The Mind Man

Chapter twenty three

Jabber Yousif Omer heard the fax beep into life. He looked out at the snow falling heavily onto the open ground in front of the barracks. The compound was empty as the recruits were up in the mountains on a training exercise. From his desk, on any clear day, he enjoyed commanding views of the high mountain peaks and the valleys below near the Turkish border. He could see well in advance approaching vehicles negotiating the unformed mountain road leading up from the nearby village of Zraiza. But on days of poor visibility such as today he had to rely on guards posted beside a boom gate further down the mountain to warn of any unwanted intruders. 

He placed the Kalashnikov he was cleaning beside his desk and stood. He moved into the next room, his baggy pants making a chafing sound, to pick the fax pages off the floor. It reminded him to arrange something to contain the papers emerging from the machine. Still, he had more important issues to deal with. He brushed grit off the pages with an oversized angular hand. 

He studied the document and saw from the header that they had come from the Driver and Vehicle Licensing Agency in Wimbledon. It was 'attentioned' to him from a man named Colin Smirch. He repeated the name to himself a few times to entice some morsel of recollection but nothing came. 

He shrugged and proceeded to read the contents of the fax. The English text was no obstacle as he had spent many of his younger years working for various NGOs which had operated in Northern Iraq. It was a copy of an article taken from a British newspaper - The Global Tribute. The date had been shabbily scrawled out with a pencil. He glanced at both pages and saw no other writing. The article was mostly concerned with the subject of telepathy. As he read further down the page he noted that the author had researched the topic quite extensively. How the contents of this document concerned a man like himself left Omer completely baffled. It was more from a sense of curiosity than anything else that prompted him to read further. Towards closing, the author introduced an Australian national by the name of Adam Henderson who was perceived to have been blessed with the ability to practically utilize the paranormal phenomenon. It was suggested that he was applying this unique gift to influence business transactions for his own financial gain. He was allegedly the orchestrator of a series of fatal accidents for which, up until the time of writing, there remained no logical explanation. It all began to sound to Omer like science fiction. Failing to see a connection to himself or his cause he looked back across the top of the pages to confirm the sender's name and to find a number which he could call.

Omer worked his way through a maze of automated responses until finally he was connected with what sounded like an elderly woman to whom he could make a request for Colin. 

"And who shall I say is calling?" she replied pertly. 

"Kak Jabber Yousif Omer." 

"Won't be a moment, er...Mr. Omer, I'm just putting you through now." 

Colin had worked in Connect House on Alexandra Road from the time he graduated from The London Metropolitan University, almost five years prior. He sat in an isolated room near the rear of the building pouring over his computer when his phone sprung to life. 

"Hello," his voice was weak. 

"Hello Kak Colin...this is Jabber Yousif Omer," he boomed over the phone in Kurdish. What is the meaning of this fax?" 

"What...who is this?" Colin replied surprised at hearing an unfamiliar dialect. 

"You don't speak Kurdish?" he offered in English for Colin's benefit. 

"No." 

"Arabic?" 

"No." 

"Persian?"