Chapter Forty-nine
The one who stayed behind
June 17, 1952. 4:50 P.M. Ancient Era.
Orange Groove Avenue. Pasadena, California. USK
The golden afternoon sun painted the sidewalks of the quiet residential avenues with long shadows. However, on the central avenue, where the houses and some apartment buildings lined up neatly, a group of four teenagers broke the monotony of the afternoon.
On their bicycles, their spokes jingling to the rhythm of the wind, the four wanted to represent an image of youthful rebellion that was in fashion. With their hair slicked back, or in Quiff style, with a certain carelessness studied to attract girls, and the cheap leather jackets that hung from their shoulders with insolence, these young men gave off an attitude of someone who was in a hurry to reach an adulthood that seemed still far away for them.
As they pedaled carefree through the quiet of the neighborhood at that hour, jokes echoed in the air like a defiant echo. It was a golden time for them, a time when they could enjoy the freedom of summer vacation.
The group stopped in front of a three-story building and turned around.
One of them, the one who seemed to be their leader, turned around and raised his voice. "Chuck! Come on! Hurry up or we'll leave you behind!"
About ten yards behind them pedaled a young boy who couldn't have been more than twelve or thirteen years old. Skinny-looking and dark-haired. Unlike the others he wore no jacket, nor did he give off the same aura as the others. He wore khaki shorts and a white T-shirt. He had a face dotted with acne, his hair was styled for a Sunday mass and the glasses he wore made him look like a bookworm.
"You guys pedal too fast, and don't call me Chuck," complained Carl, who was called Chuck, as he caught up with them.
"No, you're too slow," the big guy spat at him, giving him a friendly slap on the back of the head.
"Cut it out, asshole," Carl complained.
"Come on, have fun, it's a vacation. Let's go impress some girls. I bet you haven't even kissed one."
Carl sighed wearily. Greg was his cousin two years older and they had gotten along well since they were little. But in the last few years they barely saw each other, unless it was summer vacation, or for Thanksgiving. The years had been generous to Greg, giving him the demeanor of a linebacker, while Carl had barely grown up in the last two years.
The group was making jokes and talking about the girls Greg had impressed when an old dark pickup truck pulled up next to them.
Out of it stepped a tall middle age man with a beard and somewhat unkempt dark hair, wearing gray pants and a shirt with some dirt stains on it.
The man looked at them, but said nothing and, whistling a song that was in fashion, had gone to the back of the truck where he began to unload some wooden boxes and put them carefully on the sidewalk. Then he picked one up and headed for the three-story building in front of which the five had stopped, but didn't go inside. Instead he took out a key and opened a garage door at the side of the building. It might well have been a stable at one time, but now it seemed to be full of other things.
Neither the boys nor the man paid any attention to each other at first, until it happened.
One of Greg's friends had pulled out a pack of cigarettes and was passing them to the others as well.
Carl looked at the cigarette, but shook his head.
"Come on, it'll be fun!" Greg said.
"Those things are bad if you play sports."
Despite the warning Greg lit one.
The man had continued unloading boxes from the truck and carrying them one by one to that garage, but, when he returned, he had just seen how those young men had lit cigarettes and were standing near the boxes he had been unloading.
"Hey! What the hell do you think you're doing?" the man shouted.
"What's your problem, man?" Greg spat at him.
The man walked over and gave Greg a hard slap on the back of the head, "Respect the elders, punk. Don't smoke near my truck." Greg cringed at that and the man one by one took the cigarettes from them and stubbed them out. The five of them could smell a faint odor of chemicals, or perhaps gunpowder, coming from the man. "I see your teachers either don't teach you chemistry in school or you just don't pay attention. Can't you see what those boxes say?"
The boys looked at the boxes, but there were acronyms they didn't understand on the labels. Except for Carl who understood the meaning of a couple of them. If that was what he thought those boxes contained dangerous chemicals. Trinitobenzine, if he wasn't mistaken, mercury, and some labels he couldn't make out. Some of those wooden boxes had no lids, but Carl could see that they were padded. He remembered seeing boxes like that for Independence Day, where some vendors carried the loudest and most spectacular fireworks.
The man looked at the pack of cigarettes in Greg's friend's hand and took it from him. "I'll keep this," he said casually, putting it in his pocket. "Go on, get out of here!"
The teenagers stared at him and clicked their tongues and walked away. As they walked a few meters away, they began to utter a few expletives and, as they rounded the corner, they disappeared from the man's sight.
Carl, a bit behind, had turned once more to look at the man but, by the time they rounded the corner, he had forgotten all about him and continued on with Greg and his cronies. Maybe if he was lucky with them he would meet a girl during the vacation weeks.
Carl sighed and kept pedaling, at least that man had taken away their cigarettes. That was a relief because he had seen what the boy who had handed them out earlier had done.
Greg's friend had his lips curved downward in a grumpy expression. The joke about the exploding cigarette that was still in that pack the man had taken from them had been ruined. He had hoped to give it to Greg later when they were with the girls. It would have to be another time.
A few minutes later, a little more than a kilometer away, the group met up with some of Greg's female friends, who took the opportunity to introduce them to their cousin Carl.
A detonation had been heard in the distance but they, minding their own business, never took any notice.
Nor were they interested in the next day's local newspapers, whose headlines announced the death of a certain engineer and rocket scientist, caused by an explosion in his home laboratory.
***
March 20, 2012. Ancient Era.
Diego Garcia. Under the jurisdiction of the United States Kingdom.
An elderly Carl Scott opened his eyes and the whiteness of the room made him squint. The morning sun was streaming into the base hospital room.
It had been decades since he remembered that. A youthful fling when he was in California.
That summer he had gotten his first girlfriend thanks to his cousin Greg, who had introduced her to Carl. The years had passed and Greg had met an unfortunate end in his thirties, when he had had a cramp in the sea, when he had gone with his wife to a beach in Santa Monica.
Drowning, what an ending.
It was rather unfortunate that he remembered that now. He ran a hand over his wrinkled forehead. He had sweated in his sleep and his leg still burned.
True, he was on the island.
The rhythmic sound of waves crashing against the nearby shore caressed Scott's consciousness as he finally finished emerging from the depths of his dreams and memories. His body felt heavy, as if he was dragging the weight of seven decades of memories and experiences. He opened his eyes with effort, finding bright light penetrating through the half-open curtains of the room.
Carl Scott's mind gradually cleared, and he remembered the reason for his presence on Diego Garcia Island. He had come to visit old friends, fellow adventurers with whom he had shared unforgettable moments during his years of service for the Royal Intelligence Agency. However, the excitement of the reunion had been dampened by an unfortunate incident the day before during a diving excursion.
The image of underwater life swimming among the lush coral quickly faded as the throbbing pain in his leg reminded him of the reason for his discomfort. A poisonous coral had left its mark, an open burn spreading across his skin like liquid fire. He reflected on the irony of his situation: a hardened spy from a life of action, incapacitated by a dumb dive.
With an effort, Carl tried to sit up, but was stopped by a gentle hand that gently pushed him back. He looked up and saw a middle-aged base nurse with a reassuring smile. He hadn't seen her come in but surely it was from the surveillance of the room they had detected that he had woken up.
"Easy, Mr. Scott, good morning," the nurse said in a calm voice. "You should rest and allow your body to recover. We'll bring you your breakfast."
"Good morning…"
Carl nodded weakly, feeling grateful for the medical attention he was receiving. The efficiency of the medical staff had not gone unnoticed by him the day before, when they had come to the scene of his accident and transported him to the base hospital. No doubt he was no more than an old man to them, but they had orders to treat him well. At least his years of service had not been in vain.
"It looks like you've had an unfortunate encounter with one of our local corals," the nurse continued as she examined Carl's leg.
"You're telling me," Carl snorted.
"It happened to me too, a few weeks after I'd arrived on the island."
"Maybe they should put up a sign or something."
"Maybe," nodded the nurse. As the nurse continued her examination, Carl's mind wandered back into the past, remembering the days of his youth, when life was full of promise and adventure.
A voice interrupted his thoughts, snapping him out of his reverie. It was a young military doctor, with a serious, yet compassionate expression on his face.
"Mr. Scott, it looks like you've been lucky," the doctor said. "The injury does not appear to be serious, but you will need rest and care to fully recover. At least for a few days."
Carl nodded, grateful for the reassuring news. Despite the lingering pain in his leg, he felt comforted by the dedicated attention he was receiving. He was relieved that it hadn't been anything serious although, that it had happened the day before, threw a wrench in the plans for why he had come to the island in the first place.
As he finished the breakfast he had brought the comforting silence of the room was interrupted by the soft creak of the door opening. Two familiar figures entered, with warm smiles on their weather-wrinkled faces. Both were dressed in Bermuda shorts and shirts but one of them was wearing a white coat. Despite this they did not look like hospital staff.
"Carl! You, old fart! How are you doing?" exclaimed the first of the newcomers, an older man with a contagious laugh. That bastard was still the same as ever. Jack seemed in good spirits.
The years had finally caught up with the bastard and he had aged sufficiently, although he still looked younger than Carl, even though he must have been in his forties when he met him. Whatever it was that kept him looking like that he should have marketed it, he would have made a fortune.
"How is your morning?" added the second, the coat-wearer, a thinner man, with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
Leteo looked the oldest of the three now even though he had been the youngest. The island life had been good for his health but getting too much sun every day had made him look very tanned and wrinkled.
Carl raised his head with a tired smile, recognizing his lifelong friends. Despite the lingering pain in his leg, he couldn't help but feel comforted by their presence.
"I'm fine but, I hope you get your ass bitten by a muraena," Carl joked showing Jack his middle finger with a wince as he wiggled his leg. Then he sighed. "I think we're past our glory days."
The three men shared a grin of cynicism, recalling the reckless exploits of their youth and humorously acknowledging the ravages of time on their aging bodies.
"Who would have thought that a diving excursion would end up with me in a hospital bed. Damn it!" Carl commented, shaking his head in disbelief.
"Ah, but what memories!" interjected Jack with a mischievous spark in his eyes. "Remember when we tried to climb that mountain in Alaska and ended up lost for three days?"
"Or that time we decided to camp out in the middle of a forest during a storm," Carl added. "I think that was the only time I've ever seen you more scared than dog in a boat."
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
"I don't like storms very much…"
The three men shared anecdotes and laughs, immersing themselves in nostalgia for times gone by. Though the years had left their mark on their bodies and minds, the bond of friendship across the decades remained as strong as ever. While Leteo did not have as many shared adventures with them, there were still enough stories to write an unauthorized biography of the Kingdom, detailing the defense projects of the past few years.
"Maybe we're not young for wild adventures anymore," Carl mused with a wistful smile.
"Speak for yourself, I'm ready for any adventure."
The atmosphere suddenly changed when Leteo took on a more serious tone. "Hey, Carl, there's something we need to talk about," he began, his voice now laden with solemnity.
Carl frowned slightly, detecting the change of tone in his friend. He exchanged glances with Jack, whose face had also wiped off the smile.
"What's up?" Carl asked, his curiosity now fully piqued.
"Well, I guess you figured it out, right?"
Carl looked at Jack, who also nodded with a rueful grimace on his face.
Carl nodded with understanding, there was no need to say it. His injury would leave him out of the planned trip to Geneva. The second important reason he had traveled to the island. Although he was disappointed not to be able to accompany his friends on this latest venture, he knew that his priority was to make a full recovery. His wife would kill him if she found out he had taken a flight to Geneva after getting hurt the day before.
"I'm sorry," Carl said sincerely, looking at his colleagues with a mixture of gratitude and sadness. "I'd love to join, but I understand that my priority right now is to make a full recovery."
Jack put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Bah, don't worry," he said with a reassuring smile. "Your health is more important. We'll manage without you, won't we?"
Leteo nodded with determination. "Absolutely," he said firmly. "We'll do everything we can."
Carl smiled, he had no choice. "I'm sure you'll do an amazing job. And in the meantime, I'll be here, waiting to see how it goes. Anyway, I just wanted to see how it was going out of curiosity."
Leteo approached. "You want to see it? It is out of the main chamber."
Carl looked at him. "Sure."
Jack stepped away for a moment and in a few seconds was back with a wheelchair. Carl pursed his lips, but he had no choice but to use it. He dressed in shorts and a T-shirt before sitting in the wheelchair and letting Jack drive it.
The group left the hospital and headed for a nearby hangar.
Despite the usual bustle of the base they entered, there was no one there. There were just a few airplanes and metal tables with material that was to be shipped on a flight. Much of that material had already been put into industrial suitcases, but Carl thought that they might be loads of weapons and ammunition for some other base. However, that was not what they were interested in. The group went to one of the tables and there Carl saw it.
It was a metal sphere of about fifty centimeters in diameter that looked like a vacuum chamber, the sphere was supported by another square block that served as a base. That sphere had a series of cells and slots on its surface that must have been where the connection cables were inserted but, at that moment, it was not connected to anything in particular and the other plugs in the base were not connected to anything either. Next to the sphere rested some smaller industrial cases that Carl assumed would be the wires for the connection and other devices.
The second reason for his trip to the island.
Although he was happy to be reunited with his friends, he was intrigued by it as well.
As Gehirn had predicted years ago, during that meeting, the project of Leteo's Holographic Portal had been transported to Diego Garcia. In recent years the Department of Defense had been using that thing to conduct operations in the Middle East theater of war. The functions had not turned out as favorably as Leteo had predicted, but the successes in several dangerous missions for the elimination of terrorist hotspots had meant that in the eyes of the Kingdom that machine had become a valuable asset in the war. In Leteo's eyes it was a forty percent success, but for the Kingdom it was a seventy or maybe more according to the strategic analysts.
Several threats had been identified minutes and sometimes seconds in advance, resulting in victories over the enemy and saving the lives of soldiers and civilians alike.
Jack had come to the island about three years ago for a change of scenery. In recent years he had been interested mostly in space projects but, the truth was that the space race was stagnant in the last decade unless the private sector was involved. Resources were needed in war, rather than in space, unless they were spy satellites.
Although Jack didn't like it much, the Kingdom had subsidized some research for the development of new missiles and he had been offered the chance to participate because of his past experience with chemical compounds. He would have the opportunity to meet with Leteo, since the project would be carried out on the island. Without much to do he had decided to accept.
Carl Scott, on the other hand, had been enjoying a comfortable retirement in recent years. After Leteo moved to Diego Garcia for his project, he had finally decided to step aside and enjoy his remaining years with his family. It was a bit sad since it had all ended the day Gehirn had heard about the project which, according to Jack, would be of great importance for the future of mankind. The rest was out of both of their hands.
The mission was over.
Gone were all those exploits that had led him into a world he had barely imagined.
Yet, perhaps there was still more to see.
Although Jack's knowledge of what was to come had come to an end, the truth was that it was also something to worry about. For many years Carl had moved according to the instructions that Jack knew and, although they had been adventures, he always had some uneasiness when he remembered that he had always had the feeling that they were both puppets in a predestined plan. Leteo included.
That it had ended now filled him with a feeling that the future for all of them was much stranger, since he did not know what the coming years would bring. The future was safe, but what of their future?
Carl looked at the sphere and approached it.
He had arrived on the island three days ago and now it was the closest he had ever been to the rock that had started it all. He couldn't touch it because it was inside the spherical chamber but it seemed that, in someway, it was an old acquaintance.
That was the core of the machine. In the previous days he had been near the large structure that served for the project and that occupied more than fifty square meters, but that was the core.
The core inside was constructed as a vacuum chamber with layers. Towards the central part it had special arms of tiny size like needles. As soon as those arms came in contact with the rock they could send the raw information to be absorbed by the rock.
It was similar to how a hard drive worked, as Leteo had explained in the past. The rock was the plate where the raw data was sent and extracted. The power to run the entire device was layers of electromagnets. These electromagnets increased the energy sent to the center, which made the rock levitate for a short period of time.
In spite of having a semi-transparent crystalline consistency, the truth was that when a certain amount of energy was applied to it, the rock went through a state of transition, where its atoms were aligned in a different way and acquired more ferromagnetic properties for tenths of a second, which allowed such levitation.
Those tenths of a second were vital, because that was the moment in which some of the needles with their heads sent the information to the rock. The information back was received by the heads of another series of needles and from there it was sent to the external servers for processing.
All the energy of the island was redirected especially to the department headed by Leteo when conducting those experiments.
The energy to activate the rock was enormous, since it came from the island's nuclear plant, but it was not enough to carry out a better study. After all, it seemed that those elusive particles from the sun were of vital importance to unlock all the potential of the chronomantic crystal as Leteo had called it.
The technicians, with instructions from Leteo, had removed the core for a specific reason.
A special experiment was to be conducted that was being subsidized by the Kingdom. They wanted to test that part of the machine using the CEEN hadron collider.
"And so? Is it going to work?" Carl asked.
"We don't know yet," Leteo shrugged. "It's possible but, because of the energy levels, I don't think it will be enough. Either way it's a good time to test if we can discover something new."
"The Higgs boson?"
"It has nothing to do with our research, but that was one of the goals of that collider. That they were finally able to prove the existence of the boson is proof that we are still missing many pieces of the puzzle of the standard model family of particles."
"So that's why you might be able to find out something new from the rock?"
"Yes, though at the very least any clue can help us."
"And you?" Carl asked, looking at Jack.
"Nah, I'm just a chaperone. That particle stuff has always been beyond what I understand."
"Director Waters?! Are you around?" A soldier's voice had echoed throughout the hangar and Leteo turned around.
"What's going on?"
"I need your signature for the shipment. The goods will be in your name."
"Oh! Here I go." Leteo walked away leaving Carl and Jack alone.
"Did you know about this?" Carl asked. "I meant in your instructions."
Jack shook his head. "No, this is all new. Our part is long over."
"Is it safe to take it off the island?"
"I don't see a problem. The machine will travel on a commercial flight from Maldives, so as not to attract too much attention."
"A common flight?"
"No, at least it's a ghost flight so there will be some security in that respect."
"How did they hide it?"
"The classic. A banana shipment from the Maldives."
Scott held a hand to his face. "How much longer do the higher-ups intend to use that excuse? A lot of people have long since figured out it's a cover-up."
"What's wrong with it? The press can't check every shipment and the airlines with ghost flights have a responsibility to hide the cargo if the contents are insured as private and the amount is paid. G/54 JANEF exist for this sort of thing in addition to safely transporting certain people."
Due to his years of service in the RIA Carl Scott had gained access to the island and had been invited by Leteo to be part of the small group that would travel to Geneva for the experiment. Although Carl was retired, he had gladly accepted the invitation. Something to kill the monotony of his later years.
Those who would travel would be him, Leteo and Jack, accompanied by two undercover agents. Another team would already be waiting for them in Meyrin, to go to a hotel and the next day to the particle collider.
However, what had happened with the coral had upset the plans. Now he would have to stay on the island for a few days until the discomfort in his leg subsided, but he would miss that part of the experiment. Although he understood almost nothing of the science behind that machine, that stone had been part of his life since his youth when he first saw it in Venice. It couldn't help but intrigue him, he had dodged bullets, knives, and traps left behind by who knows what lost civilizations, and had been on the verge of death more times than he could remember.
Leteo returned a few minutes later with a couple of pages in his hands.
"What's going on?" Carl asked.
Leteo passed the pages to Jack. "It's nothing, it's just that the papers are modified so as not to attract attention."
"Modified? Falsified you mean."
"We have three cover identities, mine and two escort personnel," Jack said reading the paper. "But you weren't given one?"
"No. Remember I've been an academic, not a spy like you."
"Let me see," Carl demanded. Jack handed him the sheets and there he read the details of the whole thing. The usual obscure relocation operations. The machine would be hidden in a cargo container that would already be sealed from the island. Although it would pass through the cargo control scanners, that was only to make sure that there was no dangerous material. The sum had already been paid for it.
The ULD would be with the code AKN-8-31416 HP.
Everything seemed to be ready, the flight from the island would leave after noon to land in the Maldives and from there it would be loaded on a commercial plane whose final destination was Geneva.
"Are you leaving in the afternoon from the Maldives?" Carl asked.
"More or less. But we leave in about four hours from here," Leteo said with a nod.
The next few hours had dragged quickly for the three of them and after the machine had been put on a unit load device, specially arranged by the airline, it was loaded onto a military aircraft.
The sun before noon was beating down hard on the runway. Carl watched from the side of the airfield, where all the movement was taking place. The plane was not only carrying the machine, but also personnel and other materials to the Maldives, so that it was to make the most of the trip. It would have been very easy to send the military transport to Geneva, but there was always the possibility that someone would snoop around to find out what the plane was doing there and what it was carrying.
Maximilian Norton wanted to minimize the risk of any of that leaking to the press. After all, even if the war against terrorism had been a success, it did not mean that voices were already being raised from other sectors of the Parliament that the troops had to start thinking about reducing their presence, now that several enemy cells had been neutralized. The royal house did not want more problems than it already had. And after all that project was almost entirely Maximilian's, none of the income that had gone into the construction of the machine came from public funds. Only the use of the reactor on the island was covered by the military budget.
The number of operations was also dropping and that had given the scientists working on the holographic portal an opportunity to do an extra experiment. The years had passed and finally there was a particle collider with enough power to carry out the experiment. They had the help of certain groups in the European sector who had enough ties to the royal house to keep the matter quiet and keep it out of the ears of the Parliament.
The military plane of imposing size was being loaded with equipment in meticulously labeled boxes. Uniformed men were moving with speed and precision, following orders that seemed to be shrouded in a veil of secrecy.
Carl frowned, feeling a twinge of intrigue as he watched the scene from a distance. He knew that the project his friends were working on was of the utmost importance, but the clandestinity with which it was being carried out piqued his curiosity. It brought back memories of his own runs around the world.
The loading of the military aircraft was finally complete, and Carl watched as the aircraft prepared for takeoff. However, his attention was interrupted by the arrival of his two friends, who approached with serious but determined expressions on their faces.
"Well, we're off," Leteo announced, his voice laden with restrained emotion.
Carl nodded, wishing them luck on their journey as they said goodbye with a firm handshake and a quick hug. "We'll see you in a few days," Leteo promised, his gaze conveying a confidence that barely disguised his eagerness to see the results the experiment would bring, however small they might be.
With a mixture of strange trepidation, Carl watched as his friends walked away toward the military plane.
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"Don't leave until we bring back results!" Jack shouted, giving him a military salute, as he walked up the ramp of the plane. That asshole really hasn't changed a bit, thought Carl amused. But the smile quickly faded from his lips.
As the aircraft prepared for takeoff, an uneasy feeling came over Carl Scott, as if something was out of place, but he couldn't put his finger on what.
With his heart pounding in his chest, Carl followed the plane's ascent into the sky with his eyes, wondering what hidden secrets that machine carried inside, after all, that rock had barely shown a fraction of what it could do.
As the airship was lost in the distance, leaving only the echo of its engine rumbling in the air, Carl knew that the answers would only come in time. Although, he didn't know why but, he could sense that perhaps those answers would come in a time when they would no longer be around to know them.