huddled on an outpost deep inside the Sahara. It had spread the commander’s force out thin across the relatively small contour; and with every metre of land crossed, they were moving into unknown territory. The recent surveys had shown over 10 million square kilometres of desert, but that figure was increasing every metre more they saw.

Check the rads.

The shooter removed himself from his machine gun and produced a slim Geiger counter.

A jet suddenly screamed overhead in the distance, forcing them to both look in the direction of its travel.

Do you think they’ll return? asked the shooter, fiddling with the instrument, but the commander was lost in the vexed sand dunes. He was transfixed by the tongue of flame that shot out from the distant horizon.

Damn, it’s just manageable, but that explosion must have sent up another pocket, said the shooter quickly.

Mixed with the winds from the north, the commander thought, we might get a cloud later on. We’re relocating anyways, no person is mad enough to stay in these regions while the winds change.

The shooter suddenly climbed up and faced the commander, disturbing a thin sheet of sand.

We’ve lost many men on this expedition. We do what’s right, and punch up to 412. The bird is in range now.

The commander turned and listened to the desert. After years, he could distinguish the activity in the air. The enemy did not return fire. They had a small window.

We bring him out.

*

The helicopter was a nimble machine; built from scratch by a powerful sponsor ready to lend its hand; few were strong enough to lend. No sound came from the fluid air displacement, and the clean blade with the gas padded engine block. A small drone could be distinguished at a distance, but otherwise it was silent. They had chosen a fossil fuel burning engine as they didn’t trust an electric motor in the desert weather.

The most important man in the camp stepped out from his tent. He had three layers of protection, one of them lead lined and a respirator with a fixed oxygen tank. A re-breathing apparatus accompanied the man, but the oxygen tank would hold for many more hours. They planned to be quick on their way, accomplishing their task and returning before sunrise.

Doctor, said the commander as he walked up to the figure. He addressed the man by his friend’s name, the only slither of recognition. No time for pleasantries.

Is all my equipment packed? I hate disappointments, the doctor replied.

Don’t worry; the men packed exactly what you ordered. The commander tried to hide his annoyance. Do you think it’s too soon though? That explosion must have saturated the air by now.

I would rather risk radiation than bullets.

I personally wouldn’t risk either, returned the commander, but the doctor was impatient, and forced his way to the awaiting machine.

I don’t know why you’re really here, doctor. You have been searching for something else in this desert. Your expedition has cost much. If you don’t accomplish what we’re actually here for, I’m afraid we’ll have to return.

The doctor clambered aboard the helicopter and fastened his seatbelt, ignoring the commander’s comments.

The one beauty of this desert is that it’s very fruitful. The radioactive material that you’re breathing in right now has its origins somewhere between the dunes. A fallout pattern was observed from the first aerial photographs. It’s too bad we came to it in such circumstances. Never doubt my work; I thought I made that clear to you when we first met.

When we first met, it was much different.

The doctor smiled through his mask.

Yes.

The commander watched as the helicopter lifted off the ground, and slowly departed into the unknown.

*

The clouds boiled black tar as the night fought the morning slowly; pooling up on the ceiling of the skies like a potent poison. It swirled around the heart of the heavens to dissolve the blue and grey, but the heavens fought back. Thunderous strokes blew across the sky in pockets of bane; irregular, and unhealthy.

The doctor leaned out of the helicopter with his camera. Even though it was dark, the dunes had their luminescence. They whizzed by as the aircraft gained speed. Two photographs were taken, no more when the first drops from the sky touched the helicopter. With each drop, the Geiger counter screamed. He did not even dare look at the reading on the device. The mission had to be accomplished, no matter the cost.

The pilot pressed a button somewhere in the cockpit and the doors sealed shut.

The doctor examined the photographs he had taken. It was an infrared camera, and it clearly showed what they were looking for.

The doctor pressed a series of buttons and the relative co-ordinates were sent to the helicopter’s guidance system.

After a minute, the pilot swerved in for the final approach. The pit of the doctor’s stomach felt low, and he licked his lips. What he was about to do was very important. It was necessary for the empire to obtain the last store of enriched uranium left, but that was just a rumour. What waited at the extinct facility was not in the doctor’s knowledge. Any radioactive elements present below the dunes needed to be in control of the empire. They needed absolute control of all assets, especially of those that could be used to isolate. For a world empire to survive, it needs control. Absolute, methodical control. Formally, that was why the doctor was there. To ensure stability with anarchy.

The blades pulsed slower in exertion as they tilted towards the target, parting the rain efficiently into a mist. The doctor licked his lips again with nerves; it was a dream for all regulators. To manage a site which had been forgotten for almost two hundred years, and it was to the doctor a beautiful thing. It glowed beneath the sand like a pearl in the lenses of his camera. Strangely, his equipment had also detected a recent storm of alpha particles. The facility was destabilizing, which had led the interest of the scientists back at the capital. Even small amounts of radon gas were detected in the measured spectrums, which indicated radium. It surely had to be a nuclear research facility, and the thought made the doctor tingle. He was only allowed to work with small samples of his favourite elements, small slithers that even the most famous scientists were envious of.

"I’m coming, my bellus."

*

The pilot was weary when he landed the aircraft. The wind was blowing strongly, pushing his reach over the controls. He landed it when there was a part in the wind, and as soon as the helicopter touched down, the doors were opened, allowing a rush of ionizing radiation to cause havoc with the Geiger counter.

The doctor’s protective clothing was the most sophisticated item at disposal. His research team of nuclear physicists had created a material that used manipulated fluorine gas to bond to subjugating alpha particles. When more alpha particles came into reach of the fluorine gas, a timed magnetic field broke apart previous bonds to difficultly allow more radiation to be absorbed and re-emitted.

The doctor was not worried about the radiation when he stepped onto the sand; he instead was worried about the proper entrance to the facility below him. The sand lay straight ahead, the drone of the helicopter’s slowing blades the only alien sound. No life, none at all.

The blades fell silent, allowing the doctor the space to think. He walked back to the helicopter and produced a plain shovel. He needed to adjust his bearings; if he was on the roof of the facility, then he would act accordingly. No other person accompanied them, it was the way the doctor liked it.

He took out a safety line from the back of