Godmen

Published by

Multinat Publishing

www.initiate.org.in

All infomation shared in this book is copyright to Ankur Khandelwal.

For more details on copies, rights of use and additional information visit www.godmen.info

GODMEN

- ANKUR KHANDELWAL +

Much love to Mom for the love, Dad for the training and Wife for the patience and support.

Special thanks to Ms. Priyanka Thirumurthy, a childhood friend for sitting through my unintelligible dictations that she diligently typed down without letting any of her excellent intellect overpower my stupid choices of words, plots and characters.

Much thanks to myself for actually finishing something I started.

PREFACE

Yes, I’m the fanciest person I found to do the preface of a book I’ve written.

I could very comfortably write a five-hundred-word preface spanning the entire book and you’d still keep reading, given my very reasonable writing skills (and because you’ve paid for this book). However, my comically diabolical dramatics and sequences are gifts that I would reserve for another day.

This book has been five years in the making and has shaped me as much as I have shaped it. Well, I’ve shaped it a lot more but you get the gist. Over the course of writing this book, I came to converse with a crazy bunch of scientists (or are they all crazy, not sure) which has become the highlight of my generally eccentric conversations.

The information they gave me and my extrapolations therein have led me to thousands of documents that have hundreds of stories backing their existence. What I’ve shared here is only a small part of it all. The web goes way further in to the darkness than you, and even I, can see. Yet, the information you will gather about our world through the GODMEN series, is also not in vain. At least that’s what my marketing team insists I should say.

The eventual effect of this book, my readers have unanimously told me, has been the creation of doubt in every bit of news they have read ever since. Reading between the lines has always been my skill and with this book I hope it becomes yours too. So, without really reading too much in to it, do appreciate the information I’ve shared. My inspirations for GODMEN is a combination of derivations, some from truth, some from common sense and a little from imagination.

Do also write to me with your inputs, feedback or the mistakes you’ve found with the ghastly grammar that I generally employ.

Do not write to me about refunds, discounts or money in general. Unless you’re offering some, then you’re welcome to.

Love you all.

0

It has taken me a really long time to forget Danny...I don’t know if it is coincidence or chance that puts us together two times in a row—and I don’t know what drove me to that meeting at Rays, but what’s done is done.

I shouldn’t have slept with him though.

Time changes people. The better ones—as seen in your head—turn out to be complete disappointments in reality. As for the ones that show no promise...well, Danny has grown to a sensitive and respected person. That’s the thing with big disappointments.

Even at the President’s Ball he seemed to be the hot topic of discussion. Why Bruce kept brushing off my admiration for him seemed more than just jealousy. He has been increasingly and irreversibly protective over the years, but Danny has really pushed me closer to him than ever before. I have become a property he doesn’t want to lose, yet what’s disturbing is that I am not able to stop myself from thinking about Danny.

Now I have to tell Bruce about my gaffe. Maybe during our vacation. Maybe not.

—R.M.

She closed her diary. She felt a bit nervous. Various additions to the pages of the diary had made the book much thicker and it felt unnaturally bulky in her hands. A tiny button, fitted to the end of a lapel, hung from the cover. She pushed the button in place, made sure the book was properly closed, and placed it in her handbag.

Despite being a beautiful woman, she pictured herself as being ugly. She had lost count of the number of times she had felt that way around him.

The advanced air-conditioning system of the airport was making her feel very cold. There was nothing that seemed to emit heat around her—everything ranged from cold to colder. A faint scent of wet flowers, among others, hung in the air. She looked up and around the room.

No one looked back.

Her heart yearned for attention.

A few tables left scattered around two marble pillars looked as dead as the air around her. The heavy rains outside, brightened by the night lights, could be seen through a large glass window to her left. The sound of rain was cut out by the thick walls and glass, but light music oozed out of hidden places to compensate for the silence. Everything in this first-class lounge seemed to be intended to calm its occupants.

She turned to look at the person sitting beside her. As a couple, they had lost track of the spark that had gotten them close.

Bruce held a bejewelled cell phone against his ear. Undistracted by her gaze—or probably because he was too used to it—he spoke in a steady pace. Tension was writ large in his voice.

All she could make out from the several phone calls was that the stock markets were going haywire and his company was one among those bleeding heavily. Just why she was with him at the airport, despite their vacation plans to Japan being cancelled by him a few hours ago, was something she didn’t understand.

In every relationship, things sometimes don’t go as planned because one of the two partners ventures out to what he or she deems as greener pastures.

A well-dressed man with an athletic build sat down on a couch across the hall. His long hair was neatly pulled back in a ponytail. His dark brown complexion seemed to glow, and his smile was attractive enough to grab attention.

He looked up and smiled at her. A sense of hesitation assailed her but she responded with what was half a smile. The man looked away and picked up a newspaper. She wondered if he saw her return his smile, when a question interrupted her thoughts.

‘What’s so funny, Renata?’

Bruce had finished his call and was looking at her.

She laughed nervously. ‘Umm…’ she replied.

‘C’mon Renata. Girls have got to be thinking of something, always.’ He said sarcastically. ‘Checking out other guys you can go on a vacation with?’

‘That’s a battle for another time, Bruce.’ Renata laughs.

‘Why is everything a battle with you?’ Bruce responds.

‘Because love is war, baby.’ She snaps back knowing fully well that she needed to calm him down before his deductive nature started questioning and over thinking their simple conversation. After a slight pause, she continues, ‘So we’re going to Buffalo? Care to explain why I’m coming along?’

‘To meet my bankers in Luxembourg. We’re going to Buffalo because my private jet in Canada has been cleared to enter European airspace while the one here isn’t getting the required clearances.’

‘...and why are you taking me?’ she asks.

Bruce reluctantly nodded. ‘Our world operations are still headed from Luxembourg...’ He paused before continuing, ‘Some covert group is hammering my stocks...at this rate, Shield Farms will file for bankruptcy in a few weeks. I need to stop this, fast, or I may become the perfect target. My advisors fear that the group may decide to come for me and find you instead, so I’ve been told to keep you with me.’

‘Keep me? I am not a thing! Also, what if they’re tracking you and know you’re here right now?’

She looks at Bruce in an almost gazing wonder at how insensitive he could be at times. It wasn’t only power that had pulled her to him initially; it was his pure and controlled passion, the stability and sustainability of his actions, and their ability to transform the world around him.

One pure and incorruptible quality is corruption. She wished she had realised it earlier. Now he was beyond change.

Over the years, Shield Farms had become, to Bruce, a legacy that surpassed the momentousness of fathering a child. He had chosen the progression of his business over his bloodline, committing the mistake many sailors fear—choosing to love the ship instead of the ocean. He maintained that his kingdom, which was now dying, was ruled by a throne that was not simply handed to the next—which made the raising of a child ‘unnecessary’.

Bruce typed out a message with his usual care and concentration. The messages he sent across his secure network were always carefully worded—he knew that every bit of digital information was one hack away from going public. Even a simple message from his phone was broken down to over 6,000 bits, with each piece scrambled, and then transmitted. His aversion to everything ‘digital’ made him break the order of his message before sending—a double encryption of sorts. He sent a message to three specific numbers who knew how to break the cryptic code.

2

C0

2O2

R1

N3

Just then, they hear a message on the airport’s intercom:

‘Mr. Shield and Ms Marks, flying on KS413, are requested to report to boarding gate number four immediately. This is the final boarding call.’

‘That’s us.’ Bruce stood up and picked up his coat. ‘It’s a pity my private jet here failed to get entry into European airspace. I think I’ll have to remind the head of the EU how much his economy depends on me.’

They rush towards the gate. Bruce, who was not accustomed to travelling in public airliners, found himself being led by Renata through two rounds of security. He walked through the metal detectors but was asked to pass through them again. An airline official interrupted the TSA officer—they had a small argument. After frantic radio chatter and a show of authorisation papers, the TSA official reluctantly allowed Bruce to proceed.

They began walking to the airline. ‘We were at the First Class lounge. You should have looked for us there.’ Bruce complained, as he tried to keep up with the airline official.

‘Its been closed for maintenance since last week! Are you sure it was the First Class lounge, sir?’ the official asked, looking surprised.

Renata and Bruce exchanged puzzled looks as they walked to a waiting car.

Bruce was lost in thought, trying to find a link between the closed First Class lounge and his current situation when his phone beeped. It was a message from Daniel Aegnor:

CRON CRONO? INTERESTING.

WILL PUT A STOP TO IT ALL.

HOPE LOUNGE HOSPITALITY WAS GOOD.

ENJOY YOUR FLT.

Bruce turned to Renata and said, ‘It’s Daniel...Danny...He’s the one causing all the trouble! I knew it! Time to show him what Bruce Shields is capable of...’ he paused, checked his phone and continued, ‘...as soon as I get reception.’

Renata took a deep breath.

‘You did good, Dan. Now let’s go’ the dark Asian man from the first-class lounge commented as he walked towards Daniel.

‘Hold on, Chandra. I need to see this. Get the car up front when Claire says.’ Dan responded without looking away from the TV screen. Chandra nodded, folded his hands, and looked at the screen trying to glean Dan’s captivation.

Both stood like statues in an airport that was buzzing with life. The news was on TV, but the sound was turned off. Suddenly, a few gasps were heard. Big bold letters populated the screen.

BREAKING NEWS

Flight KS413 Crashes

Number of survivors uncertain

Cause of crash unknown

Dan smiled.

1

‘Assuming I have not read your application, introduce yourself.’

‘But you have’ the candidate replied flatly.

The interviewer looked back at the application form and said, ‘Mr. Daniel Aegnor, I am interviewing you for admission into The Harvard University—an opportunity that has not been within the grasp of 2,000 others who have dreamt of nothing but sitting where you are right now. Try not to think of this as an exciting venture.’

Daniel was unfazed.

‘We’re almost done, let’s try this again’ the interviewer said impatiently. ‘Walk me through your career progression.’

‘I finished college with no job offers on hand, so my part-time job at McDonalds became full-time. In the first year, I got promoted seven times. When I quit two years later, I was the Region Head and, with my savings, started my own fast food establishment. That was three years ago. Today, I own the largest fast food chain in the East Coast.’

‘The Burning Burger’ the interviewer nodded. ‘How did that come about?’

‘That’s planned for this spring. It’s a packaging chemical that works at a molecular level and cooks anything organic in contact with it.’

The interviewer looked impressed for the first time. ‘What are your plans for the future?’

‘I intend to use this process, which I own, to make an entire line of packaged foods that cook the moment their packaging is opened.’

‘Do you have the necessary permissions and approvals to go ahead? Personally, it doesn’t look too safe to me.’

‘Permission?’ Daniel laughed. ‘Authorities align to interests. With the prospects of it serving the troops and breaking in to developing nations, America’s interests are served. It’s about consumerism doing well...Health can wait.’

‘I wish you luck with foods that cook themselves, Mr. Aegnor.’

Dan got up. He was about to leave, when the interviewer added, ‘You might have heard of Tommy Moynihan. He is a good friend of mine and the head of a small organisation we call the FDA.’

Dan opens his eyes.

Returning from his flashback, he looks around relearning the details of his surroundings. He sat facing a dark, solid glass table. A door with a golden knob at the far end of the room hung out of place in an otherwise scantily adorned office. A glass wall that started from his left and ended behind him was the only source of light in the evening darkness.

Dan got in to Harvard that year, as did the ‘Burning Burger’ through the FDA. He had been to hell and back in the last decade. Now he sat at what could possibly be called a high point—the offices of DVM.

He reads the letter, again.

Hale Jea

It’s Christmas—a season we created for a company many decades ago. Such, we have created many, time to time, need to need. The Empire State Building, in the 98th floor of which you sit in at this moment, stands as another creation. We own unlimited and invaluable resources in money, men, and might, that help us in running our empire.

We want to own you.

Like every mortal body, we have enemies—some weak, some strong. Hence our resources are safeguarded.

This building is inlaid with graphene. One heavily armed battalion and two F-32 fighter jets with open strike clearances secure you. No movement unplanned, no foe uninvited.

You have two paths. The first is to accept our invitation and become a member. The second will be delivered to you tomorrow.

Your first assignment is on your table.

Hale

2

There were many things wrong with this letter.

The words ‘No one comes uninvited’ also meant ‘No one leaves unauthorised’. Many other concerns ranging from who was ‘Jea’ to the creation of Christmas popped as red flags to Dan. The most prominent fact that stuck out was the marking ‘DVM’—for it proved that the universally feared organisation wasn’t just an urban legend or the product of a conspiracy theory nut. DVM actually existed.

He put the letter down and picked up a red file. On it, written in bold letters, were the words ‘ASSIGNMENT ZERO’. The file was heavy.

As a marketing advisor to really powerful men for nearly half a decade, he had grown to handle significant projects and it was during one such campaign for President Brent that he had seen a similar file. Not once did it leave the President’s hands. It was heavy because Dan knew that it weighed of permanent bondage.

It also weighed of considerable power.

The file signified the passing away of all his plans and desires as his potential would no longer remain his to tap. Yet, one flimsy flap was the distance between simple freedom and desirable greatness. If it remained closed, he remained free to ignore it; if it opened, he became a slave to it. Decisions—life was full of them.

The chair he sat on felt colder than the snow that had started to fall from the dark sky. He