She opened up the door, again surprised to see who was standing in front of her. Galveston looked at her seriously.
“Can I come back in? I think I better tell you something.”
-Chapter 23-
Dr. Patelo leaned over the table, his back beginning to strain because of the long hours of work. He peered through a small magnifying scope, illuminating a network of circuits on a television monitor next to him. A digital clock clicked down the time on the wall, revealing the time left before Murray would return. Fortunately, they were ahead of schedule, but the sense of urgency continued to be evident.
He handled a highly sensitive voltmeter, placing the probes methodically from circuit to circuit and recording the values.
“Fantastic,” he muttered to himself. “So simple. So elegant.”
It was as if he was looking at a piece of fine art, noting the intricacies of the paint strokes on the canvas.
“Marco, bring over the plates.”
A short man appeared behind him carrying two small plates the size of a deck of playing cards.
“Attach the clips to plate one.” Marco followed the instruction methodically, attaching an alligator clip to the edge of one of the plates. Dr. Patelo took the other clip and attached it to a circuit on the board which ran to a small LED light. As soon as he attached it the light sprung to life.
“Excellent. That’s the output point. Amazing.” He looked at the monitor and stood up, extending his back in a stretch. “Print out the schematics. I need to make a call.” Dr. Patelo left the table and picked up a nearby satellite cell phone, pulled out a piece of paper, and dialed the number on it.
“It’s Dr. Patelo, we have finished and we have the schematics.”
“Good,” the voice on the other end answered. “Are you sure it is in working order?”
“Yes,” Doctor Patelo answered nervously. “It is in working order and ready for the pickup.” The voice on the other end was low, but he recognized it as Murray.
“Good, and you found no peculiarities in the design?” Murray asked.
“No, none.” It was a strange question, Patelo thought. Was he supposed to have found problems? They had told him it was a full working prototype. Dr. Patelo was only in charge of the reverse engineering of the device, not working out problems. In addition he was employed to develop and design a way to begin a crude production line to manufacture the device. Finding problems in the design was something he had no time for. It worked, and that to him was all that mattered. He wasn’t getting paid to make it better.
“Send us the schematics now. When we have received them, one of my men will retrieve the case within the hour with all objects inside. Have all your people leave immediately. Dr. Morales is awaiting your plans. You are to leave alone and not on the bus with the others. Do you understand?”
“Ah, yes. It is ready, and I will send the plans now.”
“Good work doctor. Everyone can go. Thank you for your work,” Murray responded, hanging up on Dr. Patelo
The words were unsettling, and Patelo could sense something ominous in Murray’s voice. He had never trusted him, but when this opportunity had come along he couldn’t pass it up. The money was more in two days than he could have made in six months of work on his own. He now might be able to pursue the life he had always dreamed of, and work on his own interests instead of the interests of others.
Patelo was the only one, besides Dr. Morales, that knew the true nature of what they were working on, but his growing unease was rising over the whole operation. Something was not right, and he felt these men would not be pleased with disappointment, whoever they were.
The workers from the lab left quickly at Dr. Patelo’s urging, and in an instant they were gone, leaving him alone in the clean room. He walked over to a computer and punched in an email address, but then curiously he stopped, and grew scared. Who did these men work for? Had he been so blinded by money that it didn’t occur to him that these plans could be used for unscrupulous means?
“I need a bargaining chip,” he thought. Maybe it was time to alert the authorities, or better yet, the media. The options swirled in his head. For the time being, some slight changes in the plans would have to do.
He quickly opened up the schematics on the computer screen and looked them over carefully. Dr. Patelo decided one change would be enough to cause a glitch, but not impair the design completely. He used the cursor on the design program to simply move one circuit’s connection to another transistor, alternating the circuits. They showed up on the schematic as simple lines connecting one electrical area to another. This would effectively allow the device to work, but with a problem, it would burn out that particular circuit if the voltage became too high.
It would take time for someone to run through the schematics and pinpoint the problem, but it could easily be done. He needed to develop another problem quickly. He decided on removing the last piece of the puzzle he had found, the electrical output circuit, the piece that allowed power to flow from the device. It wouldn’t make the device inoperable, but it would prove much more difficult to figure out, causing the power output to be half of what it could be. Plus it would give him the option of having the fix, quickly and easily.
Dr. Patelo walked over to the case and removed the two devices, and using needle nose pliers, removed the output circuit carefully, and rerouted the circuits. It was a move anyone with electrical knowledge could perform, but to figure out what he had done would prove much more difficult. He placed one of the small circuit connectors in his pocket and crushed the other. A vital piece of the original design sat safely in his pocket.
This was his power play, his bargaining chip if things went bad. Originally it was supposed to be a cut and dry job, but when men with guns began to show up, his demeanor had changed. He began to think about what he had gotten himself into. He went back to the computer, saved the schematic design, and sent it over a secure connection to the contact he had been given. A “transmission successful” message appeared as he finished the upload of the file.
After finishing, he logged on to his bank account and watched the screen for a few minutes until finally he had what he wanted to see, a jump in his account balance by $50,000. He smiled as he soaked in the numbers.
Outside the workers from the facility were boarding a rundown, yellow school bus. They piled in and exchanged pleasantries, not fully aware of what they had been working on. After the bus was full and the facility was empty, the bus fired up and drove off down the dusty road, leaving Dr. Patelo behind, alone.
A lone white car was all that was left in the front of the facility. Back down in the lab, Dr. Patelo hurriedly readied the case, the feeling of unease continuing to gnaw at him. His conscious began to weigh on him, but he had his security and felt it in his coat pocket. What was this going to be used for, and what part had he played?
A loud knock came from the door behind him, and a man in all black was standing at the glass door, pointing at the case. Dr. Patelo grabbed the silver case after closing it, walked through the airlock, and handed the case to the man. Without speaking, the man took the case and rushed up the stairs and disappeared.
After a few minutes, Dr. Patelo got up and switched off all the lights, darkening the equipment inside, and walked up the stairs. The place was deserted and ghostly, not a soul about.
“I need a smoke,” he thought to himself, and made his way out of the building, continuing to switch off lights as he went. He swung open the front door of the building and tried to adjust his eyes to the inky darkness. It had been two straight days with little to no sleep. Closing the door behind him, he reached in his other coat pocket and pulled out a hard pack of cigarettes. He fumbled one out of the carton and lit it, puffing the smoke into his lungs, and checked his pocket again, feeling the circuit between his fingers while he peered into the night.
Suddenly, the cigarette dropped to the ground out of his mouth, and a split second later a stifled bang let out, shat
tering the silence. His body shuttered and slowly crumpled to the ground. His arm fell limp on the earth out of his pocket, and he laid down, staring lifelessly toward the starry night sky. Blood began to pool around the back of his head.
The night sky was then filled with an earth shattering blow. Subsequent flashes of fiery red threw fingers of extreme heat out from the building as it erupted in a cataclysmic explosion. The explosion punched smoke into the sky, leaving behind only a mass of burning, twisted steel and aluminum. The deafening roar awakened sleeping birds from their nesting spots in the surrounding forest, causing them to escape from the inferno and the spot where the white building once stood.
-Chapter 24-
I awoke early the next morning in our cramped London hotel room. I had walked Jane to her door the previous night and only received a hug goodnight, but I was spinning even after that. It seems we, at least, made a connection. Galveston had never returned to the room that night, and like a nervous wife I called the front desk for messages. No one had called.
I stood with a toothbrush dangling from my mouth as the hotel door swung open and Galveston strolled in, primped and fresh.
“Where have you been?” I muttered with toothpaste foam covering my mouth.
“No where Mom,” Galveston replied as he sat on the bed and kicked off his shoes.
“Why didn’t you come back here?” I asked him like a nervous parent.
“Well, you kind of told me I couldn’t, so I took that as I shouldn’t.” He pushed himself back on the bed and clicked on the TV. A newscaster was spilling out the news. “I love the British media, they have so much more spunk then those weenies back home.” He pushed the pillow behind his head, getting comfortable.
“What’s the deal? You’ve already created a mess, now what?”
“Relax. You would be happy to know I have smoothed everything out.” I took this as yet another fib and felt my anger rising.
“How have things smoothed out? We don’t have time for you to play these head games with your little friend. What, did you decide to call her and tell her you had a terminal disease?”
“You know, that isn’t a bad idea, but no, I didn’t tell her that.”
“So you talked to her again?”
“If it makes you happy, yes, through most of the night and into the morning. I spent the night with her.”
“You slept with her?” I exclaimed loudly, shocked and rather impressed.
“Technically, no, but I slept beside her in another room on the couch. It was too late and she let me stay.” He pulled himself away from the TV and looked at me. “Look, I told her everything, and all of it the truth. I apologized and I got out how much it hurt when she left. It was not a proud moment for me.” He turned back to the TV. “I told her why we were here, what we needed, and why I needed her help. There is one problem, though.”
“And what would that be?” I asked.
“I think I’ve fallen for her again. I’m still crazy about her. She’s great. Funny, smart, and that body, oh, that body,” he said, continuing to watch the TV. “We’re meeting with her this afternoon. She thinks she can get the information we need by then.”
“Wait, wait. You’ve fallen for her? How could you fall for her in one night?”
“It all came flooding back. She’s got this crazy stranglehold on me. No one has come close since. I know it’s crazy to hear coming from such a rock solid guy like myself, but man, that body, oh, that body.”
“Enough about her body. I’m sure it’s lovely.”
“Oh, you don’t understand. She can do this thing with her legs,” Galveston started.
“Okay, that’s quite enough,” I stopped him while he laughed at me. “Now what about this meeting?”
“These are terrible.” He was now trying to eat stale French fries, or crisps as they’re called in England, sitting on the bedside table, scrunching his face as he did.
“Hey, focus. The meeting?”
“Four o’clock, London time. We’ll meet her in a coffee shop by her office. I think she’s into me too. This time it will be different.”
“I have to get some air.” I walked to the door and began to go out.
“Hey!” Galveston yelled to me. “You and Jane can go with us, we’ll double date.”
I muttered under my breath and left the room and closed the door behind me. The problem was I forgot my pants and stood in the hall in only my boxer shorts. I walked back in and the pants came hurling towards me.
“Thanks,” was all I could grumble. I was relieved, not about my pants, but that Galveston had redeemed himself. I couldn’t show that I was actually proud of him. That was rule 182.
The rest of the day we parted ways. Galveston holed himself up in the hotel room, watching quirky, poorly understood British comedies. I followed Jane like a lapdog, checking the sights. We stopped by Piccadilly Square, Big Ben, and the British National Museum. The whole time I hung on her every word. The business we were supposed to be engaging in floated to the back of my mind. Instead, I thought of nothing more than this lovely lady.
We arrived back at our hotel around three P.M. I left Jane at her door and found Galveston sprawled on the bed in nothing but his underwear, food cartons were scattered about his bed, and a bag of sweets balanced on his chest.
“This is a sight I hope I can forget. I think I’ve burned my retinas.”
“Hey, you know you’re seeing nothing but an Adonis of manhood.” He stuffed more food in his mouth. “Good day with Jane?”
“Yes. Very good. Very, very good.”
“You know you’re her boss. There’s no fraternizing in our company.”
“Well then I quit.” I plopped myself on a chair by the bed and noticed a plump man on TV making a joke that only an interpreter would understand. We wasted away the next half an hour in the room until our big meeting with Elizabeth.
The hope was Elizabeth could get to Dr. Sloan’s daughter, Margaret. We were running out of time, and we needed to be out of London quickly. We met Elizabeth in a small coffee shop near the SIS headquarters at Vauxhall Cross, while Jane had excused herself to do some important shopping.
Galveston was correct in his description of Elizabeth. She did have a fantastic body and was very sharp. Years of training and work in MI6 had paid off. She was obviously good at what she did and understood the importance of what we were doing.
Elizabeth spoke with an eloquent English accent. She could talk about cleaning gunk out of her ears and still make it sound elegant. After the necessary introductions were made, Elizabeth, almost immediately, went into her quick report
“Margaret has the assumed name of Gabriel Smit. She lives alone near the town of Tadley in the county of Hampshire. She is unmarried, no children, and works at a local flower shop.” Galveston looked dreamily at Elizabeth so I assumed I would have to take the lead on questioning her.
“Why is she in hiding?” I questioned seriously while Galveston only smiled and sighed.
“I’m not sure, something about her ex-husband’s ties to the Russian mafia. Great Britain doesn’t have a formal, central government controlled program like the United States. Witness protection in the UK is controlled by the regional police forces so any information is difficult to obtain.”
“When was the last time she saw her father?” I asked.
“It’s been at least five years. There is a report that she went against the wishes of the police and had a secret phone location where she would speak to him.”
I looked at Galveston who continued to be in a stupor. I snapped my fingers in front of his face, snapping him from his euphoria. A smile crossed Elizabeth’s face.
“It appears you gentlemen have impeccable timing. I learned that she fears for her safety. If someone else is trying to get to her it will only take a good government contact to find out where she is, just as you have done with me. I’ll take you to her, but we have to be truthful with her. Tell her all you know and the danger her father is in.
”
“I agree,” I added, looking at Galveston with a judging stare.
“What?” he said loudly and then relented. “Uh yeah, me too.” Elizabeth smiled again.
“Well gentlemen, let’s get started.”
-Chapter 25-
We drove outside the city limits of London to Tadley, a quaint, picturesque area of the country with lightly rolling green hills and neatly arranged cottages. I secretly wished I could live in a location like this, possibly with Jane.
Margaret Sloan’s house was easily found, off the main thoroughfare and down a small, winding dirt road. A small cottage came into view, decorated with a various array of flowers and planters, along with a small vegetable garden on the side of the house. A bike was parked in the front, outside of a white fence. The place was like something out of a Jane Austen novel.
We approached the house cautiously and Elizabeth agreed to do the talking. The trees at the perimeter were thick and obviously caused some concern to the pair. I didn’t see the chances of someone lurking in the shadows just at the time we were arriving, but what did I know.
Elizabeth reached into the glove box of the car and pulled out a Sig Saur 9 mm handgun and placed it out of view. This was indeed turning exciting. Elizabeth offered another handgun to Galveston, which he accepted, using his pants pocket as a holder. I was offered no such protection, but I wanted no part of these devices.
Elizabeth knocked on the door and found it opened slightly on the pressure. She pushed it and revealed what was once a quaint cottage. Elizabeth paused and looked back at Galveston, who was in a slightly crouched position, his gun pulled out and resting on his thigh.
“Margaret. Margaret, this is the police,” Elizabeth called out loudly, “from the magistrate. We need to talk to you.” She awaited a response and upon hearing no answer began to enter the door.
Daniel Ganninger - Icarus Investigations 01 - Flapjack Page 10
