by Tim Wheat
She had proven to be an astute observer, and in their first few years of marriage, she had deduced the path he headed down. Hoff smiled to himself as he remembered the day she had sat him down in their parlor and pointed out flaws, and made suggestions for change. His initial reaction to her accusations, and recommendations, was to deny that what she was saying was true. How could any woman suspect her husband of planning the things he was planning, and still love him? She was a different breed of human being, though, and his subconscious must have seen that in her from the start.
It had been her idea to begin recruiting and training children at a very young age. “Impressionable minds make for the best kind of loyalty,” she had said to him. Until that point most of the loyalty to him in his organization had either been bought, or paid for, in fear. Anelie had made this final push to the ultimate plan possible, and he would never forget that.
When the head of his most expert group of commandos had come to him and reported Anelie’s orders, he had perplexed him. The professor was complying with everything they had demanded of him, and all reports were that he was working as fast as he could. He had fallen for their ruse with ease and was eating right from their hands. He had allowed her order to stand, but added a message for the professor. Hoff’s wife was right to be concerned about the timetable, but it was not like her to go around him and order an operation of their most skilled team. He had been on his way to ask her why she had made such an order, when a subservient informed him that she had left the night before, in quite a hurry, on a westbound train.
It was not out of the ordinary for his wife to go on business trips without informing him, but this time felt different. He didn’t like her keeping secrets when it involved family, and though she had been loyal to him their entire marriage, his guard was up. Everything was coming together as planned and he didn’t need anyone or anything putting a wrench in the works now.
Hoff smiled to himself, relaxed in his overstuffed easy chair, and relished his glass of Wild Turkey 101. In order to keep appearances he couldn’t indulge in his favorite bourbon while in Germany. Despite his wife’s abnormal behavior, Hoff realized it was more probable he was just being paranoid. Anelie would return in a couple of days and everything would be just fine. He assumed she was tying up some loose ends somewhere that he had not noticed. Contented, the bourbon warming his belly, he closed his eyes and drifted to sleep.
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30.
For the second time today Rex Chase stood, massaging his jaw, trying to shake the cobwebs that permeated his brain. He remembered the Lincoln barreling toward him, and even remembered it clipping his legs, but the next thing he knew a pretty young woman kneeled, talking to him as he lay on the sidewalk. Despite her protests he stood to assess his body. His sheer speed and athleticism had saved him from certain death at the hand of the maniac in control of the Model K. Chase turned and looked at the vehicle just in time to hear the engine roar to life. His mind still foggy, a surge of adrenaline burst throughout his body. Something told him he needed to move right now, and in an instant, his instincts proved correct.
The black sedan’s tires squealed from the torque being transferred from the Lincoln’s V12 power plant. It lurched forward at great speed and Chase grabbed the girl who had come to his aid, throwing her out of the way. In an act more instinctive than planned, Rex once again leapt in the air, flattened out his body, and landed square on the hood of the motorcar. He looked in the eyes of his attacker and recognized him in an instant. It was the young man from after the baseball game. Why in the world would that kid be trying to kill him, not once, but twice? Chase had no time for questions now as the crazed psychopath behind the wheel made his way down the street at astounding speeds, swerving the vehicle to the left and right in violent fashion. Chase held on with all of his might, digging his hands in, and clutching the rounded nose of the vehicle between his legs. All at once, though, the madman slammed on the brakes of the sedan and sent Chase sprawling backward onto the brick road. He hit the ground feet first, and pushed with as much speed as he could, with every ounce of his energy. It was just enough to propel him sideways onto a grassy area that cushioned his fall.
The cobwebs of his initial fall had worn off now as all of his physical and mental capacities were in high alert. He could feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins, and the world around him seemed to be moving in slow motion. The vehicle was in gear and coming at him again, but Chase had prepared, and dodged to his right as the car whizzed by, the sneering driver pulling the wheel hard to the right and goosing the engine to spin the car back into a killing position. Chase was out ahead of the vehicle now, though, and instead of running in the street or on the sidewalks, he had cut through some houses, leaping a seven foot high fence, and dodging a chained German shepherd.
He could hear the Lincoln tearing around to the next block and Chase knew that he wouldn’t be able to outrun the powerful vehicle for long. If it were him in the car he would wear down the man who was running, get out when he reached exhaustion, then kill him. It was a fox hunt. That’s what this was, but instead of hunting foxes the boy from the baseball game was hunting him, though Chase had no idea why. He needed a plan and he needed it right now. Just one thing popped into his head, though, and it involved turning around, so he came to a stop in the middle of his dead sprint, and changed direction. Past the barking German shepherd and back over the seven foot fence Chase found himself once again on the street where he had just cheated death twice. To his right he saw the reason for his doubling back and it sat a mere fifty yards away.
The deep blue Packard Six gleamed in the moonlight and was a beautiful vehicle. Chase sprinted toward it, his long legs eating up the fifty yards in five seconds. His luck held since the owner had left the vehicle unlocked, and luckier still, the keys were sitting in the ignition. Someone, somewhere, was looking out for him. The Model K came screaming around the corner then slowed, shining its headlights down the street. The vehicle hunted Chase, but he no longer felt like the quarry. He ducked to hide his profile from the lights, pumped the pedal on the Packard, pushed in the clutch, turned the key, and the engine sparked to life.
Thirty yards ahead the Model K had come to a stop. Chase had most of his body hidden from view, but held one eye where he could see what was happening. The deranged boy behind the wheel had deduced that Chase had doubled back, and now sat still scanning the area for him. Chase guessed that soon the boy would get out of the sedan, figuring his prey was hiding somewhere, and move in for the kill. He didn’t have to wait long.
A few seconds later Hans emerged from the luxury vehicle, a .45 caliber colt m1911 in his hand. Chase pondered when to make his move, and the presence of the service weapon made the timing even more crucial. Hans stood just outside the Model K, scanning the area again for any signs of the baseball star. He cursed under his breath and then circled to the front of the black Lincoln, his gaze settling on the idling Packard. Chase could see the recognition in the killer’s eyes, and without hesitation, he put the Packard in gear, slammed the gas down hard, while at the same time popping the clutch. The Packard’s rear tires clawed at the bricks beneath it and sent the car forward like a shot. Chase steered the vehicle away from a collision course with the Lincoln, and looked up just in time to see the unfazed face of the boy screaming past the driver’s window.
***
Hans did not even raise his weapon as the Packard shot past, slammed the open door of the Lincoln closed, and raced away down the street. He had brought the gun as a last resort, but now that he had Chase on the move in a vehicle, the opportunity to make this look like an accident was again viable. He entered the driver’s seat of the Lincoln and popped the clutch into first gear, spinning the tires and turning the vehicle one hundred and eighty degrees to pursue young Rex Chase. A sinister smile crossed his lips as Hans realized that he was enjoying this. His assignments the last few months had been a little on the boring side and the last thirt
y minutes of his life had been exhilarating to say the least.
All 12 cylinders of the Lincoln Model K pumped in perfect time, and made up ground on the smaller Packard within a mile. Hans would give the other driver credit, though; he handled the car with expertise in the city at high speeds. The other driver was making lots of turns as well. Also a good strategy mused Hans. Maybe Chase had done something like this before.
***
Chase was driving like he had never driven before. He hadn’t had a plan when he got in the vehicle, but now was turning as often as he could to lessen the advantage of the Model K with the powerful motor. His Six was no slouch off the line, but couldn’t outperform the Lincoln in a straightaway. Chase knew where to go now, and was going to try for a winding road just out of the city, not too many miles away. His circuitous route on this moonlit evening had him a bit disoriented at times, but before long he could no longer see the Lincoln in his mirrors and thought perhaps he had lost his pursuer. One question still lingered in his mind, though. Why would the boy from the baseball game risk both their lives this way?
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31.
Physical and mental exhaustion flooded over George Ahiga. Although the battle had been short, the combination of his long night the previous evening, and his arduous day of menial labor, was taking its toll. He had made a makeshift stretcher and drug the rotund professor the two hundred yards to his personal quarters. It had sapped the last of his strength, and he now lay next to the unconscious man on a large, plush bed.
He had questions for Nicholas Sarff, a lot of questions, and there would be no more stealth. George would ask him whatever he wanted to know when the professor woke up. Why had he sold classified secrets to the Germans? Why would someone kidnap his daughter? Why would he be so stupid to even have her involved in any of this? How could the old man be so smart and so stupid at the same time?
Weariness washed over Ahiga and he rolled onto his side. His exhaustion caused his mind not to function right, and sleep came with ease. Tomorrow would be the time for questions.
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32.
He awoke with a start and reached for the German sub machine gun he had set on the night stand next to the bed, but it wasn’t there. He had slept too long and now something was wrong. Maybe he had dreamed putting the gun there. Ahiga scanned the room and rolled over to find the professor no longer in the bed. Worried, he leapt to the floor, ran to the door, and burst outside.
On the porch with a cup of coffee in his hand and a machine gun in his lap, the professor sat staring into the distance. When he spoke, his voice filled with great trepidation.
“I suppose you want answers.”
“You suppose right.”
Ahiga listened with intent as the professor related the tale.
“In Germany I was a respected physicist and a scholar, but when I moved to the U.S. they shunned me for being a stupid immigrant. My family was poor, and I needed a job, but I just couldn’t give up the science. I worked the jobs I could, but as you can see, my stature doesn’t lend itself to hard labor. I wrote a paper a number of years ago about scalar energy and the transfer of electricity across huge distances. It was more of an idea, or group of ideas, than exact science, and I had based most of my theories on the work of Nikola Tesla. A few months after writing the paper, another immigrant physicist by the name of Alexei Chasiliov contacted me.”
Ahiga smiled as he settled into a chair next to the professor. He already knew all of this, but let the man continue.
“Chasiliov had some radical ideas about how we perceive the universe. It was quite groundbreaking, and the two of us together began advancing at an amazing pace. Though I’ve never met the man, I feel like he is my best friend. He thought of things I would never have come up with on my own, and I was able to add to his work as well.”
“Wait a minute,” Ahiga said, “You’ve never met him?”
“No sir, I lived on the west coast, he lived on the east. We have had telephone conversations, but we did most of our work through the mail.” The professor shifted in his seat and handed the sub machine gun over to Ahiga. “I wouldn’t even know how to shoot this, but holding it made me feel better.”
George noticed the professor was pale, and didn’t look at all well. The strain of the previous day had exacted a harsh toll on his body. It was obvious he was in need of medical care, and his voice trembled as he continued.
“So, over the years Alexei and I developed our theories together, redefining gravity, and disproving ideas that have been facts for generations. A few years ago a man approached me who wanted to fund some of our research. I was so excited that I jumped at the opportunity to work in the field again. I was able to quit my menial jobs, and support my family more in the way I would like. The strange thing was that at almost the same time or maybe just before me, someone gave Alexei the opportunity to work in the field again as well. He tried to persuade me to move to the east coast and work with him, but, from what I gathered, he was doing government work.
I was working for a private company developing ways to transmit energy across great distances, and didn’t want to do government work. Alexei and I continued sharing ideas with each other, but as both of our research moved forward it became clear our respected employers weren’t interested in the science the exact same way we were.
I still remember the day I met Dietrich Hoff. He walked into my laboratory and introduced himself to me as my employer. I laughed at him, because I had met my employer a number of times, and this wasn’t him. He didn’t laugh, but instead began asking me questions. He asked about my work. Who had I told about my work? How many people knew of my work? Was my work almost complete? Was anyone else able to duplicate my work? I remember staring at him like he was a crazy man, and then the owner of my company walked through the door. Upon seeing Dietrich Hoff standing there, well, it was easy to see the look of shock he had. I knew then that Hoff must have been telling the truth as I stood there listening to my boss stutter and fumble over himself trying to speak to him. He did everything but kiss his feet. It was crazy. That was the day I started down the road that brought me here.”
The professor took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the sweat from his brow. It was cool outside, but he was hot, and could feel the fever that was gripping him.
“One day Hoff made another surprise visit to my lab. I had answered all of his previous questions, and that day he had more. Just before he left, though, he asked me what would happen if there was no receiver for my energy transmissions. It dawned on me then why he had been funding my research. I quit the next day.”
The professor paused as a violent coughing fit gripped him for almost thirty seconds. Phlegm shot from his throat into the dirt in front of the porch. Ahiga waited for him to catch his breath, and then asked a question.
“What would happen?”
“I’m sorry, what would happen when?” The professor’s fever was spiking, and his mind was getting cloudy.
“What would happen if there was no receiver?” George said.
“Well, it depends on how much energy you were transmitting, but the simple answer is that it would dissipate.”
“I don’t understand.”
“When I began studying scalar waves, and attempting to use them to transmit electricity without wires, it never dawned on me it could be used as a weapon. That’s what Hoff wanted, though, a weapon. Since I wasn’t in the weapons business I quit, but it wasn’t that easy. “
“OK, physics isn’t my thing. How is it a weapon?”
“Simply put, scalar waves are a delivery vehicle for energy. My early estimates are that the scalar transmitter I built here will be able to deliver, to any single spot on earth, the equivalent of thirty to fifty megatons of TNT.”
The professor said it with no emotion, but Ahiga looked as if someone had punched him in the gut.
“But, where does the energy come from?
The pro
fessor managed a weak smile. He always had enjoyed teaching.
“The energy is everywhere, and it’s free. This specific spot is ideal because of the way the earth’s magnetic fields align with it. It seems that even Native American legend tells tales of the Navajo using scalar weapons, though they didn’t understand why it worked, or that they were using it on such a small scale. Basically, my boy, electricity and magnetism go hand in hand, and used together can make one hell of a weapon. You could burn everyone alive, create an earthquake, influence the weather, the possibilities are endless.”
“So why did you build it?”
“Well, I had quit, and was sitting at home a couple of days after, when Dietrich Hoff appeared at my front door. I assumed he was there to convince me to come back to work and prepared myself to rebuke him in the most respectful manner possible. He is a crazy man, though, and before I knew what was happening he had me pinned against the wall by my throat. He told me he would kill my children one by one until I had none left, and that he had already kidnapped my daughter Tricia.”
Angela had referred to her siblings the night before, but had left out the name Tricia. Ahiga wondered why. The professor attempted to continue, but another coughing fit left him more weary.
