“Marion, are you all right?” Kate asked, concerned at seeing Marion obviously with a severe cold.
“Oh, Kate dear. I’m sorry. This flu bug. Out of nowhere.” She paused to blow her already pink nose. “I’m just not up to par today.”
“I’m so sorry.” Kate paused. “Is Uncle Sherman in?”
Marion attempted to shake her head, but thought better of it; too much movement. Her hand came quickly to her throbbing forehead. “Uh, no dear. He’s in the valley at the studio.”
“I see. Well, I just wanted to first, apologize to you. I don’t know why I . . .”
“Oh, no dear. It’s quite all right. It’s been a hard year of adjustment for you. I understand.”
She was so kind to Kate, it made her feel even more guilty for her aggressive behavior yesterday. “Thanks, Marion. That’s awfully sweet, but I wanted to leave something for Uncle Sherman if that’s okay?”
“Oh, I can take it. I . . .” Marion attempted to stand and promptly collapsed back into her chair. “Oh, dear,” she mumbled.
Alarmed, Kate walked quickly over to the desk. “Can I help you? Can I get you something? Perhaps call a doctor?”
“Oh, no dear. I think I need a trip to the ladies’ room.”
“Are you sure?” Kate wasn’t convinced it was that simple.
“Yes,” Marion managed to stand this time. She opened the door to Sherman’s office. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. You can leave what you need to on his desk. It’s all right.”
Kate frowned slightly looking at Marion. “You know, you really should go home and rest. I’m sure Uncle Sherman would understand.”
Marion gave Kate a weak smile. “Perhaps, dear. But don’t worry. People don’t die from a cold despite how unpleasant. Go on in now. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Kate nodded as Marion left the room.
Once inside Uncle Sherman’s office, she quickly closed the door and surveyed the room. She knew she only had a few minutes. She immediately went to the wall where Jack had exited, but couldn’t find anything. No opening, no door handle, nothing.
She turned quickly and headed to his desk, thinking there must be something. At first glance, there didn’t seem to be a thing. She opened the two drawers that were not locked. She came up empty.
Looking around frantically, she saw a remote on the counter of the wall bar. It was a long shot, but at this point, it was all she had. She quickly reached for the remote, studying it intently. It was laid out like a TV remote, but it had three additional colored buttons: blue, green and yellow. She pushed green first, then it happened. It was like a James Bond movie. A portion of the wall shifted and an entire wall panel of surveillance screens came into view. “Oh, my God!” Kate managed to say as her mouth fell open in complete disbelief. For a few moments, she stood in shock. Finally, in a daze she moved tentatively closer to the screens, trying to figure out what she was seeing. There was nothing familiar. Several rooms with closets, racks of clothing, something that could pass for a makeup area or a dispensary. Others had huge computers and there was one room with a giant movie screen.
At first, Kate thought it was some electrical link to the studio, but it just didn’t look right. Certain hallways looked weird, like they had been carved out of stone or out of a mountain. All the screens were empty of people. It was eerie, almost like an underground ghost town. As fascinating as it all was, Kate heard the minutes ticking and taking a chance, pushed the blue button. Holding her breath, she watched as the wall quickly slid back to its natural office door. “Amazing,” she said. “This is better than the movies. Okay. Focus, Kate,” she said to herself.
The only button she hadn’t pushed was the yellow one. This had to be it. She was running out of time. She pushed the yellow button. A soft click sounded and a wall panel opened. A small elevator door followed. Bingo. She looked at her watch. It had been barely four minutes. She had to hurry. She walked into the elevator, pushed number one and crossed her fingers.
* * *
Hawk had been watching the house for almost two hours. The sun nearly set, he was irritated and restless. He had been so certain something more would happen. After all, how long could they sit in there? Frustrated, he stepped out of his Jeep, fished out a cigarette, lit it, and inhaled deeply. He refused to believe this was a dead end. His eyes narrowed in shrewd alertness. He started to walk slowly the half block to the entrance of the house. Once there, he paused, turned slowly, and looked intently at the front door as if he could will them to come out. Suddenly, his beeper went off. He checked the phone number and recognized it to be Tango’s. “Finally,” he muttered, sprinting back to his Jeep. He took a long drag of the cigarette, smashed it under his heel as he reached for his cellphone. On the fourth ring, Tango picked up.
“Hey, Tango. What’s going on?” Hawk snapped, anxious to hear what his friend was able to dig up on Avery’s men.
“Jackpot. Better than I would have thought.”
“Okay, okay. So what?”
“All were in the Navy, confirmed. Even Avery was part of a special project. Remember Carl from Sweden? He joined our scientist teams in 1941. It was tied to the Philadelphia Experiment. The other two, Edmond Banks and John Mann, both were located here in Long Beach. The last one, Hank Owens, worked at the Philadelphia shipyards during the 1943 experiment. He moved to California in the 1950s . . .”
“No shit. I knew it,” Hawk exclaimed.
“It gets better. Two of the men own houses right behind the Regent Beverly Wilshire. I cross checked . . .”
Hawk’s laughter interrupted Tango. “I’m already there, man.”
“What do you mean?” Tango cut in.
“I’m talking about . . . I’m sitting here behind one of those houses.”
“How did you . . . ?”
“Never mind that. I’ve been sitting out here on my butt waiting to see what they are going to do.”
“What about the others? Are these the only two that have houses here?”
“Yeah. It’s Carl, the Swede and Hank. Edmond and John have places out in the valley by Tyme Studios.”
“Interesting,” Hawk said, his mind skipping in ten directions all at once. Suddenly he barked, “Tango, got to go. I’ll call you right back.” Hawk put down his cellphone, quickly reaching for his camera. He watched the two men leave the house as the sound of his photo lens clicked on and on. He got a few decent photos of the license plate on the Mercedes.
Putting down the camera, he redialed Tango.
“What happened, man? What was going on?”
“They left the house. I needed to get some photos. Listen, I got the license plate.”
“Okay, shoot.”
“It’s 1PHX939.”
“Got it. I’ll see what I can find.”
“Listen man, I’ve been thinking. I know this is crazy, but these houses. I think they’re linked to the hotel, maybe by the tunnels I found the other day. It’s all gotta be there right under everybody’s noses.”
Tango let out a long whistle, “Man, what a theory. Could be the most obvious. No one would ever think to look there.”
“No shit,” Hawk said.
Hawk wrapped up his conversation with Tango, started the Jeep and decided to circle the block again. There had to be another entrance to those tunnels and he was pretty certain it was from these houses and he intended to find it.
* * *
Kate knew when the elevator door opened that she was in a place that looked nothing like the hotel above her and everything like what she had just seen in Sherman’s office. She gingerly stepped out and looked around at this cold, musty place. The floor was made of a faded green linoleum with plain walls, no pictures and a clock that sat above the doorway about 12-feet away. Her heart was beating so fast, it took her a few minutes to get her bearings.
What in the
world was this place? It was dead quiet, except for a slight humming sensation that came directly ahead. Kate glanced at her watch. It was almost 5:00 P.M. The clock above the door reflected the same. Kate knew Marion would think she had already gone and with plenty of time before she had to meet Laura, she slipped the remote into her purse. It was safe there and her ticket out. With a couple of hours at her disposal, she was going to find out what was going on once and for all.
Kate felt like Alice on the other side of the Looking Glass. She had just spent the last hour wandering through a curious maze of rooms. She had opened closets and discovered wardrobes full of period costumes spanning from the ‘30s to the ‘50s, creations from Hollywood’s finest designers including Orry-Kelly, Adrian and Edith Head. It crossed Kate’s mind as she meandered through these places that perhaps this facility had been built during WWII in Los Angeles. In the even that it was attacked, it would have been an underground bunker for Hollywood. Far-fetched perhaps, but at the moment it was her bafflement that made her explore ideas. How is it possible, in this area that she would swear was at least 50 years old, it would have the latest technology?
She passed through the wardrobes, through the medical dispensary, through miscellaneous offices and finally approached the room where all the humming vibrations emanated. A door automatically slid open as she stepped into what appeared to be a studio warehouse, barn-like in its largeness. In the center, surrounded by an extensive array of computers was the largest movie screen she had ever seen. Amazed, her mouth slacked open as her mind began to realize something was different about this screen. Curious, yet cautious, she moved across the room, her green eyes narrowing in observation. Then she blinked, shook her head, and looked again. At closer inspection the screen appeared to be liquid, fluid with vibrating energy. Yet nothing but an electronic frame appeared to support it.
She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Her heartbeat began to increase suddenly as her mind collided with what she saw, screaming into her brain, this was it. It had to be the infamous Silver Screen. “Oh, God!” She mumbled, gasping at the shocking truth. It was here, right under everyone’s nose. “Of course!” She reprimanded herself. Why hadn’t she figured it out? She had known it had to be convenient, somewhere with easy access.
Then her mind stopped abruptly. How could they leave this unattended? For a mere second she considered what Sherman had told her, but quickly dismissed that thought. Something was going on because all the computers were running and the screen seemed to have a life of its own. As she stared mesmerized, she noticed a faint purple aura coming from the frame, then she realized that the electronic frame was actually made of crystals. Intrigued, she walked within inches of the spectacular screen. As she drew closer, she had to watch her step as long, complicated cables were woven across the cement floor. Hearing a distinct change in sound, she looked around quickly, apprehensive as the purple hue suddenly turned orange. Worried, she stepped back and the color returned to purple. Strange, perhaps it was her body’s electromagnetic field that affected the screen. She remembered the stories from the articles on the Philadelphia Experiment, about the affects of high-frequency electromagnetic force fields, its affect on the human body. They must have worked out some way to balance the unsettling changes that had occurred then, not only with brain functions, but with overall body chemistry. But they had speculated and surmounted huge odds, this stray group of scientists, and had won. Amazing, it had all become just too fantastic to believe and yet Kate knew it was true.
She had an overwhelming urge to touch the screen. Afraid it would hurt her, she removed one of her shoes and gingerly tiptoed forward, feeling a slight tingling sensation as she stood just inches from the screen. The colors fluctuated again, but nothing more serious occurred. No bells, no sirens. Kate figured the worst that could happen is her shoe would go up in smoke and she would be a one shoed woman. Taking a deep breath, before she had time to consider the consequences, she slowly extended the toe of her shoe and touched the screen with it. Other than increased humming and faster moving computers, nothing happened. A few inches of her shoe disappeared into the screen. She pulled the shoe back quickly, surprised it was still in her hand and in one piece. Wanting more, she moved closer and pushed the entire shoe through. Her fingers brushed the screen. It was like pushing into soft mercurial Jell-O. She pulled back the shoe, shaking her head as she examined it. Nothing different. In the end, she put the shoe back on her foot. Kate could feel her rapid heartbeat. She wanted to touch it, really touch it. She felt some sort of security in the fact that her shoe had not burst into flames. Maybe it would be safe after all. Moving closer to the screen, the minute her physical body made contact with it there was a sudden push like a gust of air. It was the force field against the solidness of her body. As the humming sound increased slightly, it felt strange, exciting and oddly soothing. It was as if her body relaxed to her very bones by the frequency of humming that now descended into her physicality. The high-frequency sound increased as she reached farther into the screen. Mesmerized by the cool sensation, almost sensual against her skin, the humming became stronger. Without warning, the air turned slightly darker, tinged with a soft purple-green hue. The sound now was at a strong buzz. Kate laughed, it was intoxicating. It was incredible.
She tried to pull back and suddenly lost her balance on the floor cables. Attempting to steady herself, she failed and fell forward as the electricity flow popped and pulsed, reaching maximum strength. Gasping in panic, she was unable to resist the electromagnetic pull that sucked into the screen. A thousand needles tingled her body. The buzzing sound consumed her to the very last molecule of her body. She felt a roar that seemed to explode within her and then everything went black.
CHAPTER VII
Laura Kane ordered a glass of Chardonnay and went outside to wait for Kate. It was a pleasant evening, breezy with warm Santa Ana winds. Laura pushed a lock of dark brown hair behind her ear as her large brown eyes looked at her watch. Kate was late as usual. Tired from her trip, she was glad to just sit, relax and unwind.
She looked forward to hearing Kate’s news. It occurred to Laura how odd it was that one year after her mother’s death, Kate should discover the true identity of her father. Laura couldn’t remember when she had heard Kate sound so, well, almost frantic. Laura frowned in her thoughts. She had to admit that she’d had an unsettling feeling after she hung up the phone with Kate that morning. Silly really. Kate was one of those self-reliant souls who rose above the challenge of the moment. Laura had always admired that in her—her spunk, drive, and yes, often her sense of adventure. Maybe now Kate would understand herself better. She
would be at peace with all those unanswered questions about her heritage.
Laura was certain whoever her father was he had to have been a good-looking leading man. Aware that her daughter usually favors the father, Laura chuckled, thinking Kate would have loved it if her father had been a James Bond character, bigger than life.
She reached to sip her white wine as a waitress appeared to see if she wished to order. Taking the menu to review, she glanced at her watch again. It was nearly eight o’clock. Kate must have really gotten snared into a website project. She was rarely more than 15 or 20 minutes late. Unconcerned, Laura began to peruse the menu, realizing she hadn’t eaten since that morning. By nine o’clock, Laura knew something was wrong.
She had called and paged Kate twice with absolutely no response. Laura felt unaccountably wary, nervous. It wasn’t like Kate not to at least call.
Anxious for her friend, Laura paid her bar bill and decided to drive the few blocks to Kate’s mother’s bungalow where Kate now lived. Maybe she could solve the mystery, but the knot in her stomach wasn’t encouraging.
As she drove to Kate’s, guilt punctuated her thoughts. Maybe she shouldn’t have been so rushed. She should have taken the time to talk to her dear friend, to let her share some of her news and anxieties. “Damn,” Laur
a muttered to herself as she rounded the corner and pulled her Honda into the small drive beside the bungalow. The house was completely dark.
Laura fished out her keys, searching for a copy of Kate’s key. They had exchanged each others house keys for just this very reason—in the event of trouble. Laura had the feeling this was one of those times. She swallowed nervously as she fumbled in the dark. Finally, she turned the old lock and the door opened. She flipped on the hall light and was instantly aware of a strange burnt acid smell that lingered in the warm house.
Obviously, Kate had been gone a while. The house was warm and stuffy. Laura called out Kate’s name in the darkened house, but silence was the greeting she received. She turned on the light in the living room, noting the smell was stronger there.
Alarmed, she gasped as the lamp cast a spotlight on the gruesome sight of the melted VCR. Dead flowers strewn everywhere and an empty flower vase. For one frightening moment, Laura thought the house had been burgled, but as her heartbeat leveled she realized nothing else was disturbed. This was definitely peculiar. She called out again to Kate as she went to the den and then Kate’s office. Looking around and mildly relieved to see the desk in its usual state of creative disarray, she went to Kate’s desk and computer noting the bottle of Tylenol and half-empty glass of water. It was the hastily written words on her notepad that had captured Laura’s attention. She looked at the strange list of names: The Philadelphia Experiment, The Array, Tyme Studios, Errol Flynn. It had been written so quickly, it took Laura several moments to decipher it. The words: Jack Baldwin. Where had she seen that name? Shrugging her shoulders, she figured it would come to her. It was the other names that really perplexed her. The only one that she knew instantly of course was Tyme Studios and the matinee idol, Errol Flynn. The Array drew a complete blank, but what did it all mean?
The Silver Screen Page 5
