The Time Stone (2 page)

Lieutenant Walton led the man through
the walkway and inside the museum, “I know we’re friends but this
cloak and dagger stuff is beyond anything I’ve known in my
professional career.”

“
All information is on a
need to know basis only,” said the man as he flashed his FBI badge
and identification card to the uniformed officer standing guard
outside the entrance. The man entered the museum, following his
local police colleague, and saw the many colorful exhibits of past
empires fallen and heroic figures dashingly displayed. The federal
agent’s jaw almost dropped in awe as he remembered his boyhood
fantasies of wanting to be like the gothic knights of the old code
in medieval Europe but then he snapped out of it when he remembered
why he was really there. He noticed a small dab of moisture being
emitted from a small pipe nearby one of the exhibits near a glass
casing, with a cleverly-cut hole in it, where a famous artifact
once rested but was now empty and surrounded by yellow police crime
scene tape.

The agent was looking around
mesmerized and did not notice that his old friend, the lieutenant,
was still talking. “I tell you it doesn’t make sense. Locals claim
they heard some kind of an implosion or explosion but there is no
evidence of any debris. Whatever it was, damn thing turned off the
alarm system.”

“
Interesting” said the
agent quietly looking around.

“
Adam, please come over
here.” Said Lieutenant Walton as he pointed to a black body bag on
the floor and grimaced.

Adam walked over and examined the
scene. "What is it Brock?"

“
The body is still fresh,
rigor hasn't set in. We responded as quickly as we could after the
alarm went on and off. The medical examiner says he is going to
need to take it right away but I wanted to wait for you to
arrive.”

“
Open it” said
Adam.

Lieutenant Walton sighed shaking his
head and bent down on one knee. He unzipped the bag revealing the
dead security guard, his face pale and his eyes shut. “Coroner
examined him just before you came. The cause of death was a bullet
from his own service weapon. Poor S.O.B. must have panicked in the
heat of the moment. It was a break in. Someone stole the pride of
the museum’s collection, the fabled ‘Eye of the Gods,’ exceedingly
rare emerald quartz. It’s supposed to be one of a kind. Its value
was last appraised and insured by Lloyd’s of London at over sixty
billion dollars. That is one pricey paperweight.” Lieutenant Walton
laughed at his own joke.

Adam noticed a slight green glow
behind the guard's ear that slowly faded into an electric faze. It
went unnoticed to the many others who observed the body. “This
wasn’t about money,” replied Adam without even a smirk as he stared
into the cold lifeless face of the former night security guard at
the Museum of Ancient History. “Wrap up the case files and the body
along with all security footage.” Adam spoke adamantly gesturing to
the cameras on the wall with his finger. “Our medical team and
forensics group will take it from here.”

“
But Adam, what the hell
is going on here?” Lieutenant Walton rose to his feet demanding
answers.

“
Sorry old friend” said
Adam, “but this is federal jurisdiction now in the interests of
national security.” Adam’s eyes burned with the electricity of his
heart and soul as he looked at the dumbfounded Lieutenant and put
back on his pair of sunglasses. Adam smirked as he turned and
walked towards the door opening it with one hand and reaching into
his breast pocket with this other hand for his cell
phone.

"What the hell does this have to do
with national security?" yelled Lieutenant Walton at his old
friend. Adam continued walking out the door as the cell phone he
held emitted a long antennae automatically. "What the hell?" asked
Lieutenant Walton rhetorically as he shook his head furiously with
the sound of footsteps far ahead of him and at the sight of his
oldest friend and army buddy walking away ignorantly.

CHAPTER 3

The darkness of a corporate boardroom
after hours was a plain sight for Melody Blinkett, a young
twenty-two year old well-dressed woman newly hired as a Paralegal
for Temporo Inc.’s General Counsel’s office. Melody remembered when
she interned for the company while in school and it seemed
different then, a lot more positive energy and fun exercises. Now
there was a colder and darker reality to the place she had grown
accustomed to. She figured she was early so didn’t bother to turn
the lights on. She just took a seat at the head of the long table
and opened her portfolio and shuffled some papers with corporate
stationery and handwritten notes in the margin. She studied them
arduously batting her long dark curls that kept getting in the way.
Then suddenly the doors swung open and the ceiling began to glow
with bright red, purple, and orange neon lights, a slight hum
surrounded the visages of color above, and a display screen
appeared rising up from under a secret compartment beneath the
table. A form appeared on the screen as it lit up, a faceless
shadow of a man who appeared to have waves of dark curls
surrounding his face like feathers attached to his flesh but
cloaked in total darkness and a pair of bright white eyes visible
on the darkness of his form. Several men and women in dark black
suits entered. Melody rose to her feet and nodded her head as she
nervously gathered her papers. A voice echoed across the room as if
coming from no one person in particular, causing everyone to take
their seats silently. “This emergency secret meeting of the 12-VM
Secret Command Council is called to order.” The voice echoed before
them, dark, crinkly, and mysterious. Melody shook in fright as she
sat in the back end of the conference room behind her boss, Luther
Von Strauss, Esq., General Counsel of Temporo, Inc. A symbol rested
on the table and on each cover of the leather portfolios carried by
each person. The symbol of the Temporo, Inc., a double curved
upside down arches as the symbol of the Egyptian serpent god
Apophis.

“
Let us begin” said one
man at the head of the table, a cocky middle-aged man with a sharp
tongue, quick wit, and schoolboy temperament. “It is important that
we act quick and not let our other factions find out about what
happened tonight. We do not want to cause problems for our various
overseas operations.”

“
True,” spoke Ogelsby
Bradshaw who was older and shorter standing next to his younger and
taller counterpart. Everyone in the room recognized Ogelsby
Bradshaw, founder and former Chief Executive Officer of Temporo,
Inc. Mr. Bradshaw was the wisest man in the company who has earned
the respect of everyone in the company from the senior vice
presidents down to the janitorial staff for his kind demeanor and
courteous smile. But no one knew the true nature of his private
life. “I put my complete faith in this young man, Mr. Broad
Staffnight, our new CEO, who will take my place and be a shining
example to our company’s continued success.” The older man then
took his seat.

“
Thank you, Mr. Bradshaw!
I am afraid I could only succeed you as no one could fill the shoes
you are leaving behind” said Broad rising to his feet in sincerity.
“Now, the first thing, down to business with this museum incident,
we know the death was no accident and wasn’t supposed to occur but
it did occur.”

“
We know that guard was
not supposed to be there, Sir” said a young blonde woman sitting
next to Broad’s seat. “But we saw from a hidden video surveillance
tape of the scene that he was out smoking a marijuana cigarette,
probably arrived early and waiting for his shift to start, when he
heard a noise and ran in to check it out and met his
death.”

“
Thank you, Liz” replied
Broad. “My assistant Elizabeth Peters has been working with me on
this cover up. We hired ‘the Culto’, a legendary band of misfit
ninja warriors, and we found the artifact. But now, a simple theft
by our Contractor turns into a homicide investigation by the
Federal Bureau of Investigation’s Strange Occurrences Project. Our
contacts within the Chronix Bay Police Department and FBI tell me
this was no accidental death as the police initially thought. It
was true that the guard was shot with his own weapon but because
someone or something turned it on him at the moment of impact
firing. Because of this strange method of killing, the Bureau is
giving it high priority and will stop at nothing to reveal the
truth. We can’t have this. If it were to be discovered that we
really sent the Contractor and what we sent him there for, then we
would jeopardize everything. We need patsies.”

“
Already done, Sir, a
random search of the citizen database found two virtual nobody
simpletons who are the perfect fall guys for this. Once they are
arrested and convicted, the case dies and no one is the wiser”
spoke Liz with a clear and concise voice. “No one would miss them.”
Liz patted two manila file folders under her leather
portfolio.

“
Good” said Broad, “and
what became of the artifact?”

“
It disappeared. Our guess
is the Contractor had no choice when he saw the guard who was not
supposed to be there and he panicked… he activated it.” Liz’s face
was blank, pale as a ghost. “It seems from our examination of the
police file and our own investigator’s reports, there was a
secondary alarm that he did not anticipate.”

“
Disappointing indeed,”
said Broad. “We hired the Culto to get the artifact back safely to
us, its rightful lawful owners since antiquity time, not to use it.
Regardless of his motives at the time, we need to get the artifact
back, the ‘Eye of the Gods’ must be returned home.”

“
But now, Sir, it is
simply gone” said Liz bluntly, “it could be anywhere in time or
space.”

“
We will find it my pupil.
There is another way.” Broad’s eyes burned with passion.

CHAPTER 4

The tall tower of the Chronix Bay News
building was looming over the daily routine of the urbanites
passing on the streets below to their respective destination. While
almost no one could tolerate the dangers of the high stakes news
business throughout the city, the beat belonged to hard-witted
reporter, investigative journalist, and anchorperson Sylvia
Armstrong. She knew since she was a small child that he was meant
to cover the mean streets and report the most important news to the
public. Her eyes widened from the vantage on the twenty-eighth
floor as she just barely saw a mugging in broad daylight, a man in
a hooded sweatshirt grab an old lady’s purse and run off into the
distance.

“
Crime statistics truly
are up in Chronix Bay
” thought Sylvia as
she sat at her desk facing the large full-sized wall window in her
office. She peered at the glistening visage of the ivory city over
the water, as it was called, a term coined first by her great
grandfather, Stanton Armstrong, one of Chronix Bay’s founding
fathers. She wondered how much the city had progressed, this great
municipality, since those bygone days. The stories of adventure and
pioneering days passed on by her forefathers were drilled into her
head since childhood, notably why she chose this career to pursue
the truth at all costs.

“
As the tides of time
sweep over man and country so does the weeping of its most vital
component.” A man’s hoarse voice echoes behind her as she turned
completely to see her boss, Michael Oppenheim, standing there. He
was a tall lanky man of Eastern European descent with a coy smile
that churned his ever ambiguous flamboyant yet openly jovial
personality.

“
Hey Mike” she said
turning back to the window.

“
Your ancestor often spoke
those words. We wouldn’t have what we have today were it not for
the sacrifices made by him and others like him.”

“
That I know… I’m not
worried about the past. I’m just worried about the future. We’re
facing a very real possibility that there is a growing divide in
our community. Rich vs. poor, white vs. black, old vs. the new way
of doing things and we may be losing the war. There is little we
can do.” Sylvia spoke cautiously as she faced her boss and
mentor.

“
As reporters we only find
and tell the truth, not make it.”

“
Maybe we ought to” she
turned back around facing the ‘ivory city over the
water’.

“
In every one of us there
lies a revolutionary,” she thought.

CHAPTER 5

Chronix bay’s downtown area was not
unlike any major metropolitan area in that it had its ups and
downs. Reams of truths inside massive tall buildings trying to
scrap the sky and store front outlets, eateries, localities
capitalizing every pocketbook and wallet holder walking around but
there were some landmarks that made the city interesting was for
many years, and continues to be, its shining body of water, the Sea
of Hope, leading into the vast network of rivers that fed out into
the Atlantic ocean, and also the tallest structure at the center of
town exceeding the other buildings in the area in both
attractiveness and unique design. Recently built, it was made of
pure nickel and glass metal and shining like an obelisk, a beacon
of hope, against the backdrop of the clear water in the distance.
It was a mighty fortress by the bay for the world to see, the
Chronix Bay Central Tower aptly named as being construed exactly in
the center of the city coordinates. Its history was a legend known
to every elementary school boy and girl who had to memorize the
classic song from the history books written in the name of the
founders’ old glory reigning onto the spectacular view and
transcendent proverbial power spilled out of the shining glass
walls to the memorial dedicated to the founding fathers. The Museum
of Ancient History was nearby showing the old and the new
reminiscent of that old blending to the new in the pages of
history.