Zero Point (7 page)

“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

T
wo 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 exist
ed, 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 going 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

A
fter four mind-numbing days in and out of the Commissioner of Cultural Affairs Office in Las Palmas, Turner finally sat in his room at the Hotel Lattagia with the preliminary legal permits for research excavation in his hands. He hated the dance, as he called it, with the local bureaucrats.
They always find a way to delay the process in an attempt to appear relevant in their impious, little world,
Turner thought, tossing the hard fought papers onto the dresser. Adding to the difficulty was the little joke Samuel had played on the commissioner when they applied for permits to excavate the pyramid.

Turner laughed aloud thinking how Samuel, annoyed by the six day wait, had sent the commissioner a nicely wrapped box containing one thousand year old fossilized goat feces as a thank you.
Evidently, the man has a very good memory.

Turner then made a phone call booking the ferry passage back to Tenerife tomorrow for him and Samuel. Although they could have flown, it was only a four-hour cruise between the two islands. Turner enjoyed the passage, despite the fact that
being on the open water still brought back frightful memories of that fateful night in New Guinea.

He had seen the message light blinking on the hotel phone when he returned from the commissioner‘s office but avoided checking it.

It can wait,
Turner thought as he grabbed the remote for the room’s old TV set. I’m sure Dad is driving everyone nuts with his unyielding protocol when it comes to new digs. I’d just be in the way.

Turner had last spoken to his father two days ago. His father had reported that with the help of Carlos Santiago, the teams and equipment had been successfully transferred from the Pyramid site and that the work on the new site had just begun. He told Turner that the students had been assigned to documenting and recovering the Guanche artifacts, while he and Maria were keeping the mysterious tomb sealed.

Now waiting for Samuel’s return with something to eat, Turner vacantly surfed through the channels on the television. He came to an abrupt halt on the Grand Canaria Channel 3 News where a story in progress made him stare at the TV in disbelief. Standing in front of a nine-by-six foot white canvas tent on the familiar slopes of Tenerife, were his father and Maria. Both looked a bit overwhelmed by all the lights and cameras pointed at them. In Spanish, the news anchor was just finishing his narration of the news segment.

“—that being said, media crews, treasure hunters, and the religious faithful have been arriving here to be a part of
this amazing find.
This discovery, if true, may turn out to be one of the most significant finds since the discovery and excavation of King Tutankhamun’s tomb by Howard Carter in 1922. Stay tuned for weather and sports, coming up next—“

Turner quickly fumbled with the remote and scrolled through the channels. He stopped on another news broadcast where he saw a photo of his father in the upper corner of the screen as the news anchor reported.

“—It came from an anonymous source at the University of Jerusalem, just two days ago, the news that a team of archaeologists may have found a clue to the location of the mystical Holy Grail in a tomb below the summit of the island’s extinct volcano, El Teide. Centuries of search and speculation have always failed to prove the existence of this early Christian symbol, but now Dr. Eli Turner and his team may have discovered evidence to its whereabouts on the island of Tenerife in the Canary Islands. The reference to the Grail, the cup supposedly use by Christ during the Last Supper, was found written on an ancient parchment discovered in an old Guanche tomb.

Critics of the discovery, such as Alton Burr, question the validity of such a find. Burr, founder of the Secular America Movement, said in a statement that he would stop at nothing to prove this to be just another fraud perpetrated by the religious community in their continued attempt to control the minds of free thinking people worldwide. Burr, a former ACLU lawyer and member of the American Socialist Party, has
rumored that he is considering running for Senate in next year’s race in New York. When questioned about Burr’s statement, Dr. Eli Turner just laughed and walked away from our reporters. In other news tonight—“