Mindweavers I (eBook)

Origins

Paul Michael Privateer (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2025 | 1. Auflage
138 Seiten
Publishdrive (Verlag)
978-0-00-096931-6 (ISBN)

Infos

Mindweavers I: Origins is a riveting techno-thriller that fuses Nazi conspiracies, advanced biotechnology, and a chilling modern-day serial killer investigation-spanning decades and generations.

In 1941, deep within the Nazi regime, Gestapo officials plot to overthrow Hitler and greenlight the creation of the Mindweaver Virus-a terrifying bioweapon designed to erase memories and control minds remotely.

Years later, in wartime England, renowned mathematician Sir Richard Kavanaugh-a codebreaker at Bletchley Park-uncovers signs of a sinister 'parasite scenario,' suspecting their efforts are being manipulated by a hidden Nazi program. When he gets too close to the truth, he's found dead in a suspicious 'suicide.'

Fast forward to the present: Richard's grandson Jack Kavanaugh, a nano-bioinformatics expert and Interpol agent, joins ISO6, an elite international task force investigating theatrical serial murders in Washington D.C. The victims-engineers in defense systems-are posed like clowns and Tin Men, accompanied by cryptic manifestos warning of 'infocosis': the collapse of identity under information overload.

The case breaks wide open when Jack discovers a mysterious lambda-shaped mark on one victim-a genetic trace of the elusive Black Lambda virus, linked to the long-lost Mindweaver project. As the Kavanaugh legacy intersects across time, a horrifying truth emerges: the virus has evolved, the conspiracy has deepened, and the murders may be part of a global plot for total psychological control.

A haunting blend of historical intrigue and futuristic paranoia, Mindweavers I: Origins unravels a multi-generational mystery where memory itself is the battlefield-and the enemy is inside your mind.

Textauszug

 

CHAPTER 3

February 1943

Buckinghamshire, England

The Parasite Scenario

 

K

avanaugh worked eighteen hours a day and often arrived home exhausted.

He was awakened one night by an unusual phone call. The accent was Spanish, the voice insisting that he speak to “Mr. Quinn.” Kavanaugh said that no one by that name lived there. The voice then said, “I see” and then asked for either a “Mr. William Wilson or Jürgen.” Kavanaugh hung up angrily, hoping not to awaken his wife over a crank call.

A few minutes later he dozed off into a strange world free from the restraints of ordinary time and space dimensions. A moment took him to a breathless collapse akin to an imploding star, and then to a sudden and dramatic rush upward into a complete view of the entire Bletchley Park facility—its buildings, its staff, the top-secret labs and devices and all the activities—all happening instantaneously. He saw himself hovering above a miniature factory, a nervous system of assembly lines, each axon leading to terminals of fabricated ideas, proofs, and analytic devices, and the entire spectacle lit by steel sparking welding like showers.

 

He awoke momentarily and then fell back to sleep, this time chaotic and confused, unable to tell whether he was awake, dreaming or no longer in possession of his mind. Awake, he often feared insanity would snatch him.

The next morning created a strange insight, his mind stroke-like blank. A sudden revelation: the entire British effort to crack the Enigma code was a clever Nazi ploy with each British success providing the Nazis with critical information about something yet unknown. Could that be, he pondered? Would the Nazis trade a submarine or two for information they would later use to create some new weapons system?

Kavanaugh raced to Denniston’s office and entered unannounced.

“Never one for formalities,” Denniston said tapping his pipe in an ashtray. “Have you forgotten how long it took our ancestors to evolve opposable thumbs so that they could knock on doors?”

“Listen,” Kavanaugh whispered leaning over his desk and looking about suspiciously.

“Is there another choice? Am I in for another Kavanaugh moment?”

“I am troubled by a vision.” He walked over to a Selwyn and sat down. Denniston noticed how unkempt his friend was, reminding him of one of Kavanaugh’s breakdowns years ago at Oxford.

“Really? An idea that won’t go away?”

 

Denniston poured hot water into a teacup and raised his eyebrows, holding the pot up as an invitation.

“This is no damn time for tea,” Kavanaugh barked.

He noticed a six-inch figurine of Episteme, the headless Greek goddess of knowledge, on Denniston’s desk.

“Sounds a tad urgent.”

Kavanaugh ignored him.

“Have you ever thought that some of what we are doing here may be playing straight into Canaris’ hands, and then straightaway up to Himmler. Think. German intelligence or some secret subgroup could easily be working on something far more deadly than their Enigma machine. Think…the enigma is not about the Enigma machine but about an entirely different agenda?”

“Well not exactly in those terms.”

“They’re a clever group of bastards and may be smart enough to be using us, tricking us into spending all our time cracking their box, while they’re analyzing and using our efforts for something far more valuable, something hidden right under our eyes. I mean think about it…finally how important is that damn box anyway? We spend 24 hours a day, 7 days a week focused on it, using our best minds, and everything we do to crack produces information they can use for other reasons.”

The room stank tobacco. A nearby tiffany lampshade contained images of spiders and webs.

Denniston came around his desk.

 

“Are you saying we’re all being duped, that the Enigma is simply a trick so the Nazis can steal ideas we’re unknowingly producing for them?”

“No it’s more complicated than that.”

He stood up.

“I’m playing out a scenario. That’s why you hired me, right? If I am correct, then what we have secretly dreaded since the war began may be coming true. Remember the Pinnacle Complex? Think man! How likely would it be for the Fritzes to have us spend all our time on something that may finally have only limited value to us, especially if they’re controlling how we interpret their messages? Plus, we can’t be sure whether their transmissions represent something they are truly doing. And all the while, they’re in the background. Up to something we have no knowledge of, something that may win the war for them and, damn it, we may be helping them! How do I say this? I don’t know but I don’t want to be a stupid traitor”

Kavanaugh walked over to a large window and looked down at a small colorful garden.

“And whatever they’d be getting from us,” he turned and continued, “it has to be big and final.”

“You mean,” Denniston whispered looking around, “the V-2 or the black box, the Schrodinger device?”

Kavanaugh shook his head and arched his eyebrows.

“No, not them. If we knew what it was, then it wouldn’t be the one I’m thinking of, something at the deepest thinking.”

 

He stared intently into Denniston’s tar colored eyes. He bit his inside lip.

“Has everybody here been thoroughly screened and cleared? Are all projects above board? Are you hiding anything?”

Denniston was getting angry.

“Who’s responsible for erasing the chalkboards after work? There’s no other project is there?” Kavanaugh stretched his head forward nervously, shaking his finger, demanding an answer.

Denniston stared at his friend and then suddenly slammed his fist on the desk. His teacup shot onto the carpet. Fiery anger burned in his eyes.

“Goddamn it Richard. Goddamn you to hell. Listen to your damn craziness. Listen. Hear it? Does it sound familiar? You’re being paranoid again.”

Kavanaugh scowled.

“It’s Oxford all over again,” Denniston reminded him, “those conspiracy illusions you were peddling before you were confined. Everybody made excuses for you…’Oh he is such a young genius’ But this time you’re attacking me and my competence. To bloody hell with you.”

“I wanted…”

“Wanted shit,” Denniston cut him off. “It’s not always about you Richard. You go about cock-upping everything. God, how much of your nonsense and impertinence have I had to swallow because of your ‘special gift?”

“My God. I thought you were…”

 

“Thought nothing. Your fantasies are so tiresome. I’m just so tired of you, of tolerating your pettiness.”

Denniston put his head in his hands and then looked up, his eyes steel cold.

“And goddamn it, don’t you think we’ve done all that scenario screening?” he snapped. “We’re not amateurs. Christ almighty I’ve been in this intelligence racket all my damn life.” He waved his index finger in the air, his voice cracking. “Look Richard. Stay rational for a minute. Two points: first off—your idea is not new.”

“What?” Kavanaugh interrupted.

“Yes, your ‘parasite’ scenario—that’s what we called it—has been played out for six months and zero. We’ve gone over every facet of our activities. We’re not giving away anything, even if the Krauts embedded a mole. And there is no external chatter, not even from our deepest agents, one who even has the Fuhrer’s ear. No proof. Nothing.”

“But are you sure?” Kavanaugh asked.

“Richard there is no evidence. None. How many times do I have to say it? I do not want to hear anymore about this. It just can’t be true.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because its complexity makes it impossible. There’d be obvious leaks and mistakes. Traitors could easily become wealthy by selling what they knew. Do you know how much we’d pay for that agent?”

Kavanaugh pursed his lips.

 

“And, secondly,” Denniston added, “you’ve been working far too hard these days. Just like Oxford. Tiredness and over working….that’s what triggers these episodes. Take a holiday in Wales to clear things? Ok? Do it. Take the time man before you burn out”

“That’s what Margaret’s been saying too,” Kavanaugh said, looking out the window. “She’s so good with the children. I owe them some quality time. Perhaps a brief tour would do us well.”

“Good then. It’s decided,” Denniston said, ushering his friend toward the door. “You four have a good time and take care.”

He stopped, his large hand reaching for his friend’s shoulder. “Almost forgot to ask. How is that most beautiful...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 10.6.2025
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Fantasy / Science Fiction ► Science Fiction
• ISBN-10: 0-00-096931-1 / 0000969311
• ISBN-13: 978-0-00-096931-6 / 9780000969316