Scribblings of M E Lucas

Note:
Chapter totally revised: 12-03-14

The Second Coming

Chapter 3

The Detour

3080 words

One week later, and not a blip from Levi, Rupert boarded his British Airways flight to Geneva International Airport. The flight was busy, delayed, and the women passenger in front of him held-up everyone, as she tried to explain to the boarding staff that her four pieces of hand luggage were only very small. Fifty-five minutes added wait time; apparently, due to a drunken passenger locked in the toilet who fell asleep; something Rupert could relate to in a strange way. Levi’s non-appearance disappointed Rupert.

An intense web-search by colleagues had turned up no new information on Levi. Not a trace. Still an enigma, as when they first met.

Those he confided in were sceptical of meeting the mysterious figure again, which had been no surprise to Rupert. They imagined trouble. The brown-suited man could be a politician, an advertising baron, a stalker—at best—and they had suggested notifying the police. Rupert did not share their anxieties. In their brief meeting, he felt a bond with Levi, not just shared a genetic eye mutation, but also sensed a level of honesty and integrity. It left him in no doubt they should meet again; although he was unsure as to when, or what his new acquaintanceship might lead to; definitely intrigue.

Initially, his friends concluded Levi’s warning statement concerning eviFive, as slanderous, yet its certainty held favour. Only four days before, hackers crashed an unsecured server linked to one of Rupert’s websites, and although only used for music backup they tried to gain access via a backdoor. With enlisted contacts from his close university network, Rupert, assisted by computer programmers and software developers, managed to re-trace paths back to secure firewalls. Whilst not openly involved with hacking, his friends found they held the trump card with the software; they had been the ones originally commissioned to develop this particular firewall for eviFive.

Financially, as well as academically successful, Rupert was not greedy or particularly product oriented. When not in university accommodation, or hotel rooms, and not wanting to tie himself to any particular owned location, he occasionally stayed with his parents. The financial draw to lecturing resulted in frequent journeying—arranged around his studies—so when he did, he liked to travel comfortably.

Finally, on the plane, he tried to find his business class seat, as opposed to squashed in with the economy passengers. It was not “them-and-us”, or a selfish attitude, just practical. Comfort he could afford, which in-turn afforded him a more relaxed journey, ahead of the gruelling and demanding conference.

With his computer tablet slid out, he stowed his cabin bag in the overhead locker. A smell of bacon and hash browns from the pre-packed on board catering wafted passed, inducing a feeling of nausea within him. Bag pushed to the back of the luggage compartment, he ducked under to take his seat.

‘This seat is taken,’ a familiar voice said.

‘Jesus,’ Rupert said, startled and nearly sitting on someone’s lap.

‘Levi actually, but if it helps with your nerves,’ he joked.

‘Where did you spring from?’ Rupert said, very surprised to see him, especially as he had been keeping his eye out for last couple of hours.

‘I have been here all the time.’

‘How come I didn’t see you?’

‘You must have been preoccupied with other matters, the lady with her bags for example.’

‘But I still don’t understan—’

‘Come on, sit. Let us not hold the flight any longer.’

Sat in the window seat next to Levi, Rupert was puzzled and annoyed with himself that he had not seen Levi earlier.

‘I knew that you would not cancel,’ Levi said, passing over Rupert’s confusion. ‘You made the right decision to meet with me again.’

‘To be honest, I didn’t think you’d turn up.’

‘And several of your colleagues no doubt advised against it.’

‘Yes, they did.’

‘Presumably they thought I was a bothersome publicist, or demented fanatic.’

As he looked at his new friend, Rupert thought it strange that the man had uncanny knowledge of his past, or was it just coincidence.

‘Something along those lines,’ he said

Levi sat back and fastened his seat belt, a tinge of smugness on his face.

‘To Geneva then,’ he closed his eyes and fell asleep before the plane taxied away from its stand.

Disappointed, although mildly amused, Rupert wanted to chat with Levi, to fill in the gaps, and while away the flight. Instead, he sat alone once more, only thoughts kept him company.

They taxied along the runway, his palms sweated, as he patiently waited until he could call the air steward and order a vodka and coke.

Wheels having left tarmac behind, and his need for alcohol satisfied, Rupert’s mind wandered; and not for the first time. He tried to quantify his life. Why was he off to lecture people about the divergent principles of world religions? What did he understand that so many did not? And, where was it all going to end?

Thirst for knowledge; an ability to gulp it down and regurgitate it in a coherent way, had pushed him this far, but he was far from on top of things. Uncertainty filled his head once more, fears and worries associated with a distinct lack of control over his own destiny. His success and direction guided by others, due to an inability to acquire the necessary tools for change. Not needed, or desired, it became a means to an end for him.

Rupert knew he was fortunate, it opened doors, gave him experiences never imagined. From the greatly populated, to the most troubled; from the richest, to the very fragile; inclusion of governments, countries, regimes and organisations; everyone called for his humanitarian speeches. Rupert Carpenter had become a successful commodity; world religious leaders tried, so too the likes of celebrity conspiracy theorists David Icke, and Alex Jones, but there were no real alternatives. Informed and without allegiance, or personal preference, he had a monopoly on multi-religion tolerance and understanding.

A trip, to speak to the Swiss.

‘I can’t believe you fell asleep for the whole flight,’ Rupert said, as the plane rolled to a stop in Geneva. ‘I had a few questions I wanted to ask you.’

‘Really. I am sorry, another time perhaps. We have business to attend to,’ he said, unbuckled his belt intuitively and stood just as the fasten-seat-belt signs switched off.

Levi, who carried nothing but himself, disappeared along the aisle. Rupert scrabbled his bag from the overhead storage and followed. The flight was not full; nonetheless, several people managed to disembark between the two of them. Jostled along the air-bridge, Rupert kept an eye on the familiar brown suit several figures ahead.

With no means to contact him, Rupert wondered if Levi realised how busy airports were; if they separated they would lose each other. Through the smallest of gaps, he pushed passed other passengers, bumping his small Samsonite off legs and other trolley cases.

‘Excuse me,’ he said. ‘Sorry. Excuse me, thank you.’

On entry to the luggage hall, the crowds thinned and Rupert drew alongside Levi.

‘Do you have checked-in luggage?’ Levi said.

‘No, just carry-on.’

‘Good. Straight through to passports then,’ again he sped away.

Second-class feelings ensued, as Levi made his way oblivious to how Rupert needed to navigate the crowds at high speed with his case, small as it was. Levi ducked and dived between travellers and gave him the slip. Rupert scanned the slow-moving passport queues. Nothing. Why the hurry?

Raised up twice and dropped twice, in the space of a single journey. The mystique around Levi grew and annoyed.

Attempted glimpses made by Rupert to catch sight of the man were unsuccessful, as he made his way through passport control. It was no good; Levi was nowhere. Rupert gave the male official an embarrassed smile, as he approached the desk; he wished he hadn’t. A thought ran through his head, the nervous glances and twitches made as he tried to spot Levi; security might pull him over. Several minutes spent with cross-referenced photos and details; Rupert finally entered Genève.

Once in the arrivals hall, he filed behind a stream of passengers and noticed a smartly dressed man in suit and tie standing a few steps ahead of him, holding aloft a clearly printed card with “Mr Carpenter” emblazoned on it; no mistaking it. Intuition suggested to sidestep the driver and the smell of fresh croissants attracted Rupert in the direction of a small coffee outlet. He needed a few moments for a caffeine and sugar boost to help with his decisions before heading off to the conference.

‘Monsieur?’ the barista asked.

‘Yes, hi. Café au lait, s’il vous—’ someone grabbed Rupert’s arm.

‘We have no time for refreshments,’ Levi’s familiar voice crashed through Rupert’s plans again. ‘We have an agenda to stick to.’

‘Levi. Where did you—, never mind. What agenda? I don’t think you copied me in to that one.’

‘This way.’

Again, Rupert concentrated hard not to lose him, and jogged closer. Across the concourse, headed to more security, it appeared.

‘Levi, where are you taking me?’

‘This way,’ he did not let on, instead passed through a glass door which slide closed behind him.

On the door’s jamb a red light illuminated, Rupert waited. He half listened to a message playing on the public-address system. A green light came on and the door slid open, Rupert followed Levi along a bending glass corridor. It reflected like a travelling carnival’s Hall of Mirrors; he left behind the hubbub of the busy terminal building.

‘Monsieur Rupert Carpenter—’ the tannoy announced.

‘Huh,’ Rupert’s ears pricked up, just as the barrier doors closed. He had not concentrated on the brief announcement and now, sealed in the glass passageway, heard no more; and could not walk back. ‘What the hell.’

Further security; a message broadcast that mentioned him by name; another flight he wondered; surely not. Levi never mentioned it. Rupert looked back and forth along the corridor, confused. Whatever next?

A queue of passengers grew, they watched, as they waited for the strange Englishman to move through security. The single-direction sliding security doors led Rupert into a smaller hall with a lower ceiling than the before, he could not tell if it was arrivals or departures. There appeared check-in desks, yet Levi marched over to a car hire desk; he talked to a young girl. Relieved his mark at last stood still, Rupert drew alongside him.

‘There you are. Just in time. Here,’ Levi said, and offered a set of car keys. ‘Hope you are okay with left-hand drives.’

‘Where are we, Levi? Is this a private business lounge?’

‘Relax Rupert; this is the French side of the airport.’

‘French side?’

‘Yes, France, hence the internal border crossing,’ Levi glanced back to the glass entry point they recently passed through, then gestured again with the keys.

‘But I’m supposed to be in Switzerland, the conference, my talk,’ Rupert realised the delay Levi caused him. ‘Someone was trying to contact me, I heard the call.’

‘I am afraid it was not for you, I organised a message for the driver meeting you.’

‘Why? What did you tell him?’

‘It is not important now.’

‘It is to me,’ Rupert’s tone became serious and anxious. ‘People are relying on my attendance. I’ve no intention of letting anyone down.’

Levi opened his radiant purple eyes wider, his stare pierced Rupert’s inner mind as if his head skewered on a pike.

‘Your conference is important, Rupert; I sincerely understand that, you have been given the sight, the capacity to orchestrate real spiritual change for your fellow man. Without doubt you are an exceptional person and I truly believe it,’ he said, paused to deliver, ‘nevertheless, what I have to give you is more important than any conference appearance. I know you will not regret our meeting.’

Rupert’s head spun on the imaginary spear, an emotional deck stacked against him, his heart told him this was his destiny. He took the dangled keys from Levi’s still hand; thoughts and effects of airborne vodka miraculously sobered away.

‘Where are we going?’

‘I will tell you on the way.’

They made their exit via a low-key perimeter access road, less frequented than the busier commercial Swiss side of the airport, then out into the French countryside and headed west on the D35.

‘So, how far is this place?’ Rupert asked, as they drove along; the route flanked by trees.

‘Not far, fifteen minutes, maybe fewer at the speed you are driving.’

If Levi had complaint of his driving, it was not obvious; he looked at home in the passenger seat, window ajar, wind buffeted his hair. His hands rested on his thighs and it was the first time Rupert noticed them in any detail. Careful not to take his eye off the road for too long, he saw aged skin, older than any other visible flesh, small lesions visible in several places: the knuckle joints, sides of his fingers and hands, swollen and deep enough to glisten with moisture. They didn’t look the hands he had shaken on their first meeting; they looked painful.

No sooner had the ploughed fields appeared, so more airport hotels came into view.

‘Are we driving in circles?’ Rupert said.

‘Yes. Well, no obviously, we need to drive around the airport, to avoid border crossings and Swiss customs.’

‘Avoid?’

Traffic slowed for a roundabout, which enabled Rupert to read the directional signposts, his head started to swim with worry and his heartbeat raised a notch. He hastily pulled off the road into the Novotel car park and stopped in the first available space, tyres squealed to a halt, then turned to face Levi.

‘Right, it’s time to come clean. Where are we going?’

‘A village called Saint Genis Pouilly. Are you ok? You look a little pale.’

‘And leaving the airport on the French side, avoiding Swiss customs, what’s with the secrecy?’

‘No need to attract attention, besides we need to be in France.’

‘Attract attention, oh, it’s just that we appear to be driving through the middle of CERN, overlooking buildings in every direction, and no doubt the odd CCTV camera,’ Rupert said with slight sarcasm in voice. ‘So I’m sure we are quite inconspicuous.’

‘Well, if you really need to know the main CERN buildings are over the border in Switzerland, but CERN is a big place and the campus straddles the border in several places. The Hadron collider itself is mainly under French soil, including part of Saint Genis Pouilly.’

‘Thanks for science lesson,’ Rupert was not impressed. ‘If you’re going to show me any nuclear device or atomic weapon, you’ve got the wrong man. I’ve no interest in fundamentalism or mass extinction of the Earth to save the planet either.’

‘I am glad to hear that. You know plenty of good things come from nuclear research, Rupert; anyway, I have no interest in a nuclear incident.’

‘That’s a relief. So, it’s not fallen off the back of a particle accelerator then.’

Levi shuffled in his seat to get more comfortable, as he faced Rupert, their eyes connected, purple on purple.

‘Let me explain. Several moons ago, I initiated a project in England. Now without getting into too much detail, it never attained a finished marketable product. At the time, nuclear power developed at such a rate in the UK, CERN established itself and other projects took precedent. The item in question used new and groundbreaking technology of the time, and achieved a great deal, but there were unfortunate consequences and it could never be fully realised. I am entrusting you with one of only two originals. eviFive have the other,’ he paused, information sunk in, he continued. ‘eviFive made reproductions and, based on the same technology, created a larger machine, which they have in an undisclosed facility. Advancement eluded them and these duplicate machines carry the same risks. They use them indiscriminately.’

‘What? Thanks for the clear explanation,’ a hesitant thought came to Rupert; he should have made himself known to the chauffeur in departures. ‘What do eviFive use it for?’

‘For their “unending” fight against terrorism.’

‘To do what?’

‘I cannot say.’

Both sets of eyes focused on each other, battled for the body language high ground. A group of Japanese visitors walked past the car. Rupert’s peripheral vision, aware of their stares, didn’t betray his concentration.

‘So, you expect me to accept a “gift”, an “atomic sub-particle nuclear device gift”.’

‘It is not a nuclear—’

‘Whatever. It’s an experimental machine of undetermined description, used against radicals, or free radicals even, or both, and you expect me to show it to friends of mine, but you can’t tell me what it does.’

‘You have to trust me Rupert,’ Levi remained steadfast.

‘Then trust me. Tell me what it does.’

‘I cannot, for two reasons,’ Levi’s answer turned political. ‘Firstly, I need your team of scientific minds to look upon this as a challenge, a mystery. They need to start at a basic level, use their knowledge and understanding of the laws of physics, chemistry and biology, unpick the machine and learn what it does. I offer no manual, no guidebook. To limit my information will expand the boundaries of theirs and no doubt will surpass the original technology, and develop a more successful one.’

The car fell silent. Rupert’s mind ticked over the discussion. Levi aimed to move in a decisive direction, and not detract from it.

‘And the second reason?’

‘For your own safety.’

Rupert said nothing, Levi continued.

‘You will not be able to tell anyone, if you do not know anything. This should keep you out of trouble.’

‘What should I say it is then?’

‘If anybody asks, tell them it is a piece of second-world-war memorabilia.’

‘That old?’

‘You have not seen it yet.’

‘Well, as I’m up to my neck in it,’ Rupert turned away. He turned the key in the ignition, a sudden grating sound emitted, the engine was still running. ‘Whoops.’

Levi smiled and settled himself in the seat once more. Rupert was not sure if he found the ignition key funny, or if he smiled because he had won him over and they were once again back on the trail. They exited the car park and Rupert continued, as directed.