The Call of Destiny (The Return of Arthur Book 1) by Unknown Read Free Book Online Page A

offer, which
under the circumstances, and with regret, I cannot accept.’
    In the act of rising, Alec
Pettifer froze in a crouching position. ‘You are turning down a knighthood?’
    ‘I am.’
    The PPS fell back in his
chair. ‘Isn’t that somewhat arrogant of you?’
    ‘I can see how it might look
that way. I assure you, though, I don’t feel arrogant. I feel only regret that
my warnings are being ignored.’
    At the door of his office,
bridging the awkward moments of ushering out his distinguished visitor, the PPS
remarked tartly, ‘The Prime Minister will not be pleased. Is there anything you
would like to say by way of explanation?’
    Merlin considered the
question. ‘Tell the Prime Minister this: time is short. Every day that passes
we lose ground to those who threaten the stability of the world. We must
destroy them, or they will destroy us.’
    ‘Are you not rather stepping out of your field,
Mr. Thomas?
    These matters are, after all, best left to
politicians.’
    ‘Are they, Mr. Pettifer? What
have politicians ever done to earn our trust? Tell me that. Can you think of
one good reason why we should place in their hands the most precious thing we
have – the future of mankind?’
    ‘If I may say so, Thomas, you
seem to take yourself a bit too seriously. But then you are young, very young.
Politicians are not infallible, but they do have the experience, and on the
whole they make good use of it. There have always been prophets of doom, and
mankind has survived in spite of them. No doubt it will continue to survive.’
    ‘That cannot be taken for
granted.’ ‘You and Nostradamus, eh?’
    Merlin shook his head. ‘We are
very different, he and I. Nostradamus was convinced that the end of the world
was inevitable. I am convinced it is not.’
    When Merlin had gone, the PPS
breathed a sigh of frustration tinged with relief. The fellow obviously had a
screw loose, several screws in fact. Didn’t they say that genius was close to
madness? Had he slipped over the edge? A knighthood? A straightjacket would be
more appropriate.
    When the news broke of Merlin’s resignation
from the Weapons and Research Unit, there were many in both the commercial and
academic worlds eager to employ his services.
    First, however, he had to be found, and that,
for a time at least, proved impossible, for Merlin had disappeared. He seemed
to have broken all contact with his friends and former colleagues, surfacing
for brief periods in various parts of the world, never staying in the same
place for long. No one knew what he was up to, though there were plenty of
rumours: he was creating complex software programmes for the drug barons; he
had become a master computer hacker; he was amassing a great fortune; he was on
a remote desert island testing weapons of the future for the Chinese army. He
was working for the Russians, he was working for the Americans, he was working
for the Israelis, he was working for the Arabs. He was in South America, he was
in Africa, he was in the Antarctic, he was on the sea bed, he was in space.
When the unglamorous truth was revealed, it created both alarm and sheer
disbelief; Merlin had become an assistant House Master at Glastonbury School in
the county of Somerset.
    That he had chosen an academic
rather than a commercial career was not perhaps so surprising. What was more
puzzling was that he had not offered himself to one of the United Kingdom’s
principal centres of learning and research. Had he done so, it was certain that
every leading University in the land would have competed hotly for him. Quite
apart from the inevitable academic glory, he would certainly have been showered
with national honours and prestigious appointments; Chairman of this Royal
Commission, President of that Council, and no doubt Tsar of whatever Committee
or Association he cared to name. Yet for some inexplicable reason he had
abandoned any notion he might once have had of making a name for himself, and
in the process as