The Time Stone (The Time Stone Trilogy Book 1)

by Robert F Hays

  A sudden mood swing stopped him next to a type of elm tree. “Screw you!” He yelled at the innocent tree and kicked it. “So, I’m going to be a multi quadrillionaire or something. Screw that, I wanna go home and see my family and friends.” He took off at a run in the direction of the lab. Tears were streaming down his face.

  A security guard at the door looked up at his approach. When he saw who it was he smiled. “Evening Mr. Young. Thought you were at a party or something.”

  “Screw you!” Jim yelled again. He stopped at the steel door and punched it with his fist. The guard’s face dropped.

  The lab’s security had increased dramatically. A metal façade was now in place over the glass wall in front. It had a voice print activated door.

  “Voice print identification,” the door requested.

  “Screw you!” The door unlocked and opened. Jim entered.

  There were other security guards in the building who smiled and nodded as Jim walked past looking straight ahead. He made his way to the control room. Picking up a small controller box, he then proceeded to the room where his property was kept. A guard opened the door as he approached.

  “Damn well chauffeured ‘round by an idiot system. These dick heads don’t know what it’s like to drive a car by themselves. Freedom, freedom, freedom, master of your own destiny.” He climbed into the Corolla and turned on the ignition. “Half a tank, that should get me somewhere. I’m going home,” he said, running his hands over the steering wheel then reaching for the ignition key again.

  The engine sprang into life and Jim raised and activated the controller. A large service door opened in one wall and he could see the road outside. It took three tries to grab the gear stick. Finally, after successfully putting it into gear and slowly releasing the clutch, the car rolled out through the door and turned right.

  It was traveling at one hundred k.p.h.. He raced through the streets of the city laughing at each crossroad. “Where to? The throughway! That’ll get me somewhere.”

  A few pedestrians were still out and traveling by the moving sidewalks. As they heard his noisy machine approach, all turned to see what it was. Jim waved as he passed. A few hesitantly waved back.

  He made a right turn, then a left. Looking around, he realized that he was lost. “A soldier is never lost. He is only temporarily, geographically misplaced!” Jim shouted out the window at a passing building.

  Having traveled that direction, without being in control of the vehicle, there was no reason to memorize the route. He pulled over and rolled down the window. A passerby stared at him. “Hey! Which way to the freeway? I’m headed for San Bernardino.”

  The man shrugged so Jim drove off and turned left. It was necessary to turn the wheel hard to avoid a transit coming the other way. It was a one way street, going the opposite direction.

  “Idiots, no signs to tell a guy where to turn. No signs to say where the free.... Ah. That’s it, I should have asked for the throughway. These morons don’t know what a freeway is.”

  He made a right and spotted another pedestrian. The man was on a moving sidewalk so Jim slowed to match his speed. “Which way to the throughway?”

  “Um.....,” he said, looking the car over in astonishment. “I don’t think you should be operating that thing on a city street.”

  “Screw you. Just give me directions or I’ll punch your lights out!” Jim opened the car door without stopping. The man took off at a run. Jim shut the door again. “I’ll find it myself.”

  Another right then a left and the throughway was in front of him. The car swiftly climbed the onramp. A transit ahead pulled over to the side and slowed to a crawl. As Jim passed, he pressed the horn, extended his right hand and raised the middle finger. “Up yours, dorks!” The gesture was observed by the three startled faces watching him from the transit.

  He weaved back and forth on the road coming within a meter of the unprotected edge. An odd whirring noise caught his attention. He leaned forward to listen to the engine. He lightly pounded the steering wheel. “Don’t give up on me now, we’re on our way,” he said through clenched teeth.

  “Mr. Young,” came a hollow, echoing voice from above. “Slow down and come to a complete stop in the middle of the throughway. You are not thinking rationally. You will injure yourself if you continue.”

  Jim laughed and put his arm out the window giving the unseen speaker the same gesture he had given the transit.

  The car came close to the side of the road and Jim had to swing the wheel hard to avoid going off the edge.

  “Shit, what am I doing? This is going to get me killed.”

  A rush of adrenalin went through Jim’s system as he commanded his right foot to release the accelerator. It didn’t obey. The car swung right and he fought to regain control. Both brake and clutch were stepped on simultaneously. He was pressing down so hard that his backside rose from the seat. The car came to a screaming halt in a swirl of dust and smoke from the tires.

  Jim didn’t know how close he was to the edge. His eyes were closed and he couldn’t open them. His whole body didn’t seem to be in the mood to cooperate.

  “Mr. Young.” This time the voice came from just outside the driver’s window. “I am Officer Lang of the city police. Would you please step out of your vehicle? I have been informed that you are under the affect of a drug and are at present a hazard to yourself.”

  “I can’t!” Jim replied with his eyes still closed.

  “Why not?” The man’s voice had a pleading tone.

  Jim snapped an answer. “If I let go the controls, the car will take off again. The engine is still running and I think it’s in gear.”

  “Damn... Can you deactivate the controls?”

  “I’ll try.”

  Jim felt his hands gripping the steering wheel so hard it was painful. He ordered his right hand to let go. It slowly relaxed. He ordered it to move right but his thumb caught on the inside of the wheel. He heard the passenger side door open.

  “Mr. Young,” said the officer climbing into the car. “What do I do to deactivate this vehicle?”

  “Get out!” Jim shouted. “I don’t want to take you over the edge too.” Jim was now fighting to stay conscious. Mild spasms jerked his right arm. He struggled to free it from the wheel.

  “Mr. Youn...”

  “Jim!” Jim yelled in a high pitched voice. “If we’re going to die together you may as well call me by my first name.”

  “Jim, ah... my name’s Harry,” the officer spoke rapidly. “Can’t let that happen. You and your sons are all my kids talk about. Every time I walk in the house I’m greeted with Cowabunga dude.”

  “Sorry ‘bout that,” Jim said and burst out laughing. He thought for a moment. He hadn’t seen a mechanical key since arriving so the officer wouldn’t know what he was supposed to turn to the off position if told. The brake was next to come to his clouded mind. “Lever between the seats. Pull it up.”

  He heard the clicks as the hand brake was raised.

  “There’s a button on the end of the lever,” the officer said, “should I press it?”

  “No!” Jim yelled. “Harry, grab the stick in front of the lever and.. ah... push it around a bit.”

  Jim heard a clunk as Harry played with the gear stick. He thought for a moment. Was there one clunk or two? Was it out of gear or out of one and into another? Was it out of gear in the first place and just put into gear? He had to do it himself just to make sure. A quick jerk and his right hand was free of the wheel. It took a wavering path to the gear stick which he placed in neutral. Then to the hand brake. It was up. Jim’s body suddenly relaxed. He blinked, looked around, then casually reached for the ignition key and turned it off.

  “Deactivated.”

  “You’re safe now, Jim. You scared the hell out of us.”

  “Scared the hell out of me too Harry.”

  Chapter 9

  Inspector Ouimet of the city police sat in an armchair opposite Jim. His house was now a smal
l fortress. Carefully selected private security and police roamed the grounds. Redmond sat in another chair.

  Doris had just returned from checking the boys upstairs. School was out of the question, for a while at least.

  Under Amy’s direction, the installation of the anti-intrusion equipment was complete. Uniformed security technicians worked from one of the spare bedrooms upstairs. Her detectors had located four eavesdroppers. She was only able to pinpoint the location of one. The police instantly converged on that location and found a relay, the operators of the unit being elsewhere. There was little chance of finding them.

  The other three had been pulsed. A high energy beam of the appropriate wavelength was sent in the vague direction of the receiver. The resulting effect usually burned out older models. Newer ones automatically shut down after giving any listener a deafening scream in the ears. The one problem with the pulsing procedure was that it interfered with other forms of communications. The police notified neighbors to switch off their 3Vs at specified times.

  Jim was still suffering the aftereffects of the drug. Occasional flashes of irrational thought plagued him. He had better control over his mind now. Knowing the reason behind the absurd notions that his brain constructed he was more able to dismiss them.

  The inspector sat reading the last few minutes’ updates from his pad. He made his own entries, assured that someone at headquarters was reading as he wrote.

  “We’re positive now that it was no prank. Four different analysts have agreed with me on that. It was a definite murder attempt.” He touched the base of his pad reading further. “Xaminol, according to the hospital. That man Orosco must’ve known the effects of that drug well to have tried such a subtle method.”

  Jim pounded the arm of his chair twice trying to eradicate the idea of another road trip. This time the urge was to go and visit his uncle in Peoria Illinois. “Well, he really got me. All I could think about was getting in the car and driving.”

  Doris leaned over, grasping Jim by the shoulder. “You’re out from under its immediate affects now, but you’ll have to be careful. We use that drug in psychotherapy; a patient becomes very open to suggestion. The medical report states that you received a massive dose. It makes catch phrases like that ‘Master of your own destiny’ and ‘freedom’ stick in the mind. So come tell me when you feel like polluting the throughways with that petrol burner again.”

  Jim reached up and held her hand while attempting a smile. “I’ll ask Levin to call a few museums, see who wants it on loan.”

  Ouimet crossed his legs and leaned back. “Mr. Young, can you think of anything else about Orosco, his accent, mannerisms anything?”

  “Inspector, I haven’t been here long enough to be able to pick an accent. He did talk like a city man, but I don’t know who else speaks that way too.”

  Redmond adjusted his sitting position to lean slightly toward Ouimet. “Anything more on the invitation, Inspector?”

  “It was a forgery.” Ouimet picked up the pad from his lap to scan it for a moment. “An extremely good one. Produced by a highly sophisticated process in a very short time. Quite expensive. So we can assume that we’re looking for an organization of some sort. No individual could have pulled it off.”

  “Where could it have been produced, inspector?” Redmond inquired.

  “The only machines capable of this type of forgery are in banks, under heavy security. We’re investigating that right now.”

  Jim sank back in his seat resting his face in his hands. “Did it smell of frog legs?”

  The inspector smiled. “Very few of us frogs will have anything to do with the De Poulets. My family escaped from their tyranny some six hundred years ago.”

  Jim looked up slowly shaking his head. “Didn’t mean any offense to you inspector. That was aimed at only one froggie family.”

  “I do not believe you have any problem from that direction. Just watch any one of the 3V news services. The government of the French Federation is on the verge of collapse. There’s even talk of civil war. The De Poulets are rapidly taking vacations at resorts on planets outside the federation. They have their own problems. I know we’re looking for someone else, but who?” The inspector paused for a moment. “Doctor Redmond, have you come up with anything else from the Young Encyclopedia?”

  Jim grimaced at the new name. The after effects of the drug were also generating flashes of depression. It made him hypersensitive to everything, even subjects that under normal circumstances only slightly bothered him.

  “Nothing that would prompt someone to commit murder. We found that the black people of North America went there as slaves and not free settlers as we presumed. Mostly new material for the 3V documentary writers. But inspector, no attack has been made on the encyclopedia itself, just one attempt against Jim.”

  “Three attempts, actually four,” the inspector said.

  Jim nearly jumped from his chair. “Four?”

  “Yes, we believe there was a small group waiting in ambush at parking lot F at the mall. We found several laser pistols at the scene. I understand you went to a more distant lot.”

  “Yes, Doc was showing me the mall.”

  “Very lucky he did. The other was someone posing as a collector for a religious charitable organization. He had a small neutron based explosive device in his body. But I understand that he could not get close enough.”

  Jim nodded. “We rushed past too fast and the security cut him off.”

  “Did you get any information from him?” Redmond asked.

  “No, they chased him for half a kilometer. When they cornered him, he detonated the device. Suicide.”

  Jim leaned back and ran his fingers through his hair, locking them on top of his head. The most recent depression was worsening. “A suicide attack? Chair back... stop.”

  Redmond stood, folded his arms and started to pace. “Worse than I thought. Someone giving their life for whatever principle they’re protecting or promoting.” He paced and thought for a minute. “Only attacks on Jim himself. It must be......”

  “And the fourth?” Jim asked.

  “It appears you have a guardian angel. Witnesses tell us that a man accosted the group at parking lot F, disabled them and carried them off.”

  “I ask again, the fourth attempt?” Jim said.

  “You were attacked by a knife wielding man outside Dr. Redmond’s lab,” the inspector said. “Am I correct?”

  “Yes and a campus security man stunned him.”

  “He was not campus security. His description matched the man at the Mall that neutralized the would be assassins there.”

  “So, who is he?” Redmond asked.

  “Our guess is that he’s Commonwealth Secret Service.”

  “Secret Service?” Doris said. “I thought those guys were only in 3V movies.”

  “Oh, they’re real all right,” Ouimet said.

  Amy entered the room at a fast walk. “Got another one. Just locked in, we got a perfect fix on their location. I have jammed their signal; they can not hear what we’re saying.”

  She handed the inspector her pad. Ouimet looked at the pad and made a few entries on his own. “The flying squad is on their way. Should be there in less than two minutes. Hopefully we’ll get something this time.”

  The inspector handed back the pad. Amy looked up, smiling at Jim. “Just made you another ten million. The cases of books. Nigel publications were not the highest bidder, but they offered the highest royalties. Thought it better to ride the current wave of public enthusiasm for anything Old Earth. We seem to be getting many times the initial sales amounts in royalties.”

  She turned to walk out then stopped looking back over her shoulder. “By the way, I just bought you a small ski resort on Langeles, renamed it the Lake Tahoe.” She turned around to face Jim and looked at her pad. “Also, while I’m here, we’ve gone public with the Young Coca Cola Company. You retain fifty one percent of the stock. It was lucky you had unopened cans so the fo
od techs could duplicate the exact gas pressure.

  “The one problem we have is the supply of what your recipe called neroli. We first thought it to be extinct, but on analysis of the flavorings they found the essence of what we call bitter orange. It’s only grown on one planet. Fortunately for us, no one has ever thought of using the combination of flavorings in your recipe. It’ll be unique. There’s nothing we have that’s even close.”

  “Looks like I’m going to be a very dead quadzillionaire.”

  “No you will not Mr. Young,” Ouimet said, standing and putting his pad under his arm. “The dead part I mean. As well as your own newly formed security force and our police we have asked, and got, assistance from the Commonwealth.”

  “All those people? How do you know one of them isn’t out to get me or my children too?” Jim said, clenching his fists.

  Ouimet swelled up with an air of confidence. “Everyone concerned is getting the most extensive security check we’ve ever given. One thing we’ve noted is that they only seem to be after you. Your children have been a more accessible target, traveling to a public school every day. No attempt has been made on their lives so we can assume that they’re safe for the time being. But, I would not count on that to continue.”

  The inspector’s pad beeped. He lifted it, reading the entries as they appeared. “The spies, they’ve got them.” He read further. “When told that they were under suspicion as accomplices to attempted murder they talked.” Ouimet smiled. “Paid by the Wang Tao toy company, instructed to listen for any reference to a bid on a game. The name given is a play station?” Ouimet turned to Amy with and inquiring expression.

  “Do not tell them, but they’re highest bid so far,” Amy said.

  “I’ll tell them that they’re under arrest for invasion of privacy.”

  “The boy’s play station?” Jim exclaimed. “With all the 3D razzle dazzle the kids here have, what appeal would a primitive play station have?”

  “It’s not the kids,” Amy said. “They’d lose interest very quickly. Our analysts see a huge market with adults, the curious, the history and nostalgia buffs and the ones that can’t keep up with kid’s 3D games.”