by Joe Corso
Lucky asked, “Are you ready for this?”
The doctor, not knowing what “this” meant, nodded a slow yes. Lucky took him by the arm, held it firmly and instructed him to not break loose from the grip, insisting that the doctor maintain physical contact at all times. They stepped inside the portal. The doctor, immediately felt the constriction of the space, felt his breath shorten a bit and was taken aback.
“Now step around me to the left,” Lucky said, “and tell me what you see.”
The doctor wiggled past Lucky, looked out and let out an audible gasp.
“Do you believe me now?”
The doctor was silent. Seconds seemed like minutes before he managed to speak.
“Well, yes, I, I, I can see,” he stammered, “but I am not quite sure what I am seeing. It all looks so real.”
“Doctor,” Lucky answered, “you are viewing a scene taking place ten centuries in the past. Now let’s go. We have to get back before someone notices your absence.”
The doctor, speaking in slow motion countered, “I will never repeat what I just saw. If I did, I would most likely be deemed crazy and lose my job. Hell, I’m, beginning to think I’m crazy myself. “
“Doc I want you to use all of your skills to save this Princess. You hear me?”
The doctor nodded.
Chapter Eleven
Lucky hovered about the hospital as restless as a bull. It reminded him of what it must have felt like in the old days when a soon-to-be father paced about in a maternity ward, awaiting the news that his wife had delivered their first child. He couldn’t sit still.
Finally Mickey said, “Come on . . . let’s go grab a cocktail. All you’re doing is getting yourself all worked up. Gonna be a while before we know anything. Besides, I could use a drink.”
Lucky hesitated. “I don’t know if . . .” he said as he plopped himself down into one of lounge chairs.
“Sure you do. Come on,” Mickey insisted.
Mickey tugged on Lucky’s arm until he was able to somewhat drag him out of the chair and then nudged him toward the exit. Together, they ambled over to the commissary. Once there, they found a booth by a window and sat down. With a slight wave of his hand, Mickey got the attention of a waitress as she was passing by.
The commissary was a combination lounge area, with large screen TV’s for the regulars to watch their favorite sports teams or news, and dining room. The bar, fashioned after the Longhorn Saloon in Tombstone, Arizona, was long, with a modern look to it. Adjacent to the bar stationed throughout were cherry wood polyurethane dining tables and chairs.
Mickey ordered a Jack Daniels for himself and a Johnny Walker Red on the rocks for his buddy Lucky and there they sat, watching Fox News, as they waited for their drinks to arrive.
Mickey broke the silence. “You know Lucky, we have to get ready for the bad guys. You know they’re coming. My guess is that they’re probably here already. You can’t spend all of your time worrying about some lady that’s been dead already for a thousand years. You gotta snap out of it and get the show on the road.”
At that moment a waitress arrived with their drinks. Lucky gave her a nod of thanks and waited for the young lady to leave.
“Mickey,” Lucky said as the waitress returned to the bar, “I’m the last guy in the world you would want to come after. I’ve been thinking that maybe we could turn the tables on these people and get them to tell us who is after me. And once we find out, we’ll call the professor and get him to use that invisible flying saucer of his and take us out to see this guy. (A few months ago Lucky had saved this professor from Middle Eastern oilmen who attempted to kill him. Seems they weren’t too pleased that when the professor refused their billion dollar offer to buy his invention – a magnetic propulsion engine which didn’t run on traditional fuel. It used the magnetic particles in and around the universe instead. Lucky rushed the professor to the Charlie Hodge Ranch in the outback of Australia where he successfully built a flying machine which he called ‘the saucer’ because it looked just like an artist’s rendering of a flying saucer).
Lucky continued.
“I don’t like being stalked or hunted. I thought that was over with a long time ago. We got rid of all the bad guys and now we have a brand new crop coming after me? Is it going to be like this for the rest of my life? If that’s the case, I’ll just go and live in another time.”
Mickey shuffled his feet in reaction to Lucky’s words. Mickey did not want to see his buddy leaving him for another time period. Besides, he knew that it would all get old real quick. There were too many luxuries in this lifetime to leave behind. Plumbing, electricity, weapons, technology, there was no comparison. Mickey mulled over his words and gave no reaction.
“Give Jack a call,” Lucky said. “Find out if he tracked down the owner of the incoming or outgoing emails being sent and tell him to be careful, not to give away anything he knows by acting strange. We can’t risk them knowing that we’re monitoring their emails. And call the professor . . . and tell him we’ll most likely need his services real soon.”
Mickey sipped his drink as he waited for Jack Kinsey to answer his line. Moments later, Mickey was nodding and saying, “great, great, great” into his cellphone.
He hung up, took another sip of his drink, pursed his lips a little and said, “Jack found the source of the emails. The guy’s name is Koros . . . Vlad Koros.”
Lucky squinted his eyes again as if thinking and perked up a
“I know that name,” he said. “He’s that billionaire guy that made his money by busting countries, causing them to go belly up. He’s a liberal, a liberal scumbag to be precise, and word has it that it was his billion dollars that got our liberal socialist Muslim president elected.”
Lucky leaned back into his booth seat and stared out the window for a moment before turning back to Mickey.
“Yeah, I’d love to have a little talk with that guy,” he continued. “I think he’d fit perfectly in one of those cells in King Robert’s dungeon. Or maybe I’ll just kill him and be done with it. We’ll see.”
Mickey chuckled a bit and added, “One thing’s for sure. Jack said that this guy that Koros has sent to fetch ya is no amateur. Name’s Karl Kessler – his head security guy, used to be with the East German Secret Police – The Stasi. They were the worst of the worst, or the best of the best, depending on how you look at it. We can’t take this guy for granted. He’s a serious player on a serious mission. We don’t know if he’s gonna wanna talk to you or just snatch ya. Hard to figure.”
“Call Jack back,” Lucky said, “and ask him to check Kennedy, LaGuardia, Newark, Islip – all the airports and see what flights have arrived from Budapest. Better yet, see if the Koros private jet arrived at any of the airports and tell him to fax me a report on Kessler now at the hospital.”
Mickey made the call. A few minutes later his cell rang. It was Jack Kinsey.
“Koros’s private jet arrived at Kennedy an hour ago. He’s booked at the Howard Johnson adjacent to LaGuardia.”
The news brought life back to Lucky’s face. After being on edge for so long waiting to hear about the Princess, this information seemed to energize him.
“Okay then,” Lucky answered. “He’ll settle in his hotel room and lay out his plans, so we won’t have him on our backs today. That’s my best guess. So, why wait for him to come to us, Mickey? Let’s go see him. We’ll surprise him tonight with a little visit.”
Mickey put down his drink.
“Now what about the Princess?”
“I’m thinking that we can get this done fairly quickly,” Lucky said. He pointed at Mickey.
“Call the professor. Tell him to get the saucer ready. We’ll need two ‘invisibility suits’ for tonight.” “Miss, another round,” he added as he looked over toward their waitress.
Jack sent the report on Karl Kessler to the fax machine in the hospital’s office. Lucky and Mickey were there waiting for it when it arrived.
L
ucky whistled as if to signal a doozy.
“This is quite a guy. No amateur, that’s for sure. He’s the real deal. We have to handle him just right, Mickey. Don’t need this blowing up in our faces. I think the invisibility suits are the way to go. You agree? Or do you have any other suggestions?”
Mickey thought a moment and said, “Well, we could bust in with our guns at the ready, but he might have a weapon within reach and it could get dicey. Yeah, I guess the suits are our best option.”
“Okay,” Lucky said, “now that that’s decided, let’s go see how the Princess is doing.”
Lucky and Mickey arrived at the emergency room just as Doctor Grossman was entering the waiting area.
The doctor smiled and said, “She’s doing great. She had an infection, perhaps from an insect bite. Would have killed her if she hadn’t been treated when she was. The shot you gave her most likely saved her life. I don’t know the cause exactly, but my best guess is that a poisonous ant caused it.
She was exhibiting the same symptoms as if maybe a Tocandira or Ponerine ant, which can cause vomiting and intense fever, had bitten her. The venom is injected from a gland connected to a stinger in the abdomen.”
“Great, doc,” Lucky interrupted. “I’m thrilled that she’ll recover. Now for the big question – when can I take her home?”
The doctor answered, “As you requested, I have her on heavy sedation. I want to see her daily for a few days. After I’m satisfied that she’s out of danger, I’ll give you the medication she needs to take when she’s back at her home.”
Lucky was clearly happy with this news. “Sounds like a plan doc,” he said. “I’ll touch base with you tomorrow.”
The doctor then shook each man’s hand, turned and walked away
Chapter Twelve
Karl wasted no time preparing for his assignment. He lightly unpacked, settled in and called the number Koros had given him. It was for a company Koros used regularly called “Black River”. The men here were soldiers of fortune – hard, ruthless, murderous men, devoid of any conscience. They cared not as to the nature of the job as long as they were paid and paid they were – handsomely – with their services going to the highest bidder. This bidding system worked well as often they found themselves in situations where someone issues a contract. The contract’s intended target learns of the bull’s eye on his back, target then counters with a higher paying contract and a wonderful bidding war ensues with “Black River” being virtually able to name their price. The assassins did have ethics, though. Once a particular group or individual paid them a fee, they would never take money from anyone trying to kill their now “client.” That was only right. Otherwise, there would be an unending cycle of murders – good for business monetarily, but bad for business when it came to the trust factor. Yes, they worked efficiently and professionally as long as they got paid from whoever initially paid the most. In this case, it was Koros.
Karl picked up the large duffle bag he had placed near the door and took it into the bedroom. He opened the zipper, took out the weapons in the bag and laid them neatly in a row on the bed. It was overkill, he knew that, but better than being surprised and lacking firepower. No room for mistakes. His favorite weapons would accompany him – a nine millimeter Makarov (the standard issue sidearm carried by both the Stasi and the KGB) and a Cosh, a lightweight weapon, like a blackjack, except the Stasi version was more versatile and . . . effective, basically a retractable whip. He preferred to use his hands to subdue this American, but if necessary, he would employ the Cosh, which could be very persuasive. His instructions were to not harm the American, but to bring him to Koros for questioning. Karl had no idea why Koros wanted to question him, but that was none of his business. If Koros wanted to speak with him, then Karl would bring him in. But first, there was diplomacy. A diplomatic approach was always first. He reached into his shirt pocket and took out a slip of paper, which had the second number he was instructed to call.
Lucky and Mickey stood up, preparing to leave the hospital lounge, when Lucky’s cell phone buzzed.
“Lucky here.”
The voice on the other end surprised him. In a somewhat unemotional voice, the man said, “My name is Karl Kessler, Mr. Campo, and if it wouldn’t be an imposition, I would like a few minutes of your time.”
This was the last thing Lucky had expected. Years of training had taught him to never show surprise or uncertainty. Clearly disarmed, he quickly recovered and answered, “I’m sort of busy at the moment. Could you let me know what this is in reference to?”
“Mr. Campo, I work for one of the wealthiest men in the world and he would like a few moments of your time which he would certainly make worth your while. Think of it as a business meeting with possibly the most interesting man you are likely to meet in your lifetime.”
Lucky had to think fast. He needed time to prepare but it was important that Karl not know that he was on to Koros. His mind raced into several directions but he thought that perhaps this may be an opportunity to save time by going right to the source to find out what the hell Koros wanted with him.
Lucky answered, “Okay. When and where?”
“I could come to you Mr. Campo, or if that’s not convenient, then we could meet in my hotel.”
Lucky was quick to respond.
“That’s fine. Give me the address to your hotel and I’ll meet you there – nine tonight. Is that alright with you?”
“Yes, that will be fine,” a rather surprised Karl responded. Karl called out the address of the Airport Howard Johnson, Lucky repeated it back to him, and both men hung up. Lucky knew exactly where the hotel was. He had stayed there a number of times, convenient because of its proximity to LaGuardia airport. Actually, a guest could walk, via covered bridge, from the airport to the hotel. Perfect for a quick airport getaway.
Lucky called the professor and asked him to prepare the saucer. He stressed the urgency of the matter by telling him that there were some people after him, that there was a strong chance he could be kidnapped or involuntarily forced to travel to Budapest.
Lucky had a plan. If given the choice, he would voluntarily agree to visit Budapest and nip this little problem in the bud. Lucky’s best guess was that Koros must have discovered his time travel ability and the billionaire wanted something from Lucky and he wanted it badly. By speaking to Koros in person, there was a chance that he and Lucky could come to an understanding, avoid bloodshed. There was something to be said for a gentleman’s little tête-à-tête.
So far in his travels, Lucky had explored only a few of the secret portals he had discovered and the twelfth century was his favorite. He had traveled into the portals of twelfth century England, to Egypt and the building of the great Pyramid, to the Coliseum of ancient Rome. He wasn’t quite ready to venture into other time periods but why? Whenever he spotted a beam of light or felt some energy life force around him, he ignored it, choosing to terminate his curiosity before it took hold of him. Questions filled his mind. Could it be that he possessed this brain energy that created the portals by an unconscious concentration of will or at the very least acted as locator equipment, setting off brain-eye recognition of some sort? Maybe the portals were everywhere and uncovering self-power was what led to them being ignited by will. Well now, this was something that hadn’t crossed his mind before. While being held hostage at the compound by a superior trying to silence Lucky and his knowledge, Lucky had noticed a portal in the cell opposite him. The magical gateway led him to the outback of Australia, and later, when he fled the compound, he had discovered another portal in the field and once he ventured through it, he had found yet another portal as he exited his favorite childhood refuge, Flushing Meadows. This one took him back home. Odd, one portal led him onto the twelfth century castle grounds but once inside King Robert’s castle, he had found a portal in the rear hallway leading him out. Upon reflection, there seemed to be a pattern. Whenever Lucky was in danger or sought escape, there magically seemed to be a portal p
resent. Lucky smiled really big at the thought. If this was true, his powers coupled with portals would come in handy in most any situation and meeting Koros could become the first opportunity for him to test this theory. The thought was exciting – once an agent, always an agent. It was the thrill of the chase, the maneuvering out of a tricky situation by the skin of your teeth, the testing of fate and living life on the edge – living life as an agent.
Lucky and Mickey heard what sounded like the whooshing of air in the sky. Sure enough, the professor’s saucer was hovering invisibly over the Howard Johnson Airport hotel. Lucky and Mickey entered the lobby. Within seconds, a man walked over and extended his hand.
“Good evening, Mr. Campo. I’m happy that you could make this meeting.”
“Let’s not stand on formality,” Lucky quickly answered. “Call me Lucky and if I may, I’ll call you Karl.”
“Yes, of course.”
For a moment, the two men stood there, sizing up each other. There was no question about it. Karl was an imposing figure. Given hand-to-hand combat, there was clearly a question mark as to who might win. Karl had read Lucky’s file. He knew that this agent was not to be taken lightly. Karl flashed his most disarming smile and led Mickey and Lucky to a table inside the lobby lounge. They had barely sat down when a cute little brunette waitress made her way over to the men. Karl ordered a scotch, but Lucky wasn’t falling for it. Instead he opted for a diet soda. Mickey took his lead and ordered an iced tea. Lucky’s eyes discreetly scanned the room as the men engaged in small talk. He knew this game. As suspected, there they were – two men, one on each end of the bar – doing their best to be inconspicuous. The waitress returned with their drinks and conversation ceased for a second or two. Karl waited as the waitress moved toward a table across the room and wasted no time.