“No, that’s really not necessary,” Petty replied with a note of irritation. “I think we need to stay on…”
Before she could finish her sentence, Willow struck her in the chest with the baton, holding it in place as it sent twelve million volts coursing through Petty’s body. The instructions said that three to five-seconds of contact would immobilize a person for several minutes. Willow held it against Petty’s body as she slowly counted to ten.
“Shut up bitch,” Willow said as she finally withdrew the baton and Petty collapsed in the seat, her body convulsing uncontrollably. “Ahh, silence at long last.”
After Flip left Damba’s room for his nap, Damba continued to fume, growing more restless by the minute. He knew he needed to do more to keep Alp safe. It really bugged him that she was so close to where they were staying, but that he was supposed to sit back and do nothing but be prepared. Prepared for what? To help provide the limousines they’d use to make their escape, the answer came. But Flip had handled all of that.
No, it was time to follow his gut. He had to go to Alp and make sure she was okay. He would wait for Flip to dose off and then he’d make his move. While he waited, he pulled out the backpack Flip had bought him, threw in the new clothes just in case he would need them. As he did so, he tried to come up with a plan. How was he going to get himself over to Falconcity? More importantly, how was he going to get himself inside?
Unfortunately, he couldn’t answer either question. I’ll just have to play this by ear, he told himself. Trust his gut that he’d find a way. After finishing packing his knapsack, he waited another couple of minutes before slowly opening the door between the two bedrooms. He listened to Flip’s slow, rhythmic breathing to confirm that his companion was asleep, and then shouldered the pack and tiptoed across the room. He thought about leaving a note but then realized he didn’t know what to say that would justify his actions. He walked to the door, opening it slowly to minimize the noise and slipped out into the hall, making his way quickly to the elevator and down to the lobby.
As the elevator door opened on the ground floor, Damba stepped out and looked around. Immediately his gaze fell on a group of young boys and girls about his age being corralled by several adult chaperons. No doubt a group from some affluent school probably from the USA or Australia. As he watched an idea started brewing.
Could he be so lucky? As he asked the question, he reached up and clasped his lucky medallion. It confirmed that indeed he could be so fortunate. He followed the group outside to a waiting bus marked Falconcity of Wonders. Damba glanced down at the clothes he was wearing and back to the group of kids and confirmed he was dressed well enough to pass as one of the group. He even saw several other kids of color.
He kept an eye on the chaperons who seemed to be more interested in talking among themselves than keeping a close eye on their students. Damba started walking towards the group gathering his confidence as best he could. He pretended to wave to someone on the other side of the group and then made his way in that direction, stopping when he was well within the circle of kids. No one seemed to take any notice of him.
As he approached the front steps of the bus, he noticed one of the chaperons with a clipboard counting heads. Damba kept his own down as he climbed up the stairs. He held his breath, half expecting someone to stop him any second. No one did. He made his way to the back of the bus and took a seat near the rear exit. Taking the seat next to a window, he slouched down like he was taking a nap and prayed.
Willow turned right down a dirt road that was little more than a camel trail in the sand. She drove a couple more miles until the road all but disappeared then drove another couple hundred yards out into the desert. As she pulled the car to a stop, Petty groaned beside her.
“Wake up Sleeping Beauty,” Willow said. She took the half empty bottle of water from the cup holder between the seats, opened it and dumped its contents over Petty’s head. The woman gasped and shook her head splashing droplets of water onto the windshield and Willow.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Petty asked glaring daggers of hate at her tormentor.
“Just following orders, my dear,” Willow replied. “And now it’s your turn to follow my orders. Get out of the car.”
She pointed to the door on Petty’s side with the stun baton. Petty did as she was told. Willow met her on the other side of the SUV, the baton still in her hand.
“We’re going to play a game,” Willow said, as she shoved Petty away from the car. “It’s one that I always enjoy playing with the Sheik’s guests that annoy him.”
“What are you talking about?” Petty asked as she fought to gain her balance, still weak from the electric shock. “Is it money you want? We can split it. Is that what you want?”
Willow laughed. “You really don’t have a clue, do you? The Sheik was never going to pay you, especially not after you were such a pain in the ass about it. No, that’s not the game.”
“Then what is it?” Petty finally asked.
“I’m going to give you a chance to save yourself.”
“How?” Petty asked, a spark of hope entering her voice.
“All you have to do is kill me. The keys are in the SUV. You can get in it and drive on back to Falcon Lair. The Sheik knows my game. He’ll be so impressed with you that he’ll not only let you live, he may even pay you the money he promised. Now, that’s a sweet game, isn’t it?”
Petty glared at her, shaking her head as drops of water fell from her hair to the desert sand. “Yeah, sure thing. You’re standing there with that blasted weapon just waiting for me to make a move so you can zap the shit out of me again. Hardly a fair fight.”
Willow laughed. “You know, you’re right. That doesn’t seem to be fair, so here.” She tossed the baton to Petty.
Petty caught the baton, a shocked look on her face. She turned it around so she was gripping the right end and studied it for a moment.
“That small button on the grip initiates the stunning mechanism,” Willow pointed out helpfully. “Really simple to use. Now you have the advantage. What are you going to do with it?”
Pointing the baton at Willow’s chest, Petty charged as she shouted, “I’m going to kick your…”
But Willow had expected the move and dropping to the ground, kicked the legs out from under Petty who landed hard, knocking the wind out of her.
Willow rose to her feet, and waited as the older woman scrambled to one knee fighting for breath.
“You’re going to have to do better than that, my dear. Here, let me help you up.”
She reached out a hand. Petty grasped it and slowly stood up. As she regained her footing, she shoved the baton against Willow’s chest and pushing the button, exclaimed, “Take that you bitch.”
But nothing happened. Willow smiled as she grabbed the baton with her right hand and wrestled it out of Petty’s grasp. “I’m sorry. I forgot. You have to turn it on for it to work.”
She pressed the baton against Petty’s neck and pushed the button. The smell of burning flesh accompanied the sound of sizzling that reminded Willow of frying bacon. The high voltage blast flung Petty to the ground where she wriggled in uncontrolled convulsions. Not satisfied, Willow waited until most of the shaking had subsided then zapped the older woman a second time.
Willow waited several minutes until Petty finally regained consciousness and stared at her tormentor with a mixture of fear and pain etched on her face.
“I would imagine about now you realize that you’re not going to leave this place alive,” Willow said as she waved the baton to take in the desert landscape. “I hope you also realize that it was your unadulterated greed that landed you here. If you just hadn’t insisted on being so damn greedy about it, Hassan would have gladly paid you once he’d had completed the testing, but no, you had to keep pushing it. Tsk. Tsk. Some people just never learn.”
As Willow talked, Petty managed to roll over on her belly and started to crawl away.
“Where the
hell do you think you’re going?” Willow asked with a chuckle. “You really think you can crawl your way back to Falconcity? If I wasn’t on such a tight schedule, I’d enjoy watching you try, but alas, duty calls me elsewhere.”
Willow walked around in front of Petty.
“This is a pretty versatile little weapon.” Willow slapped the baton into the palm of her left hand several times. “Let me show you my favorite way of using it,” she said as she brought the metal baton down with all her might across the back of Petty’s skull…once…twice…a third time.
Flip kicked his shoes off and lay down on the bed without bothering to remove the bed spread. He closed his eyes and started the relaxation sequence. He wasn’t in need of a catnap, but it seemed like a good cover in case Damba returned. He wanted to see if he could make a connection with Alp or any of his other children. As he relaxed the various parts of his body starting at the feet, he slowly reached out with his mind like a fisherman tossing out his nets. He was shocked by what he caught.
At first he thought he had fallen asleep somehow and was experiencing another vivid dream, but then the ancient man floating before him in what appeared to be burgundy colored pajamas spoke. Flip immediately recognized Alfred Bessler’s voice.
How’s your business trip coming along? Alfred asked, but before Flip could answer, he continued. Never mind. I don’t really want to know.
What the hell are you doing here? Flip asked.
Well, technically I’m not there, Alfred replied. I’m here in my meditation room, and you’re there.
But you’re so clear, so vivid.
Yes, and you’re coming in quite well also. Have you been noticing any changes since that little session with your daughter?
Not really, Flip asked. Why do you ask?
It’s just that your aura has a much more vivid glow.
So, along with remote viewing, you read auras as well?
It’s not that hard, Alfred shrugged. I’ll be happy to show you how sometime.
What’s going on here? Flip wondered. Why was the old curmudgeon being so nice all of a sudden?
What can I help you with? Flip asked.
Ahh, right to the point. I like that. A few of my colleagues wanted me to reach out to you.
Oh, and who would they be?
Sorry, I’m not at liberty to reveal that.
Okay then. What do they want?
Well, I can’t discuss that either. Not yet.
Then what the hell are you doing here interrupting my nap? Flip asked, growing impatient.
Just this; when your business affairs are in order, we might be in a position to offer you and your children an…an opportunity.
An opportunity?
That is correct. As Alfred spoke, he turned his head to the right, apparently distracted by something in the room. I’m afraid I have to go now, but we’ll be in touch.
Do you always refer to yourself in the plural? Flip asked.
Got to go now, Alfred replied ignoring the question. Oh, and you might be interested to know that your little protégée has left the building and is on his way to Falconcity. Cheerio.
And with that Alfred faded away like smoke.
It was about ten minutes into the bus ride to Falconcity of Wonders when Damba noticed the pudgy chaperon with the clipboard stood up and started counting heads. The other kids all wanted to sit with someone they knew and since no one knew Damba, the seat beside him was empty.
That will help if I need to make a quick exit, Damba thought, which might just be the case given the antics of the head-counting chaperon. Damba continued to pretend to be asleep but kept one eye partially open. When the man had finished counting, he scratched his head and studied the clipboard for a minute before waddling over to where another man sat next to an attractive young woman. The two men talked for a couple of minutes, the man sitting next to the woman growing more and more irritated. Finally, he waved the other man away, and resumed his flirting with the woman next to him.
The man with the clipboard stood in the aisle for a moment before shrugging and returning to his seat. Damba sighed with relief. Clearly the head count had not matched what had been expected, but one too many kids was not nearly the problem of having one too few, so it looked like, at least for the moment, he was safe.
The bus soon stopped at one of Falconcity’s main security gates where the man with the clipboard passed along some papers to the guard who studied them for a moment before nodding as he passed the papers back to the chaperon. Then the bus resumed its trip into the city of wonders.
As the bus pulled into a parking area, all the students clamored to retrieve their belongings and to be the first one off the bus, making it easy for Damba to slip out the back exit. He was in Falconcity of Wonders. Now to find Alp.
Sightseeing
Damba skirted around the rear of the bus and kept it between him and the other children and their chaperons. He imagined how relieved Mr. Clipboard would be when he recounted heads and the number matched this time. Damba glanced around, uncertain where to go now that he was finally in Falconcity until he noticed the large tower that pierced the sky. His mouth fell opened as he gazed up at it. What an amazing world the Arab Nation had created. He’d heard one of the chaperons pointing out the various sights as they passed them by, but somehow he’d missed any mention of the gigantic structure.
Since he didn’t have a clue what to do next, he figured he may as well do a little sightseeing of his own, starting with the tower. He imagined from the tower’s top he’d be able to seen the entire city. Perhaps it would give him some ideas where Alp and her sisters were. He recalled hearing Flip and the others talking about the Sheik living in a replica of a Hollywood home, but since he wasn’t familiar with Hollywood, he didn’t know how that tidbit of information would help him. Still, a bird’s eye view of the city couldn’t hurt; so he headed off in the direction of the tower, noticing signs along the way written in Arabic and English saying Eiffel Tower. As he walked, he pulled out his cell phone to check the time: 4:45 in the afternoon. It suddenly occurred to Damba it would have been smart to find out from Flip what the rest of the team’s plans were, before jumping into this. He hoped he wouldn’t end up regretting his lack of patience.
Todd glanced at his watch. 4:55 PM, only minutes away from H-hour when the fun would begin. Time to make one last check in with his teams. The day had passed quietly, though it had grown hot as Todd knew it would. Still, his hideaway was in the shade and over the years he had developed techniques for sleeping under just about any situation. Even though he had an alarm on his watch, he’d also set his internal clock which had awaken him a couple minutes before the alarm was set. Such subtle powers of the mind always fascinated him. He sat up and looked through the shrubs to be sure he was alone before contacting Jasper and Shark.
“All set for objective one?” He asked.
“All set,” Jasper replied.
“Remember to wait for the signal. Timing is important. Shark and Python will move off of your signal.”
“Got it,” Jasper replied.
Todd cut the connection, took a deep, calming breath and called the other half of the team.
“Last check-in. Everything ready?”
“All set, boss,” Python replied.
“How’s Shark?”
“Ornery as usual but otherwise he’ll be fine.”
“Okay, wait for your signal…and good luck.”
“Right,” Python replied. “Good luck to you too.”
Todd cut the connection and crawled over to his backpack to be sure he was prepared for his part of the mission. After a final check, he sat back and waited.
A minute later he heard the haunting strains of the evening call to prayer begin. He listened for three or four minutes until the last notes faded into the early evening air. Moments later a thunderous explosion shook the ground beneath him. Playtime had begun.
As Chickowski entered the lab, he noticed Ayhem lying on the tab
le where Ted was finishing securing him with the leather restraints. The young man turned his head in Chickowski’s direction and smiled, sending a dull ache through Chickowski’s solar plexus. He deeply regretted having learned the name of this particular ‘chick,’ but there was nothing he could do about it now. He realized he was caught between the proverbial rock and hard place. Not only did Hassan expect proof of the template’s viability, but Miriam had given him an ultimatum to deliver as well. Somehow he had to think of Ayhem as just another test subject, no more important than any other kind of lab rat he’d worked with in the past; name or no name.
Still, it wouldn’t hurt to treat the boy with civility. As he strolled over to the table, he returned the smile. “The restraints are really just for your protection; you understand.”
“Yes, that is fine, doctor. I am completely in your hands. Please proceed.”
Ayhem’s trust in him only made Chickowski feel worse. He cleared his throat.
“We’ll take it slow and easy at first,” he told Ayhem. He turned to Hassan.
“I need to titrate a dilute sample for our first test.”
Hassan nodded. He walked over to a small safe on the counter and punched in a code. The door opened and he withdrew the vial of template and handed it to Chickowski who took it from him, trying to keep his hands from shaking.
Chickowski walked over to the counter to prepare the solution before turning back to Ayhem and the Sheik.
“I’ve prepared a dilute solution of the template, which I will now administer sublingually.”
Noticing a confused look on Ayhem’s face, he explained. “I’m going to ask you to open your mouth so I can place a few drops of the solution under your tongue. It’ll then be absorbed into your bloodstream so we can monitor the results.”
“Is that how it was delivered to the first subject; the one that produced the Kindred?” Hassan asked from behind him.
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