And Glory

By Andrew Ian Dodge

The year is 2034. Power lies in Europe with the bureaucrats in Brussels and London is the centre for the Western Provinces.

The Supremo Manipulator of this conglomerate of nations is Pius. With no religious connections and a diminishing hold on power the Union is sustained by nepotism, violence and musical chairs of political appointees. The disintegration of the Union is imminent.

Rob, an English tech nerd together with his accomplice David, have to use their cyborg intelligence to survive in this oppressive Euro society in the Western Provinces. The assassination of Teresa, Rob's girlfriend, and a busload of tourists along with the murder of a Czech student at Hull European University, provide the catalyst for Rob and David's dangerous involvement. Together with their minders, Michaela and Kiara, they head full speed into their deadly adventure. Death is catching.

With a touch of humor, a satirical political edge, characters that you come to know well and a flowing writing style take the reader through a techno-thriller deep into the 21st century. We see the ambivalence of the revolutionaries, who never intended serious action, faced with orders to destroy and kill. Europe will never be the same again

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Feb 5, 2010
• ISBN: 9781450209816

Andrew Ian Dodge

Andrew Ian Dodge is a 32 year-old Harpswell based novelist-writer and sole proprietor of Lupus & Co, a web-based publishing house. He writes music reviews for SFK. Marty Dodge is the game expert for MacUnlimited.com. He has written four novels and the recently published Statism Sucks! Ver. 2.0 . A self described Deist and Radical Liberal (modern libertarian) of the late 1800s, his politics are for limited government, a flat tax, laissez faire economics and the ideals of the Constitution, together with the Age of Reason. His calling card reads simply, “Cynic, Cyberpunk and Raconteur.”

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Copyright © 2010 by Andrew Ian Dodge

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ISBN: 978-1-4502-0978-6 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4502-0981-6 (ebook)

iUniverse rev. date: 01/22/2010

Contents

Acknowledgements

Dedication

Prologue

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

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

I would like to thank all those who have helped me with this book including my dear wife Kim Benson.

I would also like to thank all those who have stuck with me through some very trying times: Tom Burroughes, Rob Mallows, John Haithwaite, Charlotte Sabel, David Shaw, Frank Sensenbrenner, Bob Sensenbrenner, and George Stevens. I would especially like to acknowledge and thank all the members of the Growing Old Disgracefully family: including John, Rob, Tom, Mike Hendrix and Mitch Benn. As always, my mother Elizabeth Dodge has been a steadfast support.

My special thanks go to Vera, my canine inspiration.

Dedication

In loving memory of Arthur Irving Dodge

Prologue

Jose-Maria Rodriguez drove his 90 ton behemoth down the Embankment of Europe, holding his speed at an even 100 kph, while trying to drive and listen to the instructions streaming through the speakers. El jefe had to run through it all over again, even though they had been through this a hundred times. J-M never did like the Italian who had hired him for the job. The Armani suit, sunglasses, and two beefy bodyguards.

Una maricon, J-M thought when he first met the man. Fortunately the money was good. Better still he could make his normal run of merchandise back to Barcelona. This time it was twice his normal salary to run over a girl. Facilisimo.

Gallia looked out his infrared viewfinder at the oncoming heavy goods lorry, he could hear the cackling of his employer relaying instructions to the lorry driver. At his side sat a radio remote with a flashing red LED. The LED would not turn green for a minute or two yet. With his right hand Gallia picked the device up and began to feel for the button. For some odd reason it had Braille etched across the black surface.

Must be for blind terrorists, Gallia thought to himself. The voice over his headpiece suddenly spoke his name.

Gallia! You there? said the heavily accented voice. Are you ready, I said? Answer me? If you have fallen asleep I am going to kill you myself?’ GALLIA!

Si senori! I am here awake and ready. Gallia responded in English. He could not figure out why Pius would want to speak in English, when most of the crew were native Italian speakers. Pius was a pompous ass, but he paid well, and the job was interesting and not that dangerous.

Gallia had been recruited while serving a sentence for train bombing in France. He was the only one of his group to survive. An Algerian group hired him for his explosives expertise, picked up during his time with the New Red Army in Sicily. Unfortunately the bomb had gone off prematurely and killed everyone else. Gallia did succeed in killing several hundred Frenchmen and a whole bunch of Africans in one go. Large bombs and tunnels do make for carnage.

Moving his viewfinder to his right, Gallia saw what he hoped the truck would hit when it went out of control, a restaurant on a boat on the River Thames, no doubt packed at this time on a Sunday night. Gallia had calculated that his little explosion would propel the truck towards the boat. It was not a certainty, but what the hell.

Teresa walked along Horseferry Road, with some difficulty. As on most Sundays, her mother had served her much too much food for lunch. The walk from her parents house on Vincent Square was not only desirable but necessary. But Teresa’s mother did worry about her walking home alone. She had routinely questioned the absence of her boyfriend at Sunday lunch. Rob was less than perfect in his record of attendance.

Teresa always had to make excuses for Rob. Truth be told, she was rather relieved to have the walk to and from her mother’s house by herself on the occasions when Rob avoided the Agnelli weekly get together meal. Rob used the time alone on Sunday afternoon to work in his workshop/laboratory on various projects of which he told her little. Given a little gentle prodding Rob would be more than willing to admit that he felt guilty not attending Sunday lunch chez Agnelli.

She knew some of it was spent playing VR games against David across the net as she had caught him cursing under his breath while on-line. He had made excuses about researching something, but she knew he had just been beaten by his best friend for the hundredth time. Since getting his arm blown off a few years ago, he had spent more time on-line. His cyber-arm had been a lot to deal with at first. He still seemed to resent having a chrome arm. But he was chuffed with the CPU implanted in the back of his neck. It allowed him much more flexibility and made many jobs considerably easier.

Most especially with his occasional cybernetic implant operations, Rob’s linked equipment meant he could be more precise and efficient during installations. Because of Rob’s contacts, he was able to get the best and the latest tech whenever he desired. Even though he lived in a country where private cyborgs were banned, he had been assigned as beta-tester for several major American implant manufacturers. Every few months, an unmarked suitcase would show up on their doorstep and for Rob it was just like Christmas day all over again.

One of those unmarked suitcases would be arriving soon with a house guest. On Wednesday an American would join them in their flat for an indefinite period. Rob had reported that he managed to scuttle his mini-sub off the coast of the Isle of Wight. As the American knew only Rob in the ex-United Kingdom, he had called his contact and bummed a place to stay. It would take several days for Rob’s associates to arrange for papers and fake ID chips.

As Teresa walked along Horseferry Road, she glanced down a side street at the church on Smith Square. Every time she saw it she wondered whether she would ever marry Rob. The subject had become off-limits since Rob lost his arm. As she returned her gaze and thoughts to the present, she thought to herself ‘Oh good, traffic is light. so I won’t have to wait an age to cross the Embankment’. A bus roared past her, spewing diesel fumes in her general direction. As the coach passed, Teresa could not resist looking at the passengers, wondering which part of the Union they had travelled from.

Gallia was getting antsy, eager to see if his handwork would do its job.

Jose-Maria was making sure that he did speed up and be on his mark. His instructions were to put his brakes on 25 metres away from the girl, to ensure there was no way he could possibly stop. The voice in his ear returned. Jose-Maria realised that something was bugging him, and had been for several days, when he was first told of this little assignment. He was supposed to hit two people, a woman and a man. The plan had been changed at the last minute, he could not help himself wonder why.

The girl is approaching your street. You are doing fine. Now don’t lose your nerve. Alright.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a girl approaching the cross walk.

Hit it! Now! He heard in his ear, the words piercing his head with a sharp pain.

Teresa heard the scream of the huge diesel engine. Instinctively, she tried to retreat to the pavement. As she turned, she heard the screech of tires locking up and saw for an instant the smoke spewing from the front brakes. When the behemoth hit her, she died in an instant, her body no match for 90 tons of speeding steel and rubber.

Teresa’s body was launched like a cannonball towards the on-coming coach. It bounced off the windscreen before finally coming to rest in a tree along the side of the road.

The man driving the bus never saw the body hurtling towards his windscreen, his eyes were fixed on the explosion that ripped through the side of the juggernaut on the other side of the road. Its bulk listed rapidly towards the coach in the other lane. The bus driver valiantly tried to avoid the truck, but was clipped by the rear trailer as it spun out of control. The bus struck the trees, taking many of them with it, only to settle on the side of the river, seconds later to explode into a fireball that sent pieces of burning wood and metal all around the crash site. Those that struck the river, entered it with a puff of steam causing hundreds of ripples of various sizes in the formerly still water.

Gallia watched in horror as the heavy lorry gracefully skidded on its side towards the on-coming traffic, with its trailers slithering back and forth across both sides of the road.

He swore as only a Latin could, tossing his viewfinder onto the roof and pounding his fists on the low wall in front of him.

Dammit, where did that fucking bus come from? With my luck it will be filled with bloody Italians. Shit.

Gallia what the hell is the matter. Get off line and get the hell out of there As he stood up to walk away, his head exploded in a hail of lead and cartilage. He fell where he stood.

Somewhere across the Thames, Pius smiled and lit a cigarette. Perfecto, he mused to himself.

Chapter 1

News of Teresa’s death did not reach David and Michaela until mid-morning on Monday. Rob learned something was wrong when Teresa’s mother called to find out whether she had made it home the night before. Rob was not concerned with her absence because Teresa frequently stayed with her mother on Sunday night, especially after a shopping trek.

Teresa’s mother learned of the tragic news soon after she got off the vidphone with Rob. The Royal European Hospital called her at 11:30 am asking her to come to the hospital to identify a body as the next of kin. She called her husband first and then rushed off to the hospital. Before Teresa’s father left to join his wife at the hospital, he called Rob.

Rob was in his workshop when the call came in. In the habit of leaving the vid’s screen visual function off when he was working, he heard the distraught voice of his almost father-in-law.

Robert...are you there?

Yes. I am here. What is the matter? You sound upset? The words stung as he said them. Suddenly he felt he knew exactly what the call was about. He had one of those feelings, it was Teresa, something had happened to Teresa.

It is...Teresa...she is down at the hospital...she ‘s...

He was interrupted by Rob, She is alright isn’t she? Where is she? I will come right down.

Rob, she is dead. Her mother has been asked to go down and identify the body. Look...I must go and join my wife...bye

Rob trying to interject, Are you sure? I mean she can’t be dead it must be somebody else... Rob just knew he was talking nonsense. Modern identity techniques were almost perfect with the next of kin identifying the body a merely a formality, a custom. Where is she?

He got no answer. The line was dead. Rob began to cry but managed to speak to his AI.

Vid, find out in which hospital Teresa is? Order a cab, now.

Incoming call. David is on the line now.

Give me visual. Instantaneously, David appeared on the screen in front of Rob, sipping a mug of tea and looking his usual smug self.

So how is my favourite sad footie fan. Fulham drew again I see... Rob interrupted David shut up. He was about to continue but once he saw Rob’s tearful expression he knew something was wrong.

Rob spoke calmly for the situation, I can’t talk now...something awful has happened to Teresa...it looks pretty bad. I have to go to the hospital, Teresa’s folks are already on their way...

He was interrupted by the AI’s dulcet tones, Rob I have located Teresa, she is in the Royal European Hospital in morgue 13, I will give you directions, your cab will be here in approximately 47 seconds.

David heard the AI as well as Rob, he carefully put his tea cup down and sat staring at his friend. All he could manage was, Rob, my God, Rob, it can’t be...

David’s vid-screen went blank, David sat gazing into the blackness of the screen unable to move a muscle. After a few seconds he found his hands on his face as he leaned on his elbows.

Michaela came in carrying a tea pot and a carton of milk to the lounge, where she found the sobbing David muttering to himself.

What’s the matter David? What’s wrong?

It’s Teresa...she’s been in an accident...hurt real bad...

How bad is she?

Dead...Teresa’s family are going to identify the body at the Royal European Hospital...I suppose we should join them...

Michaela was shocked by the news. She wanted to question the news but knew that it was an almost certainty that it was in fact Teresa on that slab. She rushed over and got their coats. He was at the door when she turned around to face him. He took his coat in silence and helped her with hers. In her head, Michaela’s CPU dialled a taxi and gave instructions for the pickup. With any luck, it would be waiting for them outside the front door of the building.

The lift seemed barely to move, the numbers creeping down one by one as they waited for it in silence. Michaela held David’s hand in her flesh hand hoping that her warmth would provide him with some comfort. David had known Teresa considerably longer, so she knew she had to tread carefully. Quite inadvertently, she had the AI download the details of the accident from the hospital’s computer, and relay them to her. Rob had tweaked their AI so that it was a pretty good hacker on its own. There was not much that it could not get at, given enough time. The computer’s voice filled her head with a gruesome detailed description of the accident and Teresa’s injuries. She stopped it when the AI had moved on to the other deaths. Michaela would be able to access a complete portfolio on the incident later.

Mistress, I have news reports dealing with the accident coming in. Would you like to hear them?

No thank you , that will be all, she replied tersely.

It struck her as odd that the press had just discovered the accident, it was 12 hours since the event. From what little she heard of the rest of the hospital report, a large number were killed and injured and a major thoroughfare was closed by the wreck.

The lift arrived and they got in, silently riding it to the foyer, where they could see a familiar black taxi sitting out front.

Good it’s here. They were the last words spoken until they reached the morgue’s waiting room at the hospital.

Chapter 2

The hospital waiting room was filled with people. More crying and wailing could be heard through the thick double doors that separated the room from the nearby corridor. Two haggard looking staff sat behind a desk in a far corner of the room. A rather large black woman wailed at them. Ma baby, the woman’s high pitched screech would have reduced a dog to tears. To the left of the door sat Teresa’s parents, her mother clutching a paper number, moist with her tears.

A monotone voice spoke through the overhead speakers, Number 56 please come to the desk. A doctor will see you now.

Mrs. Agnelli looked up in time to see her daughter’s friends approach. Thank you for coming. Teresa’s sister, Maria is in Brussels and fogged in at the airport.

Michaela was surprised by Mrs. Agnelli’s demeanour, she appeared composed for someone who had just lost a child. But Mrs. Agnelli’s eyes were bright red. Her heavy black eye liner smudged around her eyes made her look like a racoon.

David spoke, regretting what he said as he said it. Hello. what number do you have?

Fortunately, his lack of judgement was missed, and he was given a response. 78.

Michaela noticed a small man reading an Evening Standard sitting next to Mr Agnelli. Anger welled up inside of her at the man’s insensitivity, for on its cover the headline read in bold letters. ‘100 Die in Lorry/Bus Accident & Explosion’. Michaela walked over to the engrossed man and grabbed the paper out of his hands, much to the shock and amazement of the reader and the others in the room.

In a loud voice, she castigated, the now cowering man. How can you sit there reading this paper with the loved ones of those who died sitting around you. Don’t you realise that the relatives of those who died are sitting within inches of you! She had no idea whether or not she was actually right in her assumption.

Uhh.... the man replied before getting up, without his paper, and quickly

leaving the room. Michaela noticed that he did not have a number in his hand and wondered what he was doing in the morgue waiting room.

Must be some kind of pervert. Sadist bastard Michaela said aloud to herself in an angry voice. She desperately wanted to follow the man and shake him till he cried, but instead she looked down at the paper in her hand. The room was slowly getting back to normal. Michaela’s outburst had silenced the hundred or so people in the room. For five minutes or so the bereaved concentrated on the scene Michaela had made, enjoying a brief respite from their anguish to revel in the embarrassment of the little fat man. Soon the crying and wailing returned, and louder than before, as if to make up for the time of silence.

Michaela was surprised that no one in authority had asked them to leave. She half expected a security team to rush in and summarily eject her and her companion.

The Agnelli’s and David had been consoling each other for a few minutes, when Rob arrived looking dishevelled and distraught.

Sorry I am late...I...

That’s alright, we just arrived ourselves, responded David. The Agnelli’s head nodded in agreement. Rob quickly filled the seat that unbeknownst to him, had just been vacated by the fat man.

Michaela used this as an excuse to leave the room and retreat to the hall of the hospital. I’lI be back in a bit, she said to Mr Agnelli who was now looking at her. He did not respond and turned back to his grieving wife.

Michaela left Morgue 13’s waiting room and began looking for an exit. She found a single door out toward the rear of the building. As she exited, she was engulfed in a cloud of cigarette and cigar smoke. Twenty or so people clustered together some sitting, some standing around the steps to the door, chatting and occasionally looking at their watches.

Uncharacteristically, Michaela asked a suit wearing man for a cigarette and he obliged. She placed the illicit Camel in her mouth and waited for a light to be offered. Several were forthcoming. In an instant she was surrounded by three small flames. A camel unfiltered, I haven’t had one of these in years. Where on earth did you get these? They have been illegal for almost twenty years. The man in the suit responded in a broad Essex accent, I go to the Federation of Central Europe on business quite a bit. They still sell these lovelies there.

Michaela was struck by two things. One, how much she enjoyed her first fag in ten years and second, that the Essex man to her side admitted to a complete stranger that he was smuggling cigarettes.

If you want I can get you a case of them, tomorrow, cheap. These cases even come with a free Camel lighter. Give us your phone number and I’ll ring you in the morning.

Uh...no thanks... my husband would kill me. He is a real law and order type. Probably report me!

Suit yourself, came the swift response as he turned to one of the other

men with a quick lighter and began his spiel all over again.

Christ, that guy is either stupid or incredibly brave. dealing illegal contraband on Union property, with CCTV every three feet. She realised that she was one to talk, still technically still a fugitive from justice and the bodyguard for an illegal cybernetics dealer. Shit, Michaela said to herself.

Her revelation was broken by a male voice to her side saying something about her paper.

I see you’ve been reading about that accident that happened last night. I was in emergency with my expectant wife when they started bringing them in. There were about twenty ambulances who came in all at the same time. Pandemonium it was. From what I could see most of them were hurt pretty bad. A lot of them came in with sheets over their heads. Pretty grim huh.

Uh, well I just found out about it in the Standard. Without another word she stuck her head in the paper and began to read page 2. The details were pretty sketchy but witnesses and survivors had said that a lorry had tried to avoid a young girl and turned over before hitting a bus. Some witnesses told of hearing an explosion before the lorry turned over.

Teresa!

She then remembered the stored info on the accident report, and press stories. She cursed herself for not listening earlier. Michaela moved away from the smoker’s group, and leaned against a nearby tree, smoking her cigarette and pretending to read the paper. Her black mood soured even more as she listened to the reports on the accident.

Chapter 3

Pius sat at his desk in 4 Millbank, thoughts oscillating between his successes with the previous night’s activities and the ensuing