The God Complex: A Thriller Read online

  “Me or my father?” he asked angrily.

  Chapter 8

  Santa Cruz, CA

  Gray grabbed his radio. “Yes?”

  “We failed to stop everyone leaving, they even got past the Surenos team that you sent as back up.”

  “Shit,” he said, uncharacteristically. His missions never went anything other than according to plan. “It is imperative you stop them, I’ve got the mountainside locked down. No cell towers or phone lines are working. Police radios are also blacked out. You have time to clean up the mess. I need to know that every piece of the professor’s research is gone.”

  “His house and all who were inside will be gone, there’ll be nothing left.”

  “Good, I’ll deal with his office, did you get the flash drive?”

  “What flash drive?” asked Green.

  Gray scrolled through his records on his tablet, where every detail of everyone they had watched over the previous two years was noted. Professor Charles Harris wore a necklace with a small flash drive around his neck.

  “The one he wore around his neck.”

  “It wasn’t there,” said Green.

  “Perhaps you missed it?” asked Gray angrily.

  “I searched him myself, there was no jewelry on him whatsoever. Hold on,” he paused listening to an update from his colleague. “We’ve found them, they’re at Chief Kramer’s house.”

  “Be careful, we can’t afford to miss this opportunity or get caught.”

  “Don’t worry, we’re on it!”

  “Hold on,” said Gray thinking through the plan. “I’m going to send up more gang members, use them as cannon fodder. The more you leave behind, the more it’ll look like a gang thing and confuse the authorities. Whatever happens, keep us out of it. I have a back-up plan should you fail, so don’t get caught there!”

  “We won’t.”

  Gray entered the Surenos headquarters, his senses once again assaulted by the stench when he walked into the filth-infested dive. He brushed his tailored suit clean as he walked into the gang boss’ domain.

  “That bitch got my brother killed!” shouted one of the henchmen, charging at Gray. The man was huge, a hulk of a man, twice Gray’s weight. Gray didn’t flinch.

  As the Hulk was about to strike, Gray moved with a speed that few in the room could even see. His hand lashed out for an instant and he sidestepped the falling hulk, who was dead by the time he hit the floor.

  “Anyone else upset?” Gray asked calmly, straightening his tailored jacket.

  The boss looked over at the ice-cold killer.

  “What do you want? You’ve already cost me seven men.”

  “More than that, I’m afraid.”

  The gang boss was a smart man, that was why he was where he was. Men like Gray were men you appeased, not fought.

  “I want more money.”

  “Fine, name your price,” said Gray.

  The boss looked again at his henchman. His body hadn’t even twitched. He was stone cold dead by the time he’d hit the floor, and the boss had no idea how. He had already gotten $250k for his seven men.

  “$1 million.”

  “I’ll wire the funds,” replied Gray, handing the boss a note for where to send his men. “But I want forty for that.”

  The boss nodded at one of his men. Forty loyal gang members would be on their way as requested.

  Gray tipped his head as a thank-you and left. A number of gang members eyeballed him as he left the room; word of his killing had spread quickly throughout the rundown house. Gray held the gaze of each of those who dared to stare at him. Wisely, none moved.

  On his way out of the house, he didn’t look back. He listened intently for the slightest move, but again, none came. Back in his car, he lifted his tablet. He wanted to know why everything had gone to shit, because his plans didn’t go to shit.

  Gray clicked on the name below the Professor’s, Copernicus Armstrong Sagan Harris, the professor’s only son. Pages of information scrolled before him, all thanks to the work of Gray’s formidable intelligence sources.

  ‘Copernicus Armstrong Sagan Harris, commonly known as Cash Harris,’ read Gray. A headline below his name reminded Gray of the fact that the investigation was only a cursory one due to Cash being estranged from his father for the previous fifteen years. The reason for the estrangement was listed as unknown.

  A bright and very capable student, Cash had had a scholarship lined up at Harvard before inexplicably walking out on his life and enlisting in the US Marines. He was soon redirected to Officer Candidate School, where he sailed through the program with ease. As a fresh faced second lieutenant, he moved onto Quantico and completed Basic Training before being sent on tours to Iraq, Afghanistan and Syria. A recent update noted that he had left the Marines after reaching the rank of Captain and returned to the US to start a new security firm with another Marine, Captain Jake Miller (aka Rigs).

  Gray scrolled through Cash’s military records. He was an exemplary Marine with fifteen years’ service and numerous awards and recommendations. The more he read, the more he smelled a rat. It was too perfect. With a record like that, Cash would have been at least a Colonel. Instead, he had never risen beyond Captain, never gained his own command. Gray made a note; a more thorough check was required. With Cash having been out of the picture, it hadn’t made sense to dig deeper. After all, the concern for Gray was Professor Harris, not his estranged son. Gray had a funny feeling that Captain Jake Miller, aka Rigs, was going to have a very similar record to Cash’s, if not identical. He made a note; a full background check on Rigs was also needed.

  Under Cash’s name was listed Sophie Kramer, a significant ex-partner. He pressed her name.

  Sophie Kramer, ex-fiancée of Cash and mother to a son, Kyle, had a doctorate in Astronomy and was a lecturer at the University of Cambridge, England, where she had lived for the previous ten years. With an interest in common with the professor, the detail on her was far greater. Gray, however, skipped the early years and moved to the point at which Cash had inexplicably deserted his fiancée and life. Sophie had been working as a research assistant at the observatory at the time. She hadn’t started any new relationships. In fact, she had not had another relationship since. Eight months after Cash had left, she had given birth to Kyle. Shortly thereafter, she moved to Yale to complete her studies before moving to Cambridge to take up a teaching post. As far as the report was concerned, there had been little contact between Professor Harris and Sophie. Other than project work for Hubble 2, none had been noted as anything other than professional. There had, however, been absolutely no contact between Sophie and Cash. There had been none between Cash and Kyle, whom Gray could only assume from the timing was Cash’s son.

  Gray looked back through Cash’s records. He was a Marine officer. Honor, courage and commitment were all core to the Marines’ code of conduct, within which, responsibility and fulfilling one’s responsibilities were essential. What was more important than to ensure you looked after your own children? Something was off. He added another note for it to be investigated further.

  He tapped on the link to Kyle Kramer. Very little had been noted, other than his birthday and the few dates on which he had any contact with the professor. It listed his areas of interest, obviously discovered from his internet history, including astronomy sites, as well as his favorite porn sites. He liked brunettes it seemed. He was captain of his school rugby team and, due to his size and ability, he was being closely watched by the US rugby team, who were desperately trying to bolster their pool of players.

  He looked down at the notes he had scrawled on his notebook and dialed a number on his cell phone.

  “Yes?”

  “I need to check a couple of names,” asked Gray of his mole inside government.

  “It’ll cost you twenty.”

  “Fine,” replied Gray easily.

  “Shit, you’d have paid more?”

  “A lot more,” Gray said, smiling. The deal had been
struck. “Wired to the usual account?”

  “Yes, what are the names?” asked the mole.

  “Copernicus Armstrong Sagan Harris…”

  “Jesus, that’s a mouthful.”

  “Or Cash Harris for short, and Jake Miller. Both were supposedly US Marine captains.”

  Gray waited while keys clicked in the background.

  “Interesting couple,” whistled the mole.

  “Why, what does it say?”

  “They were Marines, both captains, that bit is right. Hard core too. Force Recon, Det One and MARSOC as Critical Skills Operators. Seriously good operators according to the reports, although there seems to be a lot of psychological reports on Miller. Looks like he’s mildly autistic, according to the reports. However, their record ends abruptly about four years ago. Seems Miller couldn’t go any further in the Marines given his issues, so they moved elsewhere.”

  “Elsewhere?”

  “Yep, which usually means CIA, DIA, or one of the many US intelligence Agencies.”

  “You don’t think they just left?”

  “Definitely not. They’re listed as active, but with no unit or detail for the last four years. If you give me an hour, I can probably find out where they are,” offered the mole.

  “I think I know where they are,” replied Gray.

  Cash and Rigs were on site and were no doubt the reason the attempt on the two cars failed. Gray radioed Green with an update. Typically, Green, a former SEAL, informed him how he ate Marines for breakfast and he wasn’t to worry.

  The last resort option was in place.

  Chapter 9

  Santa Cruz, CA

  The slap knocked him sideways. Fifteen years of pent up frustration were released in one swing.

  “How fucking dare you!” Sophie screeched.

  Cash pulled himself upright, his face still stinging. He’d been punched many times but never slapped. He preferred a punch.

  “Shit, that hurts!” he said, rubbing his reddening cheek.

  “Try the love of your life pulling a disappearing act for fifteen years and refusing any contact. That’s hurt!”

  “Try the love of your life cheating on you with their father.”

  “I never slept with your father,” she said, lowering her voice almost to a whisper.

  “I caught you with him! And let’s face it, my father had a bit of a reputation for bedding his research assistants!”

  “You caught me very drunk, kissing him; it was a mistake and was over in seconds.”

  “I can’t verify that.”

  “I thought he was you,” she said, halfheartedly punching him in the chest.

  “What?” asked Cash.

  “I was very drunk, I heard someone come in and thought it was you. I stumbled across and threw my arms around your father and started to kiss him thinking it was you.”

  “And...and I w-walked in?” stammered Cash.

  “And ran out of our lives, yes!” she said and started to cry again.

  “Kyle?”

  “One hundred percent yours. The reason I was so drunk was because I was pregnant, which I didn’t know until after you’d gone. We tried to contact you but you refused every attempt. I sent hundreds of letters, but they all came back unopened. We tried to visit your base but they wouldn’t let us in without your consent.”

  Cash nodded.

  “Your dad didn’t tell you?”

  “He was so pleased to see me. I didn’t spend much time with him. He did want to tell me something before the ceremony though.”

  Cash slumped onto the bed, the bed where he had most likely made a son, a son whose life he had been no part of.

  “Does Kyle know?”

  Sophie nodded. “But also knows you don’t know.”

  “Your mom?”

  Sophie nodded again. “She pretty much despises you and can barely say your name.”

  “Your dad?”

  “You were the son he never had. He always defended you, but was finding it harder and harder as Kyle grew older.”

  The sound of gunfire pulled Cash out of his despair. He pushed Sophie to the floor, propelling her out onto the landing, ushering Kyle and Mrs. Kramer to join them on the floor.

  “Stay down and do exactly as I say!” he commanded as bullets began to tear through the fabric of the house.

  “Rigs!” he shouted as he neared the top of the stairs.

  “At least ten out front and some out back!” Rigs shouted, rushing into the house, followed by the three police officers. Rigs had moved into action mode, all awkwardness left behind. Cash likened it to stutterers who could sing perfectly without stuttering. Rigs’ mind was focused on one thing and one thing alone: neutralizing the enemy.

  “Weapons?”

  “The P90s, a few pistols, and a couple of shotguns from the police cars.”

  “Lay down some cover while I get these guys down the stairs,” Cash said.

  “You heard the man!” shouted Rigs, throwing a P90 to Banks and instructing him and another officer to take the back of the house. “On my count, empty your magazines into the attackers,” said Rigs, looking at the third officer who would cover the front with him.

  “When he gets to three, I want you to all run as fast as you can down the stairs, keeping your heads low and go straight to the basement door,” Cash told Kyle, Sophie and her mother.

  “They’re getting close!” shouted Banks, panic filling his voice.

  “Okay, one, two…” Rigs wanted to see the white of their eyes, “…three!”

  Cash watched proudly as Kyle grabbed his mom to help her down the stairs as quickly as possible. He followed with Mrs. Kramer. They barely avoided a collision at the bottom of the stairs when they spun around and into the basement door, which was beneath the staircase.

  “In!” prompted Cash.

  Kyle stood back to let the ladies in first. It really isn’t the time for English gallantry thought Cash.

  “Rigs!’ shouted Cash. “We’re down!”

  “There are many more than we thought. I’ve taken six out and they’re still coming!”

  “Banksie?” called Cash, only to be met with silence.

  Rigs and the officer covering the front rushed back to the hallway. The front door buckled when the attackers unleashed a hail of bullets against the solid oak panels.

  “Basement,” Cash said, pushing the officer and Rigs into the doorway. A Surenos gang member rushed into the hallway from the back of the house, catching Cash cold and unarmed.

  The front door gave way under the unrelenting hail of bullets.

  Cash dived through the doorway, taking advantage of the startled gang member’s lack of experience, and the gang member took the full brunt of the torrent of bullets that passed through the front door.

  Cash crashed into the officer and Rigs, sending the three of them tumbling into a heap at the bottom of the stairs.

  “Run!” screamed Sophie as the footsteps could be clearly heard racing across the corridor above them.

  All three rushed towards her voice and through the small doorway on the far wall.

  ***

  When the Surenos members filtered back out of the house, Green instructed his two colleagues, Red and Brown, to move forward with him. Green had orders to stay back until the scene was clear. Gray had already lost one operative and didn’t want to lose any more. As far as Green was aware, it wasn’t that Gray cared for them particularly. Despite their colorful and anonymous names, they were not faceless and untraceable mercenaries. Each of them was a well seasoned ex-Special Forces man with a history that could tie them back to Gray. It was only thanks to Green’s quick actions that the police hadn’t found Blue’s body at the professor’s house.

  The operatives Green had with him were perfectly capable, particularly against a couple of academics. It was a different matter against trained CIA killers. Gray’s men would stay back until all dangers were eliminated.

  “We’re going in now,” advised Green on th
e radio to Gray.

  “We need the flash drive and no witnesses,” Gray reminded him.

  “Understood.”

  “Two dead in the kitchen and the rest are in the basement,” one gang member said, strutting towards Green.

  “All dead?” asked Green.

  His shrug was not the solid affirmative he had hoped for.

  “Are they dead?” he repeated.

  “I don’t know,” replied the Surenos boss, his face exploding to mush before Green’s eyes.

  ***

  The door thudded behind them, quickly followed by a hiss.

  “A bomb shelter?” asked the officer, looking around the small room that was stacked floor to ceiling with dry goods and water bottles.

  Cash nodded. “The Chief was a bit of a prepper. He liked to know he could protect his family. It’s also a great earthquake shelter, which is handy given the San Andreas Fault runs right beneath here.”

  Cash pushed a bag of rice to the side, revealing a gun cabinet below.

  “How did you know that was there?” asked Rigs quietly, keeping his voice almost inaudible to everyone but Cash.

  “I helped build this thing. I just hope he didn’t change the padlock code.” Cash entered the code ‘0716’.

  Sophie watched him, a look of anger flashing across her face. “So you do remember my birthday.”

  Cash shrugged. No apologies were ever going to make up for what he had done.

  A number of rifles lay wrapped in oily rags. “He was sure one day we’d all need to hunt to eat,” explained Cash, removing them one by one.

  Bullets pinged against the metal door. The officer watched the door intently, as though it were going to burst open any moment.

  “It’s fine,” Cash assured him. “Only a direct missile strike is taking this baby down.” He patted the cold walls that encased them.

  “Fancy a hunt?” asked Cash with a grin.

  Rigs nodded, as did Kyle.

  “Not you,” said Cash firmly, throwing a scoped M16 to Rigs.

  He rubbed down a scoped M4 for himself and directed Rigs towards the far wall of the small shelter, where he pulled aside a pile of provisions to reveal a small hatch at the bottom of the wall.