by Tim Wheat
“Now is not the time for play, my love,” anyone else would have been dead right now, ”We have a lot of work left to do, and it looks like it starts with your patient over there. What is it you would like to have done with her?”
Anelie could sense that her husband was angry, and believed that only she could have done what she did and lived to see another day.
“I just wanted to save her from what is to come. She doesn’t deserve to die, and I’d like to take her on your submarine, if that is still the trip we will be taking.”
Hoff smiled with ease.
“We will be traveling by submarine. It’s discouraging that its revolutionary propulsion systems will still be offline, but I have the best mathematicians working on it night and day. It is just a matter of time my dear. Once I use my weapon to bring the world to its knees, it will just be a matter of time.”
Anelie smiled. Though her tryst on the plane had been exciting, what drew her to men was power, and Dietrich Hoff was the most powerful man on Earth. The world just didn’t know it yet.
*******************
37.
George had spent a large part of his day retrieving the charges of dynamite he had hidden throughout the camp. More than once he had gone to check on the professor, but his condition was worsening. He guessed that the man had already contracted a slight case of the flu, and coupled with his heart attack, he may not live to see the next day.
Setting the charges in the mine was an arduous job. George didn’t hold a full understanding of how the transmitter was going to work, and he wished the professor had been available to help him plan its demolition. It seemed as if the overall design of the antenna was very simplistic. He had expected to see vacuum tubes and transistors everywhere, but they weren’t. Instead the pit was almost empty, and though it was perplexing, Ahiga went about his work.
The mine seemed to go on forever. He and the other men had been digging the side shaft by hand, and though he hadn’t understood it at the time, its presence seemed even less useful now. Deeper and deeper into the earth Ahiga descended, stopping at intervals and planting charges. Picking up a lantern he had scavenged and moving it, the cold began to creep into his bones, and he sped up his pace to keep his body warm. He should have planned for the temperature, but he hadn’t worked deep inside the main shaft before. Just the professor spent much time on the inside.
His body started to feel strange, and he began to notice a humming in his ears. George had some gold fillings he had spent a lot of money on, and he could have sworn they were vibrating in his mouth. The cold no longer existed, even though he had moved further down the mine shaft. It was all very odd, and something else began to creep into his mind. Fear was an emotion that Ahiga had learned to deal with, but there was nothing down here he should fear. Yet fear is what he felt.
Focusing his eyes on a large object to the left, he approached it with apprehension. It was not a part of the superstructure of the mine, yet it was obvious humans had placed it there. With a lump forming in his throat, Ahiga rubbed his hands over the smooth metal piling. It was warm to the touch, and caused his fingers to tingle. Drawing his hand away, he focused his dim light to the left and saw that another pillar existed a few feet distant. What was all of this? He took a step toward it, reached out, and then it happened.
Permeating the dark with the brightness of the sun, an electric charge shot through, and past Ahiga at the speed of light, sending him sprawling. A tremendous noise shook the entire shaft, as he cradled his head, and huddled behind the massive rock where he had landed. That rock saved his life. Without its mass dispersing the shockwave of the sonic boom, his eardrums would have burst, and the pressure would have liquefied his insides.
Another round of concussions rocked the mine shaft, as Ahiga struggled to stay conscious. His charges, electrified from the discharge, began going off one by one. Explosions shook the very earth beneath him, and through the dust, and fog in his mind, George feared he may have buried himself alive.
As he lay there, cradling his head, the fear of death, and all of the events from the previous day, hit him at once. Sobbing on the floor of the shaft, George Ahiga couldn’t control his crying, and his eyes felt like they burned from his head. He rose to his feet, stricken with blindness while still sobbing, and attempted to reverse his course up the mine shaft. He stumbled from side to side, and as he made his way up, his thoughts started to become more clear.
In a divine stroke of luck, the antenna had focused the power of his blasts into the floor, rather than the ceiling. Piles of rubble were sporadic, and large craters pocked the earth below his feet, but overall, the integrity of the mine had held. His plan to destroy the mine held little chance of working from the start.
Concentrating on breathing, George took heed of the situation. He wasn’t blind, and he was no longer emotional, but the tears still flowed, and his head pounded. As he neared the end of the tunnel his mind began to recover. Had he just witnessed the weapon being used? Was Dietrich Hoff’s war beginning? He needed to speak to the professor, whether he felt up to it or not.
***
Nicholas Sarff lay in his bed, his breath shallow, and his body weak. Ahiga had made his way across the camp, his body bouncing back from the shock. He realized how lucky he had just been, and was thankful to be alive.
“Dr. Sarff?” George leaned close to the rotund man lying in the bed, and shook him awake. “Dr. Sarff?”
The professor drifted into the conscious world, and with a slight smile responded.
“Did you get my daughters back yet?”
“Not yet sir,” said Ahiga. “I had some business here that needed to be taken care of.”
“Business? What sort of business?” The professor struggled to sit up in the bed, but, exhausted, gave up the effort. George comforted the man in a quiet voice.
“Shhhh. Shhhh. Save your energy old timer. I have some questions I need to ask you, some very important questions. How do I destroy the transmitter? I placed my charges down there ready to blow, but…”
“Wait, you didn’t go down there and try to blow everything up did you?”
“Actually, I did.”
“You’re lucky that you aren’t dead then,” the professor coughed.
“What can you tell me about that?”
“Well, son, this spot on the earth is a beacon of scalar radiation and magnetism. The Navajo knew it, and that’s what made this such a sacred place. The difference between them, and me, is that I know why it works, and I can tap into it in a much larger way,” the professor smiled to himself. He did so enjoy teaching physics to those who wanted to learn, and he could see that Ahiga wanted to know the answers to the questions he was asking. “If you were down there trying to set charges, I can assume that you were trailing a long detonation cord with you?” It was more of a question than a statement.
“Yes sir I was.”
“Got quite a shock then,” said the professor.
“Yes sir I did.”
“Touched the two pillars perhaps?”
“Yessir.”
“Well, you’re outright lucky you didn’t kill yourself. Depending on how long your detonation cord was, it might have saved your life. I suppose you completed a circuit when you touched the pillars, and grounded, via your detonation cord, creating a very powerful bolt of lightning. You would have created a negative bolt, which is less powerful than a positive one. Still, ten thousand amps flying around down there could have killed you. You’re a fortunate man Mr. Ahiga.”
George let the gravity of what had just happened to him sink in. He felt himself luckier to be alive today than after the firefight yesterday. He had felt in control during the whole gun battle, but remained awed by Mother Nature’s unfeeling power. More questions had to be asked.
“Why would you put the trigger right there where anyone could get at it?”
The professor smiled. “I didn’t. The Navajo did.”
Ahiga was at a loss for words
now, but managed to speak again. “The Navajo?”
Sarff began to cough again, and upon the upheavals subsiding, George decided he had different questions to ask.
“So where did that energy go? I didn’t light up some small town or anything did I?”
The professor chuckled at this. “No, I’m sure you didn’t. Without focusing the energy it would have made its way outside of the mine shaft and dissipated. I’m certain everyone, but you, is just fine.”
“So, if I can’t blow it up, how do I shut off the weapon?”
“Son, you can’t shut off the weapon,” the professor’s words were grim, and he winced as he said them. “Like I told you before, this is an endless energy source. Scalar waves are smaller than x-rays, or gamma rays, and until I started working with Alexei, I didn’t understand how to harness them. His simple absolute theory of physics was like a veil lifting from my eyes. I was blind, and he made me see. Perhaps if you changed the magnetic field of the earth in some way the math wouldn’t add up, but, well, no, no, no, it can’t be turned off.”
“I don’t understand, again,” Ahiga smiled, seeing the pleasure the man got from describing his deadly work.
“What he and I were talking about doing was different than this confounded weapon I ended up being forced into. With scalar energy we can harness the magnetism of the earth, along with the radiation ever present in the cosmos, and do almost ANYTHING. Things nobody ever thought possible. Anti-gravitational devices, on a side note boy, gravity might not exist, time travel, beyond light speed abilities, force fields, the possibilities are endless.”
“Or a weapon,” said Ahiga.
“Or any number of weapons could be created.”
“May I ask why you came out here then, sir?”
“You may ask, and I will tell you. I was having some difficulties understanding how the scalar beam weapon could be focused, when I ran across an old Navajo story. A story so fantastic, it just had to be true.”
“I know it, the story of the Great Chief, and his struggle against the Apache.”
“Yes. Yes. Yes. Anyway, what I was attempting to do was just like in the story, so I came down here to Navajo country to see what I could find. We heard a new part of the story that the Great Chief had hidden the source of his power so that nobody could ever again use it. I wasn’t down here two weeks before I learned of this old mine dug out of a cave, where men had gotten burned without fire being introduced. I was able to study its secrets, found the ancient pillars, and now, Dietrich Hoff can build a scalar antenna anywhere he wants,” the sentence ended with the professor falling into a deep coughing fit. Ahiga watched as the man pitched from side to side, trying to control his diaphragm, but time was becoming his enemy. Once the coughing subsided, the professor’s will seemed even more diminished.
“Doc, what is the weapon’s range?”
Sarff smiled weakly, he could feel the life leaving his body, and he pulled himself up to look at Ahiga.
“You’ve heard of the explosion in Russia in 1908?”
“Yes, I thought that was a meteor, or comet or something.”
The professor managed to continue, “Tesla shot that from New York.”
“New York, wait, I thought you invented…” An unworldly sound emanating from deep within the professor interrupted Ahiga’s statement. He had heard the sound before, and it meant one thing. Death was near, and the good doctor knew it.
“Promise me something, George.”
“Yes.”
“Find my daughters and save them. Save them both. Please. Please do this for me as my dying request.”
“I will,” was Ahiga’s steeled reply.
“One more thing young man.”
“Yes?”
“Kill that bastard Hoff. Kill the bastard. Kill…”
His voice didn’t trail off. It just stopped, and George reached to him and shut his eyes. He wouldn’t be stepping back down into that mine again anytime soon. No, tomorrow was going to be the day he got out of this place. He would be more than happy to honor all of Nicholas Sarff’s dying requests, and he knew just where to start. Dietrich Hoff had made a very dangerous, and motivated, enemy.
*******************
38.
Bright lights shone in his eyes, and horns whistled in his ears. Was it possible that he had died and now stood at the gates of heaven? He dismissed the fleeting thought, and instead tried to focus on the shadowy image that now shrouded by the brightness of the lights. It was doubtful he would ever see the pearly gates of heaven, and an existence in hell with these horns blaring in his ears seemed more likely.
“You alright in there son? That was one crazy joyride you and your friend were on.”
Hans realized he had been unconscious, and his head had leaned onto the steering wheel, hence, the horn.
“I think I’m OK,” he replied in amazement, as he drew in his surroundings. Rex Chase had failed in his attempt at escape. Hans could see the mangled body of the Packard embedded in the bank behind him, while his Model K sat in the center of the road. He loosed a maniacal smile as he exited the vehicle, his .45 in hand.
“Whoa, take it easy son.” The farmer was the man who had been speaking to him. “No need for that pistol.”
Hans had half-forgotten he even had the weapon, but it had never left his grasp, even while he was in the grips of the darkness. As he exited the vehicle, better able to take note of the scene, he began to drink it all in. His Lincoln had somehow stayed true to the road, and he was in awe of his stunning luck. The Packard had not fared as well, though, and sat fifty yards to his rear. What remained was burning.
Its engine block had forced its way through the firewall into the front seat, and before it had uncoupled from the rest of the drive train, had forced the entire bottom of the vehicle backwards three feet. The Packard’s body had crumpled under the violent stress, and the beautiful deep blue paint now bubbled from the fire. It had gone from a thing of beauty, to a harbinger of horror.
“I’m sorry,” Hans replied to the farmer, and placed the weapon in his belt. “Did you see the man who was driving that Packard? The crazy sonofabitch almost killed me. I was just taking a leisurely evening drive and all of a sudden he was there, smashing his car into mine over and over.”
The wary farmer moved away from Hans and back toward his tractor parked a few yards away. “I don’t know how he fared son, but from the looks of that wreck I doubt he’s feeling too well. It seems to me you were both driving too confounded fast.”
Hans no longer payed the farmer any mind, and instead moved toward the wreck. The Packard must not have had much fuel left, because after the initial explosion it looked as if the fire had dissipated. As he approached, the acrid smell of the smoke filled his nostrils and caused him to sneeze. Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, he wiped his nose, and continued to scan the scene. The shear carnage of the area was massive. It looked as if the Packard had carved a path through the field in fire, and had almost cleared the opposite bank. Perhaps it had burst into flames beforehand, and spread its death in a swath. None of this was of any true concern to Hans, though, as he scanned the area for the body of Rex Chase.
Then he saw it. Lying almost as if taking a nap, was the unmoving form. Hans slid down the bank in front of him, and stepped into some deep mud at the edge of the small stream. Cursing to himself, he backtracked, ascended the bank, and began to make his way toward the bridge. He had to be sure his quarry had died in the accident. From his current vantage point, Hans couldn’t be certain. Then, the madman smiled his wicked smile, stopped in his tracks, and pulled the .45 from his waist band.
“I don’t care if it looks like an accident.” He muttered.
Taking careful aim, Hans pointed the weapon at the lifeless body thirty yards away, and pulled the trigger. The ground in front of Chase exploded, sending dirt flying all over his body, but a small ridge had saved him from absorbing the impact of the bullet. Adjusting, Hans grit his teeth, took in a de
ep breath, and prepared to squeeze the trigger, when he heard an unmistakable sound.
“Can’t let you do that son.” The farmer had retrieved an Ithaca 37 pump action shotgun from his tractor, and racked the slide a few feet away.
Hans turned slowly, without lowering his .45, and received a stern warning.
“I’m not joking son. I’ve shot Jerries like you in the head dozens of times. Put the gun down.”
He could hear the seriousness in the farmers tone, and recognized no fear or trepidation. The man had him dead to rights, and Hans had no choice but to obey. Leaning over, he placed the .45 on the ground, half expecting to be shot.
“I don’t know what’s going on here son, but you are coming with me, and we’re going to get to the bottom of this.”
Hans stood back up and looked at the farmer’s face. It showed weathered and craggy lines from spending countless hours toiling in the sun and bathed in the light of the dancing flames of the Packard, the farmer seemed at home training his shotgun on a man. A large scar was evident on his right cheek, and it stretched from his ear to his jaw. This man would kill him, and Hans needed a way out of here.
Just then, the opportunity arrived. Over the hill behind him, headlights from an approaching vehicle appeared. The farmer was just distracted enough, and Hans took full advantage. Closing the gap between the two in an instant, he deflected the shotgun with his left arm, while putting his shoulder into the farmer’s gut. An immense boom shattered the still night air, as the farmer discharged his weapon simultaneous to being tackled to the ground.
Hans recognized in an instant that he hadn’t knocked the gun loose, as he had hoped. The much larger man was gaining the upper hand in the ground battle, and the young spy did the only thing he could think of.
Howling, the farmer loosed his grip on his attacker, but kept a firm hold on the Ithaca. Hans leapt to his feet, and in the dim light, the farmer could still see the maniacal smile on his face. Then, as fast as the fight had begun, it was over as Hans sprinted away, toward the Lincoln that was still idling on the other side of the bridge.
