by Joe Corso
Now that Samantha was gone, it was a good time to re-visit the twelfth century. It would be somewhat of a vacation. He could take his buddy, Mickey, with him.
Chapter Two
Vlad Koros was obsessed with his lineage. Rarely did a day pass that he didn’t Google himself or his family. His favorite web page of all was wikipedia’s description of his most famous ancestor, Vlad III, Prince of Wallachia.
Koros had made his billions by betting on the futures of foreign countries and he had singlehandedly bankrupted four of them. That’s exactly how he had earned his first billion – by bankrupting the British pound. He took that billion and parlayed it into many other billions by subsequently bankrupting other countries. Money is power. Power can make things happen. He loved it – the money and the power. His most recent coup had been to orchestrate the American presidency election of a charismatic, but relatively unknown, Muslim community organizer. Two months before the election, from the comfort of his plush offices in Dubai, Koros had shorted the American dollar – make that “dollars”, in the plural. At the same time, to ensure that his hand-plucked candidate would be elected, he had purchased vast allotments of oil and had stockpiled them. And by simply withholding their delivery, he had forced oil prices to increase from two dollars a gallon to five. It worked like a charm – the American public blamed the outgoing president, even though the previous leader had overseen a sound economy, for almost eight years, while the country had simultaneously fought a war whose sole purpose was to keep America safe from terrorism. Two months before the presidential election, the American economy had tanked, thereby solidifying the election of Vlad’s inexperienced pawn. America now had its Manchurian candidate in office, a man who proceeded to take the economy to unprecedented debt levels, debt it could never repay.
Koros made sure that unions remained in power. He also lined the pockets of companies like A.C.O.R.N. by ensuring that they received billions of dollars from a “stimulus package” taken directly from the taxpayers. It was Vlad’s intent to build the largest membership of loyal voters to his cause, and thereby ensure his voting block to be the largest in history. Getting the presidency was a good start, but to him it was just that, a beginning. Now that the puppet president was in office, Koros instructed him to appoint extreme left wing radicals to positions of power. These appointees, the ones the president liked to call his “czars”, were in fact second tier, handpicked, Koros puppets. The head puppeteer’s ultimate goal was to bankrupt America and have a world government, a one world currency that Koros and Koros alone controlled. Everything was falling into place according to his plan. Now that Phase One had been successfully implemented, he shifted his focus to other world governments. It was time for Phase Two to begin. Koros now assigned international czars the task of organizing the workers of the world. The ultimate goal was simple. World domination.
For decades, using shell corporations, Koros had purchased offshore movie studios. His movies reeked of perversion and left wing ideology. His attack on the Catholic Church was relentless, keeping priests in the headlines by painting them all as pedophiles even though pedophilia in the priesthood had always been well below the national average. Koros followed the Dr. Joseph Goebles’ doctrine of, “Tell A Lie Often Enough And People Will Believe It.” It worked so well with the Catholic Church that he expanded his rhetoric into the Christian community, making them out to be right wing zealots. Himself an atheist, he had Christian parishioners doubting their God with the result being a thirty percent decline in church attendance.
Koros was so deep in thought that he hadn’t realized his servant was standing beside him holding a package. After waiting a few seconds, Fritz cleared his throat. Koros stiffened and tried not to show his annoyance. He looked up and took the package.
“Thank you, Fritz. You may go now.”
Koros liked to always be in control. This momentary lapse of awareness annoyed him.
“I’ll have to work on this,” he cautioned himself out loud.
There were so many things to do, so much power to gain, so many countries to gobble up. The thoughts brought a smile to his face, a sinister smile with a half-cocked glint in his eye.
Koros’s ancestors had ruled a country, but Vlad intended to rule the world.
He opened the package.
Chapter Three
The men-at-arms were relaxed, chatting amiably with the King’s men in the courtyard while grooms tended the horses. The Queen and her Ladies-In-Waiting were escorted into the castle, to the great room where the King and Queen waited anxiously to see their daughter. At the sight of her, the King’s melancholy lifted and for the first time in months, he smiled. Immediately, he snapped his fingers and ordered refreshments be brought in. There would be no discussion of business until all of his guests were fed and their needs attended to. But it was hard to mask his concern, his sadness. There was heaviness about him and his daughter noticed. After all, he was her father.
When the King and his daughter had a moment of privacy she asked, “What’s wrong father? There is something that you are not telling me. What is it?”
“Daughter,” he began, “your sister, Princess Krystina, as you are aware, is very ill. But I do not believe you comprehend the severity of her malaise. I fear we may lose her,” he said as he looked down at the floor. “My two ladies comprise my world. I would not care to have life should I lose either of you.”
“What is the matter with her Father? Your best, most learned doctors have looked upon her. What say they?”
The King’s face sank into a sad, mournful expression. He looked deep into his daughter’s eyes.
“Our most learned cannot find the root of her fever. There seems no remedy. I’m at my wit’s end, Daughter. I know not what to do.”
“Father, allow me to transport Krystina, to journey with me when I return to my home. The sun’s shadow has passed many times when, a great wizard graced our castle with his presence. He appeared suddenly from nowhere and he saved our kingdom. He brings great magic with him and it is possible that he may visit again. If this were to happen, I feel certain that the great one might cure Princess Krystina of her malady.”
The Princesses, born just a year apart, had always been close while growing up. Where you found one, you found the other. It was true sibling love. They cavorted around the palace together, and always prided themselves on one-upping each other in practical jokes or in hiding games. It wasn’t unusual at all for the joker or jester to find that his tights suddenly itched, or that the dancers could not flip and turn without, well, flipping and turning, perhaps due to the oils that the Princesses would use to coat the floors. As angry as the King might be, silently he smiled at the mischief of his little angels. He adored them and viewed their antics as just another expression of their brilliant creativity.
Queen Alexandra was escorted to her sister’s room. Within moments, her sister Krystina opened her eyes and stared at her sister standing there. A smile stretched across her ghostly white face.
“I’m so glad to see you, Sister. I’m sorry I am not well enough to take your hand and traverse with you in the garden where you can amuse me with all that is happening in your life. This bed will have to do for now.”
Alexandra held back her tears.
“I am taking you back home with me. There is hope that a great wizard who helped us once before might return to help us again. The possibility of him returning is something we must cling to. I pray for him every night, hoping that he receives my summons. That is why you must be close to me, were he to return . . . ”
With a tired breath, barely audible, Krystina whispered, “I do not want to burden you with my lack of mobility, dear Sister.”
“Burden? Such nonsense you speak,” Alexandra said. “Father is sending his finest carriage to handle your needs. It is being prepared as we speak. His learned doctor will accompany us on our journey. You are of no inconvenience, of that much I can assure you. I will hear no more of it. Your Ladi
es-In-Waiting will help prepare so that we might leave in the morning. Let’s not delay any longer.”
Chapter Four
Mickey watched as a gull soared above the waters of Miami Beach, searching the clear waters for its next meal. It circled, making a wide arc. After a while, it spiraled away from shore, into another graceful arc, and flew out over deeper waters. Mickey was intrigued by the gull while Lucky, on the other hand, was intrigued by the ladies. Lying on a beach towel on Miami Beach, specifically South Beach, was at the moment, paradise – the most beautiful women per square foot in the world. At least that’s how it seemed to Lucky. He had never seen so many beautiful women in one place. His eyes, at present, were locked on a stunning brunette wearing a bikini that left nothing to the imagination. She was trying hard not to show that she knew he was watching her. At that moment, Lucky’s phone suddenly rang, shaking him from his erotic thoughts. The phone seemed annoyingly loud. He hesitated before answering it, not wanting to break the connection between him and the beauty parading in front of him. Lucky was hoping to get “lucky” today, but when he checked his caller ID, something told him differently. He had to take this call.
“Lucky here.”
“Lucky, be on your toes,” the caller said. “Someone’s looking for you and he’s not a nice guy.”
“Okay Jack, you have my attention. What’s going on?”
“We’ve been hacked and we, meaning Harvey, our computer guru, traced it to Europe. We haven’t discovered what country yet, but he thinks it could be Russia, Latvia or Transylvania, or one of those surrounding countries. Anyhow, we’ll have an answer in a little while. Harvey’s tracking it and he’s confident that he’ll locate the source. And Lucky, for anyone to have the capability to hack into our system, he has to be a pro backed by a serious player. He wants something and you’re the only person that has what anyone in power would give his right arm for. Be on your toes and if I was you, I’d hightail it back to your safe house pronto. I’ll call as soon as I have something for you.”
“Okay Jack. Thanks for the heads up. I’ll have Bobby Boots get the jet ready to fly us the hell out of here. We’ll be home later today. I’ll call you when I get in.”
By now Mickey was lying on his side, his elbow on the blanket and his hand on his chin, listening to Lucky’s end of the conversation. When Lucky hung up, Mickey simply said, “We have a problem right?”
Lucky explained what Jack Stewart had told him. Mickey wasted no time. He stood up, dialed Bobby from his speed dial, and told him to have the jet ready for immediate takeoff.
“We’d better get going. I wanna get back and be ready for whoever is looking for me,” Lucky said as he looked around to see if there were any strangers or anyone who shouldn’t be there, scoping him out. He was back in agent mode – alert, conscious of his surroundings, and ready to take out any threats. Nothing, nothing looked suspicious. Lucky could always tell if danger was lurking – the hairs on the back of his neck would stand up. He looked closer now at the shapely brunette, this object of his desire, staring back at him. Was she an operative? He’d never know.
Chapter Five
The trip south was slow due to the Princess’s illness. Alexandra was very careful not to have her sister experience any more discomfort than necessary. Kingsmen rode ahead making sure accommodations, all along the way, were readied so that the Princess could be taken immediately to a room at any point of rest. As the days passed, snow clouds appeared on the horizon and the weather turned colder. The threat existed.
It was amazing how fast news traveled. Once again, people lined the roads hoping to get a view of the Queen and her sister, the Princess. Those that had seen her on her trip north returned to see her once again. This could very well be the single most important event in the lives of the townspeople. They touched the carriage as it passed and she in turn, smiled and waved, displaying nothing but warmth and graciousness despite the deep concern and sadness she was carrying for her sister and her condition. As a result of her kindness, songs would be written about the beautiful Queen, the regal one who had acknowledged them with a wave of her hand and a loving smile. They would tell their children and grandchildren about the royal one that greeted them as she rode past.
The troupe rested at night and traveled by day. The crowds made travel a little slower but in spite of it, they were making decent time. The Queen instructed her escorts to make haste whenever they left a village, provided the roads were unrestricted, but with care, so as not to create more discomfort for the Princess. Their projected arrival time was now ten days away.
Due to the superstitions and the healers of the times, medical care was erratic, at best. The Romans, Greeks and Egyptians, all had successfully pushed forward with their medical knowledge, but this thrust eventually stagnated and did not regain momentum until the Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries.
The Roman Catholic Church effectively dominated how medical practice would evolve. The church preached that sickness was a punishment from God for sinful behavior, so it was not surprising that anything, regarding medicine linked to the Romans, would be met with skepticism. Twelfth century medicine remained relatively primitive, relying on old myths and spells to cast off sickness. Washing the scalp with a boy’s urine, for example, treated ringworm. Gout? A plaster of goat dung mixed with rosemary and honey. And heaven forbid if one suffered with chronic headaches. That often meant drilling a hole into the head and allowing fluids to drain which in most cases led to death. Progress was made, however, in certain areas. During the medieval period, the Knights Hospitallers, a mixture of monastic, military and medical personnel, created hostels for travelers, dispensaries for the poor, surgeries for the injured and homes for the blind, lame, elderly and mentally ill. By 1400, there were over thirty hospitals.
King Williams’ doctors were progressive medical men who had learned from other doctors returning from the Crusades, men who returned from battle utilizing advanced medical practices studied from Arab doctors who were far more advanced than their peers in the areas of medicine and anatomy. Arab doctors practiced dissection, whereas the church believed the body must remain whole for the soul to be resurrected. Doctors in England believed in bleeding their patients, and while they could suture physical wounds from swords and knives and they did know how to set broken bones, they still didn’t understand the nature of disease. And so it was for Princess Krystina. She was bled and given a combination of herbs to drink. Another set of herbs was used to bathe her in order to bring down fever. Monks prayed for her return to health and spells were cast to remove her illness, but nothing appeared to work. Her health was rapidly declining.
Queen Alexandra was beside herself. Here was a Queen who would readily relinquish her throne and kingdom to anyone who could restore her sister to good health, yet no one had an answer or cure. The Queen walked to her chamber and knelt by her window facing the heavens. There she prayed in the old tongue to the gods and as she prayed, her thoughts drifted to the young wizard who had helped save their kingdom. She shifted her prayers to him and prayed for him to return to save the Princess. She promised him anything in her kingdom if he could cure her sister . . . anything.
Chapter Six
As soon as he walked inside the safe house, Lucky called Jack Kinsey. Jack picked up on the second ring.
“What’d you find out Jack?”
“Well, we reversed engineered the hacker’s IP address and found where the hack originated. Your man is located in Transylvania.”
“Tell me you have a name,” Lucky said anxiously.
“We don’t have a confirmed name, but we have a primary suspect,” Kinsey answered. “There’s only one man in that neck of the world who would want to find you and his name is Vlad Koros.”
Lucky paused. He was stunned.
“Koros the billionaire?”
“Yep, one and the same.”
“Why would Vlad Koros hire someone to hack into the agency’s computer to get information on me?�
� Lucky asked.
“Don’t know but there’s one thing for sure,” Kinsey explained. “They definitely got what they were looking for. They downloaded your files. Everything in your record from the time the agency hired you, to your injury and eventual recovery, and especially your special ability – that time travel business – that manifested itself when you recovered. He knows you can travel through time – that’s a given. He probably thinks you can do it whenever you want and go wherever you want. He doesn’t know that the circumstances have to be right and you can only travel in time to where the portal takes ya. Koros is so obsessed with that ancestor of his, Vlad the Impaler, that he’d probably give anything in the world to be able to go back in time to meet with him, talk with him. My theory is that when he found out you can travel through time, you became part of his obsession. This hacker probably confirmed it. I’ll bet cha he wants you to take him back in time to meet Vlad. That’s my assessment.”
“Wow,” said Lucky, “it’s too bad the portal to King Robert’s time doesn’t coincide with Vlad’s time. Since Koros might be anxious to meet his ancestor, it would’ve been a simple matter of traveling to the guy’s palace and leaving Koros there.”