Читать книгу The Isle of Olympia - Andreas Karpasitis - Страница 11

Murphy was hunched over in the entry to the cockpit, watching the pilot focusing on the control panel setting up the flight, flicking switches on the board and checking the gauges.

“Are we good to go?” Murphy asked the pilot eagerly.

“We will need somewhere around twenty to twenty-five minutes to begin taxiing; refueling of the plane is still not finished. I wouldn’t normally recommend flying in this weather, sir,” the pilot advised, clearly worried about the situation of the storm. The rain was getting heavier by the minute. The continuous sound of thunders was upon New York for the past half an hour.

“We need to leave as soon as possible,” Murphy insisted. “How long until we land in Zurich?” He was concerned about how long they would need to get the wheels off the ground.

“Depending on how the weather changes,” the pilot looked at his watch while bobbing his head left and right, “I’m estimating at least ten hours.”

“Great, just keep me up to date,” Murphy said as he moved out of the cockpit and to his seat.

While Murphy was able to see things a bit more calmly now, he was worried that the attackers he faced just half an hour ago would catch up to him before the plane took off. He looked out the window as the hangar doors slowly opened, revealing the extreme severity of the weather. Murphy now understood the pilot's concerns and started having second thoughts. The visibility outside was exceptionally limited, but he knew that he had no other options.

As Murphy laid some folders he had in front of him, his phone started vibrating. The screen read Unknown; since all of Murphy’s calls were concealed, it wasn’t something unusual. He quickly picked up the phone without a second thought.

“Murphy,” he answered the phone while sorting the folders, trying to organize the clutter of paper.

“Hello Murphy,” a firm voice sounded from the other end. “We’ve been keeping an eye on you tonight, and it seems that you have lost control of the situation.”

There was an awkward silence, as Murphy, confused, did not know how to respond.

“Who is this?” Murphy’s voice was hesitant and slightly troubled.

“We hoped that you would have taken care of the situation today. In any case, let me be clear about one thing first, Murphy. We have people everywhere, and I am ready to divulge information to you that have been in the shadows to the general public for centuries – that is, if you wish to cooperate. I guess you are also in a bit of a debacle so—”

“Who is this?” Murphy insisted, his tone getting obviously more annoyed as the plane slowly started taxiing towards the runway. Murphy spotted Ethan’s car slowly pulling away, as he followed the road leading to the exit gate.

“I understand that you are also on a secure line Murphy so I will share a few things with you tonight,” the man continued. “First of all, let me introduce myself. My name is George—George Fitzgerald Kennedy.”

There was an awkward pause. Murphy quickly tried to run the Kennedy family tree in his head. A family tree that mostly involved misfortune and death. He was sure that no George was part of the family. The only George Kennedy he was aware of was a well-known actor that passed away a few years ago. But then again, maybe he was from a different Kennedy family.

“Are you the long-lost brother of John F. Kennedy?” Murphy joked as he looked at his watch.

“No, no,” George laughed on the other end of the line. “John Fitzgerald Kennedy was my father. He died around a decade ago; his heart gave in. He was ninety-three years old.”

Murphy was at that point of the day where he had listened to a lot of strange people, and stranger theories, and assumptions. For him, it was an exhausting night but with some exciting twists. However, he still couldn’t be as gullible as a young toddler. Lee Harvey Oswald assassinated John Fitzgerald Kennedy in 1963. No one could deny that it was a sad and shocking day for the United States. They did have numerous conspiracy theories about who killed him, primarily since Oswald himself was then shot. Murphy personally never heard of a theory that argued Kennedy’s death, this was a first for him. Being part of the CIA for a significant part of his life, he was aware of valuable and sensitive secrets, which could threaten the national security of several countries and influential people. He had seen the mysteries relating to Kennedy’s death, and regardless of the facts surrounding his assassination, for the government of the United States he was officially deceased.

“Murphy? Are you still there? We need to talk,” George’s voice resonated from the phone’s speaker.

“Yes…” Murphy took a deep breath. “Listen, I’ve had a long day, many things happened, and I honestly cannot be taken for a fool right now. I’m sorry, but I have to—”

“James was not all bad, it’s a shame that he lost his life today, but he was playing with fire for a long time now. We did our best to stop him and keep him alive.” George forcefully interrupted Murphy. “We were keeping an eye on him for ten years now. We were also keeping a close eye on your meeting. We did not expect things to turn out as they did.”

Murphy was speechless. The dots were slowly starting to connect, but he felt a lot of important parts were still missing. The car at the entrance, the men at the bar, the shooting, he started putting everything in order. Wait, they were shooting at us.

The pilot announced through the intercom that they will be taking off in the next five minutes. Lightning could be seen in the distance, getting closer and closer by the minute.

“That was your people shooting at me tonight?” Murphy quickly asked as he pulled down the window shutter next to his seat, not wanting to be aware of the horrible weather outside. Ignorance is bliss, he thought to himself.

“We do not make our presence known that easily or that often. Things need to be extremely out of control in order for us to intervene. We do our best to keep a low profile.”

Murphy was surprised by this.

“And today this was not out of control? A man died. That’s not the point, though; what’s all this? Are you telling me John F. Kennedy did not die in nineteen sixty-three? Are you telling me that Diana is alive and well, and James was not a paranoid lunatic?” Murphy had started to lose his temper, and for Murphy, it took a lot for him to lose control.

He nervously started feeling his coat’s pockets and then his trousers’. A habit he could never knock off. You quit smoking, Murphy tried to convince himself as he quickly looked for a replacement, a beat-up pack of chewing gum laid in his briefcase. As he started chewing on two pieces of mint-flavored gum, he could hear the man on the other end of the line taking a deep breath.

“We had nothing to do with the shooting. That was not us. In any case, let’s get back on track. My family has been looking into you for some time now. We wanted a capable man to diffuse a situation that was getting out of control for some time now. I am aware that you are a loyal and reliable person. We need to meet—”

Murphy mumbled a few words, trying to stop George from continuing.

“My people need to meet you. I also need to meet you,” George said with an authoritative tone. “To do that, I’m going to let you in on some inside information that will probably convince you. I cannot divulge too much information, but what if I told you that James was not that off about Diana Spencer, the Princess of Wales? Not a hundred percent spot on, but he was onto something, and he wasn’t a crazy and unpredictable conspiracy theorist. We made him look like this; it was the only way for us to get him to stop. The only way without him losing his life. He was a stubborn son of a bitch though.” There was a moment of silence, the jet engine the only humming sound that was heard, with the occasional thunderclap pounding in the background.

Murphy had stopped chewing on his gum. Is this all a bunch of smoke and mirrors; is this guy for real? He thought, but he couldn’t deny that everything was starting to make sense. James had shown him photographs, and while their authenticity was questionable, in a way it could mean that Diana was indeed not gone.

There had been rumors at the time that Diana was pregnant, mostly gossip newspapers and magazines, or online blogs by people who had nothing better to do. The whole idea was that she was planning to escape everything with her boyfriend, a man that the royal family did not welcome into their circle. She was in love with a man that went against the ideas and beliefs of the most influential and important British family. It took years after the accident for the conspiracy theories to dissipate. Once in a while, a news article, or some sort of insignificant information, would suddenly appear and be blown out of proportion. The headlines would always catch Murphy’s attention. Still, he was not easily convinced. He didn’t enjoy getting drawn into wasteful conspiracy theories. Her death was nothing more than just a combination of mistakes and plain bad luck. Accidents do happen, Murphy could not be convinced otherwise.

“Well, if they are alive, let me meet them then,” he requested with a tone of sarcasm in his voice.

“Oh Murphy, Murphy. I am also supposedly a nonexistent person, so let’s first start from there.” George chuckled lightly. “My people are ready to meet you so that you can discuss all the details. Let’s call it a recruitment of some kind. I understand you are about to fly now, where are you heading to?”

Murphy was a bit hesitant to share this information to a stranger on the phone. He could have been from the same people that killed James; he could be anyone, but strangely, Murphy trusted the warm and friendly tone of his voice. The man at the other end of the line seemed to have the same communication skills as the Kennedys. They were all good at negotiating and convincing people, after all, that’s what made them a family to reckon with and great, charismatic politicians.

“Let me finish this trip, and let’s meet the day after,” Murphy tried to dodge the request as he avoided to divulge his next destination.

“I understand your concern Murphy, but we need to do this as soon as possible. We can’t afford any delays. In any case, I can pinpoint your location in a matter of minutes, all it takes is a call, so let’s not do that.” George tried to keep his threat more like a harmless, honest fact. Murphy was not convinced.

“Basically, you are not giving me any choice.”

“I am not trying to impose myself Murphy, but we need to arrange a meeting. We need a man of your caliber because we are losing control of a critical situation, and we need a man to help us from the outside. After all, at this specific moment, you are right in the middle of everything. And from what I understand, you probably have something important that belonged to James.”

“From the outside?” Murphy was a bit confused.

“Exactly. This is why we need to arrange a meeting, so we can give you information that not a lot of people have the honor or privilege to know.” George seemed excited and impatient to make a meeting possible with Murphy and to share his knowledge that he would rarely discuss outside his close-knit circle. “You will be safe Murphy.”

“I’m flying to Zurich, and I will be landing in about nine, ten hours.” Murphy decided to get this over with and, at the same time, get answers to several of his questions. One of them being the reason of why he was getting shot at.

“Zurich. Fantastic.” George did not hide his excitement. “There’s a beautiful hotel in the hills of the city. It looks just like a castle. We will arrange a suite for you. Ronald and Tomas will be on their way.”

A castle looking hotel on the hills of Zurich, Murphy thought as the image popped up in his head. He was sure that he heard about this before, but he never saw it up and close. Murphy was shocked with himself that amid a chaotic day, his thoughts were drifting to sightseeing.

“Murphy? Agreed?”

“Yes, let’s do it,” Murphy confirmed with no more hesitation.

“Great. My people will contact you.”

The line quickly disconnected. He closed his eyes and leaned on the seat, trying to organize his thoughts and decisions from an out-of-control day.