A Novel by:
Michael J. Costa, (C) Copyright 2013, All rights reserved.
CHAPTER
10:
The
newspaper headline claimed a Korean ship was seen off the coast of Ni’ihau
Island for about ten minutes, and then it vanished. Was it a submarine?
For three
hours I studied the digital maps, GPS readings, computer screens and
Tablets. Nothing was showing up. Where were the North Koreans? Why hasn’t
their ship been sighted? I slammed my
fists on the desk, tipping over a vial of ink onto a paper. The ink formed a shape. It resembled a sea creature of some sort,
maybe a lobster or crab.
I pulled
at my hair with my fingers, running through my head and then terminating at my
glasses frame. A blip kept beeping on
the GPS, but I ignored it.
I heard a
whirling sound outside. Someone’s
helicopter was hovering; it was a Black Eagle V-2 copter. I saw this on the view screen while I was
seated in my grotto control center. The
grotto exited into a pool of fresh water with waterfall leading to the front
lawn.
A man exited
the copter on a length of cordage. He
was dressed in Black Ops military clothing and wore a red bandana sash covering
his face. It was Marcus! Marcus had been a good friend over the years
prior to my insanity exploits. He
supplied me with paramilitary equipment as found in our Hatch. Now he supervised the Grotto’s communication
satellite in space. He was good with
computers, but poor at cooking; coffee was his best recipe, along with Kona
Instant.
“Luke! How
is your head feeling?” Marcus introduced.
“Better,”
I replied. “Our satellite?”
“It’s
good. We best talk indoors, I have some
alarming news to share,” he said quietly.
We walked
into the waterfall to the Grotto’s front deck.
I gave him a towel and clean slippers.
He filled me in on the logistics.
Marcus
inserted a flash drive into the USB Port on my Tablet PC. A map appeared of the Northern Sky. Points lit up the areas where normal
satellites are positioned. One big point
hovered over the rest, and it wasn’t the International
Space Station, either. This was
something else, something larger.
“NASA has
no clue about this,” Marcus started.
“The Koreans call it ‘The Fish,’ but local sources say it is a battle
station perched about the Hubble Telescope, hiding itself as a communications
satellite. Now you tell me, what com
satellite takes up a whole nine yards for a radio-telescope antenna?”
“Is it a
weapon of some sort?” I inquired.
“It’s a
Sonic Laser. Here, on this JPEG we have
an image shot from the Russian Cosmonaut, Roger Williamsky. Notice the long protruding light beam
accompanied by a radar dish the size of a plastic bowl. This contraption kills satellites. Why would
anyone do that?” Marcus said.
“What does
the report suggest?” I asked.
“The
report said nothing. CIA intel said
nothing. These are old KGB
schematics. Whomever is building this is
using Russian Cold War technology. I
believe,” he said. “We are dealing with
someone who really wants a bomb to prove some Superiority Complex.”
“What can
I do about it?” I asked.
“Here,” he
said. “Read this.”
Marcus
handed me a blueprint for a hand-held laser staff. Not that I adore movie props from Science
Fiction films, but this one resembled something from a George Lucas movie. I handed
it back with a firm handshake. Then I
stood up and walked over to the view screen on my cave wall.
“We can
build them,” Marcus started. “With your funding and my expertise, we can find
this group and end it.”
I stood
there peering down into the crevice of the natural wall, thinking. I turned back to Marcus, walked up to a
stalagmite in the floor and turned a small fake limestone fragment. A stone-on-stone sound rumbled behind us. “I have something to show you,” I told him
while walking down the mysterious stair well.
In the
bottom level of my Secret Lair Marcus saw my row of integrated beds, bubbling
liquids, steam, and genetic codes decorating the walls in colored ink. Each bed contained a covered, blond female
with a familiar appearance. All were
plugged into a computer mainframe with red tubing feeding a life support
technology.
“Oh my God, you didn’t,” he
exclaimed.
“No one
said it couldn’t be done,” I started. “So I did it. I cloned Alicia.
Here she believed I wanted children. No,
she was half-right, power does corrupt.
But I am not corrupt, and I strongly doubt the Root cured me entirely.
Here, Marcus, is my Grand Army, fresh
from Napoleon’s Dreams…”
CHAPTER
11:
Standing
in some strange, technologically appeasing chamber far above North Korea was a
rather large man. It wasn’t that he was
obese, for his size matched his strength.
One onlooker would confuse his gait with a Japanese Sumo Wrestler. Pinned to his stylish military fatigues was a
golden bar, with the Korean name, Ke
(Crab).
Ke turned
on his Acer Laptop computer, and made
a prepared speech to all foreign ambassadors within the Pacific Rim. In the video he showed first hand his Great
Beast, a substation in orbit around the Earth. The Great Beast could destroy
communication satellites, and damage the ISS with a few blasts of its laser
cannon. It also had a secret weapon
built in. It could detonate existing
nuclear warheads in their silos on Earth, thus trapping all the
countries that sponsored Nuclear Proliferation.
This agitated the USA and former Soviet Nations, because they both
harbored Nukes. Ke demanded the usual response: Lift
sanctions against North Korea plus $400 Billion Dollars in fees. This caused a commotion of arguments in the
world.
Luke was
among the first to hear this video, while he was taking a shower in his lavish
bathroom. A video screen popped up in
the shower wall, protected by a glass shield that reduced steam penetration.
“What on
Earth?!” I asked the computer. “How did
he make that?” I said while washing my hair with Cocoa Butter Shampoo.
The video
showed pictures of the Great Beast before it destroyed the
communication satellite that Luke had been watching, ending in a wave of
static. Luke switched the video off satellite
and reverted to a control box with fiber optics. Then he saw the GB from another angle. He immediately typed in a cell phone while in
the shower, using the Tablet features embedded in the wall.
A call was
made to the Pentagon. Senior Vice-President
of Military Operations, Admiral Louis B. Benkhworth, answered his main
telephone – a gift from the Heavenborne
Foundation.
“Yes? This
is the Admiral,” he said. “He did WHAT?
Yes, sir, I will get on it. Promptly.”
Admiral
Benkhworth made a community call to his Generals in the DOD. They assembled in the War Room, below the
main level. The President was on his
way.
Walking
along the road leading to the White House was a distinguished man of
letters. His striped, wool sweater covered
a Kevlar vest with an American flag pinned over his heart. His hands reached into his pockets as he
watched Air Force jets streak over the calm Washington D.C. skyline. His tanned skin bore marks, or scars, from
his past – he was once a captive of Vietnam, during a Second War. A small box of pencils held his Red Cellular
Phone, answered only in emergencies. Two
Secret Service men escorted him on the path leading home. He saw the phone blink, so he picked it up
and spoke into the digital message center.
“Mr.
President? Admiral Benkhworth here. We
have a situation…” the voice said.
“I
see. Can you contact Sally?” President
Cecil Wallington answered. Sally was a
chief of technology working in the Pentagon.
She also helped preserve the Nukes from age, and the USA Arsenal was
never in any real danger until now.
Luke heard
the messages between the President and the DOD via his custom phone system, as
Luke is CEO of the Heavenborne
Foundation. They were using his technology
after all.
Luke walked
down to the hallway and into his secret elevator. Then he opened up a switch and pressed the
ominous red button, which led him to the Grotto Command Center. He entered from the rear door, and was met by
his Butler, Farouk. Farouk helped him
design the floor tiles and communication relay system. Always good with a screwdriver, Farouk – an
heir to the original Farouk Dynasty initially from the Ottoman Turk Empire –
held a Doctorate in Technology from MIT.
His thick accent rivaled the savvy ideas gleaned by living on the
Mainland for far too long.
“Sir?” he
started.
“Farouk, I
need communications. One of our
satellites was hit. I need to know the
whereabouts of this Great Beast. Check
radar,” I told him bluntly.
“Yes, sir,
I will comply,” he replied. “Oh sir? Your girlfriend left you a message on the
machine. It seemed vital,” he said.
I pressed
the answering machine button on my intercom.
A vague sound accompanied the message, but I could not discern its
existence. It was Alicia. She had a car accident. But the car wasn’t one of hers.
Embarrassed
that I had allowed her into my life at this time, I realized my secret life was
infringing on my billionaire lifestyle.
Alicia discovered one of my custom BMW cars, the one with a submergible
feature. She said that she was driving
it to go to her College class and accidentally touched a hidden feature, the
one that causes jets to open and landed her in the College swimming pool. Thankfully no one was in it. She had called from the pool bottom, and was
frantic. I told her to open up the
Coffee maker and press the Decaf button (I am a Caffeine addict, so I never
accessed this feature). The ejection
seat activated, causing Alicia to fly into the air. She landed on an inflatable raft. The Car sealed its ceiling and pumped pool
water out from a built-in recirculator.
Then it drove itself out of the pool using a GPS with thrusters. My car then drove itself home with Alicia
looking on in disbelief.
CHAPTER
12:
A week
later Ke made an appearance. He threatened the Air Force on Kauai with a test of his Great Beast, the unmanned
satellite in orbit, via his Stealth Submarine.
Luke saw this while driving one of his custom BMW cars near the Kilauea waterfalls.
With the
GPS tracking screen on, I pressed the cigar lighter button and this opened a
panel near the Air Bag section of the dashboard. The panel slid open and a television popped
in place. The channel was a local
one. Ke was close by. My costume was my underwear, so I donned a
mask that showed my mouth only. Then I
manually tinted the car windows for privacy, and sped off the cliff, the car
bottom converting into a Hydrofoil. My
wheels became pontoons after turning inside the vehicle. Ke was so close I could practically smell his
cheap aftershave.
The
submarine crept along the rocky coast of Northern Kauai. It was almost on par with the
Lighthouse. Then it breached the waves
like a whale gasping for air. The old
Cold War submarine was visible.
“Aha!
There you are,” I said to the sub. My
car piggybacked the sub’s current, traveling on the rippling waves.
Ke was not amused. His crew notified him by the mounted 360
degree camera nearest the peephole of the sub.
Fortunately Ke had an edge: my
Kauai License plate still shown on my front end of the BMW. I never took traffic school classes and do
not intend to. Ke accessed his computer
and wired his Creditor, purchasing Public
Records on me in minutes.
My BMW
launched a roped hook towards the sub.
It hit anchor around a pipe on the sub’s bridge. Then I simply recoiled the rope like a
fishing pole. Exiting my car, I found
the sub’s hatch open. So I entered.
Inside the
Cold War relic, I noticed all the computers aligning the walls were off. A light in the far cabin led to this chamber;
it was locked. I placed both hands on
the wheel and a voice behind me boomed. It was Ke.
“Welcome
to my humble abode, Mr. Heavenborne! I am Ke, direct heir to the Emperor of
North Korea. Have you met my pet?” he
asked as a giant boa constrictor was presented to me.
“North
Korea has an Empire?” I inquired.
“Yes… As a
matter of fact, we own Japan and parts of Australia. To Own
means something besides property, it means Control. Our computers in space recently took
possession of all networks in those countries,” Ke explained.
“You are
one sick bastard,” I said.
“Not
really, Mr. Heavenborne,” Ke said. “You
have some experience with Psychosis, according to your records on file here,”
Ke smiled evilly. “Here, let me help you
find your way…” he said as he threw the snake onto my shoulders. The snake squeezed its vertebrae around my
abdomen, its strength showing off its power.
“You
won’t… get away…with this… Ke,” I struggled to say.
“Oh one
more thing,” he said. “Thank you for the
escape car.” Ke laughed like a madman while exiting the sub and into my parked
BMW above.
The Boa
was not an issue, though I once had a fear of reptiles and snakes. Like he just happened to have one on
board? I reached back towards my jet
pack and retrieved a pouch. It contained
Snake Repellant.
The boa
wrapped itself around my face and neck, pressing its body against me. One finger latched onto the pouch, dragging
it to me while I lay on the floor. My second finger opened the pouch, and my
right foot found it and slid the pouch to the tail end of the snake. It worked like Catnip. The snake sensed the pouch with its forked
tongue, and immediately slid away somewhere.
I
reassembled my equipment. The sub was
inactive, as Ke took the keys of ignition.
This wasn’t going anywhere, I thought.
I walked back up the hatch. The
hidden chamber contained the crew, though I couldn’t access it. Once I was atop the sub, I noticed escape
pods had all ejected from the bottom of this relic. My car was gone, with a trail of steam in the
atmosphere.
I pulled
the back switch, and activated my Jetpack, its water turrets gushing water
vapor up into the still air. My controls
contained two black joysticks and a console panel. Piloting this was as easy as a toy
helicopter.
In
returning home to the Kauai Estate, I found Marcus on the ground nearest the
garage. He was waiting for me.
“Greetings,
Luke,” Marcus started. “Did we forget
something?”
“One of
our cars has been compromised,” I said angrily.
“Contact the Department…”
“I would
except for one small problem,” Marcus said.
“Alicia has been kidnapped. A
large Korean with a bad haircut came here about an hour ago. She thought it was you in the car so she
entered it, then he drove off. He left
you a ransom note, here.”
I read the
message from Ke. Despite his bad
handwriting and misspelled English words, the note showed a line art drawing of
a map with the reward of some hundred billions for her release, which I
ignored. There was a phone number below,
apparently from the phone in the car he stole.
“Ha! I
have a tracking code for that car!” I said to Marcus in delight. “Let’s go get him.”
MC 2013.
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