Overseer

By Richard Cudlow

From the biblical desert of Qumran, to the covert offices of the British Secret Service. From the dark clouds of a Middle East nuclear holocaust to the sunshine of Florida and the NASA Space Centre, a story unfolds that will determine the future of the world.
The plot against mankind spans millennia and time is running short. The only defence is Peter Jennings, the latest Overseer, appointed by the Angels to save the human race from itself. Set apart from his fellow humans by being trained to use all of the powers hidden deep in the human mind.
Throughout the ages Overseers have helped the human race to advance. From primitives discovering fire, iron and bronze, to moderns advancing science and technology.
This time,the very destiny of mankind is at stake.
Peter has three tasks, the like of which no previous Overseer has had to face.
•Save the world from holocaust by thwarting the nuclear ambitions of the President of Nair, a megalomaniac who seeks to control the Arab world.
•Find the proof that the ancient writings, that guided mankind for centuries, were not the figment of some primitive, but fertile imagination.
•And finally, save the United Kingdom from the corruption and betrayal that has penetrated to the highest levels of government.
While mindful that he has to keep his powers secret, Peter wheedles his way into EZRA, a little known branch of the British Secret Service. He is sent to Nair to establish the extent of their progress into nuclear science. Soon, he makes a discovery that rings alarm bells back in Britain.
With American technology required to deal with Nair, Peter is sent to Florida to work with Dr William Richards, a brilliant physicist, with one unfortunate failing. He would rather be solving the ancient mysteries of the Torah than developing the world's most fearsome weapon.
In a battle against time, Peter and Dr Richards must free the world of the tyranny that threatens to destroy it.
The help they need can only come from the distant past but can they unlock the secrets of the ancient writings in time?
And just how does the number eleven, that features so prominantly in the modern world, connect the past to the present?
This book introduces the world to the Overseer. An extraordinary man, armed only with the hidden powers of his mind. Powers that one day, if he can keep the secrets of mankind's destiny, may evolve to you and me.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Richard Cudlow
• Release date: Jan 3, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458198662

Richard Cudlow

I'm 5 foot 10, well nourished and with a happy disposition (life's too short to waste with regrets and melancholy). I currently reside in South Wales but hope to travel extensively in the future. I served for twelve years in the Royal Air Force and since demob, in 1972, have been employed in insurance, retail and the building industry. I have always been interested in history and enjoy many of the programmes from the History channel. My reading tastes are varied, relishing stories from Dickens and Mark Twain to Jack Higgins and Frederick Forsyth. My musical tastes are very middle of the road with my favourite musical decades being the forties and fifties. Besides writing ( I'm never happier than when composing stories), my main hobbies comprise DIY and computers. I'm in the process of designing and creating my own website. It talks about my novels to date and some other things that I find of interest...I hope you do too...All is revealed at www.rcudlow.co.uk.

Book preview

Prologue

Summer 189 BC – Qumran

Nathaniel blinked the sweat from his eyes and frowned, trying to keep his work in focus. His back ached and the stone seat at the long writing table did nothing to ease his discomfort. Lifting his eyes towards the window, he squinted at the glare. Reflecting the light of the sun into the room was essential. The heat was a different matter altogether. He looked back at his work and just managed to save another drop of sweat from falling onto his masterpiece. He had always taken such pride in his craft. He’d often been praised for the neatness of his script and the uniformity of his characters.

He glanced to his left where Joseph, a scribe junior to himself, was busy with his own parchment. He watched as he concentrated on the character he was writing. Not a stroke misplaced. With a sense of dismay he looked again at his own work. Why had Joseph, the Chief Scribe, told him to write those particular letters like that? Making them smaller, with one even bigger had, to Nathaniel, spoiled the whole look of his script.

You want me to write them different? he’d queried.

The Chief Scribe smiled, appreciating that Nathaniel felt that he was being asked to provide sub-standard work. He knew he couldn’t tell him everything, but he could try to make him realise that he had been picked for this particular work just because his writing was so uniform and skilful.

Nathaniel, you are copying the Book of Esther so that future generations may have the knowledge that it contains. You have been specially selected. This parchment won’t be kept with the others, here at Qumran. It will go with other artefacts from the Holy Temple to a sacred place where it will be safe for ever.

Nathaniel furrowed his brow as questions formed in his mind. This was all new to him. Why wouldn’t his work be stored with the others? The Chief Scribe noticed his puzzled frown and placed a re-assuring hand on his shoulder.

When our patriarch Moses recorded the early history of our people, he was telling us so much more than just history. The instructions he received he has passed down to us and they are clear. As you record the names of Haman’s sons the letters tav, zain and shin are to be smaller and the letter vav is to be larger. It is not for us to question the knowledge we are given. You can take comfort, however, in the fact that you are conveying a Divine message to future generations.

Nathaniel shrugged as his discomfort brought him back to the task in hand. The long writing room, that had been so cool at the start of the day, was now like an oven. If only the bright illumination from the sun could be reflected into the room without its intense heat. He forced himself to return to his work. Just another ten degrees of the sun and they would finish for the day.

Chapter 1

March 1987

Angels don’t travel distance. They merely think of where they want to be and that is where they are. Alameine thought of herself as at the centre of the universe and there she was, gazing down at the Earth, revelling in its shimmering, blue light. It was time to find a new Overseer.

The energy that was her mind scanned the Earth, at one and the same time looking at each part and at the whole. Gradually, she felt that she was being drawn. She began to focus in the northern hemisphere. She saw Europe and then that strange little island off its north-western coast. She felt that this was where she was being directed. She homed in on late twentieth century England. To an area the local population called Buckinghamshire. To a small country town called Wendover. To a group of dwellings called Adam Close. To a house labelled No 7. To a room at the back of the house. To a bed, in which slept a 10 year old boy.

Peter!…..Peter!….Peter!…

The voice, soft though increasingly urgent, finally began to penetrate and Peter started to rouse. He blinked his eyes and lifted his hands to rub them.

Who’s… there? he whispered, hoping there would be no answer.

He looked around the darkened room, puzzling over what could have woken him. In the gloom, like most boys of his age, he began to get a little frightened. He shut his eyes tight and pulled the covers over his head.

Alameine watched closely, as Peter heard and responded to her voice. She had been here many times before and felt, instinctively, that this was the one. There had been many before Peter but how many in the future, depended, more than ever, on Peter’s success.

Peter pulled the covers tighter over his head. He knew he had heard something – his name being called and, for a change, not by his mother – but by whom or why, he had no idea. While his sense of fear increased Peter became even more alarmed. Despite the fear he felt, he knew that he would have to open his eyes.

Don’t look…, he repeated over and over, …don’t look.

As he whispered these words, he realised that he could not stop himself. His hands, holding tightly to the edge of the bedclothes, started to move down and as he uncovered his face, even with his eyes tight shut, he was aware of the bright light. His eyelids fluttered and slowly opened. He’d stopped breathing as the light penetrated his eyelids and now, some seconds later, as his eyes got used to the brightness and opened wider, he had still not drawn breath.

He looked towards the source of the light but was unable to focus. His eyelids stopped fluttering and opened wide. As focus returned he could just make out the shape standing in the room. He relaxed a little, as he recognised a smiling woman. This was how each new Overseer was first met. The Council had learnt the hard way that humans, while on earth, could never accept the true image of an angel.

* * *

As the one appointed to guide the humans towards their destiny, Alameine had watched over mankind’s development as a mother would watch her growing children. It was she who had appointed a human in each age, to be trained to use the full powers designed into the human mind. Powers that enabled the race to progress and advance. Powers that would give the experiment the best chance of success. The members of the Supreme Council, generally, agreed. She frowned as she remembered the opposition from one particular Angel.

I really must protest!

The speaker on his feet was Ansiel, known as the constrainer, an influential member of the Council who would never accept the need for such a venture. Everything in the universe was in equilibrium. Why spoil things and cause ripples with these pointless experiments?

If, as our dear Alameine says, the humans need an Overseer trained by her to guide them, then the experiment must be deemed a failure. A separate life form cannot exist, beneficially, by its own devices.

But that, your Excellencies, is just the point!

Now it was Alameine’s turn.

"The Overseer is one of them! A human being, chosen for their attributes, to guide their destiny. It’s true, we have to train them to use the full powers of their minds. Never forget, these are powers that form part of their design. They are abilities that are part of their humanity and it is their very humanity that will enable us to decide if the experiment has succeeded. Imagine if, at some time, all humans developed to this standard. What an extra dimension the Universe will attain. Where, in just one small part of creation, the right thing happened, not because of logic but because of humanity."

The Council members nodded and chatted in excited agreement. They knew that the development of humans had been a risk but, thanks to Alameine and her Overseers, remarkable things had been achieved.

The Grand Master raised his hand and the assembled throng fell into silence. It was time to give his judgement and all present realised that the future of the universe would be decided by what he said.

Fellow Councillors, he began, The problem before us is extremely serious. We have to decide whether the Human Experiment should continue. I have reached my conclusion thanks, in no small part, to your own contributions.

The Councillors accepted the compliment with silent gratitude. After a pause, during which he glanced around at all those assembled, the Grand Master continued.

I have concluded, therefore, that it is in the interests of all things that this experiment should continue. We have watched as the human race has progressed to its present position. There have been disappointments and there have been great rejoicings. How gratifying it is that, by studying the writings given to them, the majority of the human race is now aware of us. It is disappointing that some have chosen to reject what was written but that is no reason to punish the whole race.

Ansiel shifted uncomfortably, this was not what he wanted to hear. The Grand Master went on.

We must not, however, forget that other forces are at work and that balance must be maintained. Everything that is good is opposed by all that is evil.

He paused and with a sense of resignation, continued, even amongst ourselves there are what the humans refer to as ‘fallen angels’.

The members looked at each other, uncomfortable and ashamed.

Great parts of the human race have been led away from the path of true knowledge. Terrible catastrophes are imminent unless the humans recognise the folly of their ways. Our own dear Alameine, with her Overseers, has, through the ages, steered them towards their ultimate goal. The human race has overcome many trials and tribulations to be where they are now. We should not deny mankind, at this late hour, the opportunity of fulfilling its destiny.

The Council sat in momentary silence. They understood there could be no opposition and that the human race would continue. For now, at least.

Alameine thanked a number of members for their support and smiled benignly at Ansiel. He smiled back, recognising that he had been defeated. He still felt that he was right. Why disturb the equilibrium of a perfect universe? He was able to return Alameine’s smile because he was sure he’d found the answer. If Alameine was going to upset the equilibrium of the universe with her Overseer, then he, Ansiel, would restore the balance. That would show the Council that he’d been right. An inferior life form, like the humans, could not survive by its own efforts.

* * *

The first human to be approached had seen Alameine as she had been created. The effect had been to make him rush around the cave bludgeoning everyone there to death, before dropping dead himself from shock and fear. It took a long time to find another suitable candidate and, in the meantime, man’s progress was delayed.

The Angels learnt the lesson well and, since those times there had always been an Overseer to advance the human race. They had ranged from primitives, who had shown how to harness the properties of fire, iron, and bronze to more moderns, who had advanced scientific knowledge, like Archimedes and Leonardo da Vinci.

The new Overseer’s task was different. He had to rescue the human race from self destruction. He had to remind mankind where it came from.

Don’t be afraid, Peter, Alameine said soothingly. You’re to come with me. You are very special Peter and there are many things you have to be taught.

Peter stared as the words sunk in. Special? he queried to himself, how did she know?

Like most little boys, Peter had believed that he was different. He sensed that inside he was not like other boys. Perhaps, he’d thought, he had been adopted so that his true identity was hidden. Before he could answer, Peter found himself standing next to her. It felt as if she’d taken his hand, and the room began to fade…

* * *

Ten earth years passed and Peter was feeling quite at home in the heavens. While he was with the Angels, and under Alameine’s personal tuition, he was able to roam the universe just as the angels could. He merely thought of where he wanted to be and that was where he was. Although he could go anywhere, he spent most of his time looking at the Earth. The affinity he felt for the planet of his birth was too strong to deny.

As he learnt more of the origins of the Earth and his race, he felt both love for his kind and impatience at the way scientists, some even well-meaning, were attempting to lead the human race away from the truth.

How could they have got it so wrong? he asked aloud, as he studied the universe around him.

You must realise Peter, no one else on Earth has access to your knowledge.

He had been unaware that Alameine had joined him.

When you return, you will have two tasks. Not only to guide your race away from destruction, but also to lead them back to the truth. When they understand as you do, they will be able to achieve their destiny.

But how did it happen? Peter said in frustration, it’s not as if they weren’t told. It was even written down for them.

Alameine held out her hand and Peter settled beside her.

At the beginning, when the human race began their journey, they were given many things to help them. Overseers, like you, were trained and appointed to guide them along the path of knowledge. Profound truths were written down to explain to them where they came from and how they came to be.

Peter couldn’t help but interrupt.

That’s what I mean, he said, so how come they think all this happened by chance?

Alameine sighed.

"It all began with a human scientist named Nicholas Copernicus. When he first looked up into the heavens, he formed a theory that the earth was not at the centre of the universe but, like the other planets, travelled around the sun. What he would not acknowledge was that even though his theory seemed to fit the things he saw, so also did what had already been written, that the Earth was at the centre of the universe."

Peter thought about what she’d said.

So, both his ideas and the real universe are possible from what can be seen from Earth?

That’s right and don’t forget, humans can’t stand away from their home and see things as they really are. Like you can.

Peter started to appreciate the enormity of his task. Alameine continued.

His ideas were taken up by other scientists, from Galileo, to Darwin and on to Einstein, different theories were developed to explain things that had already been explained. The effect was to make humans deny their history.

As Peter listened, he understood more and more. It was as if the scientists had a quest to destroy what had been written. Alameine went on.

Although some people did protest, these theories began to be adopted by more and more humans and they were taught to children, who grew up believing them. Gradually, over hundreds of years, the human race began to believe that they had come into existence by chance.

She looked intently at Peter; she knew that only he could undo the damage and that she must make him understand.

As you know Peter, the Jews were the race chosen to bring to mankind the knowledge of the beginning. They still refer to themselves as the 'Chosen People' and they are entitled to. They did make the world aware of all that had happened. However, what faces mankind now requires different qualities. You were chosen because you have those qualities Peter, you have an inner sense of what is right and you won't hide the truth.

Peter felt proud but at the same time a little humbled.

If only it wasn't so easy to deny what was written. How do I explain things that seem impossible. How do I explain when the writings say that some people lived for hundreds of years?

It’s not impossible Peter, it only takes a little faith and the ability to see what’s around you. When humans first populated the earth, in order for them to achieve all that they were destined to achieve, it was necessary for some to live for a long time. Don’t forget that the world was much slower then with no modern communications or scientific discoveries to benefit mankind.

Surely, said Peter, longing to understand, people will just say that if we were designed and created the truth would have been implanted in us. How do I answer and get people to believe me?

Alameine smiled. Peter’s enthusiasm was just what she wanted to see.

When the human race was new and trying to establish itself, there was a lot of divine interference. The writings all talk of it. But that wasn’t what was intended. Humans were given the gift of free will in order that they may make their own way. But, people are still in direct contact Peter. Whenever a human being has been inspired to do good, that inspiration has come down through one of the Angels.

Peter sat deep in thought. He could see that the earth was at the centre of the universe but how could he convince people when scientific measurements fitted other theories as well.

I’ll find a way, I have to.

The statement was simple enough and Alameine smiled as she saw that Peter was beginning to grasp the importance of what he was being told.

The greatest gift given to the human race was free will but, you must never forget Peter, when humans were granted free will, they were able to be infected by evil. It is the evil that wishes to take over the human race and destroy it. It will have succeeded when humans deny their history, and that time is approaching and will soon be upon us.

Peter’s spent most of his time learning to link his mind to the cosmos. It was only then could he appreciate what he could achieve with the potency of thought. With a little concentration, he could guide a meteorite safely out of harm’s way as it hurtled towards the Earth. He knew, as time went by, that he was becoming more and more powerful. By the time twenty earth years had passed, he was ready to return to earth and begin his mission.

Chapter 2

March 2007 – Republic of Nair

Tears flowed from his eyes in an uncontrolled stream. It wasn’t so much the pain. That he’d got used to. He couldn’t stop thinking of his parents and the safe sanctuary of his childhood. And it made him cry. And with the tears, came despair.

With diminishing strength he pulled his wrists against the leather straps. The large, wooden chair, stained with the blood and gore from previous prisoners, wouldn’t let him go. Somewhere, in his mind, he knew it wasn’t the pain that would make him talk. It was the despair.

The room was hot, a furnace burned in the corner. The stench of sweat mixed with the acrid odours of blood and fire. Sparks flew as his tormentor, naked from the waist up and glistening wet, raked the tongs in the fiery coals. Finally, holding the glowing implement high and in full view, he approached his victim.

The prisoner trembled with terror. He felt his head yanked back, forcing his mouth wide open. With most of his teeth missing, his mouth resembled a black, bloody cavern. Now he knew he was lost. His torturer no longer wanted him to talk. The tongs were pushed in and clamped around the tongue. The sizzle of the searing flesh mixed with the pitiful screams as the glowing metal burnt through the organ, severing it completely.

The captor grimaced when the fumes from the burning flesh reached his nostrils, about the same time that an eerie silence fell. The pain-free blackout of unconsciousness came as a welcome relief. He let go of the head and it fell forward, blood oozing from the smoking mouth. With a grunt, he tossed the tongs back onto the furnace. The remains of the tongue stuck to the metal as it continued to cook, finally to be vapourised by the intense heat.

Sergeant Abdolali Samdii, lately of the Revolutionary Guard, looked at the unconscious victim. He knew he wasn’t going to talk. Perhaps he wasn’t a spy at all and really did just hope to find work at the refinery. He shook his head, he couldn’t afford such thoughts. The President himself had picked him for this work. Guilty or not, he could make men confess and that meant a lifestyle better than his father could have hoped for. If they wouldn’t talk, the President was clear. They should never talk again.

With a glancing look at the helpless victim, he left the chamber. In the room outside a small table was draped with a towel and the sergeant’s uniform shirt. He picked up the towel and wiped his shiny head and torso. A shaven head was easier to clean than blood-matted hair. Two soldiers watched as he picked up his shirt and slipped it on. Fastening the last button, he nodded to them.

Clean him up and take him to Captain Yeganeh. He didn’t have anything to say.

The soldiers got up and made their way into the room. They hesitated, they never knew what they were going to pick up. In the past bodies had disintegrated as they were moved and there was no escaping the stench of burnt human flesh…

* * *

Silently and unseen, watching man’s inhumanity to man, Alameine sighed as she returned to the heavens. The time she had been waiting for had arrived. Mankind needed its Overseer more than at any time in history. The human race alone could not ensure that good triumphed over evil, but with the Overseer, they had a fighting chance.

Appointed by the Angels, an Overseer, in each age, had guided the human race to achieve remarkable things. Men, separated from their kind by being taught how to use all of the powers designed into the human mind.

Alameine knew that things had to change. Humans now had the means to destroy not only themselves but every living creature on earth. The choice was clear. The human race could progress and achieve all that they were destined to do, or they could fall to the evil that was all around.

Alameine thought of Peter, the latest of the Overseers and a man with a task unlike any of his predecessors. He had shown remarkable ability during his training. Perhaps he really was the one to save mankind and bring them back to the fold. Alameine sensed that if the human race failed now, there would not be a second chance; the universe would just have to go on without them…

***

No-one would guess that the fit, healthy looking man, for the first time since he was ten years old, felt vulnerable and afraid. After twenty years with the angels, Peter had grown tall and powerful. He would command respect wherever he went but, at the moment, it was not enough. The transition from the heavens had been instantaneous and finding himself back on earth came as a shock.

He appeared to be in a small archway in a deserted street. His surroundings were still and eerily silent as the first glow of dawn began to penetrate. He peered round the corner and, looking left, high on the wall, he could just make out the sign of the Harp public house.

As he ventured along the pavement, he looked across the junction and up at a notice on the side of the building. Adelaide Street. He walked a short distance between the deserted buildings, feeling strangely small. When he had looked down on the Earth, he’d had the impression that he was so much larger. But now, it felt very strange to have his surroundings towering over him. At the end of the street he came to the wide expanse of the Strand and, opposite, was confronted by the façade of Charing Cross Station.

Though dawn was breaking, most of the windows of the Charing Cross Hotel, above the station, were still in darkness. He reckoned it must be between five and six and Peter shivered as the remains of the night chill penetrated his senses. He crossed the road to enter the station, drawn by the unmistakeable smell of fresh coffee being prepared.

‘Must be able to get a hot drink there,’ he thought to himself.

Walking through the entrance he came first to a small coffee shop where a middle-aged assistant was preparing for the early trade. As she fussed at the back of the kiosk, preparing to open for business, Peter studied her. She was dressed tidily but it was a long time since her clothes were new. Her prematurely greying hair was neatly arranged with the exception of a lock that kept falling over her eyes. She’d developed a flick of her head that returned the errant lock to its place and Peter frowned as he saw how effortlessly she controlled it. The woman’s mannerisms seemed strangely familiar.

He waited until she noticed him. As she turned from the back of the kiosk she jumped slightly when she saw him standing at the counter.

He nodded a greeting and smiled.

She returned his smile, delighted that her first customer of the day was so pleasant.

She maintained eye contact as she advanced to the counter to serve him. Noting his air of quiet authority and the pleasant way he returned her look. Over the twenty years he'd been away he had been trained in many things; it was important that when he spoke people listened. He had developed with a warm and likeable personality, none of which was lost on the woman who now stood opposite him.

These were the talents he could share with his fellow man but there were other talents that must always remain secret. He could never reveal who he truly was or why he was there. Humans could not know that they were an experiment.

Am I too early for a coffee? I really need one.

No, she replied, reaching for a cup, the machine should be ‘ot enough now.

She placed a cup under a chute and pulled a handle. Ground coffee was ejected into the vessel. She moved the cup to another spout and pulled down on a small lever. A burst of steam echoed across the empty concourse as scalding water trickled through the powder.

You waiting for a train?

Her tone rose with the question and she seemed genuinely interested in this strange man.

He took the cup of steaming liquid she proffered and sipped it cautiously.

No, but it feels as if I’ve been walking all night and this is just what I needed.

She smiled as she watched him gratefully drink the hot coffee and thought of her own son. He would be about the same age. She thought again of the morning that she'd gone to wake him for school. The room was tidy and nothing was missing...only her son. After a huge manhunt, gradually the world moved on and she had to come to terms with the fact he'd gone but she never gave up hope. She knew that one day she would see him again. Trouble was, would she recognise him?

As he finished his drink and put the cup back onto the counter, their eyes met. He felt as much as saw the sadness behind her smile. Sliding his hand into his pocket, he brought out some change. He handed the woman a two-pound coin. Still looking deeply into her eyes, he held onto her hand as he spoke.

Thank you, he said quietly, and she smiled broadly as he continued try not to worry, things are never as bad as they seem.

As he turned she took a deep breath. She felt good in his presence. She beamed as she turned to the till and instinctively felt that her son wasn’t too far away.

Outside the station, Peter looked around. He had no idea which way to go. He knew he was in London and had decided that he would live there, being close to the centre of power was important. He had to be where the decisions were made. He set off along the Strand to give himself time to think, plan what he was going to do, and then get on with it.

Suddenly, as if from nowhere, he was racked with pain. His hands flew up to his ears as he tried to shut out the noise. It was futile; his brain felt like it was about to explode. Grasping his head tightly he staggered along trying to get away from the nerve shattering sounds.

Suddenly the shop doorways ceased and he stumbled into Carting Lane. After a few yards the lane turned into a flight of steps and he just managed to stop himself before tumbling down them. He rested against a wall and screwed up his face as the pain and noise continued inside his head. He heard factories starting up and closing down all over the world. He heard great ships leaving harbours and entering ports. He heard aircraft landing and taking off under full power. And the voices…millions of voices in all languages.

Gradually, as his senses began to filter out what he didn’t need to hear, the pain began to subside. A tramp was watching him from his crude shelter in the small lane, hoping he might drop something of value. You never knew when you might get lucky. Peter leant against a wall, gasping for breath as he welcomed the relief. Eventually, he would be able to focus on any of the noises as and when he wished but, for now, he was grateful that the pain was easing.

When he could think straight he reasoned what had happened. He realised that, back on earth, he would have to learn to control his powers. He practised focusing his brain and jumped as he tuned in to an aircraft blasting its way down a runway. He focused again and immediately only heard the muted, local noises of the city waking up. He left Carting Lane, turned back onto the Strand and immediately looked up at the welcoming entrance to the Savoy Hotel. The tramp mentally shrugged his shoulders and withdrew the piece of bread from his pocket. Perhaps next time.

Peter knew he had to get somewhere to live but for now, he might as well be comfortable. He slipped his hand into his pocket and withdrew the wallet. He instinctively knew that inside he would find all he needed. Feeling much better, he entered the alleyway and walked between the shop windows towards the hotel entrance.

* * *

At the core of the Middle East, a place the Angels refer to as the ‘Birthplace of the Experiment’, lies Nair, a sprawling country with seventy million people. It is a country of contrasts with its population either earning a living in the modern, prosperous, oil-financed cities or eking an existence from the rural countryside. A countryside that had hardly changed in three thousand years.

The people know, only too well, that the ‘democracy’ they live under is a long way from the democracy defined by the United Nations. The last election was a travesty but it was considered fortunate that only eleven hundred had died at the hands of the President’s Revolutionary Guard.

The President of Nair sat at his desk awaiting the arrival of his guest. The desk was large and accentuated the diminutive stature of the man. He had dark, flashing eyes and a prominent, hooked nose. This, combined with his close-cropped black beard, meant that he was often the object of ridicule, none of which did anything to allay the nervousness he felt.

He cleared his throat and glanced towards the high double doors at the far end of the room. This was an important meeting and he was aware that his future plans depended on its success. Despite rigging his election, he felt that, at last, he’d achieved his destiny. As the President, he could take whatever steps were necessary to overthrow his enemies and he enjoyed the sense of potency that his office