by AJ Newman
He took his cell phone from his pocket and called to report the day’s process. “Gorski, yes, it’s me, Joseph. Sorry, but we still have issues scaling up to larger batches. At the current rate, it will take six to eight months to produce enough of the FXA2. . . . Yes, we tried that. . . . I do have good news on the Nanobots and miniature drones. Both work as planned. We just have to increase our production rate to meet the schedule.”
Brunner listened patiently as his benefactor spoke on the other end of the phone call. “Joseph, did my man dispose of the body?”
“He took it with him. What he did with it, I don’t know. I know you want some preliminary testing to be done, but this man was the fourth janitor Carl has sacrificed in the last three months. I don’t know where he gets them, but someone will eventually come here looking for one of them.”
“Don’t worry, Joseph. Carl is good at what he does. The alligators are feasting on that body as we speak. Now get back to work and get the process producing at full capacity.”
Brunner only had disgust for the people paying for his life’s work. He was miles ahead of any other lab developing nanotechnology and miniature drones. The Nanobots were down to the molecular level, and Brunner had working prototypes of drones as small as a fly. He also had thousands of drones from one inch across to six inches that he could program to perform useful tasks. The new powerful miniature batteries were what made the drones possible.
Brunner had leased the entire two hundred thousand square feet warehouse and divided it into three separate businesses. His work with J&M was on the right end of the building. His personal work and drone business took up the middle third of the building. The left end of the building was operated by his benefactor and managed by Carl Markey. He had little to do with Carl’s business but did sell drones and a top-secret explosive to Carl.
Brunner didn’t want to know what Carl did for his boss, but Carl rubbed Brunner’s nose in the skullduggery from time to time. Brunner was almost numb to Carl’s depravity and cruelty to his fellow man. Brunner couldn’t understand why his benefactor allowed Carl in the business. He’d overheard them talking about ‘The Human Syndrome,’ and wondered why they needed his Nanobots to help solve whatever it was.
GRU Spetsnaz - Born in 1950, special units of the Main Intelligence Directorate (GRU) are the “eyes and ears” of the Russian Army’s General Staff. Not coincidentally, their emblem depicts a bat against a backdrop of a globe, not unlike that of a certain caped crusader. Like this animal, GRU Spetsnaz covertly and quietly operates in the dead of night around the whole world.
*Ministry of Defense of the Russian Federation
Brunner walked back to the office and through the secret door into the test lab adjacent to his New Wave business. He didn’t enjoy this part of his work, but the funding for his pet projects would cease if he didn’t work with the other group.
He was surprised when a black cloud buzzed his head and hovered in front of him. The cloud shimmered as it disbanded and then reformed around a dummy across the room. A loud popping noise came from the dummy’s direction, and small explosions erupted all over the dummy’s chest. A second later, there was a rapid buzzing, and the dummy’s head exploded, hurling pieces of plastic toward Brunner.
Brunner saw a man walking in his direction. “Carl, you left a message demanding me to come over. Well, here I am.”
“What did you think of my little demonstration?”
“It was quite impressive. I see you’ve adapted my technology for use on the dark side.”
“I need longer battery life. The small ones average about fifteen minutes. That’s why we use the ‘carrier’ drone to deliver them close to the target. The little buggers can shoot one pellet of the FXA2. One bullet will only wound a person, but there are over a thousand of the little monsters in my recent swarms. I can have them all cluster and demolish a room or a vehicle. I think we can develop swarming groups with ten thousand of the tiny assed robotic drones. Can you get J&M to make us some batteries that keep a charge longer?”
Brunner didn’t like Carl Markey, and the feeling was mutual. Carl was a product of an East German father and Russian politburo mother. He was a bit over six feet tall, thin, and wiry with black hair and dark eyes. Brunner thought he looked a lot like a vampire, and he hated him for perverting Brunner’s advancements in miniature drone technology.
“I’ll ask Newburn on his next visit.”
Carl grew up under the Communist rule in Russia during Putin’s thirty-year reign and served with honor in the Russian Army and then GRU Spetsnaz. Carl was kicked out when he was caught leading a group that blackmailed Japanese politicians for millions of dollars. Brunner’s boss hired Carl to head up the testing and implementation wing of the enterprise. Carl was also the hatchet man for the team. He employed three of his former colleagues from the GRU, and they’d eliminated all opposition to their project.
Brunner heard a muffled scream and turned to a door marked – Test Room B. “You need more sound deadening material.”
“The boss wants the results from your latest modification to the FXA2. Join me while we film the subjects as they’re exposed to the latest version.”
Brunner’s stomach churned every time he entered the room and saw the gruesome deaths of the subjects. He tried to think of them as guinea pigs, but often made the mistake of looking them in the eyes. Carl pushed him along the hallway to the first booth, where they saw a middle-age black man strapped to a table. He was nude and struggled against his restraints. The gag in his mouth only stifled his screams and sent chills up Brunner’s spine. The one-way glass kept the subject from seeing his tormentors but only added to his fear. Carl had a wicked grin on his face. He pushed an intercom button. “Remove the gag and send in the cloud.”
A woman removed the gag and quickly disappeared through a hidden doorway. Then a panel slid open, and Brunner heard the buzzing before he saw the carrier drones. The black carrier drones were about the size of a child’s toy drone and only weighed a pound. They flitted around the room and then hovered above the test subject.
The man’s eyes grew, and his scream pierced Brunner’s ears even through the glass. Brunner knew what to look for and still barely saw the silvery cloud expelled from the carrier drone.
Brunner was shocked to see his latest Nanobots were swarming like a swarm of bees. He’d hidden the project from everyone but his most trusted scientists. These drones were about the size of a grain of sand and couldn’t be seen flitting about in the air. The cloud congregated around the subject’s mouth and nose as he blinked his eyes and tried to keep his mouth shut. The swarm disappeared into the man’s nose, and a few seconds later, he coughed uncontrollably. The rest of the cloud entered his mouth, and the man gagged before vomiting.
Carl watched with intensity. “Good, the Nanobots have entered his lungs and digestive system. Now, watch the fun begin.”
Brunner’s stomach was revolting, but he wouldn’t give Carl the satisfaction of seeing him empty his stomach. His eyes cringed when the man’s convulsions started. Then the man’s eyes, nose, and ears began to bleed. The subject coughed and expelled a crimson mist that settled on his chest. The subject’s arms and legs resisted the straps until one of his arms broke with a snap, and a bone shard pierced his black skin. The man suddenly stopped moving.
Carl slapped Brunner on the back. “Great job, Brunner. That was a new record. It was only two minutes and thirty-two seconds from the cloud’s entry to his death. I think you have the product we need. Now, you need to get the operation into full production.”
“I know my job.”
“Then get to it. I have to go send Ivan to find my girlfriend’s dammed dog. The bitch keeps running away.”
“You know we’ll have visitors from J&M for the next week or so. I need you to stop producing your pet chemicals and allow the boss’s process to work as planned. The quicker we get them out of here, the better. You and your people need to stay on this side until the visit
is over.”
“I know about their visit. What you don’t know is they plan to post a person here to watch the process until they figure out why we’re not achieving the goal. We can’t let them interfere and get us behind schedule.”
“How do you know this?” Brunner asked then said, “You bugged their office.
“No. We bugged Ms. James during their last visit, and we used your drones to do the job.”
Brunner stood there, transfixed on the carnage in the test room. He heard Carl say, “Vlad, take the body to autopsy and then dispose of it in the usual manner.”
Brunner turned to go, but instead asked, “The bodies found all over the bay are yours, aren’t they?”
“No, I have much more faith in Vlad than that.”
Brunner knew but refused to reconcile in his mind that the money to support his research came from the radical population control group known as One World Initiative for Population Control or OWIPC. They were known for bombing anti-abortion groups, running sterilization clinics in third world countries, and abortion clinics all over the world. They believed overpopulation was the most significant danger facing the world. Humans were killing the planet and had to be controlled – in their opinion.
Brunner didn’t agree with them, but took their funding and turned a blind eye to their secret operations at the other end of the building. He wondered what they’d think about his six children and twenty-three grandchildren.
Chapter 5
Dauphin Island is a town in Mobile County, Alabama, United States, on a barrier island of the same name in the Gulf of Mexico. It incorporated in 1988. The population was 1,238 at the 2010 census. The town is included in the Mobile metropolitan area. The island (originally named Massacre Island) was renamed for Louis XIV of France's great-grandson and heir, the dauphin, the future Louis XV of France. The name of the island is often mistaken as Dolphin Island; dauphin means “prince” or ”oldest son of the king“ in French. ( Wikipedia )
Dauphin Island, Alabama
I’d moved to Dauphin Island when I came back from the war, confused about what to do with my life. Mike and I had hung out at Mom and Dad’s home, drinking beer, and figuring out what to do with ourselves. Our minds changed with the gulf’s breeze, and we knew deep down that we had to restart our lives.
The island wasn’t as crowded as Gulf Shores or Orange Beach but did have plenty of tourists during the season. Numerous hurricanes had ravaged Dauphin Island over the years and destroyed its only hotel long ago. The beaches were as beautiful as any along the coast, with its sugar-white sand and clear water. It was a great place to relax. Condominiums and beach houses now covered the shore, but there weren’t enough restaurants, retail stores, or much to do besides swimming and walking on the beach.
We’d known we wanted to go to college and start our own business, but couldn’t make up our minds what to do. One day Mike and I were racing our hopped up drones on the beach when Mike’s drone fell in the saltwater and was ruined because the battery went dead. I’d examined the ruined drone. “I’ll bet we can find a better battery with a longer charge.”
“I’ll bet we can make a better battery than those Chinese hacks,” Mike replied.
We’d started working on inventing a battery, and a few weeks later realized we didn’t know jack shit about chemistry, electricity, or engineering. That’s when we decided to go to college and study chemistry.
Mike and I became best friends during the Middle East War. We knew each other in high school but didn’t cotton to each other. I saved his life one day from an Iranian sniper, and we jelled. Mike and I had a lot in common and just had to mature some to appreciate the other’s personality. We made a good team. I made up for his lack of attention span, and he made up for my plodding nature. He struck quickly while I worried a problem to death.
I came to a stop and made the right turn on to Bienville Ave. My home was only a mile down the beautiful tree-lined avenue. I lived in a senior living community. I know. I’m only forty-two and too damned young to live with old people.
The short story is that my parents started the business back in the ’20s after a category five hurricane devastated the Island. The center of the island had been wiped clean of homes and businesses. Even the elementary school had disappeared during the storm.
My parents had bought a pie-shaped section of land that stretched from Bienville Avenue to the water on the north end for a song. The property was a mess after the hurricane passed through. No one wanted the barren land. The wide end was a tad over eight hundred and fifty feet in width, and the short end on the water was four hundred and fifty feet wide but followed the irregular shoreline. It had forty lots for small modular homes, which catered to old farts who wanted to be close to the beach but not on it.
The water or north side was closer to being on a river with ocean access. Four rental cabins dotted the shoreline, and another four were in between the retirement community and the cottages on the shore. My large cabin was on the west side of the property, where the shoreline dipped south. I lived at the end of Logan Avenue since Dad had bought the streets too and named them as he pleased.
I’d bought the property and business from my parents as an investment when they retired. Then I moved into one of the homes after the divorce. My cabin was actually a modern home on the inside and a rustic cabin on the exterior. It had three bedrooms, a large kitchen, two baths, a swimming pool, and a big deck for entertaining. I also had a private dock with a boathouse for a powerboat and a slip for my sailboat.
I turned down Logan Avenue, saw my cabin on the left, and saw a black Porsche Cayenne in the driveway. I knew I had company, but who could it be? Then I saw Mike’s big SUV in my driveway. Mike and I owned J&M Chemical Innovations LLC, which was a Chemical Tech Consulting service. Well, I still owned five percent of the company.
Mike had a company car while I drove my Karmann Ghia and an old F150. My old Porsche mainly sits in the garage. Our firm specialized in creating chemical solutions to research and chemical manufacturing issues. I worked for him from time to time and earned the dough to pay for vacations with each of my two kids. Mike kept after me to rejoin our company and make a bundle, but I didn’t like to travel that much. Well, besides vacations.
“Mike, what are y’all doing here? I thought y’all were in Berserkerstand or Fribistan or maybe Stanisstan. What the hell are you doing on my deck drinking my beer?”
I heard a voice behind me. “It was Kazakhstan, and we were helping a chemical plant develop an earthshaking new catalyst to reduce the cost of producing polyurethane with a blooming metallic surface. PS we brought some beer with us to bribe you.”
“Beer? I like beer. Who do I have to kill to get a beer?” I said as Beth handed me a Blue Moon with a slice of orange.
“What happened to you? You’re bleeding,” Beth asked.
It was only a scratch, but why not make the best of it. “It’s nothing. I saved a young lady from being hit by a garbage truck.”
Beth placed some salve on my wound and wrapped a bandage over it. Mike said, “So, you’re a hero?”
I reacted with a degree of pride but a lot of modesty. “Hero is maybe a bit too strong.”
Mike frowned and raised his head. “We need you to babysit a production line here in Mobile. We get it functioning smoothly, and it goes to crap a couple of hours after we leave each time.”
“Hello, Mike. What no foreplay before you shove the green weenie my way? What ya been doing? I’m looking forward to our fishing trip. Alex will be walking with his head up his butt in Europe instead of fishing with his dad.”
“Sorry for skipping the small talk. How ya doin’. I’m finer than frog hair split three ways. Beth’s boyfriend thinks I’m sleeping with her. When did you get the Golden Retriever? My mom wants grandchildren, and I don’t have a wife. Can I rent some brats? Now, can we talk about business?”
“Whoa, rewind. What dog. I don’t own a dog.”
Mike pointed behind m
e. “Looks like your dog. Maybe you’d better tell him you don’t have a dog.”
I saw Punk, and my head shook left to right. “I don’t own a dog, and he’s a she. I just saved her from being hit by a garbage truck. She must have followed me home.”
“Looks like your dog, and she’s hungry.” Mike tossed a pretzel. Punk caught it in air, took two bites, and swallowed.
“It’s not my dog. I’ll get rid of it in the morning.” I watched Beth while Mike talked. “Are you?”
Beth captured my gaze with her unsettlingly green eyes and gorgeous smile. “Sleeping with Mike? No! Mike keeps hunching on my leg like a dog, but I’m more about business than sex. Besides, my daddy always told me not to crap where I eat.”
Damn, she could look you in the face and lie like a dog. However, she had a tell, and I had her number. She lied. Beth always ran her hand over her left cheek before telling a lie. I observed her carefully.
She went on. “Mike is fun to have around but isn’t husband material. I have a boyfriend who doesn’t ask for much and takes care of my needs when I’m in town. Now, do you have the time to babysit the operation? The pay is a thousand dollars a day, and that’s all we can afford.” She rubbed her left cheek. I knew I had her by the short hairs.
I was still flabbergasted but kept a straight face. I needed some cash for my vacation and some unexpected repairs to the retaining wall by my dock. “Make that fifteen hundred a day, and I get a lab assistant. What would my duties be, and how long is the assignment?” I knew Mike and Beth were getting rich, so I didn’t mind gouging them a bit, and after all, Beth lied about ‘all they could afford to pay’.
