2022 Read online



  2022

  Ken Kroes

  Copyright © 2015 by Ken Kroes

  All rights reserved.

  Editor: Irene Kavanagh https://www.editors.ca/profile/7624/irene-kavanagh

  Cover Design: SelfPubBookCovers.com/rgporter

  Book design by Ken Kroes

  ISBN 978-0-9940332-3-9

  Publisher 1779671 Alberta Inc.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Ken Kroes

  https://www.feasibleplanet.com

  Table of Contents

  1 - The Contract

  2 – The DIR

  3 - Suspicions

  4 - Reconnaissance

  5 - Planning

  6 - Commitment

  7 - The Colonies

  8 - Start of Percipience

  9 - Discovery

  10 - Hope Dealt In

  11 - The Elders

  12 - Meetings

  13 - Secrets

  14 - Tension

  15 - Crisis

  16 - Assimilation

  17 - Survival

  18 - Plans Taking Shape

  19 - Hopeless

  20 - Final Preparation

  21 - Confrontation

  22 - The Deal

  23 - The Real Beginning of Percipience

  Appendix A - World Enigma – Idiots of Men Know

  Appendix B - Putting Things into Perspective

  Appendix C - Why Not?

  Appendix D - Anagrams

  The Percipience Series Continued

  1 - The Contract

  The assassin’s target stood near the rear entrance of the city bus. A week of observation revealed that the man’s behavior in the morning was always the same. Each day he boarded the nearly full bus at the same stop. There was usually no place to sit, so he stood with one arm around a pole to balance himself while skimming through a morning tabloid. His attire rarely varied, and there were no surprises this morning in his choice of a light-colored jacket and dark jeans.

  The assignment had started with a simple message from the assassin’s employer: Within a week, take out this man in a public place and make sure that it is obviously a professional hit.

  “So far, so good,” Hope thought, as she watched her mark and kept track of the other riders on the bus. She would have completed her mission yesterday, but a man on crutches at the rear entrance increased the chances of slowing her getaway. She changed her disguise daily as the police were sure to review security video. When they did they would see that the killer was a young man in his early twenties, wearing a denim jacket, baseball cap, and glasses. If the security camera resolution was good enough, and the police reviewed previous days’ footage, it would show the week’s progression from clean-shaven to scruffy with evidence of a slight scar on his right jaw.

  As the bus approached the university, Hope started to close the distance between her and her mark, and with practiced skill went through a checklist of items that would immediately abort the operation. The jacket that the man wore would shield the blood spatter, and there was no unusual activity on the bus or at the stop it was approaching. She had picked the morning ride for the hit since the crowd was comprised of university students and office workers with no children present. She did have rules, including no killing of children or in front of them.

  Satisfied that everything was all right, she tapped on the rim of her eyeglasses to turn on the camera for a live feed of the event. She waited a few seconds until a small green arrow came up on the HUD of the glasses indicating that they were functioning properly. The bus neared the stop and a small group of people gathered around the rear exit door. The mark was still standing in his original spot as his stop came after this one. He had progressed to the comics section and seemed oblivious to everything around him.

  She moved passed the man, looking down as she lightly bumped against him. During this brief contact, she extended the long, narrow blade concealed in her sleeve and expertly plunged it into him at an upward angle just below his rib cage. After a slide twist of the blade, she withdrew it quickly, knowing that it had punctured his heart. She moved swiftly towards the rear door, turned off her eyeglass video feed, and was off the bus and walking down the street before the man fully realized he had been stabbed.

  Thirty minutes later, she sat at a café window seat across the street from the university waiting for a latte to be made. She rubbed her fingertips together to get rid of the thin, plastic film she had used to conceal fingerprints.

  “Triple tall latte for Hope,” the barista called out.

  She got up and collected her coffee and returned to her seat. She noticed a fire truck go by, probably to put out the small fire burning her disguise in an alley a few blocks away. After exiting the bus, she had followed a route that avoided security cameras. She entered a washroom in one of the university buildings where lectures would not begin for a few hours. Ensuring it was empty, she then pulled a doorstop from her pocket, jammed it into place to ensure privacy, and spent the next ten minutes transforming herself back from a mid-twenty, thin, unshaven man to a stunning thirty-year-old female with long, blonde hair. She left the washroom and discarded the used disguise near a trash bin behind the building, sprinkled lighter fluid on it, and struck a match.

  ********************

  At the same time, Mikhail also was looking out a window, but instead of busy city streets and offices the view was an ocean panorama from his penthouse office. He had just watched the live video feed of the murder and was pleased at the efficiency of it. He felt no real guilt or remorse; this was something that had to be done and probably would not be the last time either. He turned away from the sight of lapping waves on the sandy beach, hastily typed an encrypted message, and pressed Send.

  He thoroughly enjoyed his current assignment as it was a perfect fit for his unique combination of skills. Though he held a doctorate in micro-biology, he excelled at management and was known for getting tasks done, regardless of the method. He was well connected, knowing key business leaders, technical experts and many specialists who worked outside of the law, such as the assassin that he had just hired. As head of the research division for the Pleasant Belief Foundation, he not only held the responsibility of ensuring that schedules were maintained, but managed several aspects that were kept secret from the public and the government. This hit was necessary to ensure that those secrets were maintained.

  The position did have sacrifices though. He was living half way across the world from his home and family in the Middle East. He missed his wife and children and with the demands of the project could only visit with them once or twice per year. The climate was also very different to his native country. The northwest coast of the United States was much cooler and wetter, something that even after two years, the forty-five-year-old slim built man could not get used to and felt cold most of the time.

  He saw the acknowledgment that his message had been sent. Just another six months of this and I’ll have everything I need. Then I’ll finally be able to go back home, permanently.

  ********************

  Hope picked up her tablet, scanned her fingerprint, and logged into her crypto-currency account. She wasn’t surprised to see that her employer, had already deposited the final payment along with a good-sized bonus. With a few keystrokes, she transferred ten percent to he
r favorite charity, The Pleasant Belief Foundation. She smiled at the irony of the donation then scanned the local news feeds to see if there were any headlines on the murder that she had just committed.

  *******************

  Diane learned about her brother’s death from the Internet. At first she thought it was someone else with the same name, but as she read further, she knew there was no mistake. In a daze, she checked her email and found a message from her brother’s wife, Gwen, sent only a few hours before, telling her the news and asking her to call.

  As reality struck her, she felt the world collapsing around her. With both her parents gone for some years, her older brother was all the family she had left and had been the cornerstone of her life. He was always there for her, regardless of what trouble she got herself into. She was almost the opposite of him. As she grew up, she never could fit into the mold per the expectations of her parents and society. Now, at twenty-five years old, with a slim build, short light colored hair, piercings, and tattoos, things were not any different.

  Throughout high school, she found little use for several compulsory subjects and had been unable to convince her parents to enroll her in any extracurricular activities that she preferred. After high school, she spent a few years at a trade school, taking classes that appealed to her, such as welding and fabrication. She worked at several part-time jobs to support herself. She cringed at the thought of living within the rules of established society but didn’t know what she really wanted either. She felt lost, knowing that there had to be some purpose to her life, yet she had no idea what that was and had spent the last few years drifting in search of it.

  Through her tears and sobs, she thought back to how her brother had been their parents’ favorite. He had worked so hard in school to please them, achieving a teaching position at a prominent university while doing microbiology research. Regardless of how busy his schedule was, though, he contacted her regularly, and she thought back to the last time she saw him a few days earlier.

  She picked up her cell phone and called Gwen to say she would be there in a few hours, after which she spent the next few minutes picking loose items up. Then she went to the front of her RV, started it, and drove away from the side street where she had parked overnight.

  Who would want to kill my brother? The thought ran through her mind over and over. Gwen had said “murdered” several times. Sadness slowly turned to anger, and as she fought to stay in control, she clenched the steering wheel hard, vowing to find out who had done this and make them pay.

  2 – The DIR

  The large, flat touch screen took up nearly the whole wall in the director’s office. Displayed on it were icons, documents, and other images.

  “I don’t need a partner—I’ve worked on my own for the last ten years.” Sue said as she stood to one side of the display and looked at the image of a good-looking young man. Sue was nearly forty and kept herself in good shape by running several times per week. With her long curly brown hair, above average height and faultless makeup application she still was able to spin heads as she walked by. If I was fifteen years younger then maybe it would be a different story but I don’t have the time or patience to train him, regardless of how good looking he is.

  “Well, like it or not, you’re going to get one now,” the director said as he flicked on the image, sending it across the screen to where she stood. “It’s part of the new policy that everyone gets partnered. You and our whole department are overworked, and we need to train new blood.”

  “He’s just going to slow me down,” Sue said. She swirled her fingers over the image then tapped on it, making it crumple and move to the trash icon.

  The director sighed. “He’s one of our best upcoming candidates and he needs to learn from the best.” As he spoke, he manipulated the screen to retrieve the image, uncrumpled it, and sent it back to her.

  As she moved to return it to the trash icon, there was a knock at the door.

  “That will be him,” the director said.

  The door opened and a young man entered, appearing to look even younger than his twenty-five years. Sue thought he could easily have passed for a male model and was immediately struck by his steely blue eyes. He seemed taller and even more handsome in person.

  “Spencer, I’d like you to meet your new partner, Sue.”

  “Hi,” he said. He stood at the entryway unsure of what to do next.

  She looked at him then glanced at the director to make sure she had his attention. With a mischievous smile, she turned her gaze to the wastepaper basket by his desk and back to Spencer which resulted in a disapproving look from the director. She then walked over to his desk and picked up a pen and a piece of paper, scribbled a few words on the paper and handed it to Spencer.

  “Ask the receptionist for a print-out of this form. We need it to finish your processing.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, glancing at the note on his way out of the office.

  “What additional form?” the director asked.

  “The IDT-ENT form. Let’s see how he does. If he handles this properly, I guess I’ll keep him.”

  The director looked puzzled for a few seconds and laughed. “You’re cruel! Maybe I have this all wrong, and Spencer doesn’t deserve you. But he’s not a puppy you can just decide to keep. You don’t get a choice in the matter. He’s well connected, and I’ve already received two email requests from higher levels to find a position for him here. He’ll be your new partner. End of discussion. So tell me, what crisis of the day are you working on now?”

  “No crisis today. I’m working on a summary of Asia’s factory utilization. Pretty routine stuff. I’m currently compiling all the data received from our agents in the field.”

  “Maybe that’s something you can get Spencer started with. I have an urgent request that came across my desk this morning and I want you to start working on it right away.”

  “What’s it about?”

  “It’s from the intelligence agency. They want to find out about The Pleasant Belief Foundation—all its activities and whether there’s any tie between them and the eco-terrorist group CURE.”

  “That should be simple. Are you sure you want me to handle it? We could give this to Spencer or another junior person.”

  “I chatted with a guy at the agency this morning, and he’s heard of at least a half-dozen areas that the foundation is involved in. It’s his feeling that they’re hiding something. I told him I’d put my best person on it, and that would be you.”

  Spencer knocked on the open door and entered looking flushed. He kept one hand behind his back.

  Sue looked at him and raised an eyebrow. “Well?”

  He grimaced. “The receptionist and several others were all too happy to get me an IDT-ENT form.” He pulled out a crudely made paper dunce’s cap and put it on his head. “ID10T” was clearly printed at the base. “I’m kind of mad at myself—I should’ve figured out this one much quicker.”

  She chuckled. “Always be on your toes. It’ll save your life someday. Now take that damn thing off of your head and let’s get going and get you settled into a cube.” On her way out, she spoke to the director over her shoulder. “I’ll give you an update once I find out more.”

  “Please do, and treat this with importance.”

  Sue and Spencer headed down a hallway of office cubes and noticed several people standing and watching a special news report on the overhead television screens that were scattered throughout the office. Sue stopped and questioned a staff member.

  “CURE just released a new video and every news station is playing it,” he replied.

  “…Your continual abuse of the planet must stop. We will take action in the top ten abusive countries. Over the next few months, we’ll monitor major consumption and environment statistics in all industrialized countries. Those that show the least improvement per capita will feel our wrath, and it will be swift. Details of what we are monitoring will be given to all major newspapers.�
��

  Shaking her head in silent disbelief, Sue motioned to Spencer to move along and they continued towards her cube. When she reached it, she noticed that someone had put Spencer’s name plate on the cube opposite her own. I guess I didn’t have a choice after all.

  Spencer went to his desk and dropped his backpack beside the chair. “That CURE group has really picked up the hype over the last year,” he said. “What do you think they’re going to do now?”

  “Who knows? Last time they disrupted several major oil refineries around the country with strategically placed explosives. The resulting fuel shortage undermined the nation for nearly a year.”

  “Yeah, there was a lot of pain when that happened.”

  Sue sat down and leaned back in her chair. “Let me ask you—why do you want to work here?”

  “In all honesty, I wanted to start here after graduating because it’s an excellent stepping stone to getting into politics. Ideally, I’d like to work here for five to seven years and then try a run for public office.”

  “Fair enough. With your looks, I’m guessing you’ll do well, too. What do you know about this department and CURE?”

  “The Department of Information Retrieval, or DIR, was formed in 2018 with the revelation of deep levels of corruption within many government departments and corporations. It was set up so there would be only a single organization, independent of any political or corporate influences, responsible for providing data in key areas to all government departments.”

  “As for the eco-terrorist group, CURE stands for Curtail Unnecessary Resource Exploitation and I just know what I’ve seen in the news. They started to make headlines a few years ago and are against anything that harms the environment and they commit terrorist acts to punish those that are the worst offenders. They’re loosely organized, so it’s been very hard to track and stop them.”

  Sue listened intently to everything he had said. “Your general definition of DIR is good, but it’s missing a few things. First of all, we don’t publish data; we gather it, and then we publish information. There’s a difference—information is processed data. We use several sources including plenty of field work to see what’s actually happening.”