Death of Time (SpaceFed StarShips Series Book 4) 2nd Edition.: A thrilling, psychological, Mystery and Suspense, sci-fi detective thriller. (SpaceFed StarShips Trilogy)

by Gerry A. Saunders

  Or to the right, there’s a newly refurbished grill that’s only just opened about a mile up the road, it’s got a good reputation.”

  “Sounds great Chris, let’s go for the grill.”

  Straight away, Chris started the Limo and pulled away speeding up to the top of the Avenue. Turned right, onto the Chester Pike and accelerated rapidly towards the Diner.

  Five minutes later, they arrived at the Diner. Micky did another check, feeling relieved to find there were no abnormal emotional flavours.

  “Are you coming in Chris?”

  “No, I can’t. I’ve got to stay close to the Limo.”

  “Do you want something brought out to you then?”

  “No, I’ve got some sandwiches.”

  “Ok. Come on Charlie, let’s go in and get some grub.”

  “Wait. Put these bullet-proof vests on, before I get into real trouble,” Chris said, handing them over.

  “Okay, but only if it keeps you out of trouble,” Micky said, laughing as they both put them on.

  “We won’t be long Chris.”

  “Huh, forty-five minutes at least, I bet.”

  He was right. More than forty minutes later, they left the Diner and looking around found their Limo had been moved to a parking space closer to the exit.

  “Was the food good?” Chris asked as he opened the door for Charlie.

  “Yes. H’m, I see that chivalry’s not dead, after all,” she joked.

  “Actually, the food was great Chris, “Micky added.”

  “I’m glad you liked it. And the vests?”

  “Yes, we’re still wearing them.”

  “Are we going straight to Cebro now?”

  “I think we’d better. By the time we get there, they should be back at work.”

  “Cebro it is then. But, my Satnav system’s on the blink again.”

  “I assume you remember where Cebro is, don’t you?” Micky asked.

  “Of course,” Chris said as he eased the Limo out ready to join the flow of traffic on the East Chester Pike Road.

  Then he pulled out. Just as another car, traveling well over the speed limit, swerved around the Limo, from behind, to overtake them.

  Suddenly, Micky’s mind was flooded with a feeling of utter hatred, which hit him, like a knife’s stab.

  It took a few seconds for him to realize what was happening.

  “That blue Mustang. I’m sure the killer is in it. We’ve got to stop it. Go after it man,” Micky yelled at Chris as he directed a mental probe at the mustang’s driver.

  Chris shoved the accelerator pedal to the floor, and the Limo surged forward with its tyres squealing in protest.

  Another mental curse hit Micky, but this time he was prepared.

  Then the blue Mustang suddenly swerved, and cut across the traffic junction and into Acres Drive, which led to a residential estate.

  Chris swung the heavily armoured Mercedes across the traffic and into Acres Drive in pursuit of the Mustang. Swearing as the bottom right side of the Limo scraped the road sending a shudder through the occupants.

  “There’s no way I can chase him in this thing, Micky. This is for protection, not pursuit,” Chris muttered, at the same time trying to call his base.

  His Satnav system suddenly lit up and locked, with the name of the estate they had just entered showing on its screen.

  Then Chris saw the Mustang, even further in front of them now. It shot right at the next cross section, almost riding on two wheels. Then disappeared from sight.

  “Did anyone get its number plate?” Charlie called out.

  No one answered as their Limo tried to do the same but lost grip and scraped the near side wall of a property. Chris kept going, then saw the Mustang again in the distance, and shoved his accelerator pedal down to the floor, but the Mustang was pulling away from him fast.

  The Mustang sped up Swarthmore Avenue. In moments, it was back out onto the East Chester Pike.

  “Sorry Micky, I’ve lost him. There’s no way I could ever catch him in this car. Too much armour, too much weight.”

  “That’s okay Chris,” Micky said, trying to mentally make Chris feel better.

  “We didn’t even get his registration number,” Micky added, then remembered he was supposed to be cheering Chris up.

  “Let alone calling it in,” Charlie said sounding fed up.

  “No. But now he knows that we’ve sussed what he’s attempting to do. He won’t be able to stay away for long.”

  “That’s a negative if ever I’ve heard one,” Chris remarked.

  Once back on the Chester Pike, Micky scanned the area several times trying to locate the killer.

  Then suddenly, “Get your toe down Chris, he’s straight ahead.”

  “I can’t see him.”

  “Just do it, keep going as fast as you can.”

  The Limo was now going well over the speed limit, but the Mustang still wasn’t in sight.

  “C’mon Chris, he’s getting further away again, I can feel it.”

  “Sorry Micky, we should have had a different car.”

  Soon, the killer was too far away for Micky to detect him.

  “It’s no good, you might as well slow down Chris. I’ve lost him.”

  “OK. So shall we go to Cebro now?”

  “Yeah, now is as a good time as any,” Micky replied feeling deflated.

  Chapter 22.

  Cebro.

  14 25 hours.

  They finally pulled up at a security hut just in front of the raised ‘stinger’ outside Cebro International’s main entrance.

  Five armed security guards were manning the gate.

  ‘Good,’ thought Micky. ‘They must have stepped up security since our warning.’

  “Everyone, please get out of the car,” instructed a guard who had a badge on each shoulder, showing the sun with two crossed daggers symbol.

  Two other guards came over with a small robot camera. Then checked the car over, starting inside, then the boot and finally underneath.

  “Credentials, please,” ordered one of the two remaining guards who were standing beside the security hut. The other guard stood still, just watching, with his hand resting on his revolver butt.

  “Doctor Hanson’s expecting us,” Micky told the guard as they gave their credentials to him. He noticed the sixth guard, almost out of sight of them, but with a high powered automatic rifle trained on them.

  “All of you, stand in a row beside the car’s number plate,” ordered the guard with the double dagger badge on his shoulder. Once lined up the security camera took images of them in front of the car.

  Micky, looking curiously at the guards, realised that the rest of them only had a single dagger across their badges. ‘So, just a way of showing their ranks,’ he thought.

  “Car’s clean,” one of the guards announced. “You need to drive more carefully around these parts,” he added, pointing to the light scrapes he could see on the right side of the Limo.

  Chris’s face reddened with anger. But Micky quickly nudged him back towards calmness.

  “Didn’t you hear, we were involved in a high-speed chase with the serial killer, just down the road?” Micky snapped back, sending the guard a ‘how amazing’ type of emotional pulse at the same time.

  “Sorry driver, I didn’t know,” he exclaimed, sounding flabbergasted.

  “That’s okay then. Hopefully, we’ve stopped him from coming here,” Micky added, and couldn’t help smiling to himself until Charlie surreptitiously kicked his shin.

  The two daggers guard spoke on his mobile, then handed their IDs back to them.

  “You’re clear to pass. Doctor Hanson will meet you outside entrance four, at building two.”

  Then looking at Chris, added. “Sorry, but you won’t be able to go in the building. Your security clearance level isn’t high enough.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Chris said, “I’m not allowed to be out of sight of my Limo anyway.”

  They all got
back in the car, as the gate slid open. Then the ‘stinger’ dropped below the road surface, and the Limo headed towards building two.

  There were four buildings grouped together, all clearly marked.

  Chris parked the Limo in the visitor’s slot outside building two and opened the doors for them to get out.

  “No rush, I’m used to long waits,” he told them as he got back in the car.

  They slowly walked up to the steps to entrance four. Then stood, looking around them as they waited for Doctor Hanson to come out.

  A short time later he walked out to meet them. He was thin, very tall and looked quite old, with his almost shoulder-length white hair flowing behind him as he walked. They both noticed that he limped slightly as he came down the steps to meet them.

  “So, you’re our ‘ace in the hole’ young man,” he said shaking Micky’s hand, then gave Charlie a peck on her cheek.

  “And you must be Miss Bernstein?”

  “Yes, but I would prefer you to call me Charlie if you don’t mind.”

  “H’m, very unusual. That’s more of a man’s name, surely?”

  “Yes, but it works wonders for me sometimes sir.”

  “I’ll bet it does, young lady.”

  He looked at Chris. “I’m sorry you can’t come with us, I’ll get one of my people to bring you something.”

  “Coffee would be nice sir.”

  “Then coffee you shall have.”

  He turned back to look at them saying. “Come with me, I understand you are to be shown everything we have, related to the Acarea project.”

  “Yes, sir. I assume you’ve been briefed on the latest situation, sir?”

  “Yes, as of this morning.”

  Then you may have something that just might help us to predict our killer’s next target,” Micky answered as they entered the building.

  “Perhaps,” Hanson replied, sounding very doubtful.

  “We’ve obviously got to be very careful what information we give anyone nowadays because of this killer. But Timothy Parker said you were kosher.”

  As they walked, Micky had been mentally scanning ahead and had already sensed five emotional patterns within the room they seemed to be heading for.

  Three of them exhibited apprehension as if the owners were nervously waiting for someone unknown. The other two patterns he sensed were stern.

  ‘They must be security guards’ he thought. ‘That’s interesting, Hanson doesn’t trust me.’

  “So,” he said. “The two guards, Doctor Hanson. Are they for our security or just yours?”

  Hanson stopped abruptly.

  “What makes you ask that?”

  “You’ll see. Shall we carry on?” he asked, sensing that Hanson’s emotions had changed to ones that exhibited panic.

  “Don’t worry Doctor Hanson, it’s all in a day’s work,” he added.

  Hanson was visibly shaken. He didn’t understand Micky’s meaning.

  Micky smiled to himself, ‘I bet he’s wondering if he’s let the devil himself in.'

  Four nervous men and one woman waited inside the room which was mainly used for conferences. The room had the usual high-end projectors and sound systems of an upmarket company.

  Two were armed guards, who stood one at each of the two exits, their weapons at the ready.

  Micky mentally scanned them all again. Then scanned further out, as far as he could. Then wished he hadn’t, as his mind filled with a mass of jumbled up emotions.

  Hanson started to introduce Micky to his three colleagues.

  “This is Mr Micky Sanderson, a detective attached to SEID. Miss Christine Bernstein is from the UK police.”

  “Why are they bothering us, Hanson?” The woman asked.

  “I must apologise Mr Sanderson. This is Doctor Smits. I’m afraid she’s always been rather awkward,” he said throwing her a nasty look.

  Then we have Professor Clayton, and last but not least. Professor Baxter,” he finished as they all shook hands.

  “You didn’t answer my question, Hanson,” Smits grumbled.

  “Then I’ll do so now Smits. All of our project participants have asked us to help Mr Sanderson in trying to thwart this killer, and in the process save your precious lives,” he said looking at her sarcastically. “Is that clear enough, for you all?”

  There was a groan from the three scientists, as they looked at Micky, disdain clearly showing on their faces.

  “But who is this man, Hanson? Why should we give sensitive information to him?” Clayton asked.

  At this, Hanson looked thoughtfully at Micky.

  Then choosing his words carefully, said. “Ok. Fair enough. So, before we comply with this request, Mr Sanderson, we’d all like to know why the government's trust you. And, how it is that it our security bods can’t find any record of you further back than five years ago?”

  “Yeah, this sounds dodgy Hanson,” Baxter muttered.

  “Agreed Baxter. Well, Mr Sanderson?”

  Then Smits interrupted him.

  “And why are they both armed?” she asked nervously.

  Micky shot a mental ‘calm down’ emotional pulse at all three of them and waited until they had indeed calmed down.

  “If you’ll let me explain, instead of acting like paranoid children. I will tell you everything you need to know.”

  “Don’t be patronising,” snapped Smits.

  “Whoa. Hold on a minute,” Micky replied. “Your sponsors know things that the general public don’t. So, yes, they think I am the right person. Perhaps the only person who can save your project.”

  “And Miss Bernstein, what role does she play?” Smits sourly asked.

  Smits was beginning to irritate Micky. So he sent her a hard mental jab, and she suddenly sat down, rubbing her head.

  “Christine Bernstein, or Charlie as most people call her, has a critical part in all this,” he added, pausing to let that sink in, then continued.

  “But, as yet, I’m not entirely sure how much of a part. One thing I do know is that she’s a player in the killer’s plan,” he paused again, for effect.

  “Otherwise, he would have just concentrated on me.”

  Charlie gave Micky a quick glance, wondering if he had remembered more of his past.

  “I don’t believe it was a coincidence that Charlie was paired with me. I think that somehow maybe a relation of hers, in the far future perhaps, is crucial to the success of the project.”

  “Rubbish,” Baxter snapped.

  “In your limited imagination perhaps, but not in mine, sir.”

  “And your past, Mr Sanderson,” asked Hanson. “What of that?”

  “It’s true that I can’t remember anything further back than five years ago. Not even my boss, Cedrick T Ervin or any other investigators have been able to find any information on me either. Perhaps I had an accident and lost my memory. None of us knows.

  But it’s not relevant anyway. It’s only the here and now that matters.” Micky paused, thinking.

  “But, we are convinced that ‘Project Acarea’ is the killer’s target. We believe that Acarea is a Starship. It’s vital, therefore, that Project Acarea survives.

  If not, then in the distant future, the human race may cease to exist.”

  On hearing this, the three scientists looked at each other in astonishment.

  “Come now, you really are dreaming Sanderson. This is unbelievable,” Clayton replied.

  “No, Professor Clayton. All of the murders are related to this project.

  All of the victims shot by a weapon similar to a gun. A weapon that is beyond our present capabilities to design,” he paused again.

  “I assume you’ve all seen the photos of the killer and his um, let’s say, gun for want of a better word. Yes?”

  They all murmured assent.

  “Right, and I’ve seen the effect of this weapon at close hand, from examining the bodies of two of the victims.”

  It’s obvious that we don’t have anything like
it, and probably won’t have for at least a hundred years. What do you think Smits?”

  Smits face looked blank.

  “Smits?”

  “I’ll go along with whatever you all agree.”

  “Well, that’s a definite first,” Baxter joked.

  “So now we’d like to see a basic design view of the Acarea. Is that possible?”

  “Of course Mr Sanderson.”

  “Call me Micky, please.”

  “Very well,” Baxter answered. Tapped in some info on his Pc and an image, showing the design of the ship, sprang to life on a large wall screen.

  Micky looked at it for a few moments, impressed with what he saw.

  “Amazing, Hanson.”

  “Thank you,” he replied feeling flattered that Micky had addressed this remark to him.

  Micky studied the image on the screen silently for a while. The ship’s size was difficult to measure, he found. Then saw the measurement, 1.5 miles, which probably related to its length.

  “Smits, you’re part of the design team. Explain the ship’s design functions to Micky.”

  “You can do it, Hanson,” Smits unenthusiastically replied.

  Micky realised he’d perhaps overdone it with Smits, so sent her a ‘come on’ emotional command.

  “No. It’s okay. I’ll do it,” Smits suddenly said as she picked up a laser pen and stood in front of the screen.

  “We’ll start with the business end,” she said pointing her laser pen at a large circular metal plate, which was connected to other pieces of equipment at the rear end of the ship.

  “This is the Nuclear-Pulse drive. The drive comprises of all of these parts,” she said circling them with her laser-pen. “As well as many internal components that you can’t see.”