Destination Mars - Part 2

by Jack Webber

  DESTINATION MARS

  (Book 2)

  Jack Webber

  Introduction

  I want to thank you and congratulate you for downloading the book, “DESTINATION MARS (Part 2)”

  Thanks again for downloading this book, I hope you enjoy it!

  Other books link- http://booksonlyforum.blogspot.in/2018/03/list-of-other-books-from-mohammed-ayya.html

  © Copyright 2018 - All rights reserved.

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  - From a Declaration of Principles which was accepted and approved equally by a Committee of the American Bar Association and a Committee of Publishers and Associations.

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  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  OTHER EBOOKS

  ONE

  Squanto recited a series of digits, and John copied them down on his folded piece of paper in amongst his prior scribblings.

  He punched the digits into her card and a menu of accounts appeared. Each one had a hefty balance, and together they represented a small fortune.

  "Ok, we need to transfer all this money to my account. Let's take them one at a time. I've called up your first account. Enter your transfer code and place your finger on the scan-strip. Then pass it back to me."

  She did as directed, and the amount appeared in blue. John entered his account number and the money was transferred, just like that.

  Seven times Squanto entered her code, and seven virtual vaults emptied their contents into his private account, which Mellissa knew nothing about.

  He transferred 50,000 leppa to their joint account, just for grins. "A bonus," he'd say, if Mellissa asked, "a really big bonus."

  "Thank you." said John as he put her money card back into his pocket. "Now, here's what we're going to do. I'm going to pick up a few things," he was already putting things back into drawers and on shelves, "and then I'll take your cuffs off, and we're going to walk quietly to the back door. I'll call for a car, and we're going to go to a public restaurant, about 3 miles away. I'm going to drive on manual; there will be no record of this trip."

  John was interrupted by a soft beep, as though someone had pressed a button on the microwave. Squanto's hands were in plain view. He looked around but couldn't see anything amiss. Squanto knew what it was, and she smiled. Her vaginal insert had dropped three degrees below body temperature, and was calling for help. Could she stall for time, long enough for her friends to arrive? No matter, they could follow a trail.

  John decided the beep came from one of her devices in the closed metal box. If it was sending out a radio signal, it would be trapped inside. But if it was releasing a cloud of nerve gas, he was in trouble. The box was not air-tight, and even if it was, it would probably explode under the pressure. Those devices could do almost anything. It was time to go.

  "When we get to the restaurant I'll let you out. You run through the summer heat into the building, call another car, and go wherever you like. I'll drive back to work, on manual, and none of this ever happened."

  John washed the coffee cups thoroughly, especially the cup with the baromethyzol. He placed them back on the shelf and looked around for anything else that might be out of place. Everything seemed in order, as though no one had been here. Obviously he'd have to remove his paraphernalia later. You don't usually find handcuffs in the bottom drawer of a kitchen cabinet, but there wasn't time to worry about that now.

  "If you deviate from this plan, if you talk to anyone, if you try to run away, I'll blow your neck off. I've implanted a C4 capsule in your neck, with a remote detonator. You can feel it on your right side."

  She raised her hands to her neck and confirmed the presence of the foreign object.

  John held up the remote control of a TV set and continued. "All I have to do is push two buttons, and it's over. Any questions?"

  Squanto shook her head, and John removed the cuffs and put them back in the drawer. He also put her notebook in the drawer, and made a mental note to incinerate it later. "You won't be needing this anymore." He suspected it was just for show, and since she didn't protest, his hypothesis was confirmed. "Let's go."

  They walked to the back door without incident. John called for a car, and waited for what seemed like eternity.

  Squanto was plotting, he could see it in her eyes. She was planning his death, her revenge, and it wasn't pretty.

  Finally the car pulled up and they stepped outside. The summer sun beat down hot and furious, and neither of them had a shade, but that was part of the plan.

  The long infrared rays passed through Squanto's skin and struck the implant. A photoconductor passed current, and the countdown timer began. She had 60 seconds to live.

  John expected this, given the summer heat. He didn't want Squanto to die on public grounds; they had to make it to the car.

  They sprinted for the car. He pushed her inside and over to the passenger seat, then he got in and closed the door.

  "Manual drive." he said, and the destination icons were replaced with indicators that showed speed, fuel remaining, and proximity to other cars. The hydrogen tank was almost full. That was good news; he didn't want to stop for gas.

  "Lock doors." The doors locked tight with a metallic click.

  That was her cue. John had never seen anything move that fast in his life. Squanto's right hand was on his throat, crushing his windpipe, and her left hand gripped his right wrist like a vice.

  His left hand still held the remote control. He realized, too late, why she didn't lunge for that hand. It was farther away, next to the driver's door, but that wasn't the reason. He couldn't press the proper buttons in sequence, and hold on to the unit, with just one hand. Furthermore, John had to breathe, and right now! He dropped the unit and t
ried to peel her hand off of his throat. He had to use his free hand to defend himself, and so he was sure to drop the remote. Squanto knew this would happen; that's why she held his right hand with her left.

  "Smart." thought John as the useless remote clattered to the floor. "She's been trained, or she's fought for her life before. Her strategy was perfect. And she's strong!" Her hand tightened around his throat despite his feeble efforts to pull it away, while a vice squeezed his radius and ulna together until they were at the breaking point. He wanted to scream, but there was no sound. He gasped for breath, but nothing moved.

  The countdown timer reached zero (from 60 seconds), the capsule spilled its contents into Squanto's blood stream and she fell in a heap on the floor.

  TWO

  John leaned back in his seat and gasped for air. His throat felt like it was on fire. He flexed his right hand and watched it open and close.

  "She didn't break the bones," he thought to himself, "but there are going to be some nasty bruises, and I don't know how I'm going to explain that to Mellissa."

  He stared at the touchscreen, with its odd gauges and indicators, and then he looked at the road ahead. "Now how the heck do you drive a car?" It had been a long time.

  He gripped the wheel with both hands and pressed down on the accelerator with his right foot. The car lurched ahead and drifted off to the right. He over-steered, and the car skated across the road and onto the left shoulder.

  "Good thing nobody else is around."

  After a couple miles John regained some of his driving skills. A narrow road led up a hill, and around a perennial pond that was dry as dust during the summer. Plenty of visitors came in the winter, to swim or enjoy a picnic, but there was nobody here today.

  The sun circled the sky 24 by 7, and the heat was relentless. Squanto's body would not even attract scavengers for at least two months, as they usually came out at night. Time would erase his tracks, and the summer heat would degrade his DNA.

  John opened the door and pushed the body out. It rolled down the hill to the base of the pond. He stared at her lifeless corpse for a few minutes, and then got back in the car. "No time to dally; another car could come along any minute."

  He took one last glance out the window, to verify that the body was not visible from the road. Most people didn't look out the window anyways.

  John drove back to the power plant, where he had called the car an hour earlier. "Auto drive." That was the command that left his brain, but his throat produced only an incomprehensible whisper. Squanto had really done a number on his larynx. He tried to clear his throat, once, twice, wincing at the pain.

  "Auto drive." This time it was a string of raspy vowels. "I guess that's an improvement," he thought, "but I'd better get my voice back before I head home tonight."

  He looked at the virtual dashboard for several minutes, searching for the auto drive icon. "There it is." He tapped it, and saw his familiar destinations reappear.

  No - he couldn't go home. And he didn't want to go anywhere else either. John did something he had never done before; he pushed the anywhere button.

  Some of his friends liked to go for a drive once in a while, but he thought it was a waste of time and resources. Well, this was a good time for a drive.

  The car ran around town with no particular destination in mind.

  "Mirror." Again, raspy vowels, and the computer couldn't make sense of his command. One or two word functions had become ten minute excursions into menus and submenus.

  "Where the heck is the mirror icon?" After stumbling through several menus, he clicked on environment, then windows, then mirror.

  The windshield turned into a mirror, and he saw his own reflection, including the bruises around his neck. "Oh sh*t." he muttered aloud, and he actually heard most of the phonemes.

  He cleared his throat a couple more times and spoke again. "John C. Larse." His voice was coming back, and just in time too. It was almost 4:30, and he should be home by now. "Phone"

  A speed call list appeared in front of him, and he touched home. It rang twice, then Mellissa's voice filled his car, as though she were sitting right next to him.

  "Hi John. Is that you?"

  "Yeah, the computer has it right. It's me, and I'm in a car."

  "Stuck in traffic?" she asked.

  Thank you Mellissa, for coming up with the obvious. "Yeah," he lied, "some kind of accident. I could ask the car to find some other way round, but I think we're coming up to it now. Anyways, I'm going to be a bit late. Don't worry though, the meeting went well today, and I think we're on track for Mars."

  Mellissa was so relieved she did a little dance. She knew her husband was in danger, even though he tried to hide it. Now he was on his way home, and he was all right, although...

  "Something wrong with your voice? You sound a little hoarse."

  "Yeah." said John, stalling for time. "There was a gas leak at reactor 4 and I took in a lung full. I'm ok, just coughing a little."

  "What kind of gas? Did you see a doctor?"

  John skipped the first question. "The company doc came by and checked us all out. We're fine. Oh by the way," anxious to change the subject, "I got a bonus today for my participation in the conference. Jane too. A big bonus, so don't spend it all in one place."

  "Great! See you when you get home."

  John said goodbye and felt terrible. After the third lie, he had had enough. This was no way to run a marriage. He would tell her everything once they got to Mars. But how do you tell your wife you're a murderer? What is the best way to broach that delicate subject?

  "Makeup." said John, and a new menu appeared. He pulled the wand out of the dashboard and held it against the side of his neck. "Match skin."

  Almost a minute went by. "Skin tone synthesized." replied the car. A tray slid out of the front panel, with brushes, cotton balls, and a container of paste that looked just like his skin. He dabbed makeup over the bruises on his neck until they were almost invisible, even up close. "Match skin." he said as he pointed the wand at his arm. The tray retracted into the dash, and reappeared 50 seconds later with a slightly darker paste that matched his arm. He covered the bruises on his wrist and put the brushes away.

  "Home." he commanded, and the car turned around. He couldn't wait to hold Mellissa in his arms again.

  THREE

  "I'm sorry, but Senator Hastings has appointments all day today. If you're not on the docket, I don't see how he can squeeze you in. He's a very busy man."

  John's car accelerated and merged onto the highway.

  "Well my name is Squanto, and it's important that I see the Senator today. I'm on my way over, and should arrive in about an hour. Please give him the message, because I think he'll want to see me."

  "I'll give him the message, but I really think you should save yourself the trip. He won't be able to see you today."

  "I understand." said John. "Just be sure and give him the message."

  The speed call list was still on the screen, so he touched work personnel.

  "I'm feeling very ill, and I'm going to have to take the day off. Can you notify my department?"

  "Certainly - who is your boss?"

  "Hank Bruder, but he's away on business, so just let the department head know."

  "Very good; I'll pass the word along. ... But if you have to stay home today, why does caller ID show you in a car?"

  "Oh. Yes. I'm on my way to the doctor."

  She checked her records and saw that John had missed only one day this year, so she didn't question it. "Well I hope you feel better soon."

  "Thank you. I hope so too. I've got the weekend to recover, so I should be back on Monday."

  John sat back in silence, rehearsing his lines, just in case he managed to get an audience with the Senator. When you play this game, you have to act like a king. That's something he learned from reading Shogun.

  An hour later John found himself in a reception room outside Senator Hastings' office. The receptionist l
ooked at him through thick glasses, her blonde hair tied back in a bun.

  "I know the name, Squanto, and I'm sure you've been here before, but you don't look familiar." She tapped her pen on the desk and stared at John. "I thought you were a short woman with dark hair. Well I must be confused. So many people come through here."

  "Quite all right." said John with a smile.

  "You must be a good friend, because the Senator has cleared 20 minutes for you. I didn't think he would, but hey, what do I know? Have a seat and I'll tell him you're here."

  John sat in an overstuffed chair and tried to relax. The receptionist picked up an intercom and keyed the mike. "Tony, Squanto is here."

  "Fine." replied the small speaker in her hand. "Send her in."

  The receptionist put the intercom down and stared at John through narrowed eyes. "Send her in? Look, I don't know who you are, but you're not Squanto, and if you're playing games with Senator Hastings, you’re probably going to wind up dead. Now you've got two choices. You can get the hell out of here and save your skin, or you can go in there and play Russian Roulette. Either way, I'm not involved."

  John opened the door to the Senator's office and stepped inside.

  FOUR

  "All right Squanto, what do you..." He looked up from his desk. "You're not Squanto! Now get out of here." His hand moved towards a security button on his desk.

  "Hold it!" The Senator's hand froze in mid air, stopped by the force of John's words. "You'll want to hear what I have to say."

  "You've got five minutes." grumbled the Senator.

  John closed the door and sat down across from Senator Hastings.

  "Squanto is dead." he began.

  "I'm not surprised. I always thought she was a bit of an amateur. I also wouldn't be surprised if you were lying through your teeth."

  "Well I'm not, and I have her money card to prove it."