Zero Point

by Tim Fairchild

  Yagato Osama was the Tokyo leader of the Yakuza, the Japanese version of the Sicilian Mafia. It was a structured organization with strong clan ties, having a presence in Japan dating from the 1600s. If persons with a grievance could not gain satisfaction from the local authorities, they could most likely find it by going to the Oyabun in their region to have it solved for them. The Yakuza had their own form of justice, which was often swift, brutal, and final.

  Pencor knew Osama was the Tokyo regional leader with the honored title Oyabun. His next in command was his adviser called Saiko-komon, and then down to its many members called Wakashu, or children. He knew the Oyabun was to be obeyed by all, even if it meant risking life or limb to do so. He was absolute lord and ruler over his kingdom.

  “Good morning, Yagato. I hope you are well,” Pencor said, offering the empty platitude as he walked over to the plush high-backed chairs in front of the desk.

  “Please sit down, Robert. May I offer you a cup of tea?” Yagato Osama asked, gesturing to the priceless Sucki tea set dating back to the Sui and Tang dynasty of 5th century China.

  “No, thank you, Yagato,” Pencor replied sitting down and putting his briefcase down beside him. Watching Osama pour a cup for himself, he noticed the tip of the pinky finger on his left hand was also missing.

  Pencor knew that this was the result of the practice of Yubitsume; the ritual of cutting off your own fingertip with a knife or sharp item, then wrapping it in paper and sending it to the Oyabun as an apology for disobedience, accompanied by a note begging for forgiveness. The more transgressions, the more fingertips you would lose. If the transgression was too great, no penitence could be accepted and your execution was assured.

  “I’ve come to check on the progress of our plans,” Pencor said, getting right to the point. “What is the current status of our operation in the Canary Islands?”

  “Operation Bishamon is going as planned, Robert, so you need not concern yourself. Our facility on Tenerife is safe and above suspicion. As far as anyone is concerned, it’s just another one of the many research observatories located on Mount Blanca’s plateau. To the casual observer, it is nothing more than a satellite relay station, and my security keeps a watchful eye out for intruders.”

  “What about the progress of your Scalar weapon? Is it proceeding as planned?” Pencor asked.

  “The weapon has been in operation for months now, and has been exponentially increasing at the rate provided by our lead scientist on site. You must have patience, my dear friend. Your retribution will come soon enough,” Osama stated with a malevolent grin.

  “Are the seismic sensors on the island of La Palma still functioning properly? It is essential that no one notice any seismic activity prior to the final phase.”

  “They are working fine, Robert. I must admit, it was a sound idea to have the hundreds of geological seismic sensors located on La Palma replaced by our technicians after your fictitious company won the maintenance contract with La Palma,” Osama said, reaching for his teacup.

  “A little matter made simple with a generous contribution to a few well-placed island administrators and officials,” Pencor said with a smirk as Osama sipped his tea. “It’s amazing what people will do when the price is right. Greed can be most rewarding sometimes.”

  “It took our people almost two years to complete the switching of the sensors,” Osama said, setting his cup back on its tray. “Now all the geological stations on La Palma will never see any reports of unusual seismic activity until it is far too late. Our men programmed the sensors to give a false tremor indication from time to time, which is a normal occurrence on the island. If they showed no activity, geologists would conclude that the sensors were not functioning properly and investigate. I must admit, it was brilliant plan, Robert,” Osama said, nodding with approval. “As for the Scalar weapons, my organization has been working on the Longitudinal Wave Interferometers weaponry for the last fifteen years with a varied success rate. The world would be shocked to know that we have been wreaking havoc in many regions, focusing mainly on locales that would not suspect anything, such as Australia and Indonesia. The Americans are aware of the technology, but have stifled it for decades save a few scientists who have tried to make their government aware of the threat. They are also aware of the possible economic gains of finding an alternative fuel source, such as the one you have successfully developed in Morocco.”

  “I’ve read the reports of your organization’s handy work with the Scalar weapons,” Pencor said. “You’ve caused much of the earthquake, volcano, and tsunami activity in this region of the world for quite some time with tremendous and catastrophic results; amazingly, with no one the wiser. I was convinced by your little demonstration in New Guinea in 2008 that your weapons would suffice nicely for my needs.”

  “It is still not an exact science, Robert. The Longitudinal Wave Interferometers do work, but they sometimes produce unexpected results, especially when dealing with existing earth fault lines. Our early experiments using the Electromagnetic Pulse Canon were finally discontinued. The resulting energy bursts were not controllable, which often roused the suspicions of too many people,” Osama said, pausing long enough to take a sip of tea then continuing. “Our first testing was almost a catastrophe with a plasma fireball exploding over the city of Perth, Australia in 1995. Luckily the Perth Astronomical Observatory concluded that the anomaly had been the explosion of a celestial fireball from space and, fortunately, no investigations were ever launched. Regrettably, with the fall of the Soviet Union at the time, our funding by the KGB had all but dried up. We were lacking the major funding needed for our experiments, until you so graciously enabled us to continue and refine the technology.”

  “So I can expect little difficulty with your new weapon’s results?” Pencor asked.

  “La Palma is a more precise and easily manageable target grid. We know exactly where to direct the electromagnetic waves using the existing geo-survey data as a marker beacon. We’re not really causing the event, but expediting something that will eventually occur sometime in the future,” Osama said smiling, as he poured himself another cup of tea.

  “A naturally occurring catastrophe from an unnatural weapon…how appropriate,” Pencor said with a smile.

  “And what is the progress of your plans for the worldwide deployment of your Zero Point Generators, or ZPGs, as you so lovingly call them?” Osama asked, tapping the stub of his missing fingertip on the polished desktop.

  “Production is ongoing, and, the first two shipments from my production facility in Safi, Morocco, can set sail at a moment’s notice. You may not realize it, but the facility on Tenerife is being powered by a smaller version of my industrial ZPG that I plan to deploy worldwide,” Pencor said proudly. “The unrealized quest of a few scientists in America was ultimately silenced by the oil industry’s strangle hold on energy, along with the power of their money to buy out greedy politicians. Their dream of free power from the vacuum went unrealized, much to my benefit,” Pencor said as he picked up his briefcase and set it on Osama’s desk. “The prototype powering my production facility in Morocco has been on line and producing energy for the last two years with flawless results. Imagine, my friend, virtually free energy from a process that has been known to be feasible since its discovery by Tesla in the early 1900s; the Zero Point field theory. Energy from the vacuum of space and time that is going to change the course of history, and we will have complete control of it,” Pencor exclaimed with excitement in his voice. “The world will see us as the saviors of mankind with the result being a clean environment and an unlimited source of energy. The theory can even be applied to vehicles in the near future and we will be in control of it all.”

  “For a price, of course,” Osama added.

  “Of course, Yagato,” he replied with a grin. “My planned assault on an unsuspecting United States will no doubt result in its economic and infrastructural collapse, the likes the world has never seen. Confusion and chaos will r
eign supreme. Then, after a short period, we will roll out our ZPGs for global distribution. The oil cartels of the world will ultimately collapse. Fossil fuels, as we know them, will eventually go the way of the dinosaur,” Pencor said, chuckling at the irony as he opened his briefcase. “The Middle East sheiks and South American despots can all choke on their oil. Before too long, they won’t be able to give it away. Take a look, Yagato,” he said proudly as he slid the briefcase to face him. “Inside you will find all my final design plans and patents, which will be revealed to the world after our little surprise has been implemented on the U.S. They will never suspect the connection, and we will be long gone from the Canaries soon after the weapon has successfully achieved its goal. Until then, Yagato, I want you to safeguard my documents. You have the manpower for it.”

  “It will be my pleasure, Robert. What about the money?” Osama asked politely as he noted at the stacks of money in the briefcase.

  “It’s all here, as promised; ten million dollars American currency, plus a contractual 30 percent of all future profits from the ZPGs as they come on-line worldwide. I’ve waited years for this moment, and can now see success within my grasp. I will not allow anything to interfere with our plans. Speaking of which, I have heard the report of a group of archaeologists beginning work near our facility on Tenerife.”

  “Yes, Robert. We are aware of their project, and I have made my displeasure known to the fool who approved their permits to excavate the site. They are very close to our facility; too close for my liking. When the news of their discovery leaked, the media was everywhere and asking for access to our plant for interviews. They even want camera access over-looking the site they are working on,” Osama said.

  “We cannot afford prying eyes this close to the success of our plans, Yagato. I trust you will rectify the matter at once,” Pencor said, his voice rising in anger.

  “I am leaving for Tenerife tomorrow to handle the situation myself, Robert. The island official’s assistant who approved the project met with an unfortunately fatal car accident this morning. It was taken care of by my security head at the facility. He knows I do not tolerate failure and took care of the matter personally. I am also concerned that we may have a few scientists at our facility who are having second thoughts about following through with the plan. I will deal with them and the archeology team, who will sadly meet with an unfortunate, fatal mishap,” Osama said flatly.

  “Very well then. I’ll be arriving at your facility in a few days for the final phase and pick up my patents, but first I must finish inspecting the plant in Morocco. I want no loose ends, Yagato. Do you understand? I also want no suspicions aroused when the archaeologists are eliminated. It must look like an accident.”

  “Accidents happen all the time, my dear friend,” Osama replied as the powerful Oyabun bowed politely and began to laugh.

  4

  Bishamon Facility, Tenerife

  Two days later, a nervous Yashiro Fuiruchirudo sat at his computer terminal staring at the screen in front of him. His job was to monitor the Longitudinal Wave Interferometer levels, but his mind was elsewhere. The very essence of his soul screamed to him that taking this assignment was the greatest mistake of his life.

  They are going to kill me, he thought as he glanced around the Bishamon Facility Command Center. Its sterile environment of metal desks was set in an arc around the wall of a circular room. A large monitor hung from the ceiling at the head of the semi-circle making it look like a cheap Hollywood version of the bridge of a Star Ship. The rear of the room was occupied by banks of electrical circuit panels with large throw switches, and manned by ominous looking men carrying weapons.

  Yashiro made his hourly log entry that listed the power output level. He once again sadly noticed the empty chair next to his, which used to be occupied by his friend and confidant Wari.

  Wari had disappeared the night after they discussed their plans to escape the facility of which they were now prisoners, forced to work on Yagato Osama’s sick plan of destruction.

  Could it be that they monitored our talk over dinner the other night? And now that monster Osama is here, he thought, noting his arrival to the complex center this morning. They must have used the Mind Snapper on Wari.

  Yashiro had seen the Mind Snapper, or psycho-energetic longitudinal electromagnetic gun, a weapon that Osama and his minions used freely and often. Yashiro had seen the results of this terrible gun. It had been used on more than one of the islanders who were caught trying to break into the equipment facility building on the other side of the compound over the past year. Osama always ordered that the scientists and technicians witness the executions as a way to convey what fate would befall anyone who betrayed or failed him.

  Yashiro knew that the electromagnetic wave gun, set at a low power, could cause all those in its interference zone to fall unconscious. At high levels of output, death would be instant by destroying the entire human nervous system. Every living cell in the body was effectively killed at once, including bacteria. A body hit by this weapon was reduced to the likeness of irradiated meat and horrifically preserved up to thirty days without decay.

  In a single flash of immense pain you no longer existed, Yashiro thought, imagining the terrible way his friend must have died.

  Yashiro Fuiruchirudo was a brilliant geo-physicist. Graduated from Kobe University at top of his class, he held high hopes for a promising career. That is, until he was approached by representatives of the Bishamon Corporation to work on a proposed new energy concept. He was told at the time that it would be a two-year project and it was to be kept confidential. This meant no contact with outsiders, including family, for the entire period.

  At first Yashiro was hesitant. However, they offered a small fortune, which would be of benefit to his wife and young son, whom he now missed terribly, and most likely would never see again.

  He had figured out the planned assault on America in just the last two months. He overheard a conversation in the control center between Osama and Robert Pencor upon Pencor’s arrival to inspect the facility. They abruptly halted their conversation when they suspected Yashiro was listening. The stare Pencor gave him had frightened him, but nothing was ever said. Eventually, all the scientists conscripted were made privy to the plan, which troubled him.

  At first, Bishamon Corporation successfully kept the different aspects of the project isolated by segmenting the jobs and keeping the workers apart. However, it didn’t take long for him and the others to come to the obvious conclusion that this was not an energy project, but rather a pre-empted strike with a frightening weapon.

  “What kind of monster would mercilessly kill millions of innocent people?” Yashiro had asked Wari that last night over dinner while they discussed the fearsome plan. “I have a brother who lives in Miami,” he said to Wari as they ate.

  “I know, Yashiro, I also have family in New York,” Wari told him. “We will be responsible for their deaths as well.”

  “Not if we can stop it before it happens,” Yashiro said. “We must escape this facility and warn the authorities of the weapon.”

  “How can we?” Wari said in frustration. “The guards are everywhere and watch every entrance by closed circuit monitor.”

  “We can escape through the lava tubes beneath the complex that are used to take in supplies from the helicopter pad built on the eastern side of the mountain. It was there where they first excavated for access to the facility when it was constructed. I helped in the design early on and know the cave is not monitored,” Yashiro said sipping his coffee. “Every Friday they bring in supplies and take out refuse. That is when we will hide in one of the containers being taken out, which is done a few hours prior to the arrival of the helicopter. After they have sealed the entrance to the facility above us, we’ll leave through the tunnel, climb to the caldera’s rim, and make our way to the access road.”

  “What if we are caught, Yashiro? They will kill us for sure!”

  “I fear they are goi
ng to kill all of us anyway, Wari. They are not going to allow any witnesses to their plans the luxury of leaving this place alive. Especially now that they have told us their plans,” Yashiro said flatly.

  “Then we’ll do it,” Wari said with determination. “We’ll have to wait a few more days, but in the meantime, we can’t act suspiciously. Agreed?”

  “Agreed,” Yashiro told his friend, noticing that a guard had been watching them with interest.

  “We will finalize our plan tomorrow. Be quiet Wari, the guard is approaching us,” he whispered, and then broke into a loud laughter as the burly guard came to their table.

  “What are you two doing?” the guard had asked, pointing his AK-47 at them.

  “Wari was just telling me a funny story from his childhood,” Yashiro said in Japanese, mustering up the most disarming smile he could produce. He noticed the finger tip of the guard’s left hand missing. “Would you like to hear it?”

  “No!” The guard blurted out. “You have been here long enough. Return to your quarters at once.”

  That was the last time Yashiro had seen Wari, and he now assumed that he was either dead or under interrogation. If they torture him, they will learn of our plan and I’m a dead man for sure, Yashiro thought now as he stared vacantly at the computer screen in front of him. I must hold it together for two more days before I try to escape.

  He continued working as he listened to the steady hum of the Longitudinal Wave Interferometer generators located one floor below him. They slowly, but surely, proceeded in their uninterrupted task, which would eventually result in the destruction of the east coast of the United States.

  “I must remain focused,” he whispered softly. “I must.”

  5

  Grand Canaria Island