Higher Cause

by John Hunt

  Marcos, who had been pacing the deck slowly, waved his hand back at the captain to acknowledge the information. Then he looked at Harrigan.

  The professor had taken a seat on a lounge chair, facing forward. The wind, hitting his face as the yacht cut through the water, soothed his injuries somewhat. He had not heard Captain Zamrano’s words, but it was not a surprise when the giant figure of Marcos moved in front of him, blocking the anesthetic breeze. The pain instantly increased, and his head began to ache badly, so badly that he worried that he was bleeding inside his skull. It did not escape him that such an injury could be fatal. But it probably would be irrelevant in a few minutes.

  “It is time to prove that your radio-controlled apparatus works at a distance, Professor. And I doubt I need to remind you of what will happen if it fails. Now get up, please.”

  Harrigan pushed himself out of his seat, holding the control box carefully. “This is insane and unnecessary, Mr. Marcos. What do you expect to gain by destroying the Island and killing those people?”

  “Revenge, Professor. And some emotional satisfaction. And perhaps a bit more, that you need not know about.”

  Harrigan showed the box to Marcos. “First you need to press these yellow ignition buttons to turn on the device. Then the activate button. That’s this button here. You get to press that one. I won’t do it.”

  Marcos nodded, and took the control box from his hands. “Perhaps I will do it all myself.”

  “Governor Marcos, let us go to your communications room first. I want to see something.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We have attached a camera to the telescope. We can pick up the signal from the camera with your onboard equipment. I just want to make sure we are actually aiming the thing in the correct place.”

  Marcos seemed intrigued by this — both the notion of seeing what was about to occur in close up, and Harrigan’s willingness to offer up additional information. The men went below. Elisa stayed on deck.

  In the small radio room adjacent to the captain’s cabin below the bridge, a small color television monitor was tucked in amongst the various electronic apparatuses. It took Harrigan only four minutes to make the necessary adjustments to tune the receiver to pick up the signal broadcast from a little camera he had attached to the center of the telescope on Paradise 1. When a picture came into focus, it was of a full-screen view of Science Hall. In the precise center of the screen was the uppermost level of the building — the restaurant, capped by its peak of shining cut glass.

  “It seems you have aimed the device well, Professor. I am impressed. Now, let’s see how this scene looks when we activate the weapon.” He pressed six yellow buttons on the control box, and six purple beams of laser light successively aimed directly at the top floor of Science Hall. The image in the television monitor was crystal clear. Juan Marcos could almost imagine himself as one of the horrified people within, knowing death was near. “Now, let’s go up on deck. I want to see the plume of water again. It was glorious, you know, when you destroyed that other island. It will be even more so now, when I do it.”

  Harrigan followed Marcos back out to the deck. Elisa turned when they came back out. “Is it done?” she asked fretfully.

  “No, Maria,” Marcos replied. “I wanted to be up here to activate it. The professor has declined to press the button, my dear. Maria, would you press the button for me? It would make me very happy.”

  There was no response but an expression of disdain.

  “No. I didn’t think so.” Marcos held the control box up high, dramatically, and pressed the last button. On the television monitor below, the radioman watched as a brilliant white beam shot out of the center of the telescope, hitting Science Hall in the center of the hexagon formed by the ultra-violet lasers. The monitor went pure white for a moment, and then there was nothing but static.

  55. Fraud and Force

  “JACK GAIMEY! THANK God. Hurry up and untie us!” Onbacher’s shout turned all eyes toward the elevator.

  Jack Gaimey was beaming broadly as he hustled over toward Petur and began to unbind him. Petur had already wrested the base of his right thumb out from the tightly constricting duct tape, and Jack Gaimey had only to pull hard. The sticky tape released its bond with his skin — and the hair on the back of his hand — with reluctance, but it did release him, and within seconds he was digging at the frayed end of the section of tape that held his chest to the table behind him. Like two acrobats, Jack Gaimey and Petur worked to free the remainder of Petur’s bonds, each layer removed taking him precious seconds. Finally, he had two hands free to rip through the tape lashing his ankles. Jack Gaimey moved briskly toward Sophia. Petur was noticeably slower in his efforts to untie the others.

  Petur freed Isaac next. Unlike Petur, Isaac seemed to recognize the urgency of this desperate situation and immediately ran toward Otto Wagner to release him. That task was not easy, for the Mexican soldiers had been particularly conscientious in binding the very large man. Isaac’s impatience was not helpful, for he found himself pulling at the tape haphazardly, which only served to curl in the edges and make the tape impossible to rip.

  Sophia did not need to update the others that the violet laser beams from the observatory were now activated and targeting them directly. The crystalline structure of the roof served to refract the incoming rays throughout the interior, fracturing each beam into hundreds of delicate filaments that traversed the air inside like a three-dimensional spider web. The carefully crafted glass, which so easily turned simple light into glorious rainbows, was struggling to refract these lights likewise. But the lasers’ lights, tuned to one frequency precisely, could not be split. They remained violet.

  “I think we’ve had it.” It was Otto Wagner speaking. His feet were still solidly bound, though his hands were free now and working feverishly at freeing the rest of him.

  Joseph, working equally rapidly, added, “It would seem so.” And then, as if but a distant witness of the whole event, he asked, “Petur, what happened to Paradise 5? What’s about to happen to us?”

  Petur replied, “Perhaps my sister can tell you how we could use lasers to destroy an island. She is the physicist, after all.”

  Joseph and the others turned towards her. She could only shake her head and say, “I have absolutely no idea how it was done.”

  Petur laughed, for just a moment. “Our best physicist has no idea how we did it.” He seemed to be almost carefree, oblivious of their impending demise. He sat down and put his feet up on a table. “So let me give everyone a little hint: we didn’t.”

  The silence of the room was his only response. Petur’s face, toward which they all gazed, was bathed in the surrealistic hue of the brilliant violet that seemed to fill the sky. The whites of his eyes fluoresced softly. He remained silent for a moment longer.

  From high up on the mountain, the white beam then came forth, perfectly centered in the midst of the violet lasers. Unlike the other frequency-specific rays, the white beam was a mixture of wavelengths, and on its impact the crystalline roof successfully split the light into its multiple components. Suddenly, bright colors splashed excitedly throughout the place in a tremendous and stunning display.

  It was the white beam that had signaled the destruction of Paradise 5. The white beam was the end.

  Petur laughed again. “Please enjoy the display everyone. This incredible light show of which we are in the midst is just that: a light show. It certainly has no power to destroy an island, and is completely harmless to us. Except, perhaps, for giving us a little suntan.”

  Onbacher exhaled audibly, perhaps particularly so, because he had been holding his breath for over a minute. “You mean the whole thing was fake?”

  “The apparatus up there on the observatory was the idea of one of the sixteen-year-old girls in the school. It was a science-fair project. She wanted to make a spectacular light show with some extra lasers we had around. It should be great entertainment up here in the future, don�
��t you think? It would have been nice for her to be able to enjoy it with us on its first deployment!”

  “But those lasers are highly powerful! I could smell the ozone. That takes pretty high energy, Petur.” Sophia was thinking as a fully competent physicist again.

  “You could smell the ozone the first time, when it was aimed at Paradise 5. You could even hear the thunder-like crack as the lasers cut through the air. But you cannot smell it now, can you. Or hear it.” He paused while the others sniffed the air for the characteristic sweet scent and listened intently. “If you look in the kitchen there, you will find a remote-controlled ozone generator with a connection to this room’s ventilation ducts. That, and some loudspeakers making sparking noises on the floor below. We needed it to complete the effect — for Juan Marcos, that is.”

  Sophia nodded, and then queried, “The effect? What kind of effect were you seeking?”

  “We had to have him believe we had an incredibly powerful weapon. So we threatened him with one, thus giving him an excuse to back out of this situation. He could save face if he could say to his buddies back home that an enormous new weapon was about to blow him out of the water. Of course, we were planning on threatening his warship. Its sinking put a hole in our plans, leaving little to threaten.”

  “It certainly looks like he fell for it all.”

  “So far.”

  “So, is this episode behind us?” It was Wagner asking.

  “Not for Elisa,” Isaac said solemnly.

  “No, not for Elisa,” confirmed Petur. “And not for Evan Harrigan, I suspect.” Not one person in the room understood. “Professor Harrigan was the one who set up that laser-light show for our use. He had rigged a remote-control device, in case we needed it. Somehow, Juan Marcos must have gotten hold of that remote control, and I fear that along with it, he got hold of Professor Harrigan.”

  “I bet he wants Harrigan to build one for him,” Joseph commented. “So he probably won’t kill him. But all he will get in the end is a big light show. Harrigan will have the last laugh.”

  “But then, Marcos will kill him. We have to do something!”

  Finally, Otto Wagner was completely free and was able to stand. His voice dominated the room. “Damn right we do. And not just for Harrigan and Elisa, but perhaps for us as well. That laser show may have been just a big trick, but look out there.” He pointed to where Paradise 5 used to be.

  Jack Gaimey said, “The island is gone. That was not a trick.”

  Looking at Petur, Wagner stated, “Tell me if I’m right. Harrigan is indeed in possession of some incredible technology knowledge that could serve Marcos.”

  Petur nodded. With everyone now free, he led the way to the elevator, speaking over his shoulder. “Otto, you are absolutely right. The laser system is a complete farce. But, on the other hand, Paradise 5 clearly is gone. Harrigan did that, and he is the only person who knows how to do it. And just how he did it may well be the most important piece of information in the entire world.”

  Marcos looked astern of his luxury yacht, back toward the white clouds that hovered above the Paradise chain. He pressed the button again. He watched astern. Nothing happened at all.

  There should have been an enormous blast of spray and fog, towering up to the level of those clouds. Paradise 1 should be gone, and in its place a large hole, rimmed by water, filled with emptiness. But there was no evidence that the blast had occurred. He pressed the button once more, but no longer waited in anticipation.

  Angrily, he turned to Harrigan, who was standing nearby, looking forward. The professor must have known there would be no effect of pushing that button. “Professor!” he bellowed. “Activate the weapon, Activate this immediately!”

  Harrigan turned and looked at the man sternly. “It did activate. You saw it yourself on the television screen. It was on and aimed at Science Hall.”

  “But it did nothing. Are we out of range? Is this thing broken? What are you trying to do, Professor? Are you tempting me? If you do not finish this job, right here and now…” He could not finish the warning. His face was bright red, and he began coughing violently.

  Harrigan simply replied, “It did work. It has done exactly what it was programmed to do.”

  “But it did nothing!”

  “It has served its purpose well.”

  “You have deceived me. And now you will finish the task.” The command was direct, impassioned.

  Harrigan shook his head slowly. “I am tired of your threats, Governor. You have the power to take my life — that is clear. It is also clear that you would not hesitate to kill me. But I have no desire to assist you in enhancing your already excessive power. Expect no help from me.”

  “Well, then, Professor, you will sacrifice this fine young lady as well.” He paused, wavering. “I will give you time to consider. In one hour, you agree to help destroy Paradise 1 and build me a similar device — or, quite simply, both you and Maria will die. One hour. No more.” He pointed to two soldiers who were standing quietly nearby. One of them was the man with incredibly prominent jowls. “Lock them up together. Make sure they are secure. And have Sergeant Gonzales come back up here!”

  The yacht was sleekly designed, white-painted steel with swept-back darkened windows. From the outside it could have been mistaken for the vessel of a Hollywood actor or a Saudi sheik, or perhaps the tax write-off of a major corporation. One would expect to see scantily clad women doing aerobics on the sloping bow. Companionways below decks led to facilities no less luxurious than the surrounding hull. Ivory carpeting lined the passageways. Doors were appointed with brightly shining brass latches and hinges. Staterooms, bedecked with silk curtains and four-poster beds, were fit for royalty. Harrigan and Elisa were escorted past these luxuries and shoved roughly into a rope locker below the waterline, far forward in the boat. It had a heavy, metal, watertight door that slammed shut behind them.

  The small room was not tall enough for either captive to stand. It smelled of musty rope, mildew, and salt, combined with traces of oil. Not a trickle of light entered their tiny tomb.

  “Professor Harrigan, do you have any ideas?” Elisa was working the door latch and examining the hinges with her hands.

  “Not a one, I’m afraid. But I sure as hell hope he hangs for this.”

  “I was proud of you for not assisting that man. I thought you were really going to blow up Petur and everyone else on the island.”

  “I couldn’t have even had I wanted to. The whole contraption in the observatory is just a science-fair project of a teenager. It was designed to be a decorative light source for Gustav’s restaurant. I just hijacked it for a time and built this remote.”

  “You mean the whole thing with Paradise 5 was a scam?”

  “No, Paradise 5 is no longer there. That is a fact and certainly no scam. But the device on the observatory has absolutely nothing to do with it.”

  “A decoy.”

  “That’s right. Petur wanted to threaten Marcos, but not let him get hold of any technology.”

  “He got hold of you,” Elisa observed.

  “That was certainly not in the plans.” He considered only for a moment. “At least, not in my plans. I foolishly was responding to a call of nature.”

  There was silence for a time, except the sounds of Elisa exploring their small prison. “We are right in the bow of the boat,” she said. “Somewhere below the waterline, judging by the sound of water rushing past, wouldn’t you say?”

  “I guess so. I don’t think there is a way out, besides this one.” Harrigan’s expression went unseen in the darkness as he tapped on the heavy steel door. It made a discouragingly deep thud, like a heavy, but muffled, bell.

  The woman sat back, having given up on identifying a hidden egress. It was not a large enough area for each person to have their own private space, and so her legs rested on his. “You know, Professor, Juan Marcos will not kill you today.”

  “From what I can tell, we both have about forty-five minu
tes left.”

  “No. I have forty-five minutes left. You have potentially much more.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Professor, you can tell him you will build the machine for him, but refuse to use the one on the island to kill your friends. He will back off his threat if he expects you will cooperate later.”

  “No. He will use you to threaten me. He’ll say he will have you killed if I do not immediately cooperate.”

  Elisa smiled, unseen. “Yes, he likely will say that — which is why I have forty-five minutes left, for you can no more destroy Paradise 1 than I can. When you fail, or when your control box fails, Marcos will kill me. He does not need any further justification, I assure you.”

  There was silence in the dark rope locker for several minutes. Elisa shuffled her feet to get more comfortable, and Harrigan noted the pleasant scent of her skin beating back the salty and musty odor of the coiled rope upon which they were sitting.

  “I can tell him the truth,” he said. “I can tell him the laser system is a phony.”

  “I doubt he will believe you. Paradise 5 is gone. And if he did believe you, he would just kill us both. I do not recommend risking it.”

  Harrigan had no interest in dying. Marcos was right about him in several respects, perhaps most importantly in that he wanted some recognition. He wished to be able to write the dean, his old boss, a letter, and include a copy of his Nobel Prize in Physics. He would get the Nobel, if he lived. He was quite sure of that.

  On the other hand, he had to do something to prevent Elisa from being killed. Some sort of bold, brave, and heroic move.

  “Please don’t even try, Professor.”

  There was little further conversation in the rope locker. The ropes were not particularly comfortable to sit on, and the air in the tightly sealed locker grew progressively more stale, in spite of the pleasant scents of his companion. The time passed quickly nonetheless.

  Elisa once again tried to identify something that might be of use to them. The room was full of rope — large in caliber, and too long to be hidden on their person or to be used as a weapon. There were no knives, no tools of any kind. And the complete darkness persisted. It was a perfect little prison cell. She soon gave up, and sat back, waiting for the inevitable.