Journey to the Stars: ‘i Was Born Under a Wand’Rin’ Star.’

By Alwyn Dow

This is a story of murder and revenge set across continents and outer space but it is also about the choices that people make and the reasons that they make them. These are often ill defined and even contradictory. They might include revenge or greed, and sometimes there is also a kind of moral imperative that will not be resisted. But most of the time it is LOVE that powers the emotions for good or ill.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: Jan 22, 2020
• ISBN: 9781490799469

Alwyn Dow

Alwyn Dow is a much travelled and experienced author with three previous publications to his name. He says that his books, including this one, are a mixture of fact and fiction and therefore, works of ‘faction’, a term coined by Truman Capote. He adds that his underlying themes always include individuals faced with moral dilemmas in the circumstances in which they find themselves. The Dawn Birds takes some inspiration from The Thorn Birds, but is set in Africa.

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Copyright 2020 Alwyn Dow.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.

isbn: 978-1-4907-9945-2 (sc)

isbn: 978-1-4907-9946-9 (e)

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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Trafford rev. 01/17/2020

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CONTENTS

Introduction

1 Africana

2 Europa

3 Americana (Duke’s Story)

4 Gondwana

About The Author

INTRODUCTION

‘In February 1954 President Eisenhower met with aliens at Holloman Air Base. They were said to be Nordic or Alien Green in appearance.’

This is an actual extract from T.Good’s Pentagon memoir published in the UK Daily Mail on 12 May 2014. However, although this extraordinary meeting has been disputed by some, JOURNEY TO THE STARS follows the potential consequences of such a meeting as experienced by Kiwi Grant and Duke Morton (MI6 and CIA ) They have been sent by the ‘Deep Cover Unit’ to investigate such strange phenomena with potential links to ‘earthbound’ terrorism be they Racial or Islamic. An ultimatum has been sent and time is running out for them and the even Planet Earth itself. The book begins with a clandestine meeting in a back room off Bond Street in London.

1

AFRICANA

‘The lamps are going out all over Europe,’

N o, t.his is not a reference to Sir Edward Grey’s speech in 1914, but a comment on the power cut that took place one hundred years later in June 2014. The cut was sudden and international, and many wise heads were at a loss to determine the cause. However, in a back room off Bond Street in London, officers of DCU Operation Scorpion thought that they knew the answer. These were Tom Franks and Hilary Tucker and they had recently received information from Paul Ward, a retired agent that such a scenario was imminent, and now he was missing. Their office was in complete darkness and as they looked out of their window the air was still, and there was not a sound to be heard in this usually frenetic metropolis.

‘It seems eerie.’ said Franks.

‘Yes, almost unworldly.’ she replied, as emergency sirens split the night air. At this he smiled, and they both began to laugh rather uneasily.

‘I’ve got Jo Grant and Duke Morton waiting outside. They’re in the dark in more ways than one,’ he said with a grin. ‘I think that they had better get down to Bristol as soon as possible to find out what’s happened to Ward. I’ll bring them in and explain shall I?’

Tucker nodded and he went to the door and ushered the pair into the room.

‘Sorry about the short notice,’ he said, ‘but actually we’ve been expecting a power cut for some time. However we believe this one to be sabotage by the group that we call Cerberus and we need to nip them in the bud before they can go further. Please take a seat if you can see one.’

Then, just as they did as he asked, the lights came back on and he looked at his watch. ‘Precisely one hour,’ he said, ‘seems like another trial run. Come in and I’ll tell you more.’

When they had settled down he told them that Paul Ward was a retired Civil Servant now leading a normal comfortable life in Bristol, but he had been a British agent during the African apartheid and UDI crises, When he was there he had come across the racist organisation known as Cerberus, but now, after many years ‘out of it’ he had told Whitehall that he had reason to believe that they were undergoing a renewal with much wider ambitions. He had said that he was compiling a detailed dossier with names and an ‘incredible new development’ that he would send within weeks. He had also implied that strategic power sources would be hit very soon. It had not arrived, and now he was ‘missing’ and the DCU wanted to know if there was a connection between his disappearance, Cerberus and the recent blackout. It would be a ‘missing persons’ police case initially, so Kiwi would be asked to liaise with the local force while Duke remained as backup.

They only had a few days to get ready and while there was much to be done but there was still time for socialising. This usually occurred in group settings of colleagues or friends at the ‘Left Bank’ French night club or even the Old Ship Inn, but this particular night was different, ‘St Valentine’s Day’ of course. Maybe it was the music, maybe it was the wine, but soon Kiwi found herself back in her flat and flat on her back, with a man in her bed. Hours of delight ensued until their desires were satiated and exhaustion overcame them both. Only then did she pause to take stock. ‘So this is what they mean by a one night stand,’ she thought rather ruefully as she looked across at Duke’s form spread across her bed.

‘An hour ago I was drinking champagne and now look at me. Well that’s that; never again.’ She soon drifted off to sleep, but the thought in her mind, between doing somersaults or snorkel diving was not ‘never again’ but ‘when again and please again.’ As it turned out she didn’t have to wait long at all because, as dawn broke she felt a nudge in her ribs from the man in the bed.

‘Did you hear that?’ he murmured.

‘Did I hear what?’ she responded.

‘It’s Prince. They’ve got him. Listen.’ He reached over her tumbled form and turned up the volume on the clock radio next to the bed. ‘Listen,’ he said again.

Kiwi muttered, ‘I’m listening,’ from under the covers.

The announcer continued ‘It will be fine today with a few outbreaks of rain.’

‘Damn’ he said, ‘Come on get up and come downstairs for the TV news.’

‘What, for the weather forecast?’ she muttered.

‘No, it’s Prince. They’ve killed him.’ he continued, ‘I knew they would sooner or later’

Kiwi was still half asleep. ‘Prince who might I ask, and Prince of where to boot?’ she responded and tried to hide, but he was determined, threw the duvet aside and there she lay (blonde today) but stark naked and bare.

It’s funny how a natural urge can suddenly take over. The killing of Senator Joshua Prince of California would have to wait for a while.

***

Later at breakfast he went into more detail, insisting that a political conspiracy was going from strength to strength in the world and no one was doing anything about it.

‘He was on to something about aliens from a planet called Gonda, that I’ve never heard of,’ he said, ‘and he thought that they were linked to a radical Aryan group in the States and despite all the government denials he just wouldn’t let it go. I don’t go much on all that ET stuff myself but he thought it was important enough to lose his life over.’

Kiwi thought otherwise, and tended to think that there might be something in it. She knew that such ideas were not entirely new, and respectable papers like the New York Times and Washington Post had carried stories of UFO sightings for decades including ‘a fleet of UFO’s’ in 1952. Duke went on to say that on the 8th December 2010 a cigar shaped object had been sighted launching OUT of the Pacific in Los Angeles Bay. This phenomenon had been seen by many including the Senator and he’d been asking questions about it ever since (of course this tended to convince Kiwi even more, but she knew that Duke was sceptical about such things).

She admired his zeal for ‘causes’ and it was one of the things that had attracted her, but sometimes she thought he that didn’t see the ‘big picture’ especially when it came to ‘those little green men out there in space,’ as he put it.

Anyway, green or grey she was now getting ready for work, and first impressions could be important. Franks had arranged a meeting with Inspector Matlock and she was already running late. ‘It’s all Duke’s fault.’ she thought as she smiled to herself.

***

Inspector Matlock from the Bristol Central area police HQ was in charge of the missing person enquiry.

‘I’m told it has an African connection’ he said rather disparagingly, ‘but they usually end up as local affairs in the end, so we are probably wasting your time anyway.’

Kiwi had become familiar with many of the regional Police stations over a period of time and had met Matlock and other officers before, but usually such cases had been about immigration issues, or cases that involved International drug or arms smuggling, not missing persons.

‘Well sir,’ she replied, ‘now that I’m here I suppose we’d better look into it don’t you think?’

He grunted his assent and just said, ‘Well we’ve got enough to do already but you can have that desk over there.’ saying which he pointed to a dusty corner with a very dirty window in the corner of the office.

‘Thank you sir,’ she replied pleasantly taking her bag to the seat in question. She realised she wouldn’t get much help from him. Next she opened her briefcase and took out her papers, opened her lap top and began to read her instructions from Tom Franks.

Top Secret Africa DCU Operation Scorpion

Any case related to past issues during apartheid in South Africa must be treated with sensitivity and any case that involves the UDI situation in Southern Rhodesia at that time must be handled with care. This is because we have reason to believe that such white supremacist movements have not gone away altogether but now form part of a wider world conspiracy, not only to achieve their earlier stated aims but to undermine democratic governments throughout the world now, in order to achieve the Aryan supremacy that they and others have failed to accomplish so far. There are many names given to this clandestine organisation and one of them is ‘Cerberus’ We know that it has a number of bases throughout the world, together with an organisation modelled on a contemporary Roman Empire with a leader known as ‘Alpha’ The lower ranks such as Beta, Gamma and Delta follow the Roman equivalents of Magistrate, Consul and Governor. DCU created ‘Operation Scorpion’ to deal with this threat and we have followed its activities in many areas. In addition there is now a wider stage as we have recently had indications that they are not acting alone. This aspect is TOP SECRET and concerns links with extra- terrestrial groups thought to be from the planet Gonda. It may be that they have a common agenda but in any case the implications are serious. Many will not believe this analysis but we can’t take chances. Details on Gonda will follow but your concern is to investigate Cerberus for now. The missing man is Paul Ward and he had been an important DCU officer in Africa working on ‘Operation Scorpion’, but he had more or less retired. However, he had recently reported that he had suspicions about local figures who may be Cerberus agents in his community, but he didn’t specify who or how. He promised to send a dossier and alluded to imminent attacks on power infrastructures but it has not arrived and now he’s missing. We need to find him if possible and establish if there is any connection. It may be nothing but it could also be the start of a trail that will lead us to Alpha, so follow every lead and be vigilant.

Kiwi closed her lap top thoughtfully, remembering how Duke had suggested a similar conspiracy in the States that very morning. Not only that but she was actually quite receptive to the idea that ‘we are not alone,’ and stories from her home in New Zealand sometimes backed this up. After all, the original Australasian archipelago had been called ‘Gondwana’ and her Gran often claimed to ‘hear the spirits.’ On the other hand she thought that she’d have a job convincing Duke, whom she knew to be sceptical about non-Christian interpretations of space.

When such issues had come up before, she had even quoted the Bible back at him when he seemed too wedded to ‘traditional’ views in which earth was the centre of the universe and not a mere speck in it. Her favourite one was Genesis 15 in which the Lord spoke to Moses and said, ‘Look up to the heavens and count the stars if you can. Such will be your descendants.’ Kiwi thought that God might have meant the antecedents too, because anything else was illogical in her eyes. However Duke believed in Catholicism and accepted the supernatural as real. If her reasoning matched, well that was well and good, but where differences occurred, it was always Faith and Biblical revelation for him. He quoted the New Testament in which Jesus had said that, ‘No one comes to the Father except through me.’

‘And how do aliens fit into that scenario?’ he had asked.

‘What about Hindus and Moslems and other world religions, not to speak of those who have no religion then?’ she had responded.

‘You’re so lucky when you say that it’s all nonsense,’ he had replied, ‘to be honest I sometimes wish that it were.’

Kiwi remembered this line from ‘Brideshead Revisited,’ explaining as it did the burden and responsibility of being a Catholic. Fortunately the matter had not been a major problem up to now, but she had an uneasy feeling that he might be unreceptive to any ideas on that score and so, if Franks was right this could well be a problem for the future.

***

Matlock was peeved that she was late, commenting that he expected his officers to be prompt at all times.

He then continued. ‘I’ve called you in especially as the Super said that Ward, the missing man worked in Africa at one time. I don’t think that’s got anything to do with it as I said, but take it from me we’ll have more Government people down on us like a ton of bricks if we don’t put it to bed soon. I know that you have to report back to your other masters but when you’re here you work for me. I want you to work alongside the team but only under my direction. Is that clear?’

Kiwi agreed, but she decided to keep a private ILO dossier as backup. She’d learnt not to trust all police officers.

The Inspector then called a meeting of all the staff and began to outline the case in some detail. He had spoken to Mrs Ward on the phone and gleaned a few facts as follows. Apparently Paul Ward had telephoned his wife Lorna from the ‘Cup Cakes’ tea shop at about 6pm, but he had not yet come home. By eight o’clock she had begun to wonder what to do. Firstly she went down the garden to his work shed and then to their narrow boat ‘the Laura’, which was always moored at the bottom of the garden, calling out as she went along, ‘Paul, are you there? Where are you? Come out; come out wherever you are’ she continued in a sing- song tone as in ‘The Third Man’, when Holly Martens located the shadowy cat, then the feet, and then the face of the inscrutable Orson Welles in the lamp-light. Next she had walked around the park opposite their house, and then she had visited all the neighbours, but he wasn’t there and no one had seen him that day.

It was getting late, she had said, about 9pm when she had started making phone calls. Just a few friends, and of course the Bakers and the Glovers who were supposed to have gone to the Cathedral for an ecumenical meeting with him. Mike Baker confirmed that he had been with them but they had gone off shopping and didn’t see him after the meeting. Lorna was rather worried by this time, and all her other calls, including the local hospital and the AA, had been fruitless. The Glovers were out so it was past midnight when she had decided to call the police.

‘Not 999, that would seem to be too dramatic’ Matlock said, ‘So she called me as I was a friend of her husband, and I advised her to wait until the morning and phone again if he didn’t turn up. She had indeed phoned again at about 8am as there was no sign of him. I then assured her that I would come round at once and bring WPC Jo Grant with me. He may turn up at any time of course but I suppose that we’d better go through the motions. I don’t want this turning into a major crime or international incident if I can help it, so I don’t want anyone talking to the Press or anyone else for that matter. Let’s go Constable.’

Lorna saw the silver Audi pull into the drive and recognized it as Matlock’s car because he sometimes picked Paul up for golf or bowls or a day out at Bath Rugby. There was a second person, a woman, with him. Neither was in uniform. She opened the door before they had a chance to knock or ring the bell. ‘Come in and forgive the mess’ she said as she led them into an impeccable lounge that overlooked an impeccable garden at the back of the house. The curtains were a plain blue and the wallpaper a very traditional stripe with photos neatly spaced along the walls. Kiwi noticed that they seemed to be set out in chronological order with school/university on one wall, followed by wedding/children and then quite a few of the pair on Safari in Africa.

‘Please sit down.’ Lorna said, ‘is there any news?’

‘I’m afraid not’ Matlock replied ‘By the way this is Constable Grant from the station.’

Lorna turned with a smile. ‘Oh hello, pleased to meet you, can I get you some tea or coffee?’

Kiwi looked at the Inspector, but he frowned, so she answered ‘No thanks Mrs Ward, we are just here to ask you a few questions, the quicker the better and we can get on with finding him.’

‘That’s right’ said Matlock, ‘let’s get started then. Just tell me about yesterday.’

Lorna hesitated ‘what do you mean; everything?’

‘Yes I mean everything’ he replied, ‘every little thing. Start at the beginning and take your time.’

‘Well’ she said ‘I’ll have to think. Let’s see now. I got up to clean my teeth, it was probably about seven then I went down to make a cup of tea. He was getting ready to go to the Cathedral for a meeting of ‘Bristol Churches Together.’ He went into the shower, took rather longer than usual as I remember and then joined me in the kitchen but the toast had gone cold and he complained so I just said, ‘You must be meeting someone special today, you’ve been ten minutes in the shower, but he just laughed;’ she paused, then continued, ‘but isn’t all this rather trivial when, after all we should be looking for him shouldn’t we?’

Matlock sniffed ‘Not at all. We don’t want to miss anything do we eh constable?’

‘No sir,’ Kiwi replied dutifully, ‘but may I ask a question sir?’

The Inspector frowned as he had done earlier, and was wont to do when he disapproved of something, even though he didn’t always know why. Actually he tended to like centre stage.

‘Certainly Constable, carry on, don’t mind me.’ He laughed, but it was more of a snigger.’

She knew his brusque Yorkshire style by now but she continued ‘Well, Mrs Ward, did he have any other plans for the day as far as you know?’

‘No, he was only going to that church thing’ Lorna replied, ‘nothing else that I was aware of, but he didn’t always tell me everything unless it was really important you know.’ She had suddenly become even more anxious and looked at Matlock for some kind of relief from this line of questioning.

He duly obliged and said, ‘Tell me, did anyone else go with him to the meeting?’

Lorna was relieved at this easy question and answered straightaway, ‘I know that Mike and Diana Baker were going, they’re Methodists you know, and then David and Liz Glover, strong Catholics they are, were going as well. Paul and I are C-of E but I suppose that’s what this ecumenical business is all about isn’t it? Although I must say you wouldn’t think so if you listened to Liz Glover. She always thinks that the Catholics have a direct line to God, so they must always be right. It’s surprising that we all seem to get on so well, but this time I couldn’t go anyway so I told Paul not to get into an argument. Mind you he rarely did, he liked to get on with everyone. Would you like their numbers?’

‘Yes thank you,’ he replied, ‘and do you have a recent photo please and do you mind if we have a quick rummage through his study and your room if you don’t mind. This is just to help us find him you understand.’

Lorna agreed but accompanied him to the master bedroom, hovering about and looking very nervous and helpless.

Meanwhile Kiwi moved into the study. There were files everywhere in a very small room and most pretty obvious by their titles such as Golf or Holiday but one took her eye and it was marked DAR. It was locked, so she made a note to ask Lorna for a key later if Paul didn’t turn up quite soon. There was also a steel cabinet with five drawers each marked HI-H5 and she decided to ask Lorna about this as well. The cabinet was also locked. The room was orderly and she thought it probably reflected Ward’s character. Lorna on the other hand was emotional, not only as befits an anxious wife but sincere deep down. Kiwi had noticed how she was trying to suppress the tears that were welling up in her eyes, like little lakes. These were not crocodile tears; there was a real and sincere grief in the streaks that trickled down her face.

Eventually Matlock led them all downstairs and after thanking Lorna they drove back to the station and bid goodnight.

Kiwi now only had a short stroll back to her flat where she had arranged to meet Duke, picking up a Chinese meal on the way home.

He pounced as soon as she opened the door.

‘Mine all mine,’ he shouted taking the packages of crispy duck, chicken fried rice from her. ‘I love you too,’ he added with a big grin.

He was incorrigible but Kiwi was a little preoccupied with the events of the day so she simply bowed and made a suggestion ‘Duke San,’ she said adopting the Japanese greeting, ‘If master put food in oven, geisha will shower and reappear in kimono for Saki.’

He smiled. He was hungry, but not that hungry and a few glasses of rice wine often brought pleasant surprises. He’d had quite a few in his short life and here’s just a few of them.

Firstly he should have been called Nick Morton. His family came from the ‘white’ side of New Orleans and admired the pioneering work of the ODJB (The Original Dixieland Jazz Band) led by Nick La Rocca. His mother was Irish and insisted on a Catholic upbringing for her son and unlike many in Louisiana they were not prejudiced in any way and this went for music too, so when they heard the maestro Edward ‘Duke’ Ellington, an embryonic Nick became an honorary Duke. Tall, dark, slim and good looking in a ‘Tom Cruise’ way he sailed through college with honours and became a foreign correspondent on the Boston Herald, a job that took him to trouble spots in the Far East, Middle East, Africa and Russia. However he was not just a follower of the Flag, frequently asking the question, ‘Why don’t we sort out our own backyard first?’ He especially had in mind the racist and religious fundamentalism of the KKK and others in the Deep South. This got him into some trouble with his bosses at the paper but almost as a perverse consequence he was approached by the CIA. They told him that they had enough ‘fanatics on board’ and they needed persons with empathy as well as skill. ‘We want you to get inside the enemy’s skins wherever they are.’ he was told. As cover and after training, he would be sent to the UK as Arts Correspondent for the Observer in Bristol.

Work was important of course but after that first mad passionate night with Kiwi, things began to change, or did they? He could never quite be sure with her. They led their normal separate lives as far as their work was concerned, but in private they enjoyed every moment of a delicious intimacy that neither had known before. A day would not go by without love on the menu if only in the form of a little note or email at lunch in the office. Back in her flat, or his, love could be quiet and reflective and frequently it was passionate.

Kiwi sometimes thought that they were in ‘lust’ not in ‘love’ because she wasn’t sure what ‘love’ meant, whereas she definitely knew about lust because she felt it from her neck to her knees. For most of the time