Ever-Life the Two Book Set: The C.P.T Incident and Time Trust

by Andrew Sarkady

  “Good morning again, Jake Burns,” Marshall said.

  “You may call me, Mr. Detective, or Inspector, Security Chief. Now, if you don’t mind, please unlock Dr. Billow’s office.”

  “That’s Bellos…Yes, Sir.”

  Marshall turned the key and opened the door.

  “Let’s go people.”

  Burns waved the team into the foyer.”

  “Quite a spread, Jake,” said Watzin.

  “People; listen up. I want everything examined to the finest detail. We do this, by the book; my book. I want swabs, bag anything that you can pick up, get photos; use everything in those suitcases, and get me something. Don’t forget to put on shoe covers, because this man, Mr. Marshall, is using ultraviolet on the floors; got it? Any questions? Good; well then; go on; get to it…All right, Mr. Chief Marshall, show me around.”

  Marshall led Burns and Sawyer down into the oval room.

  “This is Dr. Bellos’s hospital living quarters; as well as his office suite. He has every medical reference book you can imagine, here, many from other countries, in many languages. There are paintings there and a window, over there, as you can see.”

  “Very funny Chief; where’s the office?”

  “Through that hallway; follow me.”

  “Mr. Burns,” Barb Sawyer asked, “why am I here?”

  Burns stopped, and turned toward her.

  “Because you are in this up to your thigh highs; and I know you are going to break, lady. So tag along, until you do.”

  “Through here Leuteeenant,” Marshall said.

  “Boy, you have got a real sense of humor, don’t you, Boy Scout.”

  Burns looked around the computer room.

  “Hmm, nice laptops; and those screens have to be 60-inch monitors; impressive.”

  “Yes, the doctors can conference on strategic orphan diseases, from anywhere in the world, without getting a headache. Anything unusual, you would like me to clarify?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact.”

  Burns walked around the room and studied.

  “How long has Dr. Bellos been Chief of Hospital?”

  “I’ve been here one-year, two-months, four-days, twenty-hours and 42-43 seconds, now. None of us answers questions for Dr. Bellos.”

  “I don’t like wise asses, Mr. Marshall.”

  “I don’t like men, who pick on innocent women…Look Detective; I was told you are good, real good. Do you know Gordon Swanson?”

  Burns did a double take and grinned.

  “Yeah, I know him, a little. That is not going to buy you a dime.”

  “Well, maybe not. But, I’d like to cut the crap. We do want to help. You know neither Bellos nor Barb is the shooter. Gordon Swanson’s name is on the marquee, here; I did talk to him. Actually, he asked me if you would consider talking to him, directly-in person?”

  “Really, I’m flattered. Is he going to tell me what happened?”

  “I think he is going to have Dr. Bellos with him; if that tweaks your interest.”

  Burns turned his back to Marshall, as Watzin came in.

  “Jake, I found something…”

  Burns followed Watzin back to foyer.

  “…Look; this door; Jake, it’s not a closet. None of us can get it open.”

  Burns turned to Marshall again.

  “Well Chief; what’s this?”

  “It’s, in fact, a sealed elevator shaft, from two years ago, when we renovated the tenth floor.”

  “Break it open.”

  “Wait, look down here.”

  Watzin was kneeling before the door. He pressed a weak spot in the wall and pushed his fist through, creating a five-inch hole.

  Burns watched, and then turned to a uniformed officer.

  “You there; give me your flashlight.”

  He bent down and shined the light into the hole.

  “Concrete, Shit! Watzin, are your people getting anything else?”

  “This may take a couple of hours, Jake.”

  Burns walked down the steps; and then, he looked at Marshall.

  “Okay Chief; you win. Where’s Swanson?”

  “Follow me.”

  “Watzin…God, why did your parents name you that? Have the office call me when you are done. By the way; any feedback on Walker’s phone, yet?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact. There were two calls made; one from Turkey; and, one, looks like it came from the van.”

  “Turkey…Like gobble, gobble…”

  “No, Jake…Like, from across the other side of the world Turkey.”

  “Fine…Shit…Wish I was in Turkey.”

  Chapter 28

  The Exchange

  The time was 5:30 p.m., when Bellos’s Carrier arrived at the Ever-Life underground post platform in Jerusalem. Gordon Swanson and a three-man guard team stood on the platform, waiting to greet them. The front cabin door opened, and the first to exit was Mathew Bellos.

  “Mathew, it’s good to see you in the flesh, bad circumstance.”

  “Thank you, Sir. You remember, Jack Sheldon.”

  “Of course; Jack, how do you feel?”

  “A bit rocky, at times; but, Matt says he’s going to fix that.”

  “That is the plan.”

  “This is my son, Brian.”

  They shook hands.

  “Brian, you have quite a dad, here.”

  “GGM, we are ready,” a guard said.

  “Good; let’s walk, everyone. Where is our guest?”

  “Still in the Carrier…He called me GGM-010.”

  “Well, that confirms the mole, eh.”

  “Sir, we have thirty minutes,” the guard said.

  “All right, I’ll brief you in the car…Brian, my boy, I know this has to be the strangest day of your life; but, I have to ask you a favor…

  “What is it?”

  “Would you mind riding with my guards, here; in the second car? Now before you react, there is a good reason I ask. Your dad needs a fresh dose of medicine. We have no choice, but to go on, ahead; and, be at the trade point. We have to be there at the specific time. Otherwise; this all goes south. I’m asking you to go and get the medicine; then the car will bring you to us, immediately. None of my people has clearance to carry, what your dad needs. You do by virtue of your genetic link to your dad. It’s a short trip, to the villa and back. Will you do that for us, for your dad?”

  Brian looked at Jack.

  “Dad, no!”

  Jack insisted, “Brian, please; we all have to do our part.”

  “Fine…” Brian said frustrated. He hugged his dad, and walked, with the two guards, up the stairs.

  “Where are they taking him?”

  “To safety, Jack; let’s go.”

  Bellos gestured, and they all walked quickly up to Swanson’s car. But, it wasn’t a white stretched limo; it was a tattered looking 1960 four door Lincoln Continental that had a bulletproof body and tires; a special engine, and graffiti all over it. It also had four, transparent swivel guns, mounted above the front and rear lights. Each one looked like a tiny airplane jet. The four men got in the car and drove off, into the heart of Jerusalem.

  Swanson began briefing them, “Now gentlemen, we are going to meet our currier, Ahmed. He approached a contact that we’ve had in the Brock camp, since Jack started their partnership. He is Muslim; and, over the last five months, he has been running money, between here and Turkey for Rash InVoy.”

  “Then we must know everything?” Bellos asked.

  “No, he swings whatever way profits his family. But, I know he hasn’t said anything about this. They would have killed him, already.”

  “Why the kidnapping?” said Jack.

  “To guarantee ‘we’ would insure his life and his family’s safe future. He wants out of Brock’s hold, permanently. You see, we are not trading anything. We are taking him, two hours before he is supposed to give the vial to InVoy. We get the vial, the hostage, and in return, he and his family go to an unknown locati
on, to live out their lives safely.”

  “It sounds a little James Bondy, Sir,” Bellos said, “if you don’t mind my saying.”

  Swanson smiled. “Yes, it’ll be fun. I haven’t even told you the Hollywood stuff.”

  “Oh no…”

  “What?” Jack asked.

  “I just love Hollywood,” Swanson said. “Diced Hard; Bruised Wullus…Remember that classic, when the gun was taped to his back? Exciting!.”

  “Sir,” Bellos rolled his eyes again, “not many of us remember that. It was a long, long time ago; and his name was…”

  “…Yes; right; I digress.”

  Swanson lifeted a satchel onto his lap, opened it and started handing things out. Jack looked at Bellos. “Matt, this is about C.P.T. and medical research right; not war games?”

  Bellos just shook his head.

  Mr. Mike turned the car lights off, and pulled into a dark concrete lot, two blocks south of the Church of the Holy Sepulcher.

  “Are we close?” Bellos asked.

  “Not really.” Swanson chatted, as he handed things to the two doctors. “This entire area is nothing but church buildings. We have to walk quickly and silently. Here you two; take these vests and put them on, under your shirts.”

  Then, he took out what looked like two pistols..”

  “Guns?” Jack said, “I’m having trouble remembering how to piss.”

  “Just take these. They won’t hurt you, and they won’t kill anyone. They don’t shoot bullets. They are set for, ‘wide’; so, you just point and pull the trigger.”

  “Wide; what’s wide? If they won’t kill anyone,” Jack asked, “what good are they?”

  “And put these glasses on, too.”

  “Oh my God,” Jack said, as he did so and looked out the car windows. “It’s like daylight; what the hell?”

  “Okay Jack; take a minute; adjust and drink this.”

  Swanson handed him a canteen.

  “Boy, whatever this stuff is, it’s better than water.”

  “Hmm, don’t you just love history, men? Did you two know that this church commemorates the death and resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth? Just like the one in India…”

  “Sir…” Bellos whispered.

  “Yes; sorry, well, that’s another story. The important thing to remember is the sensitive nature of these people. Watch out for yourselves! Be alert!... For over 6000 years, Orthodox Christians, Jews and Muslims have claimed ownership of these buildings. Factions fight, constantly, over everything; from its validity and when to worship, to where a chair should be placed. Brock’s camp negotiated with all three theological leaderships to get your serum, Jack…And they will pay handsomely for it. Somehow, they are convinced that the serum will prove resurrection is possible, thereby uniting the faiths. So, there will be some very tight security all around here. Stay with me; we are following Mr. Mike, here. He’s not just a pretty face.”

  “I don’t understand. Why do I have to be here?” asked Jack.

  “You don’t. It’s Brian we needed. Other than monitoring your health; and, of course, we know you do want to make all this right again, now, don’t you, Jack?”

  “What?”

  “You went to Brock, remember, Jack. He had Brian for eighteen months, right. We are going to check your son out, completely; to make sure he has no illness, and no implants. Don’t worry; he has no idea. It was Brock’s insurance that you would convince Matt to do what he wants. You wanted us involved from the start. Remember the café, and wanting my help. Well, now you have it. We all need each other, now.”

  Jack sat stunned.

  “Okay, Mr. Mike; let’s go.”

  They opened the car doors and got out. The three had the weapons under their coats; and, they looked like lost tourists. Mike led them to the end of the parking lot, through narrow winding streets, for about a quarter mile. Then, he stopped, above a five-foot wide rock stairwell.

  “The church is about 5 blocks from here, over there, Sir. Look, up on the roofs, to the right and left.”

  “Yes; I see; look there, you two; be careful.”

  Swanson pointed; and then spoke softly to Mike, “They are Brock’s men. Are we good to go under?”

  “Two Carrier-Units are about four blocks away.”

  “Hmm, let’s go; fast and quiet.”

  Mike led them down the winding stairwell to a door at the bottom. It opened into a small one room that had an eating table, two windows and a closet.

  “Through there, Sir.”

  The closet was an entryway to an old tunnel system, put in place by the Palestinians, during the seven-day war, in the ancient 1960s.

  “I can’t get over these glasses,” Jack said. “Flashlights are obsolete, right.”

  “Heads up; watch your step; follow me.”

  They walked into a tunnel about one hundred feet. Mr. Mike stopped and read his Knofer, as though scanning the walls.

  “This is it, Sir; best reception point.”

  “Yes good; we are close enough now.”

  Swanson took his own Knofer out and tapped it several times. Then, he put it on the dirt floor.

  “Activate catacomb details.”

  The Knofer displayed a five-foot tall hologram of the church, mapping all its rooms.

  “Now comes the hard part, men,”

  Swanson spoke toward the Knofer again, “GGM-001…Statistics on all life forms within fifty-meters, spherical of church.”

  The Knofer placed moving, glowing dots, throughout the hologram.

  “Zoom ten times…Look there; Mike, below the Edicule. It looks like they are in one of the Kokhims.”

  Swanson touched the hologram and it magnified the image, with even more detail.

  “Yes Sir; that’s them… Look; that one is clearly lying down; unable to move.”

  “Excuse me,” Jack said, “Kokhim, Edicule?”

  “Edicule is the church location of the tomb of Jesus.” Swanson pointed and explained. “That Kokhim is one of the small short tunnels, throughout the underground, where the Jews buried the rock like containers holding the bones of their dead…Mike; can we get a Carrier to collapse the flooring below him?”

  “No, Sir, too dangerous; the whole church could come down.”

  “How far is the closest Carrier post, from that spot?”

  “On the other side of the church, Sir; maybe a quarter mile…”

  “All right; give me your Knofer, Mike.”

  Swanson transferred all detail information about the church.

  “Mike, go back; have the Knofer pinpoint every Brock operative…”

  “Can you do that?” Jack asked.

  “… Take them all out. Meet us at the Crusader Facade entrance to the church; and bring guards. We will give you fifteen minutes. By then, we will be at the Façade.”

  “See you soon then, Sir.”

  Mike left.

  “Have a seat, you two.”

  “What now?” Bellos asked.

  “Just this…”

  Swanson put his Knofer on the floor, again; and, with a touch, he pulled up a close holographic view of Ahmed and the prisoner in the tunnel.

  “Now we are going to say hello.”

  Swanson did something Bellos didn’t realize was possible. He projected an image of himself into the tunnel, in front of Ahmed. Right before his eyes, in the dark, there was a flickering light the size of a candle. Ahmed froze in terror. A laser type dot began tracing the image of Gordon Swanson from the shoulders up. Ahmed reached for it, trying to slap it. He threw dust at it; but it continued to draw the three dimensional image. It was done within seconds. Ahmed recoiled in fear, as it began to speak, “Hello Mr. Ahmed. Do not be afraid. I will not harm you. I have come to take you to safety.”

  Ahmed shook fearing the worst.

  “Praised be to Allah,” he stuttered. “ I am not your enemy. Please do not kill me.”

  “Ahmed; calm, yourself. I will be with you soon. Your family is safe; but why do yo
u hold this hostage?”

  “I am afraid…”

  “If I can do this miracle, and you see me now; surely you know I am not lying to you. Look; and see your family.”

  With those words, a different hologram replaced Swanson’s head, showing Ahmed his wife and two children boarding a plane, with two GGM men.

  “At some point, Ahmed, you have to believe. This would be a good time to start.”

  “I do; I do; I am frightened, but thankful.”

  “Good, my friend. Now; there is no reason to keep your prisoner blindfolded. You are not the only one who is afraid.”

  “When will you free us?”

  “We are leaving now. Target 6:13 p.m. You have the clothes?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “Please; make your guest comfortable. If they suspect; it is over. Tell me Ahmed; do you have the vial?”

  “Yes, my lord; and, I have something better.”

  Suddenly, the Knofer cut the image.

  “All right you two, let’s hurry,” Swanson said.

  …From directly above the underground Carrier station, one-quarter mile from the main Façade entrance, Mr. Mike instructed five special ops guards…

  “Okay men, set your weapons. Be quiet and quick. You all have precisely seven minutes, starting now; go.”

  The special clad guards ran silently into the night.

  …The night-vision or GGM-glasses were critical…Jerusalem was black, with no moon shining...

  “This way, Jack; try to keep up?”

  Swanson led the three through the dark narrow streets, winding to the church. Suddenly, there was a ping next to Jack. He never heard a real bullet ricochet. He had no idea where it came from. But; his reactions were quick, and, surprisingly, accurate. In one motion, he turned to the left; looked up toward the high building rooftop; pulled his weapon out; pointed and pulled the trigger. The noise sounded like the pop of an air rifle. A Brock mercenary fell behind the three, splat, onto the street.

  “Holy shit, Jack,” Bellos said. “Where did you learn that?”

  “Hell if I know.”