Since distant prehistoric times humanity has been controlled and developed by an alien race known as the Sponsors, but over the course of one brutally destructive afternoon our alien benefactors are annihilated and their remnants expelled from Earth, never to return.

An alien race, guiding humanity since early hominid times, is suddenly eradicated by mysterious Earth forces.
For the first time in its existence the human race stands as a fully independent species. However, far from this being liberation, the “human system” is now left in a precarious state and complete collapse seems imminent.
Can an enigmatic crop circle reveal the way ahead?

“The Gang Of Four is an entertaining, inventive science fiction book that in places had me actually laughing out loud.”
Jane Stockwell, Unigon Plane.

Excerpt

‘Come on, Margaret! Remember, no pain, no gain!’
The septuagenarian grimaced at Russell and began pumping her arms back and forth like the pistons of a steam locomotive.
Russell Tebb, of Russell Tebb Aerobics, nodded his approval and moved on to appraise the other members of his class. ‘Yes, yes, yes!’ he enthused, pumping his fist in time to the music. ‘Nice thrusting, Joyce! Let’s see if we can’t shake those new hips loose!’
‘You’re killing us, Russell!’
Russell turned, ready to bawl-out his complainant but a movement in the corner of his eye distracted him; his secretary, Meg, stood at the office door, mouthing the word “urgent” as she brandished a phone receiver in the air. This was followed by a shrug. Obviously the caller
thought it was important, but Meg wasn’t so sure. He batted her away and returned his attention to the class.
‘That’s good, Stephen, one hundred and ten percent! We tolerate nothing less here!’
Eventually the song ended, much to the relief of everyone except Russell, who frowned menacingly at his class. He set up the next track but then glanced back at his office. Maybe he should take that call; give this lot a break before one of them keels over. ‘Five minutes, everyone… but I’ll be back,’ he said, with a wink at Margaret.

‘What’s this urgent call, Meg?’
‘Dunno, someone called Michael. Claims you need to call him back asap,’ replied Meg, with little interest.
Did he know any Michaels? Probably, but no close friends or business associates sprang to mind. He sighed loudly. ‘Well did you ask what it was about?’
‘He wouldn’t say, just that–’
‘–it was urgent. It’s probably just spam.’ Russell regarded his class through the office window. They were exhausted for this session, anyway. ‘What the hell, give me the phone!’
‘Hello, this is Russell Tebb, am I speaking to “Michael”?’ A few electronic clicks and splutters followed suggesting he was about to be put through to a call centre. Russell dabbed sweat away from his eyes and waited, temper rising...
‘Hello, Russell, thanks for returning my call,’ came the polite English voice. ‘We met during your recent visit to Ayahuasca.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘We met during your recent visit to Ayahuasca.’
What the hell was this guy talking about? He’d not stepped outside of London for over a year! But then the penny dropped, and he thought he knew who this person must be. This “visit to Ayahuasca” was the caller’s glib way of saying “ayahuasca trip”...