Chain Reaction Power Failure Book I

by Andrew Draper

  “I was thinking that if I was able to bring you this technology, it might prove to be very valuable to you and your business associates.”

  The oil magnate easily recognized the leading statement. He twisted the large gold and diamond ring around his little finger as he waited for Temple to play the last card in his hand.

  He hated dealing with Americans. They were so unpredictable and were, at times, capable of being truly devious. He despised them, they had so much and still they wanted more.

  While the people of this country starve in the streets, the people in the U.S. grow fat and lazy. No more!

  The inner revulsion swelled and his fingers tightened their grip on the phone as he came to terms with the truth. He knew he must do whatever was necessary to secure his nation’s place in the world economy. He had no real choice but to give Temple what he wanted.

  “How valuable?” He asked.

  “I don't think fifty million U.S. dollars is too much to pay for continued economic security for your people. Do you?”

  Yashidda nearly laughed out loud. What a fool! He could have asked for fifty times fifty million and he would've gotten it. Still, he kept the game going. “That's a lot of money, but I think arraignments can be made. When can you deliver this scientific miracle?”

  “I can have it for you in less than a week…if that’s satisfactory?”

  Yashidda finished the negotiations, holding his breath for a few seconds while appearing to consider the figure. “That will be fine, but…” his voice began to drip with an open hostility, thinly disguised by soft-voiced diplomacy. “I would be very disappointed if you attempted to sell to someone else in the interim. Do you understand?”

  Temple acquiesced, acknowledging the threat. “I wouldn't dream of it. After all, we’re friends, aren't we?”

  “Then we will consider the matter closed until I hear from you on a delivery date. Good-bye, Phillip.”

  Back in his Boston office, Temple hung up the receiver and sat back in his chair, beginning to breathe again.

  I did it! I beat the Arabs. Better than that, I beat the Arabs and made myself rich in the process.

  He pushed a button on the phone and spoke into the desk intercom, “Jill, can you come in here please.”

  Temple’s personal secretary Jill Miller entered the room seconds later. A buxom twenty-four year-old, the curvy blond stood in front of Temple’s desk. Tall and beautiful, she filled the room with an earthy, feminine sent as she entered.

  “Yes, Phillip?”

  Temple initially hired her more for her looks than her abilities. He was soon pleased to discover that not only was she reasonably competent, but she also enjoyed sharing her bed with powerful men. A posh apartment and fat salary ensured it would be him.

  “Jill, would you care join me for dinner at my house tonight?”

  “Just dinner?” she taunted, face breaking into a mischievous grin.

  “Dinner… some champagne… maybe some…desert. It’s a little celebration.” He noticed her blush at his obvious innuendo.

  “Of course.” She accepted without hesitation.

  He gave her attire a cursory inspection, noting the abundant cleavage pressing out of her blouse. “Oh, and don't wear anything too… complicated.”

  She smiled a knowing smile and returned to her desk.

  Chapter Eight

  Jack closed the file folder and rubbed his eyes, the lids heavy with fatigue. He felt like this day would never end. He still had not heard from Jenny and a sick feeling spread through his stomach as he remembered the callous threat Freemont launched earlier that morning. He got up from his chair and replaced the folder, then locked the cabinet.

  If he couldn't get her to release the Ever-cell project, Freemont might pull the funding from all the contracts and close the lab.

  Son of a bitch is just crazy enough to do it too! He thought, pacing the floor of his office as he considered his limited options.

  He had to convince her to take him up on his offer of the new job. He grimaced at the thought of his future being in the hands of a megalomaniac like Alex Freemont.

  God, I hate this! But what can I do? Freemont’s not going to change his mind on his own and I can’t change it for him. Jenny will feel so…betrayed.

  The agitated man paced the floor, his nerves crackling with tension. He considered the near-impossible task of how to convince his top researcher to give up her pet project, at the same time wondering if there wasn't another way to deal with Freemont’s unreasonable request.

  Maybe if I want directly to the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs? No. That won’t stop a juggernaught like Freemont.

  The phone on the hand-carved oak desk began to chirp and he hesitated for a moment before answering it, confident he knew who would be on the other end of the line. He reached for the receiver and put it to his ear. “Hello?”

  “Jack, Colonel Freemont here. I just wanted to know if you’ve spoken to Ryan yet.”

  The tone of Freemont's voice told him all he needed to know. The Colonel wasn't going to change his mind about this and Jack began to sweat inside his heavy wool suit. He also knew Freemont, as dangerous as he was, must be handled carefully or when the sky fell in it would land on everyone.

  He lied through his teeth, struggling in an uphill battle to gain a reprieve. “I think we should wait. I talked to her today and she said it would be at least a year before the battery was ready for any kind of serious field testing.”

  He naively hoped that this news might make Freemont reconsider assuming control of the project at this stage. Verde thought that if he could buy some time he might be able to either talk Freemont out of interest in the project, or come up with a bulletproof way to keep him away from it.

  Freemont didn't like being put off and, showing his volatile temper, yelled into the phone. “I told you I wanted that project under my control, and I meant now!”

  “I'm sorry Colonel, but she’s being difficult. I even offered her a Vice Presidency to get her out of the research department. She said that she had to think about it.”

  Jack could hear the expanding anger in Freemont’s caustic words as the solider began to berate the scientist. “You tell Ryan if she knows what's good for her, she'll take the new job and forget about the Ever-cell project. I don't need her permission to take it! If I consider her work to be of military value, then under authority of the Science and Technology Act of 1947, I can assume direct control of any project that presents a significant security risk or military benefit.” He paused to draw a breath, his voice returning to normal. “Also tell her I'm empowered to take into custody any and all persons that may have a bearing on those projects, and that means her! You might also remind the esteemed Dr. Ryan that the STA allows me to hold anyone I detain indefinitely.”

  Jack’s heart skipped a beat, afraid Freemont would make good on his threats. His palms grew sweaty, the damp skin clammy against the phone.

  All it would take is one call to Army Intelligence and she could disappear forever. She’s no match for somebody like you.

  His stomach clenched in a tight knot as he scrambled for an idea, any idea…any possible way out. He had to do something to calm the Colonel down and he had to do it fast.

  “All right Alex, I'll talk to her again tonight and do a little arm twisting. I'll even offer her a big raise to take the job,” he continued with his platitudes, hopping to defuse the situation. “Just let me handle it, all right?”

  Freemont ended the call with another, even more forceful ultimatum, sending Jack’s stomach into another spasm. “Don't screw this up Verde. You do whatever you have to, but get me control of that system. You have forty-eight hours. No excuses!”

  Freemont hung up, ending the discussion and leaving him listening to the dead air. Verde replaced the phone in the cradle, a sticky film of bile now burning his throat. He again punished himself for his arrogance, his critical error in judgment.

  Christ, Jenny I’m so sorry. I tho
ught I could handle Freemont. I let my ego put your life on the line. How could I be such a fool?

  He called Jenny's office and got no answer, so he tried the lab.

  What if I told her the truth? He thought, as his conscience continued to silently rage in protest. Would she be able to handle it, or would she do something stupid, like fighting Freemont? No. I can’t tell her. She’d never understand.

  He fervently hoped that she would listen to reason and transfer the project, to protect herself from Freemont if for no other reason. I have to convince her to turn over the reigns to Freemont, no matter what it takes. He scrubbed his face in his hands, self-loathing welling up to gnaw at his innards. I know her. She’s got too dammed much integrity…she’ll want to fight him. All I can hope for at this point is to keep both of us alive and out of federal prison.

  Jack finally reached her at the lab. “Hi Jenny, its Jack. Are you free for dinner tonight? I’d like to finish our conversation on that promotion I mentioned this morning.”

  Chapter Nine

  Yashidda sat in his office on the other side of the world thinking about what Temple said and the words sent clouds of dark fear racing across his mind.

  The United States government could easily seize this new technology and use it to force my country to its knees. He shuddered at the thought. I won’t allow this nation’s leaders to become puppets of the infidels in America. They will not blackmail us into slavery.

  He knew that he had to not only acquire this technology but he had to eliminate the source of the research as well. He paced the floor nervously, white robes billowing in the draft his agitated movements produced. While he walked, he began to come up with a plan to solve all his problems.

  The Americans would pay more for this energy technology than they do for oil. Their own liberal environmentalists would force it down their throats…no matter what the cost.

  If he could eliminate the scientist while keeping the design secrets, he could then produce the battery himself and his country would be free from dependence on oil exports forever.

  The scientist who developed this technology must disappear, he thought.

  He prayed to Allah for strength. If he could secure this new technology for his country, he would be a national hero. If he failed, well, failure wasn't really an option. He knew he must succeed.

  The greedy American pigs would finally get what they deserve. Allah be praised!

  Yashidda knew he needed someone for the ‘wet work’ this job required. The choice was easy. He could think of only one man suited for such a delicate job on U.S. soil. He punched the buttons on his phone. Majors will get me what I need quickly…and more importantly, quietly.

  The phone was ringing. Clenching and unclenching his fists in tension, Yashidda listened to the computer-generate tones, hoping the man was in. He wanted him on the job immediately. This was too important a mission to be left to less than the best. He got an answer on the third ring.

  “Hello?”

  “Good morning, Clark. This is Abdule.”

  Clark Majors pressed the phone to his ear, pacing as he listened. Moving around his Venice, California townhouse, he dragged the phone’s cord behind him, glancing out the window at the stunning view of the man-made canals while the setting sun burnished the sky in pastel hues of red and blue.

  A former U.S. Army ranger and demolitions expert, the professional mercenary now hawked his talents on the open market. Today, his potential employer would be Yashidda.

  “What do you want?” Majors snapped, the sharp bark designed to put the other man on edge. The tactic was completely successful.

  Yashidda spoke, the crisp words betraying none of the man’s boiling inner turmoil. “I have a problem that I need you to handle for me. I want you to bring me a certain piece of scientific research.”

  The former army captain hesitated before he answered. Majors possessed a genius, if deviant, mind and reflexes to match. Ruthless and cruel, he could be counted on to deliver, as long as one ignored the means to the end.

  “No problem. But why me?”

  “If this was an ordinary, how do you Americans put it, smash and grab, then I wouldn't need you, now would I?”

  Majors cleared his throat loudly. “You have my attention. Go ahead.”

  “I'm sending you a dossier on a research scientist named Ryan, I want you to go to Boston and find out everything she knows about the particle manipulation project she’s working on.

  It had taken Yashidda’s men only an hour of Internet searching before they found Jennifer Ryan. His cronies discovered her name in a scientific ‘Who’s Who in America’, along with a paper she published several years ago, detailing her theory of energy transfer from radioactive isotopes.

  “What do you want me to do after that?”

  “Get the design specifications and prototype for the device and bring them to me.”

  “Sounds too easy,” Majors paused for a breath, then continued, the non-committal tone intended as a warning to the other man. “What are you not telling me?”

  “Just one minor detail, a little cockroach named Temple is looking for the same thing, so you need to move fast.”

  Yashidda’s carefully worded answer elicited a small pause and a tentative reply, one barely perceptible over the telephone’s tenuous connection. “Okay…”

  The Arab continued, flavoring his words with the promise of impending wealth, confident greed would overcome the mercenary’s reticence. “He tried to sell me the plans for fifty million of your dollars. If you bring me the plans first, I'll pay you five million U.S. dollars, no negotiations.”

  Majors quickly agreed. “Okay. I'll do it. But, as a rhetorical question, what if this Temple gets in my way?”

  Knowing Majors was a trained killer, Yashidda told him what he wanted to hear. “I leave the operational details entirely up to you. Use whatever methods you deem necessary, but do it quickly and with the utmost discretion. It can never be known that I or my country was ever involved.”

  “Is that all?” Majors asked. “If not, this is the time to say so.”

  “Only one more…minor…thing. After you get what I want, dispose of Dr. Ryan…and anyone she told. I can’t have her talking to your CIA or FBI. This technology must disappear…completely.”

  “No problem, but this is a complicated job. I’m going to incur certain ‘expenses’,” Majors said. “I’ll need the first half-million up front…non-refundable.”

  The line went silent for interminable seconds as Yashidda considered his options. “I am willing to meet your stipulations. However, I must insist that the payment make the contract irrevocable. Any failure to deliver would be grounds for termination.”

  The open threat didn’t seem to faze Majors. Abdule assumed the mercenary had been in this business for too many years to even consider reneging on a contract.

  “Consider it done,” Majors said. “Deposit the earnest money into my numbered account and I'll call you as soon as I have the goods.”

  Immediately after he hung up, his BlackBerry chimed, signaling the arrival of an email.

  He opened the attached file, and discovering it contained the complete dossier on Ryan, briefly looked it over, noting the extensive slate of academic achievements.

  “What a nerd,” he said to the empty room. “This is going to be a cakewalk.”

  He closed the screen and tapped the keys to dial a number he never thought to use again. Nervous energy spiking, he hoped his call would be answered.

  “She better pick up.” he groused aloud.

  She’s probable still pissed off at me, but for this kind of money, she’ll just have to get over it.

  “Hello?” the soft, feminine voice floated over the wireless connection, bringing a flood of memories to his mind.

  Chapter Ten

  The clock on the desk reminded Jenny she had a dinner date. Turning away from the glowing screen of her laptop, she yawned and stretched. Rising from her chair she reined in
her disconcerted thoughts. She knew she wasn't going to turn over her project to anyone, for any reason, and mentally practiced what she would say to her friend and mentor.

  It’s too vulnerable to abuse, and it’s not open for discussion. That should work…it’s gotta work.

  She cringed in fear that her project might be confiscated by the military and she couldn't allow that. The memory of the nameless solider she passed earlier in the day returned to haunt her, sending an arctic chill down her spine.

  I won’t willingly put a potential weapon like this into anyone’s hands.

  She knew that when she perfected this technology people would have a virtually unlimited power supply at almost no cost.

  In addition to the free power, it would solve the problem of what to do with all the nuclear waste that’s already scattered throughout the world.

  She’d finished a second test of the updated design and discovered it put out enough energy to run almost indefinitely. With the modifications she made to the grid, it generated more power than even she ever imagined. The success of this new test made her tingle with both excitement and trepidation in equal proportion.

  Her heart swelled in pride and vindication to know that she was right about particle manipulation, but that excitement was tempered by the reality of her discovery’s potential consequences. She struggled to control her mounting apprehension, wracking her brain for a way to insure the secrets wouldn't fall into the wrong hands.

  A sharp bolt of alarm raced through her body, causing her forehead to break out in tiny beads of sweat. Jack…our dinner.

  She wiped her palms, suddenly damp and clammy, on her lab coat.

  If this discovery becomes public knowledge, I’ll loose any ability to control its implementation. I can’t let that happen. The fact a working prototype exists must be kept secret.

  She went to her computer and encrypted the data for the design. She unplugged the external hard drive and put it in her purse. I’ll put it somewhere safe after I meet with Jack.