The Apocalypse Club by Craig McLay Read Free Book Online

country that might seek to hire them.
    Because of this, the exact number of GDI forces (the company refers to them as “contractors”) is not known. The site of their headquarters or any of their bases is also unknown, although they are rumoured to have large bases on Greenland, Cuba, Madagascar and New Guinea, but this is coming from some of the same conspiracy theorists who claim that the company has bases on the moon, too.
    GDI rose rapidly to prominence on the backs of many cash-strapped national governments looking for ways to slash their ballooning defence spending. The US was one of the first to go, decommissioning its armed forces shortly after it defaulted on its national debt after the most recent financial market implosion, but other governments quickly followed. Interestingly, much of the blame for the engineering of that market collapse landed at the door of HIG, which is rumoured to be GDI’s parent company, but nothing was ever proven. And many of the people making those allegations disappeared under mysterious circumstances, so after a while, the allegations stopped coming.
    GDI offered an alternative to a traditional military, pitching itself as a unifying global force that would provide more boots, ships, planes and overall bang per buck. Although their apparently bottomless marketing and PR budgets makes sure they get plenty of attention for getting involved in various “charity” missions (like removing the “insane cannibal clone” Kim Jong-un from power in North Korea), critics have often charged that not only is the company well-compensated for these operations (by assuming drilling or mineral rights in captured territories, for example), but also that the vast majority of GDI activities are complete secrets – that GDI is, in effect, a superpower without a country.
    Many of the more vocal critics were later arrested for a variety of things, ranging from embezzlement to DUIs to possession of drugs or child pornography. The others just disappeared.
    The fact that Max went to work for GDI made both complete and absolutely no sense at the same time. The Max I knew back then was a conspiracy nut of the highest order. He was convinced that GDI and HIG and a dozen other organizations were all in cahoots to take over the world for reasons unknown. On the other hand, he was also a military survival enthusiast with no other real skills, so in that sense, GDI was a perfect fit.
    Incidentally, I’ve never understood why they have to have both “Global” and “International” in their name. It strikes me as a bit redundant and silly, but I would never dare say any such thing out loud.
    That, however, doesn’t come anywhere close to explaining why one of the most powerful men in the world has brought me into his office (if not his actual presence) to help him find Max.
    “Sorry?” I say in bewilderment.
    “Max Hernandez,” Hudson says. “You and he were friends when you were kids, right?”
    “Ye-eah,” I say. “But I haven’t seen him in about eight years.”
    “I’m aware of that, Simms,” Hudson says. “Were you aware of the fact that the former Sergeant Hernandez worked for us?”
    I was not aware of that. “Sorry, but when you say ‘former’, do you mean former sergeant or that he was formerly alive?”
    “Former sergeant,” Hudson says. “Not much point in dragging you out to look for a dead man, now, is there?”
    “I suppose not,” I agree. “He works for Firmamental?”
    The giant face on the screen looks slightly uncomfortable, at least, insofar as any aspect of something so huge can be called slight. “He did until recently. He worked in the security division. It appears that he had, well, something of a breakdown.”
    A breakdown? What could he mean by this? With Max, the possibilities were varied. It could include suddenly believing he is Napoleon Bonaparte, commandeering an armoured tank division and trying to re-enact said conqueror’s disastrous invasion of Russia