The Noah Satellite

by Allan E Petersen

  As they marched toward the elevator, what Waldorf said to him was intended as sarcasm but unfortunately it was taken as a sincere apology instead.

  “I’m sorry to take you away from your busy schedule Doctor.”

  When the elevator doors closed and they were on their way down to the medical facilities the Doctor responded,

  “Yes, such is the curse of operating this massive laboratory, if it is not menial questions from field operatives it is constant attention to the ineptness of my scientists.”

  “Sorry to hear that Doctor. I shall try my best to get you a better team.”

  Again, the sarcasm was missed.

  “Thank you.”

  The medical laboratory was small but not surprising to Waldorf. He had been here before and knew what to expect. He saw a hospital bed, numerous implements dangling from mechanical arms and what looked suspiciously like a dentist chair. The Doctor who was standing at the ready however did surprise him. He reasoned that if she was not in her teens, she was only a recent birthday into her early twenties. That made him nervous. The young lady introduced herself as Doctor Jennings and he was at least glad to learn that she had a doctorate. In a surprisingly confident tone she pointed to the dentist chair and said,

  “I’m told that you are in a hurry, so if you don’t mind, please sit.”

  After getting comfortable, or at least as comfortable as one can get in a seat of torture, he gazed up into the soft light beaming down into his face. She said,

  “I am excited to finally have an opportunity to test this technology in the field. Thank you for the opportunity. Not to worry. It has been tested numerous times in the laboratory and is flawless.”

  Waldorf, still uncomfortable at what he perceived as youth and inexperience blandly replied,

  “I’m sure it is doctor.”

  “Now just relax. It is a simple removal and replacement procedure. There will be no pain.”

  “Get on with it doctor.”

  He watched as she reached for a scalpel and said,

  “You understand that to extract it, I will have to make numerous incisions. In other words it will have to be taken out in sections.”

  “Get on with it.”

  As the scalpel got closer to his face, he saw what he was hoping to see. It may have been a young hand but it was steady and showed confidence. At least he now felt a little better regarding her youth. As the scalpel got closer, it pressed hard and cut deep into his eye. He didn’t as much as flinch. She sliced through the whole horizontal length of the eye and then the full length of the vertical. With a pair of elongated tweezers she poked them into the eye and with a sickening suction sound extracted all four sections one at a time. When the jelly-like pieces of what used to be an artificial eye were removed, the only thing left was a hollow eye socket. What she asked next was a common question apparently asked by all doctors after a procedure.

  “There, that didn’t hurt at all did it?”

  His one good eye turned to look up at her and he sternly said,

  “Get on with it doctor.”

  She turned and picked up an artificial eye from a glass container. Holding it between her fingers she brought it to his attention and gently squeezed it. He saw that it was soft and pliable. She said,

  “This one is the latest in Nano spyware. There is Great Gray alien technology in it that we do not completely understand. I guess the easiest thing to say is that it works. It doesn’t transmit but from now on it will record everything as you see and hear it. When your mission is complete, your leader has the software to download everything. Once the download is complete, come back here and we will insert a common artificial eye for you.

  His one good eye stared at it but when she bent over to insert it, he lost track of it. She then asked what he at first thought was a mundane and strange question. It was only a second later that he understood the ramification of what was inserted into his hollow eye socket.

  “Are you a married man?”

  “Yes.”

  As he felt the cold orb squeeze into his socket, she explained,

  “Then may I suggest that if you are in a situation where you don’t want something to be recorded you close your eye.”

  He knew what she meant.

  At the point where he was grateful that she was finished, he started to get up. Her halting hand was firm and she said,

  “No, not yet. It will take a few minutes for the nanowires to attach to your ocular muscles. Just stay still while they connect. When it is done, when your good eye turns, so will this one.

  Because it does not transmit, it will be virtually impossible to detect.”

  After a few impatient minutes in the chair and listening to her incessant stories of a career in the Nano-sciences and how she came to be a House of the Nazarene scientist, she finally added,

  “Just a couple of minutes more.”

  She then reached up and pulled down a mechanical arm loaded with implements not unlike tools of torture in a dentist chair. Except for a great drain on his patience, the scans he was subjected to were painless. Finally she said,

  “That’s it. Everything connected and you now have the most expensive eye in the world.”

  As he left the lab he heard her say,

  “Please look after it.”

  Responding to the signal from his remote, the camouflaged and hovering D-wing returned to the landing pad and a minute later Waldorf was on his way back to headquarters. His new high-tech artificial eye may have been valued at thirty million plus, but to him there was no perceivable difference. Looking at the world through one good eye was nothing new to him.

  In the fateful year of destruction, when Duchess Josephine de Mayer-David extracted her horrible revenge on Ile de Celeste and the Headquarters of House of the Nazarene, despite a horrific leg wound and the loss of his eye, he was still one of the few lucky ones. However, it cost him his proud title as Head of Security for the House. A security officer limping with the aid of a cane did not instill an image of strength, something badly needed during the difficult rebuilding of the House.

  When it was clear that he would lose the eye, he called Santo and Maria into his office. He admitted to the injury and handed the prestigious task of Nazarene security over to Santo, a position that Waldorf had primed him for over the years. What good was a soldier with only one eye? The importance of depth perception was gone. By his request, his injury was to be kept a secret from all except them and Helga.

  Of the almost one hundred scientists killed, there was one body not counted in the tally. Helga’s abdominal wound was not fatal but it was to her almost two month old baby. It took her well over a year after the deadly attack to finally tell Waldorf that his dream of having a child had been destroyed as surely as the island. It was just another ton of grief added to the already unsurmountable horror of the destruction. As he neared Headquarters and accessed his approach codes, the memories that he thought were behind him, the destruction and the loss of a child, came back to him in a destructive tsunami of emotions. Just when the waters had calmed and the horror of the past had been put aside, it returned in another wave of horrible memories. He understood that exploding lightening bolds and the smell of death will never be forgotten and the only defense was to remember what he had, good health, a woman who loved him and a good if not rambunctious son.

  With the D-wing on auto-pilot, Waldorf sat in the pilot seat and watched it maneuver into the hangar on its own. When he jumped out, he was reminded of a rash promise made in a moment of weakness. Off to the side, timid and shy, Pia stood looking at him with fawn eyes. Although he wanted to get on with the mission, a promise was a promise. He signalled for her to come forward and slow feet obeyed the command. Standing only a foot or so in front of him he reached for his cell phone and voice commanded to it,

  “Zely Rivas. Spain. Secure and private link.”

  Seconds later.

  “Yes Waldorf, what can I do for you?”

  “An
emergency has come up demanding Pia’s expertize here at Headquarters. I’m afraid that I will need to keep her here for a while yet.”

  There was only one possible reply.

  “Of course.”

  Pia was positively giddy and Henrik’s slight nod communicated his pleasure of the kindness. Waldorf looked at Pia and winked with his good eye. However, just as he turned to leave, she again lunged at him. Taken by surprise, he was knocked back a step or two by the sudden impact. Mostly by reflex, he slowly wrapped his arms around a very appreciative Pia. Apparently old soldiers like hugs as well. She then planted an inappropriate kiss on his cheek. It was such a surprise and happened so fast that he was not able to close his recording spy eye in time.

  Chapter 40

  Knowing that his assignment was to infiltrate the Russian Defense Ministry Headquarters, Waldorf wanted a reliable back-up man at his side. He went to Santo and explained his situation. Looking up from his desk, Santo good-naturedly said,

  “So that’s it? I have now become nothing more to you than just a simple get-away driver for your illegal activities?”

  Understanding that it was a jest, Waldorf nodded and countered,

  “Apparently so, and I have been relegated to becoming a common infiltrator.”

  Although Santo hated the term ‘simple assignment’ he couldn’t resist saying,

  “Sounds simple enough.”

  Waldorf then said,

  “Give me an hour. I need to report to the computer room for the documents and get into a suit befitting a Russian Federal Security Service officer.

  Approaching Jessika’s office, Waldorf came to a grinding halt at the door. Looking at the sign pinned onto it his thought was ‘well, that’s new’. On the door was a sign, ‘Knock before entering’. Not one for subtleties, and not understanding the intent of the sign, he made a fist and pounded on the door. Such was her startle that as if by magic, a strand of hair draped over her forehead jumped back up into place. After a quick recovery she made a mental note to add the word ‘gently’ to the request.

  Not waiting for the invitation, he marched straight in and stood beside her asking,

  “What have you got for me?”

  Still a little shaky from a lightning bolt to the heart, a slow hand reached for a packet of documents. While handing it over, she said,

  “You are now a senior member of the Russian Federal Security Service. If they check your credentials I entered you as a career soldier with an exemplary record. Your profile lists you as being in the secret service for twenty-one years. Please note your name and try to pronounce it properly when asked.”

  He scanned the document and said,

  “That’s a really long and complicated name. Why couldn’t you just give me something short and easy like Sam maybe?”

  It was a bland reply,

  “Because you scared the crap out of me.”

  Santo was in the hangar signing out the D-wing when he looked up and saw something startling. Walking toward him was Waldorf dressed in a dark suit and tie. It was a rare sight. Stifling a smile as best he could, Santo said,

  “Sure, that ought to get you through their security.”

  He ground to a halt right in front of Santo and as if to practice a military method of presentation of documents, snapped the papers to Santo. After an inspection Santo whistled and said,

  “Wow, that’s a mouthful. Why didn’t she give you an easier name?”

  Taking the papers back, he explained,

  “Because I apparently scared the crap out of her.”

  With the D-wing GPS coordinates set for Moscow there was nothing else to do for both passengers but sit back and relax for a few minutes. Waldorf was practicing pronouncing his new name and truth be told, Santo was tired of hearing the massacre. When Waldorf assumed that he was saying it correctly, he thought it enough and went into reflection.

  After a moment, he turned to Santo and asked a strange and certainly unrelated question that had been on his mind for a long time.

  “Is it just me Santo or are all the prodigies and geniuses we bring into our organization getting younger and younger?”

  Santo wanted to say that it was just him but unfortunately he felt the same way. He asked,

  “Why do you ask?”

  He told Santo about the young scientist in Switzerland. Unlike Waldorf, he knew the real reason for feeling that way. Instead of mentioning that it was them getting older he simply replied,

  “Yes, I think they are getting younger.”

  Thirty-five minutes later, with camouflage and anti-radar detection activated, the D-wing computer set a course straight down from the stratosphere and landed in a small forested park not far from the Russian Defense Ministry Headquarters. When heat scans showed that it was safe, Waldorf jumped out and as he did, Santo said to him,

  “When you signal for pickup I’ll return to this spot.”

  And then added,

  “Hurry up, I’m tired.”

  Carrying his briefcase, Waldorf adopted a staunch military gait and marched out of the park to the busy street. Parked off to the side was a black limousine with a chauffeur sitting behind the wheel. He was older with gray hair sticking out from a uniform hat and exhibiting the nervousness of an amateur. Waldorf casually opened the back door and slid in. As the limousine pulled into traffic Waldorf said to the driver,

  “Try not to look so scared. Remember, today you are simply a driver working for the Russian Defense Ministry.”

  With eyes glued to the road and hands frozen onto the steering wheel, the driver nervously responded,

  “I’m a scientist, not a spy.”

  A few minutes later, the limousine pulled up in front of the ominous Defense Ministry building and Waldorf stepped out the second it came to a halt. With quick steps and straight back, as if he owned the building, he marched up to the two heavily armed guards at the front door. As he approached, he did not like their look of experience and stern posturing. All he could do now was swallow hard and trust in Jessika’s forging capability.

  Seeing him approach, a big burley guard stepped forward and blocked his path to the door. Rather than wait for the order of identification and papers, Waldorf snapped them out of his suit pocket and presented them. It was best to be proactive, to understand the procedure. The inspection was taking far too long for Waldorf’s liking. While striking a stance of intolerable impatience, he scanned the security area and saw something that sent both fear and chills through his rigid body.

  There, by the door was an old style optical eye-scanner. After a shudder he knew Jessika did not think they would have something so antiquated and by that reasoning understood his false eye would set off an alarm. Unless some form of brilliant solution was miraculously reached and right now, it would be best for him to turn and run as fast as he could. However, outrunning a hail of bullets was not in his résumé.

  Thinking fast, he reverted to an old ploy, a distraction technique often used by a superior to a lesser rank. With a well-practiced stern expression and a stare that could bore through a concrete wall, he cast his attention to the guard standing by the door. With an arrogant look of an elitist commander he demanded,

  “Who is that man?”

  Taken aback by the sharp demand, the guard lost some of his staunch attitude toward his important posting and said,

  “He is new. Is something wrong?”

  “Yes, something is wrong. I don’t like him.”

  Fearing that the wrath of an unstable superior might explode, the guard quickly rechecked Waldorf’s forged papers and saw that at least on the surface all was well. But the distraction ploy didn’t work. The guard remained steadfast in his duty and signaled for Waldorf to approach the scanner.

  There was nothing to do except hope for the best and perhaps whisper good-bye to Helga and Robert. There wasn’t even time for that. Just as he turned toward the scanner an unexpected sharp flash of light struck his eyes. It was as if being startled by a flas
hbulb. He suddenly understood that he didn’t need to press his eye to the scanner. The scanner was a laser beam and it had come to him. He knew that there was no need to turn and run, that he was caught.

  At the same time that he muttered “damn,” the guard at the door said, “Code clear,” and the door opened. Recovering quickly, he snapped the papers from his hand and quickly marched through the open door. Jessika was going to get a metal for her diligence and good job. And a hug.

  When the elevator stopped in the basement and before walking out, Waldorf’s scanned from side to side trying to gather as much recognisance as possible for his recording eye. The room looked very much like a security station at a small airport. He saw the dreaded x-ray and metal scanner as well as a table with a tray to put all his metal and belongings into. Three uniformed guards watched with scrutinizing eyes as he marched up to them.

  Because there was no need for instructions, knowing what he had to do and the guards seeing the high ranked officer’s compliance to security protocols, none found it necessary to say a word. They simply watched as Waldorf unpinned all the decorations from his jacket, ‘Hero of the Russian Federation’, ‘The Order of Saint George’ and a metal for Military Merit. Two rings of distinction were also dropped into the tray. None of the stoic guards seemed impressed with his service to the military. The next procedure was to strip down and don a pair of gray coveralls.