Redemption (Part Three of The Arbiter Project Trilogy)
By Marek Storm
Copyright 2011 Marek Storm

Smashwords Edition


Discover other titles by Marek Storm at Smashwords.com
REASON (Part One of the Arbiter Project Trilogy)
RENEWAL (Part Two of the Arbiter Project Trilogy)


Smashwords Edition, License Notes

Thank you for downloading this free e-book. Although this is a free book, it remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied and distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy at Smashwords.com, where they can also discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support.
TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
About the Author
Discover other titles by Marek Storm at Smashwords.com
Connect with Marek Storm Online
Chapter 1

Seneschal Island - Somewhere in the North Pacific

Kenneth Davis Cobb was dead. That fact should have brought nothing but joy to Adam Lucas. Seeing the man lying on the table in front of him with a bullet hole in the middle of his forehead did nothing to lessen the burden of those who were lost to the former Senator. A perpetrator of great evil had been removed from the world to never tear apart another family by robbing them of a wife or child. Still, it wasn’t the serial killer that lay lifeless stretched out in eternal dreamless sleep. It was just an empty husk. A shell, only a shadow of the former being. There was no lasting satisfaction in the death of Kenneth Davis Cobb, for no matter how much Adam Lucas wanted the man dead, no amount of pain nor even torture could bring back the family that had been taken from him. Lorraine and Elizabeth were still gone and the weight of their deaths he would forever carry with him. For Adam Lucas, revenge may have been satisfied but there was no justice in the execution -- just a lonely and empty reassurance that Kenneth Davis Cobb would not kill again or subject any other human being to the torment and anguish that he had bestowed upon an undeserving man. Adam Lucas had been spared a conscience burdened by the guilt of murder committed out of the venom and hatred of vengeance, but not the consequence.
The debacle of the trial fallacy once again played through the mind of Adam Lucas. Something Anthony Case had said tickled at the fringe of his memories. Case had said the Cobb was just a pawn and that his acquittal had not been an accident. If that were true, then he was still in danger and this wasn’t over. Cobb was just a link that led much higher in a chain of government conspiracy. Adam wondered why his family had been targeted. In his brief amount of research, there was not a single bill that he was the only Senator to cast a nay vote on. He hadn’t heard of any other high-profile murders or assassinations of other Senators or their families. As he stared into the cold, dead face of the man responsible for taking his family from him, Adam Lucas couldn’t understand what it was that made him and his family the man’s target. He hoped that Special Agent Marcus Ludlow might be able to uncover information that might answer that question. Considering everyone that could potentially be involved in the conspiracy, Adam also worried for Ludlow’s safety. After all, he too had a family that needed protection.
The hiss of the lab door opening broke Adam’s concentration. Elliot Thorpe, Anthony Case, Aaron Francis, and Hans Richter all entered the small room, quickly making it appear filled to capacity. Hans circled the table and placed his right hand on Kenneth Davis Cobb’s shoulder with an expression of confusion and repulsion. Adam could not read Richter’s face and assumed that the look was a result of seeing the dead body on the table. Perhaps knowing that his wife Elsa had been in the lab with the corpse for some indeterminate amount of time was also a source of concern. It was somewhat strange that Hans was in the small room with his wife out of sight, especially considering their very recent reunion.
Anthony Case, being the last person entering the lab, made sure that the door had sealed behind him before looking at Adam and speaking. “I’m sure you have questions, Mr. Lucas. We will answer what we can. By eliminating Kenneth Cobb, the future timeline has been put in jeopardy. Any further tampering on our part could potentially have catastrophic results to our future existence.”
The mind of Adam Lucas was reeling from all of the unanticipated and unexpected input over the past few days. He had trouble formulating a thought, let alone a question. Still, remembering his resolve as a U.S. Senator and drawing upon that strength, his desire to get to the bottom of what was happening helped him to focus. “It’s strange, seeing Cobb dead on the table like this. After everything he did to me and my family. I should be happy and celebrating right now, but I can’t. Someone is still out there that is responsible for Lorraine and Elizabeth’s deaths. This victory seems oddly hollow. What I’d really like to know, however, isn’t why you shot and killed Kenneth Cobb. If you traveled back through time as you claim, why couldn’t you have went back a little farther and took him out before he killed my wife and daughter?”
Fresh tears boiled over from Adam’s pot of welling emotions. For the first time since he had met Anthony Case, he was angry with the man -- so angry that he wanted to push past the others and pin him to a wall. It was an unfair emotion since he didn’t know the whole story, so Adam quickly regained control of himself before he lashed out.
Anthony Case appeared genuinely hurt by the tone of Adam’s comment. His expression was one of remorse, pity, and betrayal. “Mr. Lucas -- Adam -- I wish I could give you the reasons why this went down the way that it did. I am so very sorry for all that you have lost. You have no idea just how sorry I truly am. I know you will find no comfort in my words, but know that things had to happen the way that they did. It was the only way to ensure the least impact on the world that we come from. Understand that there are certain things that must happen and others that can’t happen in your time without shifting ours. I’m sorry that I can’t give you a better answer than that. I know what I’m asking is difficult, but you’re going to have to trust me when I say that one day this will all make sense to you.”
Case’s words did little to comfort Adam. “You’re right, I don’t understand. I don’t think it’s possible for me to understand. I don’t have the benefit or luxury of knowing what is going to happen tomorrow or the next day. You need to see things from my perspective.”
Case’s gaze fell to the floor and he shook his head slightly from side to side. “I do, Adam, more than you know.”
Hans turned to face Aaron Francis. “If what you’re saying is true about influencing the timeline, then how can what you told me be true or even possible?”
Francis shrugged his shoulders. “I’m not going to stand here and profess that I have a complete grasp on how this time and space stuff works. There are just some decisions that more obviously and prominently affect the future. Or, in your particular case, the past, present, and future.”
Adam was even more confused. “Hans, what do you know about all of this?”
Reluctantly, the scientist met Adam’s gaze. “It’s a barrel of mixed emotions for me. I understand the precept of the time space continuum, but the details are frankly a little mind-boggling. I’m still trying to wrap my head around some of it.”
Not breaking the eye contact, Adam pressed Hans. “Let me ask you again -- what do you have to do with all this?”
Hans shifted his focus from Adam to Cobb’s corpse. “Let me start by saying, I don’t fully understand what Aaron has told me. Beyond that, I’m not sure I believe it. That being said, I’ll try to explain. As you already know, I worked on a top secret project called the Lazarus Project. I worked out of Lewiston Army Base in New Mexico. I had a colleague, a Dr. Susan Meadows. I didn’t know her prior to working on the project and I tried to avoid her as much as possible when we started working together. Not that I thought she was a bad person or anything like that. It was more that I was happily married and she had an attraction to me that I had no desire to reciprocate. Still, even as hard as I tried, she found ways to be around me and get close to me. I had done a good job of stonewalling her not-so-subtle advances until all hell broke loose on the base. One of the test subjects for the project was accidentally sent home to his family instead of being cremated per procedure. To make a long story short, when it came out, the head military brass at the base started systematically eliminating all evidence that the project had ever existed including we scientists. I had been secluded prior to that because they wanted me to focus on developing my formula. When the shooting started, Dr. Meadows and I managed to escape from the base. That was after I witnessed my wife and son being given shots of what I assumed was the same cancer-causing agent that was given to the test subjects. I was told they were dead. During our flight, she and I went through a great deal together. Life or death situations tend to make people closer.”
Adam was growing impatient. “Look, Hans. I appreciate the story, but could you get to the point?”
Hans continued unabated. “I’m trying, Adam. I can’t just give you the end without giving you some background first. Some of it had to be filled in for me by Aaron because it happened in my absence. Anyway, we were traveling with Aaron and Dr. Thorpe in the semi when we hit a snowstorm and had to stop for the night in Spanish Fork, Utah. Susan and I shared a room with my intention of sleeping on a cot while she took the bed. Upon her insistence, we traded. We found a bottle of wine chilled in the room with a note saying it was from Aaron. Subsequently, I have learned that it wasn’t from him at all. Susan slipped something into the drink that caused me to hallucinate. I awoke the next morning to find her in the bed with me. Naturally I was upset at what had transpired. I went in the restroom to change clothes, intending to confront she and Aaron when I came out. When I went outside, the semi, Aaron, Dr. Thorpe, and Susan had all disappeared. I assumed that when I got to Devil’s Lake that I would catch up with all of them. Obviously that didn’t happen. Even now, the whereabouts of Dr. Meadows is not known.”
Adam again interjected. “I still don’t see what this has to do with anything!”
Aaron picked up where Hans had left off. “Somehow, Dr. Meadows knew about our technology for traveling through time. We think she may have been sent back by a rogue faction from our timeline.”
As Adam’s eyes squinted, his brow furrowed as well. He was not seeing the connection.
Aaron continued. “I can’t tell you anything more about our timeline, but I can tell you what I believe happened to Dr. Meadows. We found references in our historical databases that corroborate our beliefs.”
Adam sighed. “Which are?”
“Susan Meadows used our technology to transport herself into the past.”
“You just said that!”
It was Anthony Case that spoke this time. “No, you aren’t getting it. Yes, she used the technology to come back to your timeline. That we know for an absolute fact. We think she used the technology to travel back in time from here.”
The light bulb still hadn’t fired in Adam’s mind. “To what end?”
Hans looked at Cobb and then at Adam. “She got pregnant from our encounter.”
Adam shook his head. “Okay, but she…”
Hans continued. “She went back thirty years, took a husband, and gave birth to our son. Of course, she told her husband that the child was from his own seed.”
Adam caressed his chin with his thumb and index finger as if trying to piece together a puzzle and contemplating his next move. “An unwed mother would be shunned now. I can only imagine it would have been even worse thirty years ago.”
Hans nodded in agreement. “Certainly it would have. Being from the future, however, she would have known that she was pregnant the night of the conception. Therefore, she just had to take a husband before she showed signs of being pregnant.”
“Agreed, but I’m still not understanding the whole picture here. What is it you’re trying to say?”
Hans glanced at Aaron, who recognized the signal that he needed to divulge the information to Adam. “The man that she took as her husband thirty years ago. His name was Lawrence Eugene Cobb.”
Adam’s jaw dropped and he stood with his mouth hanging wide open. Looking from Aaron to Case to Hans, he sought confirmation, which ultimately came from Hans himself.
Finally looking at Adam, Hans said words that ran like ice water through the former Senator’s veins. “Lawrence Eugene Cobb was Kenneth Davis Cobb’s father, or at least the man he grew up to call father.”


Chapter 2

Seneschal Island - Somewhere in the North Pacific

Adam Lucas stood dumbfounded. Could it possibly be true that Hans Richter was the father of Kenneth Davis Cobb, the serial killer that had claimed the lives of his wife, daughter, and countless others? His face flushed and he was wracked with indecision. Even if it were indeed the truth, did Richter deserve any blame for bringing the bastard child into existence? After all, it was his seed that ultimately gave Cobb life regardless of whether it was taken willingly or not. Hans had suggested that he was drugged by Susan Meadows, but did that spare him culpability? She had extracted his seed then took flight into the past and married the man who would become Kenneth’s father. Adam assumed that it was that man that shouldered the majority of the blame for his unstable foster child. Still, he could not look Richter in the face.
Hans Richter wore a mixed expression. Several emotions brewed under the surface of his skin. He was angry that he had been drugged and tricked into sexual relations by a woman he had come to trust. The lie that his wife and son were dead haunted him -- the guilt of his act with Susan was bad enough on its own when thinking his family was gone. Now that he knew that Elsa and Sigmund were very much alive, the burden increased a hundredfold. An unfathomable amount of shame accompanied his anger. Could he ever tell Elsa about what had transpired or could he spare her the knowledge and inevitable pain? It hadn’t been his conscious, unhindered decision to be unfaithful to his wife. Were he in his right mind, Hans would never have cheated on her. He had only allowed himself the thought of being with Susan once and he regretted even that decision virtually every minute since it had happened. No, he would not have partaken of Susan’s offering if he had been in his right mind. Aside from the act itself, there was the end result. A life had been brought into the world of his seed. That was something he couldn’t take back. Hans shouldered some of the responsibility and causality for Kenneth Davis Cobb’s actions although he had not been involved in his son’s life. The corpse lying on the table in front of him shared his DNA and genetic structure and if one was to subscribe to the theory of genetic inheritance, then there was little doubt that he was also to blame for the many atrocities that his spawn committed. With everything considered, Kenneth Davis Cobb was still the product of his loins and though it comprised a very small part of his mindset, there was at least a minute amount of remorse and regret for the death of the man before him. Perhaps had he been allowed to be involved in the boy’s life and helped to raise him, he would not have grown to become the cold-blooded soulless murderer that he did.
Aaron Francis stepped forward and pulled the sheet back up to cover Cobb’s face. Looking from Hans to Adam, his look was one of pity and regret. “I’m truly sorry for both of you -- Adam, that I couldn’t go back farther and save your family. Hans -- that I didn’t see through Susan’s plan. I could have spared you both a lot of pain if I only would have had a little more thorough insight. Unfortunately, now it’s too late to change anything.”
Richter looked up from the sheet-covered Cobb. “But wait, you can travel through time. Why can’t you just go back and make the necessary course corrections in the timeline?”
Anthony Case shook his head at the same time as Francis and elaborated. “It’s not that easy. Time is not as fluid as it seems. At any given moment, there exists an almost infinite amount of parallel timelines, each one acting as an alternate dimension. Perhaps in one of the timelines we were able to foresee the actions of Dr. Meadows and successfully put a stop to her plan. The people that exist in those alternate timelines are not technically us. Sure, they share the same genes and molecular structure, but they are slightly different because of their varied experiences. If we interfere in one of our alternate self’s timeline, it is kind of like walking on a lake frozen over with thin ice. With each step or action, the ice cracks a little. Cause enough fissures in the ice and eventually, it will collapse.”
Hans and Adam both glared at Case. Richter was the one that spoke. “So, you get a little wet, what’s the big deal? If you save all the people that this man…” Hans poked Cobb’s body hard with his index finger and continued “murdered in cold blood, then I think it’s worth the risk, don’t you?”
Case wouldn’t relent. “No, you don’t understand! If the ice gives way, everything we know ceases to exist, period. All of the alternate timelines would converge and BOOM!” He slammed his fist onto the table, causing Cobb’s body and everyone else in the small lab to jump. “All life would be extinguished in an instant.”
Finally, Adam and Hans managed to look at each other. Richter’s eyes expressed the depth of his inner conflict and the limitless yet wholly inadequate sorrow for the crimes his son had committed. Any anger that Adam had felt toward Hans had dissipated. He couldn’t hold the man responsible for something completely beyond his control. “Hans, it’s okay. I don’t blame you in the slightest. None of what has happened is your fault.”
Hans looked down. “I can’t help but feel guilty and somewhat responsible for your loss. I am truly sorry.”
Adam circled the table and stood face-to-face with Hans Richter. Extending his hand, he took Richter’s hand into his own and firmly shook it. “Let’s move past this, Hans. Maybe together we can work together to figure out how to bring those to count that need to be and to best serve justice.”
Hans squeezed Adam’s hand and a kinship was born when their gaze met. They would figure out how to put things right.
A moment later, the trailer shook violently as if there had been an explosion on the island. Everyone that had been standing was thrown unceremoniously off their feet. The corpse of Kenneth Davis Cobb rolled off the table and landed on top of Adam and Hans. With concerted effort, they pushed the body off of themselves. Elsa’s scream penetrated the near soundlessness within the lab. Just as the men had climbed to their feet, the semi was rocked by another explosion.
The second blast was followed by the chink-chink-chink of bullets ricocheting off the metal of the semi’s trailer. Case, who had managed to keep his footing after the shockwave, raced out of the room and to the back of the rig. He disappeared down the ramp and returned an instant later, shouting to Elliot Thorpe. “Elliot! Get us out of here -- NOW!”
Sprinting to the lab, Case was out of breath but still managed to bark out orders. “All of you, come on, we need to get the ramp up so we can get out of here!”
Approaching the back of the trailer, the sound of helicopter blades cutting through the air reverberated off the walls. Elsa Richter had regained her balance and started to join the group heading out to raise the ramp. Hans was panicked. “No, Elsa! Stay in here! I thought I lost you once! I’m not willing to take that chance again!” 
Stopping in her tracks, Elsa watched as the men descended the ramp and jumped off. The helicopter’s roar was almost deafening. Dirt flew up as the bullets ripped into the earth. Tortured metal screamed as the men shoved the ramp into its resting place. It had nearly cleared when there was a loud grunt of pain followed by a burst of red exploding on the white lab coat of Dr. Hans Richter.


Chapter 3

Seneschal Island – Somewhere in the North Pacific

Elsa Richter screamed at the volume of blood on her husband’s chest. The look of complete and utter shock on Hans Richter’s face tore at the chords of her sanity and against her husband’s warnings, she flung herself off the end of the truck to get to Hans. Dust swirled into the air as the attacking helicopter circled for another attack. The thought of being shredded by bullets from the chopper’s machine guns did not deter Elsa. If Hans were going to die, she would rather perish with her husband than live for any significant amount of time without him.
It was soon evident that Hans Richter, though apparently stunned was not the person that was wounded by the gunfire. Aaron Francis fell backward onto the ground, his eyes opening impossibly wide from the pain shooting through his body. His hand covered a large bullet hole in his upper abdomen just a few inches below his chest cavity. His blood gushed over his hand while also trickling out the corners of his mouth. Acceptance registered in his eyes about his condition. Should anyone try to comfort him and tell him he would survive, he would know they were lying. Instead, he clung to life not so he could somehow miraculously survive the attack. Rather, as he sought the visage of Hans Richter, he used his last reserve of energy and thread of life to mouth the words “I’m sorry”.
Rotors ripped through the air sending a pulsating wave of heat and wind toward the helpless men. As Adam Lucas turned to face the helicopter, the olive drab color of the hull suggested that it was a military craft. Not one ounce of doubt weighed on the mind of Hans Richter as to where the chopper was from or who was on board. He had seen the craft before as he and Susan Meadows had fled for their lives out of the hunting cabin of the First Sergeant’s grandfather. Richter could picture the gray-haired red face of General Wallace Bydell puffing on a cigar as he coldly ordered the execution of anything moving on the ground below.
Everything would be over in a matter of seconds. A lifetime spent in the pursuit of scientific discovery would soon end in martyrdom. Hans cursed under his breath that he hadn’t had adequate time to retrieve all of the batches of his formula or at least destroy them. Even though he had thought to grab all of his lab and research notes, the military would be able to deconstruct the Lazarus formula given enough time. After what had transpired, Hans was remorseful for any knowledge that General Bydell gained from his successful work.
The helicopter hovered as if taunting the island’s occupants and letting them ponder the last few moments of their existence. There was nowhere to run. A plummet from one of the cliffs surrounding the plateau would mean a sure and painful demise on the jagged rocks below. The semi, custom fitted with a special armor plating could not offer refuge with the rear doors standing wide open. Once the machine guns engaged, it was only a matter of seconds before everyone lay dead on the deserted island so far from civilization.
Elsa crowded next to her husband not caring if the blood of Aaron Francis ruined her outfit. She wanted nothing more than to be with Hans even if it meant her certain death. Adam Lucas also faced the helicopter, refusing to cower to the aggressors.
Before the chopper could open fire, Auriel dove out of the semi and charged toward the edge of the precipice nearest the helicopter. Her golden fur billowing out with each stride, the golden retriever covered the distance impossibly fast and leapt off the edge. Adam didn’t have time to react before a flash of light blinded him and the others on the island.
The anticipated flurry of bullets did not rain down and after a minute, the temporary blindness from the bright light passed leaving only a series of spots in everyone’s vision. Auriel was nowhere to be seen and neither was the olive drab harbinger of death that had been hanging suspended on the horizon ready to claim its victims.
Concerned for his companion, Adam carefully walked to the cliff, taking care with his steps due to his reduced sight. Lowering himself to all fours, he peered over the side. A straight drop of what appeared to be miles terminated in a series of extremely sharp and jagged rocks, the ocean surf pounding violently against the sides of the giants. Adam blinked several times trying to improve his vision, but even without being able to see better, it was obvious that Auriel was not visible in the harsh landscape beneath. Looking up, the helicopter had seemingly vanished from the sky. There was no evidence of wreckage below. Had the chopper simply altered course, it would still be visible or audible at the very least. The sound of the rotors slicing through the wind had been replaced by water splashing on rock and a gentle breeze.
The others joined Adam and searched the perimeter of the island without finding anything. Both their attackers and the dog were gone. Rather than rise to his feet, Adam remained on his knees. He closed his eyes and was overcome with an odd sensation. In his mind, he remembered being on the beach by his residence several months earlier. The burden of losing his family weighed heavily on him then. Now, it was the thought of losing Auriel, who had in a short period of time grew to be a welcomed and loved member of the Lucas clan. The thought of losing her was unbearable. What truly surprised Adam was the fact that no tears came. In addition to remembering the time on the beach when he first met the dog, he vividly recalled a more recent memory. Auriel had catapulted out of the boat on Devil's Lake that she and Adam shared with Marcus Ludlow and swam in the direction of a boat that was pursuing them. She had come back to him then. There was no reason to believe that she wouldn’t come back to him now as well. After everything that Adam had witnessed, certainly just about anything was possible.
Regardless of anything else, everyone with the exception of Aaron Francis was still very much alive. One act of heroism might be discounted as coincidence. Twice, however, could not be so easily overlooked. There was definitely something special about Auriel the golden retriever and guardian (evidently).
Adam and Hans assisted Elliot Thorpe and Anthony Case in digging a grave for Aaron Francis. Once the earth had reclaimed him, Thorpe said a few words. When the impromptu eulogy had been given, he and Case surveyed the minimal damage to the semi.
Thorpe pulled Adam and Hans beside the massive truck. “Listen, I hate to ask this of you two, but I need your help. Cobb is going to start getting ripe pretty soon and it will smell up the whole bloody truck. I have discussed it with Anthony and we’ve decided to also bury Cobb on the mountaintop, though we will put him as far away from Aaron as possible. Will you all help us dig one more grave?”
Both Adam and Hans ran the same gamut of emotions that they had navigated earlier in the confines of the isolation lab in the back of the truck. It was Hans that finally spoke. “We figure we’d rather help you bury him than have to look at his face any longer.”
An hour later, a second grave had been completed and Cobb was unceremoniously dumped into it. Unlike with Francis, no one spoke a word about the serial killer that was now pushing up blades of grass on top of an island in the middle of the North Pacific that no one else would probably ever find.
After replacing the shovels in the back of the truck, Thorpe had convened an informal meeting in his portable lab. Adam was the last person in the lab and as he pulled the door shut, a sound in the distance grabbed his attention. Barking! Could it be? Without latching the door, he ran to the back of the truck just as a bundle of dark golden fur jumped to greet him. Auriel had indeed returned, though her coat was much darker than usual. Adam leaned over and embraced the dog as she greeted him by allowing a tight hug and gentle scratch behind her ears.
“I knew you’d come back, girl. It’s almost like you’re a part of me somehow.”
Auriel just barked an abbreviated chuff and nuzzled her wet nose up against Adam Lucas. Content for the time being, Adam returned to the lab and closed the door.
Anthony Case had a solemn expression on his face that was incredibly difficult to read. “These recent events may have damaged our future beyond repair, especially with the loss of Aaron Francis. I’m sorry, but we need to get back to our time immediately.”
Adam met Case’s gaze. “What does that mean for us? You can’t just leave us here!”
“We can’t take you with us. Enough damage has already been done to the timeline. We’ll send for someone to pick you up before we go.”
After Adam, Hans, Elsa, Auriel and the almost-forgotten-about Lazarus left the truck and preparations were made, Case climbed into the driver’s seat and fired up the engine of the semi. Instead of heading to his lab, Thorpe shut the back doors and took the passenger seat up front. As Case cautiously backed up the truck and circled around, Adam yelled a question. “Why did you bring us here, to this island?”
Case turned to Thorpe and consulted for a moment then shouted back. “Talk to Dr. Richter. Together, you’ll figure it out. Suffice it to say that this, Adam Lucas, will be the beginning of your new life. I’m afraid that’s all I can say.”
Before Adam had a chance to ask any further questions, the engine revved as a loud electric hum preceded the formation of another shimmering portal. The semi gathered speed and accelerated toward the liquid doorway. Once the back of the trailer passed through, the portal crackled then disappeared.
Alone on the top of a desolate island, Adam Lucas considered the words carefully chosen by Anthony Case regarding the purpose for him being brought to the island on which they now stood. He and Hans Richter had a lot to talk about. Considering that they had no idea how long it would take for their transportation back to the mainland to arrive, the men stood facing each other with nothing but time on their hands and minds.


Chapter 4

Seneschal Island - Somewhere in the North Pacific

Two hours had passed since the semi piloted by Anthony Case had disappeared through the shimmering portal. Hans Richter and his wife sat on the soft grass facing Adam Lucas, who was seated with his legs straight out and reclining back on both of his arms. Auriel was lying beside Adam with her head resting on his thigh contemplating a nap. A high-pitched skittering made the golden retriever’s ears raise slightly, though she did not relinquish her spot to investigate. Even when Lazarus climbed his way out of the lab coat pocket he had come to call home, Auriel merely lifted her head slightly off of Adam’s lap. Hans felt around in his pockets and found a stale package of salad crackers. Offering one to Lazarus, the mouse gladly accepted and greedily nibbled at the gift.
Something nagged at Hans. It took several moments for the idea to manifest, but when it did the scientist shot to his feet. After making a complete circuit of the entire island plateau, he returned wearing a mask of worry and anxiousness to where the others were resting.
Elsa stood and took her husband’s face into her hands. “What is it, my dear?”
When Hans spoke, it was evident that he was breathing shallowly as if he were experiencing a panic attack. “The formula… my formula. It’s gone! I brought a handful of vials from my lab at Lewiston. A few were damaged in my escape, but there were some that survived -- I know it! I have been meaning to inventory them, but things have been happening non-stop and I haven’t had a really good opportunity. Now, they’re gone, every last one of them!”
Elsa, who hadn’t been privy to what had transpired to the same level as Adam Lucas, appeared confused. “What formula? Hans, what are you talking about?”
Hans allowed Lazarus to crawl into his palm and extended the furry rodent to his wife. Unsure of his intention, Elsa reached with her index and middle finger and softly stroked the mouse’s fur. Lazarus seemed to enjoy the contact and jumped on the back of her hand, climbing to her shoulder and curling up in a ball.
Hans continued Elsa’s petting on Lazarus while he continued. “This, my dear wife, is Lazarus. His former designation was Specimen 374. He was a test subject for the project that I was working on.”
Elsa tilted her head slightly to the side so she could see the mouse. “He seems to be just fine. What did you do to him?”
Hans took his wife’s hand into his own and squeezed. “He’s fine now, but at one point, his little body was being eaten alive by a cancer that the military injected into him. My formula… it healed him.”
Elsa’s eyes opened wide. “Hans, that is wonderful! You found the cure for cancer?”
“His cancer was cured, yes. Not just in remission -- it was gone. But that’s not all my dear.”
Elsa shook her head from side to side as if doing a double-take. “You mean there’s more?”
“The last night that I came home to visit. Do you remember how frustrated I was? It was because Lazarus had died from the cancer before I left the lab that day. When I went back to work, I even discarded him in the waste receptacle. A little while later, he came back to life. The formula brought him back from the dead.”
Elsa was crying. “Oh my God, Hans! That’s a miracle!”
The anxious look returned to the scientist’s face. “A miracle that somebody has stolen!”
Adam, who had been listening to the conversation, decided to contribute. “Who would have known that you had the formula? When was the last time you remember having it?”
“Our guests from the future would undoubtedly have known that I possessed the vials of formula. Perhaps they took them, but the question would be for what purpose?”
Adam considered what Hans had said. “That wouldn’t make any sense. They wouldn’t have needed to steal it. In their time, it would have already existed, right?”
Hans scratched his head and stared off into space for a few minutes before answering. “I guess that would be right. If not them, then who? I remember checking on the vials when I was at the hotel in Spanish… DAMN!”
Adam jumped slightly at the unexpected outburst. “What is it, Hans?”
Walking to the far side of the plateau, Hans motioned for Adam to follow. Auriel stayed behind with Elsa, curling up at her feet.
When they were out of earshot, Hans divulged his idea. “Susan Meadows. She had access to my lab coat before she vanished into the past. She must have taken the formula with her, but I don’t know what she could have possibly done with it.”
“I don’t know if that’s a question for which we’ll ever have an answer. Did she take anything else?”
Hans thought for a second. “I still have my lab notes, so I could create more of the formula if I had the proper lab environment.”
Adam weighed the suggestion for recreating the formula. “Judging by everything that’s happened, so long as you keep those lab notes in your possession, you and your family will be in extreme danger. The military has already proven itself to be desperate enough to kill.”
“Perhaps the best course of action would be to destroy the notes, but then the military already has some of the formula, so would getting rid of them really do any good?”
Adam shrugged his shoulders. “No, probably not. And I’m not sure ethically speaking that destroying a formula that has the power to cure cancer would be the right decision.”
“Regardless of what the right answer is, I need to find a solution that keeps my family safe. When we get off this island, I am going with Elsa to see my son, Sigmund. I’ll have to figure something out soon.
Adam nodded his head in agreement. “So why do you think they brought us here to this island?”
“They obviously wanted us to meet and figure things out, but I honestly have no idea what we’re supposed to be figuring out! There is absolutely nothing here, so I don’t know what we would be able to do even if we knew what they wanted from us.”
“It must have something to do with the project you were working on -- that’s painfully obvious. I just don’t know how I fit into that equation anywhere. The only thing I can think of is your formula bringing my family back. Could that be it, I wonder?”
Hans expression changed to one of sympathy. “I wish I could say that was the case, but I’m not sure the formula would work on the already deceased. When I administered the injection to Lazarus, he was still alive. I believe that if it could be administered within a few minutes of death, the residual energy in a patient’s cells might be enough to bring them back. After that energy has faded, however, I don’t know that there would be anything in the body for the formula to interact with as a catalyst.”
Adam tried to hide his disappointment and failed miserably. Looking at the ground, he acknowledged the truth in the scientist’s words. “You’re probably right. It has been several months, plus both Lorraine and Elizabeth were violently murdered and lost a lot of blood.”
Hans put his hand on Adam’s shoulder for reassurance. “I’m sorry, Adam. I’m certainly willing to try if you want me to, but after being gone this long, there’s no telling what might be returned to you. I suspect that it would not be your wife and daughter.”
Before either Hans or Adam could speak any more, Auriel jumped to her feet and started running around the edge of the plateau. Alternating between sniffing, barking, and tilting her head to listen, she eventually stopped and took a position at Adam’s side. Adam looked around and didn’t see anything at first. Soon, a black spot appeared on the horizon and started increasing in size. Several minutes later, the telltale sound of helicopter rotors pierced the serenity of the peaceful island.
Having nowhere to go, Hans, Elsa, and Adam held hands and faced the horizon. The sun had started to sink below the horizon as if waiting to be relieved from guard duty by the moon. The blinding ivory of the giant star had muted to a reddish-orange color. Clouds extended outward, absorbing some yellows and oranges from their generous benefactor. In the middle of the beauty, the dark shape grew larger blotting out increasingly large portions of the sunlight. With a mixture of fear and apprehension, the occupants of Seneschal Island watched as the chopper approached.


Chapter 5

Seneschal Island - Somewhere in the North Pacific

What began as no more than a speck on the surface of the sun grew quickly to a blight as the helicopter neared Seneschal Island. Adam Lucas, Hans and Elsa Richter and even Auriel seemed to relax a little when no gunfire ensued upon the airship’s arrival. Landing at the center of the grassy plateau, Adam and Hans both recognized the chopper as the one that had initially transported them from Lincoln City to the island. As soon as the landing skids touched solid earth the door flew open and the island’s occupants were motioned into seats in the back of the helicopter.
Once seated, the return trip to Lincoln City seemed significantly shorter than the time it took to arrive. The warehouse in the middle of a dingy, dirty industrial district loomed as the craft approached and sank through the giant opening on the roof of a particularly large building. The pilot shut off the rotors at the exact same moment that the massive hole in the roof began to close. Soon, the helicopter was engulfed in complete and utter darkness.
After a few seconds, fluorescent light bathed the interior of the warehouse building affording Adam, Hans, Elsa and Auriel the chance to disembark from the helicopter. The pilot also climbed out after his passengers were unloaded.
Adam Lucas always had the gift of speaking with authority. It was a gift that could not be learned or taught. Whenever he opened his mouth, those around him listened with fearless anticipation. People hung on his very words, which is why he was able to be so successful in running for the United States Senate. Had the scandal fabricated by the hands of Kenneth Davis Cobb not come to fruition, Adam had enough charm and charisma to have eventually made it to the White House. Adam Lucas was not interested in such pursuits, however. He had been perfectly content to serve as a legislator and voice for his constituency -- a task he had performed well and admirably as one of the most respected politicians on Capitol Hill. Adam’s normally confident resolve was greatly diminished with everything that had transpired over the past several months. Some might say that he was less of a man, but Adam Lucas did not believe that. Somewhere inside still existed someone far greater than what the slanted media had attempted to create. He may have considered himself out of touch, but would never concede to being completely lost. From everything that he had come to learn since the time his daughter and wife were slain, there was far too much at stake in the future for him to throw in the towel and surrender to popular opinion.
Attempting to speak with his former confidence, Adam Lucas inquired of the helicopter pilot as to the current situation. The man was either indifferent or simply did not hear the former Senator as he continued to walk toward the large door that was the gateway to the outside world.
“What’s going to happen now? Are we just being left here? I can’t speak for Dr. Richter, but I don’t know Lincoln City well enough to even find my way around.”
No reaction. The man certainly gave the impression that he was on some sort of critical mission and couldn’t afford to allow himself to become distracted. Raising the large door, streams of sunlight complemented the artificial light and reflected off the surface of a bevy of dust particles that were circulating in the air. A vibrant yellow taxi cab pulled through the door the instant it had enough clearance. Joseph Burgess sat calmly behind the wheel. As he pulled the vehicle inside, he smiled and waved at both Hans and Adam.
Adam and Hans were both immensely glad to see Joseph. They had been dealing so much and for so long with elements of the unknown that it was warmly satisfying to see a familiar friendly face. Adam claimed the front passenger seat while Hans and Elsa took the back with Auriel perched comfortably between them. Once everyone was situated, Joseph admired the group. “So where can I take you all?”
Not knowing much about Lincoln City, Adam tried to think of a destination when he remembered his room at the Pacific Coast Inn. The room next door that the unidentified gunman had occupied might also be worth investigating. Somehow, Adam needed to reconnect with Marcus Ludlow to see what information that he had been able to come up with. “Pacific Coast Inn, please.”
Joseph Burgess nodded then used the large open space of the warehouse to turn around and drive out the door. The trip to the hotel was mostly uneventful and no conversation took place between anyone in the car. The atmosphere wasn’t uncomfortable, but rather one of utter exhaustion. So many things had transpired in a relatively short amount of time that it was difficult to find a handhold with which to grasp reality.
As the Pacific Coast Inn came into view, Adam noticed at least six police cars with their lights flashing and a handful of other unmarked yet clearly law enforcement vehicles. The door to his former room along with the one of the former gunman both stood open and uniformed officers milled about. Two men in black suits were standing with their arms folded across their chests, one in front of each open door.
Joseph looked over at Adam. “Reminds me a little of a bee hive. I assume you don’t want to get close for fear of being stung?”
There was no way to know how accurate the analogy was, but too much had happened for impulsiveness and reckless abandon. Adam turned and met the eyes of Hans Richter as he spoke. “I think we’d better avoid any unnecessary entanglements. I’m not sure where we can go, but it looks like the Pacific Coast Inn is off the list. Any ideas?”
After just a moment, Adam answered his own question. “I need someplace to think. Are there any quiet coffee shops around here away from the Pacific Coast Inn?”
The gray-haired driver dipped his head once to indicate there was indeed someplace they could go. Turning off the Oregon Coast Highway, Burgess began checking the rearview mirror every few seconds. “I do believe we’re being followed. Don’t know where we picked up the other car, but I’ve been driving long enough to know when I’ve grown a tail.”
Joseph Burgess started making a series of nonsensical turns while continually checking for the unwarranted company behind them. With each new maneuver, the car behind matched their path. “What do you want me to do? It doesn’t look like I’m gonna be able to lose whoever it is.”
It was Richter that unexpectedly answered the driver’s question. “You know what? I’m sick and tired of constantly being on the run. Pull over. We may as well face this now and get it over with.”
The berm of the road was barely wide enough to accommodate the taxi cab, but Joseph hoped the emergency flashers would keep the vehicle that provided his livelihood from being struck by another car.
The headlights of the second vehicle approached. The car slowed to a crawl and a second later, their emergency flashers were also activated. Hans and Adam both stepped out of the cab and walked to the back ready for whatever confrontation was forthcoming.
The other vehicle stopped ten feet shy of the two men and it became clear that it was also a taxi cab. The rear passenger side door swung open and a moment later, Adam’s anxiousness had changed to relief bordering on genuine happiness. There, standing before Adam and Hans was none other than Marcus Ludlow. Auriel leaped out of the back seat and practically jumped into Ludlow’s arms.
The joyful reunion was short-lived as the smile faded rapidly from the face of Marcus Ludlow. Adam’s smile also disappeared. “What is it, old friend?”
Marcus frowned. “I’m glad that I found you. I’ve been doing some digging as you no doubt realized when you saw the circus around the hotel you were staying at. I thought perhaps the Portland office would be far enough removed so that I could check into a few things without setting any red flags. Obviously, that didn’t work. I did manage to find out some information. We are going to need to find someplace safe where you can sit down, though. You’re gonna want to hear about what I learned, but I’ll be honest with you, it might be difficult for you to swallow and accept.”


Chapter 6

Lincoln City, Oregon

Adam Lucas squinted, attempting to glean any information from Marcus Ludlow’s eyes. He found nothing. “Is there anywhere that’s truly safe? I mean, we were attacked on an island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean that I’d wager only a few people even know exists.”
Marcus looked both shocked and concerned. “What happened? Wait, don’t answer that. Let’s find somewhere to talk.” Sliding a bill out of his wallet, he slipped it to his driver. “Drive somewhere random -- 15 or 20 minutes outside of town.”
The man nodded. “I know a little town called…”
As fast as a rocket, Marcus used his hand to cover the man’s mouth. “Don’t say it, just drive. We don’t know who might be listening.”
Adam Lucas and Hans Richter climbed back into their cab. Joseph Burgess, their driver, indicated that he would follow the other driver. A few miles north of town, both vehicles exited off the Oregon Coast Highway onto Oregon Route 18 and headed east. Within a few minutes, they reached the small town of Otis. Pulling off the main road, Marcus Ludlow’s driver drove for a few miles down a country road until the road turned into dirt. He stopped when they reached a large grove of trees. Parking beside the road, both cabs turned off their lights and engines.
There was a chill in the ebony darkness of the forest. The light from a few stars poked through the seemingly impenetrable canopy of trees. A cacophony of crickets silenced their gossip-filled conspiracy as the occupants of both vehicles stepped out into the night air. Marcus withdrew a small flashlight from his jacket pocket and used it to illuminate a circle of earth. Once everyone had taken residence inside the veil of light, it was extinguished and once again nothingness encroached.
Marcus spoke first. “Why don’t you tell me just what’s been going on, Adam. What was that about being attacked on an island?”
The night served to magnify the anxiousness when Adam Lucas replied. “It’s a very long story, Marcus. I don’t know that I’ve had a moment’s rest since I flew east. It’s been one thing or another. Anyway, after we left your company earlier, we were driven to a warehouse. Inside was a helicopter that took us to this island way out in the Pacific Ocean and dropped us off. A short while later, a military helicopter showed up and started shooting at us. I’m still not completely sure how we made it out of there alive.”
“That makes sense after what I’ve uncovered. You sure know how to stir up a hornet’s nest in Washington.”
“Why? What have you found out?”
Marcus hesitated before answering. “If there was a chair, I’d say that you’d better sit down, but since there isn’t -- officially, you and Richter have both been placed on the FBI’s ten most wanted list. Unofficially, I found out that you both have been classified as extremely dangerous terrorists and are wanted dead or alive. From what I gather, preference is for dead and it’s pretty much shoot first and ask questions later.”
“WHAT?!?! What on earth for? I haven’t done anything!”
“I know that and you know that, Adam, but just from what you’ve told me, think about it. You have information that could do some serious damage to the President if it ever came to light. Sounds like the government is willing to do whatever is necessary to ensure that never happens. They don’t know how much you know about the so-called “Lazarus Project”, but they know that you’re on to their deception.”
Hans squeezed Adam’s shoulder. “I’m sorry that you’ve been brought into this. Personally, I wish I had just refused up front to work on the project. If I’d known about the catastrophic domino effect that would happen, I would never have contributed to the work. I don’t know how doing what I was ordered to do makes me a terrorist, though.”
Marcus switched his flashlight back on and pointed it at Hans. “It doesn’t, but it seems the government is systematically eliminating all traces and references to the project you were working on.”
“So it’s not just the General covering his own ass, then?”
“No, Hans. The military is acting on orders from Washington.”
Adam rubbed his biceps in an effort to alleviate the perceived cold. “So what are we supposed to do now? This is never going to stop, is it?”
Marcus sighed loudly. “I’m afraid not. Once you make the top ten list, it’s almost guaranteed that you will either end up sleeping with the fishes or spending a lifetime in prison. About the only solution is to somehow get both of you out of the country. The problem is, that’s going to be almost impossible with all the monitoring that the government is undoubtedly doing on the airports, seaports, and borders.”
Hans attempted to paraphrase the situation. “In other words, we’re screwed.”
As if in response to the scientist’s statement, the forest was bathed in an eerie green light. The telltale electric hum of a portal forming was followed immediately by a circle of shimmering fluid. From the emanation, a single man walked through followed by a cloaked figure. Adam’s former nightmare came flooding back to his consciousness and he started backing away from the duo. He wouldn’t have to be concerned about being taken out by the government or military, the demon in black that was advancing would certainly beat them to the punch. Adam worried that his legs would fracture just as they had done in his dream, but his fears proved unwarranted. Auriel, instead of growling and attacking the strangers, ran straight to the dark figure with her tail wagging. She sat at the creature’s feet as a human-like hand extended forth from its long, black sleeve and rubbed the dog’s head.
The first man that had emerged from the portal was dressed in a charcoal suit with a tie. The sparse lighting made it difficult to discern actual colors. Instead, everything was vanquished to a realm of blacks and grays. His hair was short and spiky and he wore wire-framed glasses. The light from the portal passing through the lenses made it impossible to make out his eye color. The man examined both Hans and Adam before offering his hand. Hans shook the stranger’s hand with a firm grip.
“Ah, Dr. Richter. I am a great fan of your work. And you, Senator, it is truly an honor to meet you.”
Adam was more reluctant than Hans with his handshake. “Who are you and what do you want?”
“Right to business! Very well, then. The name is Arthur Willows. I’ve come to offer my assistance to help you out of your predicament.”
Marcus interjected. “Wait a minute, just how would you know about their predicament? And would someone tell me what the hell that thing is?” Pointing at the portal, the question escaped his lips just as the doorway crackled and disappeared.
The darkness now contained a menacing quality in the presence of the new strangers. Suddenly, a disembodied ball of flame floated in the air three feet off the ground. As it ascended two feet from its original location, it became clear that the orb rested in the palm of the cloaked figure’s right hand. Light from the flames danced off the fabric of the creature’s cloak. The hood of the garment, at first looking down at the fire, now rose vertically at the same pace as the ball of flame. Revealed within the hood of the cloak was an oval of shadow. At the heart of the darkness were two bright orange eyes, each glowing with flames like a miniature version of the orb alight within the creature’s palm.


Chapter 7

Just Outside of Otis, Oregon

To say that FBI Special Agent Marcus Ludlow was inundated with information that his brain was having difficulty processing would be an understatement. First, a shimmering portal filled with some silvery liquid appears out of nowhere, then two strange men walk through the doorway. A few moments later, the portal disappears and a mysterious ball of flame appears in the cloaked man’s hand. It doesn’t seem to burn or hurt him. Then, as the man-creature looks up, he reveals two impossibly emblazoned orbs where eyes should be. Marcus had experienced a great deal in his career with the FBI, but nothing remotely like he was witnessing right now. He briefly wondered if he was either losing his sanity or had been slipped some hallucinogenic narcotic without his knowledge. Regardless if either situation were true, what was occurring before him certainly appeared to be real -- at least it had a physical quality to it. Perhaps he might even be dreaming. Manifestation of his subconscious or not, if he had learned anything during his training and as a field agent, it was to always trust his instincts. Drawing his Colt Detective Special seemed like a natural response to the situation. At the very least, it gave him some level of security, though he wasn’t sure how effective the weapon would be against a creature that can hold a ball of fire in its hand without being burned.
Ludlow cocked his service pistol and retreated half a dozen steps, leveling the gun at what he assumed was the chest of the cloaked figure. Whether or not the creature even had a heart and, if so, where it was located was a matter of speculation, but if nothing else, he could at least put several slugs into the thing before it got too close.
The man in the charcoal suit, Arthur Willows, held up both of his hands to chest level in a moderate gesture of surrender. “Now, the gun will not be necessary, Special Agent Ludlow. I assure you none of you are in any danger, at least from us anyway.”
Instead of lowering his weapon with the reassurance, Marcus tightened his grip and checked that his aim was true. “I don’t know who you are, but you’re gonna have to tell me a lot more before I lower my gun. You can start off by telling me how you know my name, what the hell that creature is, and what that silver thing is that you just walked through to get here.”
Willows simply smiled. “Whatever makes you feel comfortable, Mr. Ludlow, but I speak the truth. My name is Arthur Willows and my counterpart here is Flicker. We are from the future. The silver “thing” you are referring to is a doorway between our time and world and yours.”
Marcus continued. “But what exactly is Flicker?”
Willows tried to keep his smile but instead his expression changed to one of concern. “First, let me start off by saying that normally, we are forbidden from interfering with or even influencing the past, but this is an extraordinary circumstance. The timeline has been compromised and it has thrown our world into complete chaos. I am here to make sure that it gets back on track in order to restore balance to our time. Call them course corrections, if you will. That being said, Flicker is an Arbiter. I can’t go into too many specifics, but suffice it to say that he, along with many others like him, are the direct result of the research of Dr. Hans Richter.”
Hans inhaled sharply at the comment Willows had made at the same time Adam exclaimed “what?!”
Having avoided looking directly at the Arbiter up until that moment, Hans now scrutinized the being more carefully. “But I don’t see how my research could…”An unwarranted flashback entered Richter’s mind. He was in the secluded lab in the Lewiston Army Base. Lazarus, who had succumbed to death after chewing through the electrical wire of the desk lamp that Hans used for extra illumination, extended his tiny paw and an electrical charge passed between them. His little eyes had gone from jet black to glowing blue. More importantly, the discharge of electricity didn’t seem to affect the rodent. Acting as a conductor for the charge did not cause any noticeable damage to Lazarus. Could it be that the creature standing before them really was the end result of his research? The possibility seemed plausible given everything else that he had witnessed.
Adam tapped Richter on the shoulder. “What is it, Hans?”
Meeting Adam’s gaze, Richter recounted the story of the lab incident with Lazarus. Adam and Marcus listened with their full attention. When the scientist had concluded, all three men looked at Flicker. Adam squinted and tried to make out anything under the hood of the dark cloak, but to no avail. Unsure of what it was, there was something vaguely familiar about the shadowy figure. As he reached forward with the intention of lowering the hood, Arthur Willows grabbed his wrist. “I’m sorry, Mr. Lucas, there are some things better left unseen and unknown.”
Marcus, who had been listening during the entire exchange, again found words. “You say you’re from the future and are here for a course correction. What is it that you intend to do?”
The Colt Detective Special had went from a nearly ninety degree angle to pointing at Flicker’s feet. When Marcus realized that he had unwittingly lowered his weapon, he again raised it and leveled it once again at Flicker’s chest.
Willows again pleaded for Ludlow to lower his weapon. This time, Adam nodded and Marcus returned his firearm to the holster. Once the gun was away, Willows spoke. “I am here to help. Since the timeline has been disrupted…”
Adam turned to face Willows. “Was it because the others killed Cobb?”
This was the first time that Marcus had heard about Cobb’s demise. “Say what? When did that happen? Who killed him?”
Adam replied. “It’s a long story.”
Willows interrupted. “Unfortunately, one we don’t have time for. Cobb was a glitch in the timeline yes, but Aaron Francis was not supposed to die in your timeline. The shockwaves from his death have shaken the very fabric of our world and have threatened the very foundation of The Agency.”
Marcus was shaking his head. “What agency? Somebody better be doing some explaining here!”
“The Agency is the organization that we work for. I can’t say any more than that. It is vital, however, that I assist in getting Dr. Richter and Mr. Lucas to safety at once. Considering the vast resources that are being used to track them down, I am the only one that can offer that protection.”
Hans removed his glasses and slipped them into his pocket. “How will you get us to safety? What are your intentions?”
“First I must have Flicker administer a sedative for the travel. Your minds will not be able to make it through safely otherwise. Once you are out of immediate danger, I will transport Dr. and Mrs. Richter to be with their son Sigmund. From there, we will place your lab notes in a safe deposit box in the most secure bank in the world. You will then lay low for a couple years. After that time, you will have access to all the research funding that you need through an offshore account that has been set up in your name. As for Mr. Lucas, he merely must be transported safely out of the country before the government succeeds in their mission to terminate him.”
Glancing from Hans to Adam to Elsa, Willows asked “are you ready?”
Hans, Adam, and Elsa all nodded. Flicker stepped toward them. As he did so, the ball of flame in his right palm was extinguished and the night was again pitch dark.
Marcus didn’t like the darkness after what he had just heard, but he was blind to do anything about it. He could not see an inch in front of his face. In the time it took him to retrieve his flashlight, he heard Willows iterate “don’t worry, this will only hurt for a second” three times. Each time, there was an almost silent swooshing sound followed by a short grunt and a more discernible thump as something heavy hit the ground. He assumed that it was the bodies of each soon-to-be-traveler falling to forest floor after receiving their sedative. It must be a fast-working substance, whatever it was.
Marcus turned on the flashlight just as Flicker reached him. Quickly shining it in the creature’s face, what he saw nearly caused him to lose consciousness. The face that he saw was not necessarily one of nightmares, but it was definitely familiar. Though pieces of metal were visible beneath the flesh of the creature’s cheeks, chin, and forehead, there was no mistaking whose face he was staring into. As impossible as it seemed, the visage under the hood was that of Adam Lucas. Marcus, against all of his training and instincts could stop himself from screaming. As a giant hand grasped his forehead, he felt a needle penetrate his skull. Almost instantly, his body began to relax. Willows had been correct that the pain out only last for an instant. After a couple seconds, Marcus couldn’t feel anything -- he was completely numb. A few moments later, the outer dark found its way inside his mind and he slipped quietly into unconsciousness.


Chapter 8

A Deserted Warehouse - Somewhere in Washington, D.C.

A rush of ice cold water jerked Special Agent Marcus Ludlow from the black nothingness of a dreamless slumber into a blinding chorus of spotlights. Bright beams blanketed him from all directions. Closing his eyes did not help as the light was so vibrant it transformed the normally docile ebony of closed eyelids to a crimson haze. A bead of sweat rolled from the apex of his forehead to the tip of his nose before dripping into his lap. His legs were bound to a metal chair and his arms and hands pulled snugly to his side and wrapped with a heavy chain. Marcus tried shifting in his chair but found that he could not move at all.
Soon the source of the splash of water stepped in front of one of the spotlights, giving Marcus temporary relief from the maddening white lights. Only a silhouette was visible, but it was enough for FBI training to establish a basic profile of his captor. The person in shadow was a male, well over six feet tall with a broad build. Some sort of hat adorned the man’s head and as the stranger’s head turned, Marcus could discern that his captor was wearing sunglasses.
A deep resonating voice issued forth from the shadow man. Obviously masked by a voice-changing device, the words were slow like molasses. “FBI Special Agent Marcus Ludlow, conspirator, traitor and terrorist.”
The sweat increased on Marcus Ludlow’s brow and he attempted to speak. His throat was scratchy and dry. If he had been aware that the bucket of water was going to be unceremoniously dumped on his face, he would have tried to catch a mouthful. His normally smooth voice was raspy. “What? I don’t know what you’re talking about. Who are you? Where am I?”
A vicious backhand knocked Ludlow’s head to the left. Okay, he’s right-handed. A second backhand blasted his right cheek, forcing his head the other direction. A tingling sensation mixed with a dull ache after his cheeks experienced a brief stint of numbness. Whoever the stranger was, he was not pulling any punches. The shadow’s voice spoke again, this time more agitated. “I’m the one asking questions here. You will answer my questions and will only speak when spoken to, is that clear?”
Marcus struggled against his bonds, but still could not move. He thought about telling the man to place his head somewhere anatomically impossible with little light and a horrible smell, but the huge welts rising on his face told him that his captor was not joking around. The seriousness of the allegations also trumped any thought of a sarcastic answer. Opting for a respectful reply instead, Marcus tried to keep any malevolence and spite from his voice. “Yes, sir.”
“Good, now let’s cut to the chase, shall we? Where are Adam Lucas and Hans Richter?”
Marcus wracked his brain, but the answer was nowhere in his memory. “Who?”
Another backhand, harder than the last two combined. “You are in a lot of trouble, Ludlow. Don’t screw with us. Where are they?”
“I’m telling you, I don’t know who you are talking about! I don’t know either of those men.”
The stranger chose an open handed slap, the sound echoing off the chamber walls. “Stop lying! We know you have spoken with Adam Lucas on several occasions. Your phone records prove it. You were seen with Hans Richter yesterday, agent!”
Marcus shook his head. “No, I mean it, I don’t know who you are talking about!”
The shadow nodded and a second man entered the room. His size dwarfed that of the interrogator. The new stranger didn’t utter a word. Instead, he started pounding on Marcus with his fists. The pain was intense and the beating seemed to go on for an hour when the man finally stopped. When he had finished, Ludlow’s eyes were nearly swollen shut and his entire face was distended.
As the second man left, a third man entered that was much smaller in stature than either of his counterparts. He used his hand to push Ludlow’s face to the side, exposing his neck. Marcus felt a sting as the man thrust a needle into the side of his throat and emptied the syringe of its unknown liquid. Within five minutes, it felt as though Marcus was dreaming. His vision, challenged enough from the beating, now took on a fuzzy dreamlike essence. The captors then left the room.
A half hour later, the first interrogator returned. His voice was much gentler than it was before. “Now Marcus, tell me Adam Lucas and Hans Richter’s whereabouts.”
When Marcus spoke, his speech was slurred as if he’d consumed more than his fair share of alcohol. “I swear to you! I don’t know this Adam Lucas or Hans Richter.” After replying, Marcus cringed, expecting another flurry of fists, but none came.
The voice did not get agitated. “What is the last thing that you remember?”
“My wife and I were on vacation in the Bahamas.”
The captor didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he stepped outside the room. Marcus could overhear the animated conversation.
“He’s lying! He remembers! He’s a trained federal agent! Of course he’s going to know ways around the truth serum!”
“I honestly don’t think he is. He absolutely believes that he genuinely doesn’t know Lucas or Richter. He either has amnesia or he’s the best damned actor I’ve ever seen.”
“There’s one way to find out for sure. Bring in the cart.”
“We’ll make a dancer out of him yet!”
A minute later, a squeaky metal cart was wheeled into the room. The burly man that had beaten Marcus within an inch of his life pushed it beside the prisoner’s chair. As he leaned down, he whispered to Marcus. “I’m going to enjoy watching you squirm!”
The man unbuckled the belt and zipper on Ludlow’s pants and pulled them, along with his underwear, as low as they would go with the leg bindings in place. Marcus tried to move, but he was bound too tightly. From the cart, the man gathered jumper cables. As he clamped the positive jumper on one side and the negative on the other, Marcus screamed in pain. The pressure from being squeezed was unlike any pain he had ever felt. The gruff voice asked him a question, but he barely heard it through the throbbing ache. “Now where are they, Ludlow?! Last chance! Tell me or your boys are about to get fried extra crispy!”
The only volume for Marcus Ludlow was a scream. “Please! I swear! I don’t know them!”
When the burly man flipped a switch on the cart and started the electric current from the car battery, the shock and pain were too intense for Marcus and he passed out. After another round of cold water, he managed another “I don’t know them” before the switch was thrown again. “Please! STOP!”
The original captor re-entered the chamber. “Are you satisfied? No human being could lie through that.”
“But what about the phone records and the pictures? He does know them, we have proof!”
“I think he did know them, but his memory has been damaged somehow.”
“So he is useless to us?”
“I don’t think we’re gonna get anything out of him.”
“Very well, then.”
Marcus inhaled sharply as the burly man turned off the current that ran through the jumper cables and unclamped them. Ludlow’s breathing had become ragged and shallow. Thinking that the torture was finally over, Marcus allowed himself a deep breath in an effort to bring his heart rate and blood pressure back in check.
The burly man sounded almost jovial. “I’ve always wanted to do this!”
Marcus did not see the man remove a Claymore sword from the bottom rack of the metal cart. Standing behind his prisoner, the man put all of his muscle into swinging the sword. Connecting just below the carotid artery, it sailed through Ludlow’s neck with ease and his head fell to the side and rolled to the corner of the room.
Special Agent Marcus Ludlow was dead. The men gathered around his decapitated corpse hoped that Adam Lucas and Hans Richter would soon follow.


Chapter 9

Corralejo – Fuerteventura, Canary Islands, Spain

The warm white sands of Drop Beach shifted under Hans Richter’s feet. Walking along the beach with Elsa holding one hand and Sigmund the other added to the pleasant sensation. All seemed right in the world. In his memory, he had spent his career as a research scientist with Zukunft Pharmaceuticals in Koblenz, Germany.
Hans had no memory of his work on the Lazarus Project or anything that happened subsequently. In his mind, he never knew Adam Lucas or Susan Meadows. He had never had any interaction with Aaron Francis or Ian Thorpe nor anyone else from the future. His flight from the U.S. military had never occurred. In fact, he had never even been to the United States. Hans had never brought a tiny mouse nicknamed Lazarus back from the dead. To his knowledge, he had never performed any research involving recombinant DNA or immunopathology – those concepts were decades from mainstream science. Instead, he spent his career in biochemistry and had become quite well known among scientific circles.
Hans could also not recall traveling to Switzerland to place his lab notes in a safe deposit box at a branch of Credit Suisse or changing his will to leave the contents of the box to Sigmund when he reached the age of 21. When all of his relevant memories even remotely pertaining to the Lazarus Project had been extracted, great care was taken to replace the memories with plausible events to fill the large gaps in his mind. Once the work on Hans had been completed, attention was turned to Elsa and her recollections were also altered to match those of her husband. Finally, Sigmund, who had been under The Agency’s control since leaving that of the military, was also modified so that everything fit together and made a perfectly convenient puzzle.
Hans, Elsa, and Sigmund walked obliviously along the beach, the cool water of the tide occasionally washing over their bare feet. The vacation to the Canary Islands had been a great idea and a godsend. Hans had been putting in so much time at work; it was good for both him and his family to spend time together.
In the distance, an ocean liner blew its horn, the deep bellow causing a pod of seagulls to take flight. White specks cried to each other as they sought order in the chaos. Momentarily distracted, Hans bumped into a tourist and nearly made her lose her footing in the sand. Hans apologized profusely for his clumsiness. There was something vaguely familiar about the blond woman, but he was unable to recall any memory of ever meeting her.
The woman just smiled at the apologies. “It’s quite alright. There are so many sights to take in on this lovely island, it’s impossible to not get distracted. No harm done. By the way, my name is Susan – Susan Meadows.”
After shaking the woman’s hand, Hans could still not remember anything to help him determine why she was vaguely familiar. “Hans Richter. Have we met somewhere before? You seem familiar somehow.”
“Oh, I don’t think so. I’m an American and this is the first time I’ve ever been out of the country.”
“Guess you must just look like someone that I’ve met at some point then. Anyway, it was nice to meet you and sorry again for bumping into you.”
“The pleasure’s all mine, Mr. Richter. Have a nice time with your family here on Fuerteventura!”
Hans nodded and the strangers walked in opposite directions. Dismissing the feeling of déjà vu, he continued on his way and never thought about how he knew Susan Meadows again.
On top of a building a half mile west of Drop Beach, another stranger watched the interaction through binoculars. When Susan Meadows parted ways with Richter, the man waited for the signal. At first, it seemed as though she wasn’t going to give it. Could it be that all of the intelligence that had been gathered was wrong? The bald man strolling along by the beach with his wife and kid in tow certainly fit the description of Hans Richter. The stranger was growing impatient, which was unusual. Normally, he was the consummate professional, but he had a date lined up with an amazing woman in Madrid. His assignment needed to go off without a hitch if he was going to make it there in time. When Susan had taken a dozen steps, she stopped and looked in the strange man’s direction. Sticking both of her hands straight out, she gave him a double thumbs-up sign. The man was Hans Richter after all. Finally, some action!
Lowering himself to a crouching position, the strange man retrieved his Walther Gewehr Gew 43 semi-automatic rifle and propped it against the tripod. The rifle had been fitted with a Zf-41 telescopic sight and although there were better sniper rifles out there, the 43 had become the man’s favorite. Kind of ironic, the stranger thought as he loaded the gun, that Hans Richter is about to be taken down by a German sniper rifle. Somehow, that seemed fitting.
The crosshairs framed the back of Hans Richter’s head perfectly. He would not see the muzzle flash since he was walking the opposite direction of the building. By the time the sound reached his ears, it would be much too late to do anything about it. The sniper had the scientist lined up in his sight as his trigger finger gently massaged the trigger. Oh, how he loved being a sniper – such power and complete control. He literally held the life of others in his very hands. The man wasn’t completely heartless, though. Killing Richter and his wife in front of their kid was beyond what he would allow himself to do.
Taking his finger off the trigger, the man unclipped his two-way radio from his utility belt and thumbed the push-to-talk button. “Raven Two to Raven One.”
After a brief bout of static, the radio came to life. “Raven Two, why haven’t you eaten and left the nest, over?”
“The food isn’t appetizing with the size of some of the worms. Can you do something about that, Raven One?”
“Stand by, Raven Two. I’ll see what I can do, but do not – I repeat DO NOT allow the prey to escape under any circumstances. Do you understand?”
The stranger extended his middle finger at the radio. “Affirmative.”
Peering back through the scope, the sniper watched as Susan turned and ran back to the Richter family. After a brief conversation with his parents, she took Sigmund’s hand and walked him to a small ice cream shop just off the beach. Hans and Elsa Richter stopped and watched Sigmund head to the shop with the strange woman. They would keep Sigmund and the woman in sight the whole time, or so they thought.
Free from obstructions, the sniper lined up the crosshairs of his scope to where the intersection perfectly divided Hans Richter’s eyes and nose in half. A moment later, he watched as Richter’s head exploded from the shot and scattered his brains on the beautiful sand. By the time Elsa Richter realized what had just happened to her husband, she shared his fate. Side by side, their bodies fell to the white sands of Drop Beach, a circle of crimson slowly staining and being absorbed by the alabaster terrain.
Fortunately, the number of sunbathers on Drop Beach was so uncharacteristically sparse that no one even noticed the husband and wife fall. Nor did anyone, including the sniper, see a silver portal open ten feet from the corpses. Two men came through the doorway and poured a container of some amber-colored liquid over both bodies. Within seconds, the corpses along with their brains and blood had completely dissolved and left the white sands once again immaculate.
Sigmund Richter was obviously concerned about his parents vanishing into thin air, but he was also enjoying his triple vanilla ice cream cone. With her arm around the boy’s shoulder, Susan Meadows led him toward the building from where the sniper had fired his shots. “Come with me, Sigmund. I know where your parents went and there is someone very special there that I want you to meet.”


Chapter 10

Seneschal Island – Somewhere in the North Pacific

The tiny device embedded in the back of the fleshy tragus of the tall man’s ear emitted a high-pitched beep. Barely audible to anyone else, the tone alerted him that he had an incoming transmission. Using his tongue, he used its warmth to cover the transmitter that was mounted at the front of his palate in the roof of his mouth. After three seconds, the receiver in his ear sounded two brief chimes acknowledging that the transmitter was successfully activated. In order to receive a message, the transmitter had to be activated and a password uttered. The tall man was not a trusting individual – he changed his password at least once a day, sometimes more. The precautions were necessary, of course, for anyone employed by The Agency. Utmost secrecy was absolutely crucial to avoid interference from governments and military organizations. Both the receiver and transmitter weren’t much larger than the tip of a ball-point pen and were painted to match the skin tone at their embedding point. A cursory examination would not reveal the devices. In fact, they were so small that even X-rays and MRI’s would not be able to pick them up. Almost silently, the tall man whispered “California.”
Powerful satellites in orbit captured the transmission from the Canary Islands in Spain and relayed it nearly instantly to the tall man’s location. The satellites were of a special design that masked them from both casual and professionally trained observers. Painted a solid black matte, a very careful astronomer might pick up on a star winking out of existence as the satellite crossed in front of a telescope only to reappear a few short moments later once the object had passed. The blackout lasted such a short period of time that even to the trained eye, it would be attributed to the observer blinking as opposed to a foreign object in orbit. The satellites were brought back from the future and thus were of far superior quality and technology than anything that could be found in the present time frame. As the voice coming through the receiver reverberated in the tall man’s ear, he looked around Seneschal Island. “Raven Base, this is Raven One. The mission was successful. Repeat – the mission was successful.” Perfect, everything was falling into place exactly as planned.
The tall man covered the sensor inside of his mouth to deactivate the transmitter. Bending down, he grasped the black metal bar that crossed over the circular raised platform. As he turned the bar clockwise, a pneumatic hiss accompanied the breaking of the vacuum seal. The portal rose, revealing a ladder down inside of the island. Fluorescent lights flickered on starting at the top and going down as far as the eye could see. Stepping inside, the tall man descended on the rungs of the ladder, closing the overhead door behind him. He reached to his right and pressed a red baseball-sized button and an instant later, clamps came out of the rungs that he was using for support and enclosed his ankles and wrists. As the tall man held fast to the rungs, an unseen conveyer started moving him downward – slowly at first then increasing in speed until it would rival the fastest amusement park roller coaster. Down the system carried the tall man, gradually sloping to a 45 then 60 degree angle as it transported its passenger two miles beneath the surface of the island plateau. As the assembly reached the end of its conveyance, it slowed and stopped completely when the tall man was just a few feet from the floor of a long hallway. The clamps released and the man stepped off the rungs.
There was a half mile of distance between the terminus of the ladder system and the nearest door. Along the way, a seven-foot tall, three-foot wide corridor might present a challenge to anyone even slightly claustrophobic. The tall man did not fall into that category. He had traversed the hall on several occasions and had become quite used to its snugness. In a way, he found it almost comforting. No need to worry about someone lurking in the shadows or hiding around a corner. A quick glance behind would reveal any pursuers. All was within his control as the tall man advanced through the vast hallway and that was just the way he liked it -- order over chaos, routine over spontaneity, everything according to plan.
The perfectly white corridor abruptly stopped at what appeared to be a dead end. The tall man knew better, however. After all, he had significant say in the construction of the underground base and laboratories. Placing his right palm flat against the wall in front of him, the tall man waited while his palm and fingerprints were read by the state-of-the-art futuristic computer system. Once his identity was confirmed, two peepholes slid open before the tall man at eye level. After leaning forward, a laser interpreted every square millimeter of his retinas. The peepholes slid shut and a six-inch square speaker opened just below where the eye-holes had been. A pleasant computerized female voice came over the small speaker. Please provide voice identification. The tall man spoke and a moment later, the same computerized voice informed him that access was granted.
The entire wall in front of the tall man lifted straight up into the ceiling above, revealing another short hallway, this one ending in a regular door with a round knob and a glass bulletproof panel to look through. After the tall man walked past the identification portal, it slid shut behind him. He then proceeded through the normal door. Entrances to self-contained laboratories and offices lined both sides of the new corridor. The tall man walked forward until he came to a set of double doors on his left. Whereas most of the other portals had panes of glass providing a view into the office or lab beyond, the door the man stood before was made of a twelve-inch thick carbon steel alloy and sported a sign that read TOP SECRET – AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY – LEVEL TEN CLEARANCE REQUIRED. Of course, the tall man had the highest clearance possible at level fifteen. Repeating the procedure from the long corridor, his biometrics afforded him access and the two doors swung inward. Once the tall man passed through, the doors quickly slammed closed behind him. On both sides, cabinets containing environmental suits of various colors lined the walls. After stripping out of his clothes, the tall man stepped into a ten-by-ten square painted with yellow zebra stripes and the word DECONTAMINATION. A cool mist coated the tall man’s body and a moment later, scanners checked him from four directions for contaminants. A green light appeared on the cabinet behind him and one of the doors opened, revealing a bright red environmental suit. Once the tall man had changed into the suit, he moved until he was facing the door to the laboratory. Another scan was performed to make sure the suit had no leaks and was completely sterile.
Upon entering the laboratory, someone in a blue environmental suit rushed over to meet him. The radios in the suits that enabled communication changed the voice and made it appear tinny. Still, there was no mistaking the thick Australian accent of the head scientist. Smiling at the tall man’s arrival, the Aussie gently placed one hand on the visitor’s shoulder before motioning for him to follow. “Ah, good to see you, mate! You’re just in time! We’ve fixed the little bugger that was interfering with our system and I’m happy to report that we are now operating at peak efficiency.”
“That is excellent news, doctor. I trust the specimens have been placed into their chambers?”
“Yes, sir! The timers have been set and everything is a go. Did you want to take a look for yourself?”
If the tall man had not been in an environmental suit, he would be rubbing his hands together in anticipation. The project was precisely on schedule and was happening exactly according to plan. His specifications were flawless and future generations would benefit greatly from the research and work being completed at The Agency. It would be more than ten years before the head scientist was brought on board to officially launch the project, but in the meantime everything was being prepped for his arrival. He would have a distinctive advantage in not having to reinvent the wheel in several aspects.
After the scientist in blue entered a twelve-digit pass-code into a keypad, an entire wall opened, revealing several stasis chambers. Although there were twelve cryogenic pods, only three were currently occupied. Crystals of frost lightly covered the window where the scientists could look into the chambers to examine the occupants.
A computer keyboard slid out of the wall when the blue scientist approached. Typing in a series of commands, he caused the temperature of the metal surrounding the viewing windows to rise slightly. Within minutes, the frost had cleared and the clear glass afforded a glimpse into the cryogenic stasis chambers.
One-by-one, the tall man stepped up to the pods and examined the occupants. Each appeared to be sleeping soundly, though in reality their vital signs and metabolisms had been slowed to the level that they could barely be considered alive.
In the first chamber, the tall man admired the perfectly preserved body of the serial killer Kenneth Davis Cobb. The man within was the real Cobb. The decoy had been carefully constructed to evoke the emotions of both Adam Lucas and Hans Richter, thus forcing them along their intended path. The body contained in the cryogenic chamber did not contain a bullet wound or any other sign of trauma other than a small needle puncture mark in the middle of his forehead.
Inside of the second pod, the tall man discovered the husk of Aaron Francis. Unlike Cobb, the body of Francis did show signs of trauma. Several bullet wounds had been cleaned and stitched up. It was unclear how much damage had been inflicted from the gunshots, but burying the corpse had been detrimental as well. Several larvae had to be removed from various cavities in the body. No one presently in the employ of The Agency was qualified to restore Francis to full health, but when the new head scientist arrived in just over a decade, he would possess the necessary information. In the meantime, Aaron Francis had been placed in suspended animation to stop the onset of any further damage.
The tall man was most excited about the last occupied chamber. It was the most recent to be brought online. The occupant was extremely important to the future of The Arbiter Project. The individual inside would become the first Arbiter and would do great things in the world to balance the scales of justice. Even frozen, the steely confidence of the figure impressed the tall man. Thankfully everything had happened according to plan. Otherwise his world and existence would have been in serious jeopardy. As the tall man gazed into the empty visage of the man inside the pod, he almost wished he could be around when this Arbiter was brought online. Doing so would endanger the timeline further, however, so he would have to settle for witnessing the preserved man that would become the first true success of The Arbiter Project. Before the tall man turned to leave, he spoke to the suspended man within the chamber as if he were talking to someone in a coma. “Hang in there, Adam Lucas. It won’t be long before you become someone even more important than you were as a United States Senator.”


Chapter 11

Indianapolis, Indiana

Despite the tragic death of his parents in a freak boating accident, Sigmund Richter had adjusted as well as he could. Throwing himself into his studies, he devoured textbooks, journals, and white papers. He read anything and everything that he could get his hands on in the various fields of science. Graduating magna cum laude from Indiana University with dual Master’s degrees in Biochemistry and Microbiology, he went on to earn a doctorate degree in Neuroscience. Sigmund had also showed a marked interest in Astronomy and Astrophysics. No desire to return to Europe had ever taunted him. Quite content in the United States, he pursued a career in genetics. Many youth dream of someday discovering the cure to some fatal disease that at one point or another has ravaged the people of the earth. Sigmund Richter still clung to that cause with ferocity tantamount to obsession. Inside of him burned a passion for helping others. Sigmund was any parent’s pipe dream. Destined for greatness from the day he was born, any path that he would have chosen would have left his mark on the world. Call it destiny or fate if you will, but Sigmund would laugh at the idea. He preferred to put his faith in working hard to get what he wanted out of life.
Sigmund’s colleagues witnessed his genius on a daily basis. He could look at a complex equation for a few seconds and spew out the answer as if it required no thought. The information must have been stored somewhere in his brain, for he never relied on assistance from a calculator or even notes. Sigmund was truly gifted. As is the case with anyone that was considered “different”, he had a hard time fitting in. Even light banter usually turned into diatribes on his latest theories on cell mitosis or genetic mutation. Most avoided Sigmund because they simply were intimidated by his genius-level intelligence. Women turned the other way because discussing the finer points of microbiology did not exactly make for romantic conversation. It didn’t bother Sigmund that he lacked a girlfriend or even friends to socialize with – he was so involved in his work and research that everything else seemed secondary.
Sigmund’s twenty-first birthday started like any other day with a morning jog (healthy body, healthy mind) and a 30-minute workout at Telly’s Gym. Afterwards, he headed back to his apartment to mix up a fresh spinach and tofu protein smoothie for breakfast. After showering and shaving, Sigmund stood nude in front of the full-length mirror in his bathroom and admired his body. From his long, orange hair to his toned biceps to his well-defined abs, he was the picture of perfect health. Chuckling softly, he thought seriously, what woman could resist this specimen of perfection? Women -- Like he had time to deal with the intricacies of navigating the female psyche. No thank you! The only female Sigmund was interested in was Cleopatra, his prized chimpanzee at work that served as the control for all of his experiments.
A loud knock at the front door brought Sigmund out of his revelry. Since he had moved into his studio apartment in downtown Indianapolis, he had not had one single visitor. Odd, he thought to himself. Taken aback by the unexpected disturbance, Sigmund made it halfway across the living room before he remembered he was naked. The second knock was louder and seemed more urgent. Heading back to the bathroom to throw on a robe, Sigmund attempted to dispel the imagined tension. “Just a minute, I’ll be right there.”
No reply came, but the knocking stopped for the time being. The white terry cloth robe felt soft next to Sigmund’s bare skin as he cinched the belt tightly around his waist. At the front door, he peered through the peephole. The man on the other side of the door was middle-aged. Wearing what appeared to be a very expensive suit and silver wire-framed glasses, his jet black hair was slicked back and shiny. A thick padded envelope was in his left hand.
Leaving the chain latched, Sigmund opened the door enough to allow for conversation. “Who are you?”
Without speaking a word, the man extended the padded envelope toward the door. Unsure of what it might contain, Sigmund was reluctant to take it. After thirty seconds of silence, the man delivering the envelope finally spoke. “I was hired to deliver this envelope to Sigmund Richter on his twenty-first birthday. I assume that you are him?”
“That’s right. Who hired you?”
“I am not privy to that information nor would I reveal it even if I were. I don’t make a habit of asking questions. That could lead to unfortunate consequences in my line of work. Now please, just take the envelope.”
It was curiosity more than anything else that caused Sigmund to honor the man’s request. As soon as the envelope was accepted, the man turned and left without saying anything else. Sigmund watched as the stranger descended the stairs and exited the building through the front door. He started to open the envelope and glanced at the clock. Not wanting to risk being late for work, he tossed the envelope in his briefcase and finished getting dressed.
Even in the bitter cold winters of Indiana, Sigmund always walked to his job. He considered the exercise to be good for him, but more than anything he enjoyed passing by the State Soldiers’ and Sailors’ Monument in the center of Monument Circle. The architecture fascinated him. Originally built to honor sailors and soldiers from the American Revolution, it also pays tribute to veterans of the War of 1812, the Mexican-American War, the Civil War, and the Spanish American War. The monument was completed in 1901 and stands at 284½ -foot tall, just 21 feet shorter than the Statue of Liberty. As Sigmund headed out, he was grateful for the warm, spring day with bright azure skies and ivory cumulus clouds. On days like this, he would often stop to sit by the monument and listen to the water from the fountains. Today would be no different. Closing his eyes, he listened to the sound of the cool water cascading across the Indiana limestone. It always relaxed him. Not getting much sleep the night before, he drifted off to sleep.
When Sigmund awoke a half hour later, he realized quickly that he was late for work. Picking up his pace, he started jogging. Just as he left Monument Circle, a loud explosion nearly caused Sigmund to lose his footing. The ground shook and a huge column of soot-black smoke rose into the air in the direction of the pharmaceutical company where he worked. Picking up his pace, Sigmund started running toward his employer. Within minutes, sirens seemed to be approaching all around him.
By the time Sigmund reached his destination, the rescue crews had arrived and were marking off the area around the building. A police officer stopped him as he approached. “I’m sorry, sir. You have to stay back behind the line.”
“But that’s where I work! What’s happened?”
“Sir, you need to stay back. We’re just as eager to get to the bottom of this, believe me.”
Sigmund looked at what used to be the building where he worked. It looked as if half of it had melted away. All fifteen floors were exposed, furniture and papers everywhere. A few people were being treated by first responders, but Sigmund was taken aback by the fact that he couldn’t see any more of his coworkers.
Stepping back to take in the scene and considering what had happened, it didn’t take long to register that if he had not accidentally fallen asleep at Monument Circle, he would have been at the epicenter of the explosion. The lab where he worked was completely missing from the building. Five minutes earlier and Sigmund Richter would not be alive.


Chapter 12

Indianapolis, Indiana

Sigmund Richter stared, stunned, at the remnants of the building where he worked. The idea that he would have shared the fate of his coworkers had he arrived a few minutes earlier haunted him. The haunting morphed into torment as he felt the first pangs of survivor’s guilt. The thought of Cleopatra being in the lab when the explosion happened especially bothered him. He had come to think of the chimp as more of a friend than a lab animal. He tried to imagine what might have caused such a violent explosion, but nothing came to mind. It would have taken massive amounts of chemicals stored in the building to cause that big of a blast.
Deep in thought, Sigmund didn’t notice the man that had walked up behind him. The hand on his shoulder caused Sigmund to jump. As the stranger leaned over next to Sigmund's ear, the pungent smell of cologne permeated the air. Whispering, the man spoke loud enough that only Sigmund would be able to hear what was said. “This was no accident, Sigmund. That bomb was meant for you. You’re safe for a few minutes – they think you’re dead – but not for long once they figure out that you weren’t in that building. Come with me so I can get you somewhere safe.”
Without turning around, Sigmund whispered back. “Just who are you people and what do you want from me?”
“The name’s Viktor – Viktor Ulmeck. I work for a company called The Agency. I’ll be happy to explain everything when you are out of immediate danger. It won’t take them long to figure out you’re still alive. Plus, I have information about your parents that you’ll want to hear.”
At the mention of his parents, Sigmund turned around to face Viktor. The first thing he noticed was a pure white buzz cut and baby blue eyes. The face had a mercenary-for-hire kind of look and there was a killer instinct there that even an inexperienced person like Sigmund could recognize. Viktor had the air of either ex-military or ex-convict. Crow’s feet stretched from the corner of his eyes and somewhat matched the frown lines angled down from the edge of his mouth.
“My parents died in a boating accident. What information do you have that I could possibly be interested in?”
“No, Sigmund. Your parents were murdered and I can prove it, but you need to come with me, quickly.”
“How do I know I can trust you? You could be the one who planted that bomb! Maybe I should ask the cop over there what he thinks.”
“Do that and your life is forfeit.”
Sigmund tried to appear calm, but his nervousness was causing his hands to shake. “Are you threatening me?”
“No, Sigmund! I’m trying to protect you. I’m not gonna be able to do that if we stay here. We literally have just a few more minutes. Come on! I will fill you in on everything, you have my word.”
Sigmund was guarded when it came to trusting others, but for some reason he didn’t understand, there was an honest quality to Viktor’s words that set his mind at ease.
Entering a nearby alleyway, a piece of brick exploded off one of the buildings mere inches from Sigmund’s head. Viktor grabbed his arm and ran toward the center of the alley. “Hurry! They’ve figured out you’re not dead!”
Sigmund assumed that he and Viktor were using the alley as a shortcut, but when Viktor went from an all-out run to stopping in his tracks in the middle of the alleyway, he wasn’t expecting the sudden change. Breaking free from Viktor’s grasp, Sigmund fell forward and caught himself with his hands. The stinging sensation told him that he would be leaving a layer or two of skin on the pavement. While he stumbled to his briefcase that had skidded across the alley and came to rest against the back of a building, Viktor had pulled some sort of device out of his pocket that was about the size of a silver dollar.
After punching something into a tiny keypad on the device, Viktor placed it on the ground and stepped back. A few seconds later, an electric hum charged the air and a circular doorway that looked to be made of silvery liquid appeared. Sigmund, who had managed to make it back to his feet, stood transfixed with his mouth and eyes wide open. Viktor ran behind him. “Sorry, Sigmund, but we’re out of time!”
With a shove, Viktor pushed Sigmund through the portal before he had time to object. A man wearing a black suit, tie, hat and sunglasses tore around the corner and fired two shots from his silencer-laden pistol just as Viktor rushed through the silvery door. The pursuer sprinted toward the portal, but it winked out of existence just as he dove to make it through.
A plethora of multicolored dots and shapes flew past Sigmund as he felt himself being drawn to some location. Like a magnet to steel, the attraction felt the same. The sensation was a cross between flying and free-falling, but was not entirely unpleasant. What unnerved Sigmund more than anything is that when he lifted his arms in front of him, nothing was visible. Seeing no flesh or bone was disorienting and strange. It was as if his consciousness was moving through this psychedelic space, but not his body.
Just when Sigmund thought he might be going insane, his consciousness slammed back into his body full force, causing him to momentarily black out. When he opened his eyes, he and Viktor were no longer in Indianapolis. As he looked around and took in the scenery, Sigmund wasn’t exactly sure where he was. A grassy plateau stretched almost beyond sight. Beyond the land, the sun reflected off the crystal blue waters of an ocean or large body of water in every direction. Perhaps the most striking feature of the island was a futuristic gray building extending six stories toward the cloudless sky.
Still feeling a little nauseous and disoriented, Sigmund managed an inquiring glance toward Viktor. “What was that? What did you do to me? Where are we?”
Viktor, who seemed fine and not at all unsettled, steadied Sigmund by putting an arm around his shoulders. “Easy, Sigmund! The first trip is always the hardest. Sorry there was no time to prepare you for this. Had there been any other alternative, I wouldn’t have used this mode of transportation. It’s called a portable molecular carrier. As to where we are, this is Seneschal Island.”
His arm still around Sigmund’s shoulders, Viktor began walking toward the gray building. Sigmund, still in shock, stumbled over his words to ask more questions. “But… but there is no way that kind of technology exists. Someone would know about it. Just who are you really?”
The glass doors on the front of the structure slid open as the two men approached. Viktor laughed as they stepped into the building. “That’s true, Sigmund. The technology doesn’t exist in your time. The thing is, I am not from your time. Neither is the building in which you are standing. What I told you about my name is correct -- I really am Viktor Ulmeck.”
Sigmund shook his head like a dog after a bath. “Say what? Are you telling me that you have discovered a way to travel through time? That’s not possible! It would require traveling faster than the speed of light!”
“And yet, here we are. Hold your questions until I’ve had a chance to show you around some more, will you? Believe me, any doubt you have about whether or not I am telling the truth will soon be gone.”
Opening a second set of glass doors, Viktor led Sigmund into a spacious and open lobby. As big as the structure looked from the outside, the inside appeared to be much larger. Sigmund spun around and examined the architecture. Whether or not the building was indeed from the future, it was impressive all the same. From the open-air waterfall that ran from nearly the roof to the floor to the gigantic, clear skylight that served as a ceiling, Sigmund was speechless.
Viktor patted Sigmund gently on the back. “Sigmund Richter, welcome to The Agency.”


Chapter 13

The Agency – Seneschal Island, North Pacific

Sigmund Richter’s intelligence far exceeded most others in the scientific community. Many considered him to possibly have the brightest mind of his generation. The speed and accuracy with which he could solve complex mathematical equations was unparalleled. Even with his genius-level IQ, his brain was currently on overload. Viktor Ulmeck was obviously proud of every square inch of The Agency. As he gave Sigmund a tour of the facilities, a smile lit up his face the entire time.
Back in the lobby, Viktor led Sigmund to what looked like a closet door. Putting his right palm against a black pad to the right of the door, a green light swept downward. After a couple seconds, a panel slid open on the door at eye level. Viktor leaned forward and placed his forehead just above the panel. When the red light had mapped his retina, a sultry female voice floated in the air from somewhere above the door. “Voice identification is required. Please state your name.”
“Viktor Ulmeck”.
“Identification confirmed. Welcome back, Viktor.”
The door retracted into the wall revealing an elevator. Sigmund followed Viktor inside. “You’ve seen a lot, Sigmund. I have just one more area to show you and I saved the best for last. This elevator has two modes – regular and express. In regular mode, it will take about fifteen minutes to get to our destination. Express will only take about 60 seconds, but if you don’t like the sensation of free-falling, you probably won’t like traveling in express mode. I’ll leave it up to you.”
It took a minute for what Viktor had said to register. “Regular mode will be just fine. There are some things you need to fill me in on anyway.”
Viktor pushed the button next to “SECURED LABS”. With a whirring noise, a panel on the back wall dropped forward. On the back of the panel was a padded bench seat. Evidently, The Agency wanted to make sure that anyone traveling to the secured labs via regular mode would be comfortable.
After both men sat down, Sigmund turned to Viktor. “Back in Indy you said my parents were murdered. I happen to know they were killed in a boating accident. I was on the boat when it happened!”
“As I told you before, they were murdered and I have proof.” From the inside pocket of his jacket, Viktor withdrew some sort of electronic device. It was about the size of a pack of cigarettes, but half as thick. After touching the color screen a few times, Viktor held the device out to Sigmund.
Sigmund first noticed that the electronic unit was very light. Looking at the screen, there was a picture of his parents, Hans and Elsa Richter, lying face down on a beach with their heads turned to the side so the photographer could capture their faces. Pools of blood and brain matter surrounded Sigmund’s parents and there were perfectly centered gunshot entry wounds on their foreheads. The back half of both of their heads were missing.
Not expecting the graphic images, Sigmund dropped the device as though it had burned him. “What the hell!”
Viktor bent down and picked up his specially designed cell phone and switched it off. “I’m sorry, Sigmund. I should have warned you about the picture being graphic.”
Sigmund was still staring at the floor of the elevator where the phone had been. Although he was focused on the one spot, it was clearly evident that he wasn’t seeing the floor. He wasn’t looking at anything in particular. Instead, memories of the boating accident were flashing in rapid succession through his mind. If he heard Viktor’s apology, he didn’t let on.
“Sigmund!”
No response.
“SIGMUND!”
The raised voice seemed to get Sigmund’s attention, though he was still dazed. He tried to talk, but only managed to stutter a reply. “But I… they… we… I saw… how… can’t be true!”
“Your memory was reprogrammed, Sigmund. You were there on the beach with your parents on the Canary Islands when they were assassinated.”
“No! I was ON THE BOAT! I saw the accident with my own eyes!”
“Sigmund, I know you believe that and in your mind, it seems very real to you. But it’s not. In the future where I come from, we have technology to interface with the brain and erase or rewrite memories.”
“So you altered my memories?”
“No. We aren’t sure exactly who did, but we are committed to finding out.”
“You’ll excuse me if I have a hard time swallowing this.”
Viktor nodded. “Of course.”
“If it’s true that someone murdered my parents, I want to know who did it and I want to know why.”
“We don’t know the who, but I can help you with the why. Your father was involved in a top secret project for the U.S. military. It was funded by the government through a shadow budget. To make a long story short, the project was ordered shut down, the evidence destroyed, and the scientists silenced. Your father managed to escape and make it out of the country, but unfortunately someone still got to him while you were in vacation in Spain.”
Disbelief covered Sigmund’s face. “My father had never even been in the United States!”
“Again, your mind was reprogrammed and filled with false memories. We will get to the bottom of this, you have my word.”
Sigmund shook his head. Everything he had learned since he had received the padded envelope that morning was a lot to process. “So how did you know someone was going to make an attempt on my life?”
“That’s a little easier to answer – your present is our past.”
“I get the feeling that you’re not telling me everything.”
“You’re very astute. There are some things that I’m not sure you would be able to fully understand. Things that will take time to digest.”
Without even realizing he was doing it, Sigmund moved his briefcase to his lap and started playing with the locks. “Why bring me here? What is it that you want exactly?”
“I brought you here because this is the only place on earth that we can protect you. As far as what we want, that will have to wait until the tour is over.”
“If these people that supposedly killed my parents, reprogrammed my memory, and tried to blow me up are so powerful and all-seeing, then why am I any safer here than anywhere else?”
Viktor admired Sigmund’s tenacity. “Only a few know where The Agency is located. Seneschal Island is hidden using advanced cloaking technology. Basically, it’s invisible. Even I don’t know exactly where the island is located. All I know is somewhere in the Pacific Ocean. The only way anyone gets to or leaves the island is by using the molecular carriers. In the past, before the cloaking technology was installed, visitors to Seneschal were transported by helicopter. That’s how your father was brought here.”
“My father was here?”
“Oh yes, before this building was constructed. He never understood the significance that this island would have in history.”
Finally, the elevator bell dinged and the door slid open. After going through another security entrance, Viktor led Sigmund into a decontamination chamber. Instead of being out in the open, there were now stalls that visitors could step into, get undressed, go through decontamination and change into an environmental suit.
Sigmund stored his clothes and briefcase in a locker opposite his decontamination stall. Viktor stepped out in his red environmental suit and entered the sterile lab. Once Sigmund walked through the door, Viktor made a wide arc with his arm, encouraging his guest to check out the lab. “Take your time, Sigmund. Look over everything. When you’re done, I’d like to speak to you about coming to work for The Agency.”


Chapter 14

The Agency – Seneschal Island, North Pacific

Sigmund Richter stared in disbelief at the array of futuristic lab equipment. He was particularly fascinated by the series of thin devices on a workstation that resembled color televisions. In front of each one, an impossibly small typewriter and some device resembling a small rodent, but with no tail. Underneath the desk, equipment flashed with lights and breathed as if they were alive.
So enraptured by the technology that he was seeing, it barely registered to Sigmund that someone had entered the room. He assumed it was Viktor Ulmeck, but even an environmental suit could not hide that the new occupant of the lab was female. The woman moved beside Sigmund and started using one of the typewriter instruments by picking up an object resembling a pencil and pecking at the keys. As she typed, the image on the color television in front of her changed to show a molecular model and series of equations.
“What are those devices?”
The woman turned to Sigmund. “Ah, you must be the Sigmund Richter that I’ve heard so much about. Your reputation precedes you! I’m Valarie Brielle, it’s truly a pleasure to meet you. I’d shake your hand, but these suits make that a little difficult. As to your question, what devices are you referring to?”
“That has to be the smallest typewriter I’ve ever seen. Where are the platen and the keys? Where do you put the paper?”
Valarie laughed. “Oh, this isn’t a typewriter. It’s similar in a way, but it is much more. The whole thing is called a computer. I type on the keyboard.” Holding up the mouse, Valarie continued. “This little doohickey is called a mouse.” Pointing to the screen, Valarie smiled. “And this is a monitor. The little beast under the desktop here is the tower. It contains the processors, memory, and disk drives.”
“I’m guessing since I’ve never heard of any of this, it’s from the future as well?”
Striking a combination of keys, the graphic on the monitor flashed twice then disappeared and resolved into a rotating Fleur-de-lis. With each complete circuit, the symbol changed to a different primary color. “From your future, yes.”
“Is there anything or anyone at The Agency that isn’t from the future?”
“Well, there’s always you!” Valarie said wistfully. “Have you seen the stasis chambers yet?”
Sigmund shook his head no. Valarie walked over to a keypad and punched in a long code. When she hit the pound key to submit the code, there was a beep and a green light appeared above the keys. With a grinding sound, the entire wall slid open revealing twelve stasis chambers. After typing something in to the computer keyboard that came out of the wall, the rectangular viewing ports defrosted. Sigmund’s curiosity overwhelmed him.
All twelve cryogenic chambers were occupied. There were six men and six women. With the exception of one man who had several stitches, the specimens all appeared healthy and undamaged. Sigmund didn’t look as surprised as he had been with the other state-of-the-art lab equipment. He considered that after everything else he had seen thus far, little was left that could take him off guard.
“What is this?”
“Volunteers. Each of them has suffered some kind of physical or mental trauma and has agreed to participate in our research program.”
“What is the purpose of the research program?”
“To find the cure for various diseases and psychological conditions.”
Sigmund grinned. “A noble cause. Is there anything else I should see?”
“Have you met Lazarus?”
“The only two people I’ve met here are you and Viktor.”
“Oh, Lazarus isn’t a person. Come on, I’ll introduce you.”
Valarie led Sigmund into an adjacent lab that contained thousands of animals ranging from rabbits and mice to chimpanzees and orangutans. Sigmund expected the air to reek of urine and feces, but instead there was a pleasant pine antiseptic smell. All of the animals seemed relatively calm considering the environment and sheer number of other animals. It was obvious that the animals were well tended.
The mice were kept in a section removed from the other animals. About 300 rodents were contained in three rows of ten cages. Separated from the rest of the mice, a lone gold cage occupied a shelf all its own. Twice as large as the other enclosures, the larger cage was complete with a network of plastic tubes, two exercise wheels – one much larger than the other, and what resembled a miniature colonial manor. Whichever mouse lived in the golden cage was certainly living the big life. As Valarie and Sigmund approached, Sigmund felt an odd tingling sensation in his brain. The front door of the little mansion swung open and a small brown mouse pushed his way out. His fur contained a few patches of white, but Sigmund would have estimated the mouse at about 2 years old.
“Sigmund Richter, meet Lazarus.”
Sigmund, who thought nothing of talking to the animals with which he’d worked, greeted the tiny mouse. “Why hello, Lazarus! It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance!”
If he didn’t know better, Sigmund could have sworn that the rodent had actually smiled at his greeting. “So what has Lazarus done to deserve such a lavish lifestyle?”
“Lazarus was your father’s favorite test subject. He practically made him a pet of sorts.”
“Wait… that can't be! The average lifespan of a mouse is 2 – 3 years! I’ve known a few that have lived as long as five years, but my father died over ten years ago! If what Viktor told me about him is true, then that would make Lazarus even older than that! I’ve suspended my disbelief for a lot of things in this building, but a mouse living that long – how is it possible?”
“Your father’s research.”
“What exactly was my father involved in?”
“Initially, we believe that his intention was to find the cure for cancer, but he stumbled onto something quite different. Unfortunately, whatever was left of his formula was destroyed by the military. He managed to escape with his lab journal, but no one knows exactly what happened to it. That’s why we need you.”
“What do you mean? I have no clue about anything regarding my father’s work.”
“Right, but you are also his only living heir. It makes sense that if he hid his notes, you would be the only person he would entrust them with.”
“I have nothing of my father’s. He didn’t leave me any…”
“What is it, Sigmund?”
“The envelope! I wonder…”
Sigmund turned and almost ran to the lab exit. His briefcase was still tucked safely away inside. He was so eager to open the padded envelope that he was half undressed from his environmental suit before he realized Valarie had followed him into the antechamber. As she admired his chiseled abdominal muscles, his face turned a bright shade of red. Grabbing his clothes, he replaced the suitcase, closed the locker and retreated to one of the changing stalls. A few minutes later, he emerged. Valarie was not in the main part of the room. Since another of the changing stalls indicated occupied, he figured that she too was changing. Too intrigued to wait, Sigmund opened the locker and once again pulled out his briefcase. The padded envelope was still inside, untouched.
Sigmund grasped the tab to open the envelope and was about to pull when the other stall door opened and Valarie stepped out. As intrigued as Sigmund was to discover the contents of his parcel, for a moment he forgot all about it. What caught his attention first was the shoulder-length deep auburn hair, curls loosely teasing each other on the sides and back. She was petite but athletic, dressed in a black skirt and red loose-fitting blouse. Skin as fair and clear as a cloudless sky, it was Valarie’s eyes that ensnared Sigmund. A beautiful emerald green color, her eyes seemed impossibly large. Sigmund tried unsuccessfully to look away as Valarie approached. Like the legendary song of the Sirens, Sigmund was inexplicably caught by her charms.
“You can take a picture if you’d like.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to stare. Actually, to be honest, that’s not true. Your eyes… are… so gorgeous.”
“No apology needed, Sigmund. Thank you for the compliment. You’re pretty cute yourself, you know.”
The color quickly returned to Sigmund’s cheeks. “Um… thank you.”
Sitting beside Sigmund on the bench, Valarie caressed the top of Sigmund’s hand. “I do hope you’ll join our team. Just so you know, there aren’t any rules about fraternization between coworkers.”
Sigmund swallowed hard and tried to get the unbidden images out of kissing Valarie out of his mind. Trying to focus on anything else, he returned his attention to the envelope. After tearing it open and turning it upside down, two items fell into his hand. The key was ordinary enough save for the keychain with the Swiss flag on it and the words Credit Suisse. The second item was a folded note. As Sigmund opened the piece of paper, he instantly recognized his father's handwriting.


Chapter 15

The Agency - Seneschal Island, North Pacific

With each word that Sigmund Richter read from the note his father left him, the heavier the piece of paper seemed to be. An anchor felt like a feather in comparison to the brief diatribe. Every passing syllable lent credence to the story that Viktor Ulmeck had told him. Could it be that his father, Hans Richter, really was murdered? It didn’t seem plausible because Sigmund knew his father to be a good, kind, loving, and principled man. If he had done anything that deserved his life being taken from him, then it was most certainly without his knowledge. More importantly, the note meant that much of Sigmund’s life was a lie. A fabrication put there by an unknown entity to fool him into a false sense of security. Just yesterday, his life seemed like a normal one. Today, everything had changed. Sigmund would need time to reevaluate his life. He felt violated. He was also a little angry that someone had stolen his memories. Greater than anger, though, was his need to recover the time that had been taken from him. The truth was like the oxygen that his lungs needed in order to breathe. He had to know what really happened to him and to his parents -- all of it -- or he might lose his sanity. Justice or revenge could come later.
My Dear Boy,
If you are reading this, then that means I wasn’t able to deliver it to you in person. More than likely something has happened to me. I won’t go into details in this note in case someone else intercepts it, but suffice it to say that I did nothing wrong. I was given false information or excluded from the truth about my work and research. You are the only one I trust with the truth and I know that you are smart enough to figure out what that truth is. Take the enclosed key and go to Geneva. Only you will be able to access the contents. I made sure of that. I’m sorry that I wasn’t able to give this to you myself. Your mother and I have always been proud of you. I wish more than anything that I could have seen you grown into the wonderful young man that I know you have. I love you, my son. Don’t be discouraged, be comfortable knowing that we will be together again one day. Now do me proud like I know you will.
Love, Your Father
The note shook in Sigmund’s hands. Teardrops spotted the paper, smearing the ink in several places. Valarie softly stroked his cheek with the back of her hand. Sigmund didn’t have the strength to raise his head to look at her. “What is it, Sigmund?”
Sigmund tried to talk, but the words would not come. All he could do was stare at his father’s words. Unable to help himself, he re-read the note several times, each time driving an imagined knife deeper into his heart. Twisting his insides until he felt on the verge of screaming, he forced himself to keep reading. Perhaps there was something he missed. He needed to absorb every word, to memorize it until every single letter was etched into his mind. So focused on the note, Sigmund didn’t notice that Valarie had left. He was in the same exact position when she returned five minutes later with Viktor Ulmeck.
Viktor attempted to soothe Sigmund’s pain. “I am so sorry, Sigmund. I wish it wasn’t the truth. I would love to have both you and your father working here with us. You have my word, we will find who did this and justice will be served. We will also find a way to restore your memories, all of them. This I promise to you. Come to work for us and you will have all of the resources of The Agency at your disposal.”
Finally, Sigmund was able to raise his head. Though not able to speak, he looked at Viktor through tear-stained eyes and nodded yes. As far as he was concerned, he had no life to go back to. His previous employer’s building was destroyed and undoubtedly the person or people responsible for the whole mess concerning him and his parents would still be waiting for him. Once he surfaced, there was no way to tell what those people would do to him, especially if they knew that he was on to their dirty little secret.
Viktor spoke to Valerie. “Let’s give Sigmund some time alone, Val. Sigmund, take as much time as you need. When you feel like talking, my office is on the second floor. I’ll look forward to seeing you soon. There is also an intercom button by the elevator. If you need anything at all, press it and ask for me. I’ll make sure you’re taken care of.”
Sigmund acknowledged Viktor’s words with a nod. After a moment, Valarie and Viktor entered the elevator and left the room. Sigmund sat on the bench for nearly two hours. During that time, he turned the Credit Suisse key over and over in his hand a thousand times and went back over the note at least another fifty times.
Folding the paper in half then in half again, Sigmund placed it in his pocket along with the key. There was nothing else of interest or importance in his briefcase, so he secured it back in the same locker and made his way to the elevator.
Viktor Ulmeck’s office was lavishly furnished with mahogany furniture. Bookcases lined the side walls, the continuity broken only by a wet bar. His large desk contained three computer monitors, a name plate, and a desk organizer. Behind him was a wall of glass overlooking the clear blue waters of the Pacific Ocean. Upon Sigmund’s arrival, Viktor stood. “Ah, Sigmund! Come in, please! Have a seat!”
Sigmund crossed halfway toward the desk. He remained standing as he spoke. “I will come to work for The Agency, but there is something I need to do first. I’m not sure how long it will take.”
“I assume this has to do with your father?”
“Yes.”
“Our resources are at your disposal. Whatever it is, wherever it is, we will take care of your needs. Do you need transportation?”
“I need to go to Geneva, Switzerland.”
“No problem. I can program a portable molecular carrier for you or, if you aren’t comfortable traveling that way, we also have helicopters. You could take one to the mainland and take a company jet from there.”
“I don’t think I’m quite ready for another trip by molecular carrier. The helicopter will be fine.”
“Very well then, I will tell the pilot to start warming up one of the helicopters. There is just one thing that I ask.”
“And what’s that?”
“Whoever tried to kill you is going to be waiting for you to surface. It’s possible they may even be staking out wherever it is that you are headed. Let Valarie go with you for protection, just in case.”
“I would rather go alone if it’s all the same. Besides, Valarie is just a scientist. How much could she really protect me anyway?”
“She’s much more than just a scientist. She is a very well-trained field agent. She knows martial arts and is one of the most accurate shots I have ever seen. She even knows how to fly in a pinch. I’m afraid I have to insist that she goes along. If you’re going to be working for us, you’re an asset to The Agency and that means you must be protected at all cost.”
The thought of traveling with Valarie as not unappealing. Sigmund had a few crushes on women in his life, but had never given much serious thought or time into exploring any relationships. His attraction to Valarie was stronger than anything he had ever felt before. If anything, it would certainly make the trip seem shorter and more enjoyable. “Alright.”
“Good, now please be careful. We need you in one piece!”
Within an hour, Sigmund and Valarie were seated in the back of a helicopter heading for the coast of Washington state. There wasn’t much conversation because Sigmund was deep in thought about his father’s note. After several minutes, Valarie reached across the seat and took Sigmund’s hand in her own. Her skin was soft and warm and Sigmund thought there might have even been a brief exchange of electricity between them. His whole body was tingling anyway. For some reason, his pain was lessened by her comforting of him. How strange, he thought, that during one of the darkest times of my life, she should come along. They spent the rest of the trip in silence, just sitting in the back of the helicopter staring into each other’s eyes. For the first time in his life, Sigmund Richter felt complete. He also became acutely aware that a void was filled that he didn’t even know had existed.


Chapter 16

Geneva, Switzerland

Time was lost to Sigmund Richter and Valarie Brielle on the long flight from Washington state to Geneva, Switzerland. The flight seemed like twelve minutes instead of twelve hours. Sigmund regaled Valarie with tales from his childhood and youth. She in turn reciprocated. With each story, the two began to feel as if they had known each other for much longer than they did. Three hours before the flight was to land, Valarie leaned over and laid her head on Sigmund’s shoulder. Before she drifted to sleep, she confided to Sigmund. “I’ve never felt this comfortable with anyone in my life. I’m so glad fate brought us together.”
Sigmund considered her words. He shared her thoughts on being comfortable. The fate part he wasn’t as sure about. To believe in fate also meant conceding to the existence of a higher power. Although he didn’t necessarily not believe in a supreme being, he was unable to say that he did either. Life is what you make it -- you get out of it exactly what you put into it. His father drove that thought into his head more times than he could count growing up. At least he thought he did. To not know for certain how much of his life was potentially false was maddening. Sigmund wanted all of the memories that he had of his parents. The notion that someone may have stolen some of those memories both angered and saddened him. His emotions made him determined to get to the bottom of what truly happened and to bring anyone involved in tampering with his memories to justice.
As the jet landed, a light rain spotted the windows. A black stretch limousine was waiting on the tarmac, the driver holding a white sign reading “RICHTER”. The back was luxurious and comfortable, complete with its own wet bar. With the long flight they had just endured, Sigmund thought a glass of champagne might help them to relax. Pouring two glasses half full, he handed one to Valarie. Looking deeply into Sigmund’s eyes, she held her glass up. “To finding each other.” With a clank, they both took a long sip of the 1960 Louis XIII de Rémy Martin Grande Champagne Cognac. Sigmund proposed a second toast. “We couldn’t have met under more unique of circumstances and, honestly, I wish it had been under better circumstances, but I am very glad nonetheless. Here’s to the future!” Another clank and they drained the remainder of the champagne.
It was a short drive to Credit Suisse. The bank was full of customers, so Sigmund and Valarie stepped in line. A half hour later, Sigmund set the key on the counter. Picking up the phone, the teller spoke calmly into the receiver. “Jag behöver assistans med en säker insättningsruta.” With no hesitation, she switched to English. “I have summoned a manager to assist you. If you would have a seat in the waiting area, someone will be with you shortly.”
Five minutes later, a tall blonde man in a navy blue pinstripe suit extended his hand to Sigmund and Valarie. “You need to access your safe deposit box? Which of you has the key?” Sigmund held it out to the manager. “You hang on to that. Follow me please. I’m sorry, miss, you will need to wait here. Only one person may access the boxes at a time.” Valarie nodded and sat back down.
In the small room, Sigmund used the key and pulled out the small drawer. Opening it, he found a large binder and a small leather-bound notebook. Quickly scanning through the binder, Sigmund found that it was chocked full of drawings, equations, and notes about experiments that his father had evidently performed. Shutting the binder, he flipped through the notebook. It was a long letter that his father had addressed to him. Sigmund would have liked nothing better than to find a comfortable chair and read every word in the notebook and binder, but he recalled the warning that Viktor Ulmeck had given him. He needed to get back to Seneschal Island where he would be safe. Replacing the drawer, Sigmund placed the key and the small notebook into his pocket and headed back downstairs.
Valarie was still sitting in the same place. At seeing Sigmund walking down the stairs, she smiled. Slipping his arm around her waist, Sigmund shifted the binder containing his father’s lab notes to his left hand. “Let’s get out of here, shall we?” Valarie nodded and together, they exited the bank.
Sigmund had taken three steps toward the limo when he felt something being pressed into his back. Turning his head as best he could, he saw a man in a dark gray trench coat standing behind him with what he could only assume was a gun shoved into his back. Another gunman had a gun dug into Valarie. The man behind Sigmund spoke in a gruff voice just loud enough to be heard. “Make one wrong move and you’re both dead. Now, give me the binder, slowly.”
Valarie shook her head no. “Don’t do it, Sigmund!” In response, her gunman pushed his gun even harder against her. His father’s lab notes were important to him, but in the short time he had spent with Valarie, nothing was worth her getting hurt or killed.
“I’ll give it to you, just please don’t hurt her.”
Slowly, Sigmund turned in place. In the time it took him to spin around, memories and flashbacks of his father flooded his mind. Whoever these people were that wanted the binder were undoubtedly the same ones that erased his memory and replaced it with one of their own. They were likely also the ones that gunned his parents down in the Canary Islands. Now he was about to give them the last piece that he had of his father -- the one thing that Hans Richter wanted his son to have. They had already taken his father away from him and he was about to let them steal what was left of him. The thought was too much. A fraction of a second is how long it took for him to formulate a plan. He only hoped that it worked and nothing happened to Valarie.
The first part of Sigmund’s turn had been painstakingly slow. Once he had a plan, everything went down in the blink of an eye. With one motion, he completed his turn and used the binder to strike the gunman in the temple. Not expecting such quick action, the man was taken completely off guard. His head snapped to the side and his gun flew out of his hand, skidding across the sidewalk. Losing his balance, the gunman crashed to the ground. Valarie threw an elbow at the man behind her, but she couldn’t reach him. The gunman, seeing his partner on the sidewalk, took two steps back and fired his gun twice. The first bullet struck Valarie mid-back, a circle of red instantly forming on her blouse. Pain flashed in her eyes as the second shot found her heart. As she collapsed on the ground, the gunman retreated, running into an alley beside the bank.
The man on the sidewalk was on his hands and knees, crawling toward his firearm. Sigmund was in shock, but he knew that if he didn’t act, he too would be shot. Sweeping Valarie into his arms, he managed to get the door to the limo open. Setting her down as gently as he could on the floorboard, Sigmund climbed in over Valarie and pulled her inside enough for the door to close. Pounding on the dividing glass, he yelled at the driver. “Just go!”
Sigmund was thrown backward and landed with his back on top of Valarie as the driver jammed the accelerator to the floor. The limo’s tires barked as it lurched forward. Within seconds, the glass of the back windshield shattered as the man had retrieved his gun and started shooting at the vehicle. The driver kept going and soon they had exceeded the range of the gunman’s weapon. Once they were clear, the driver rolled down the dividing window. “Hospital or airport?”
Sigmund was wracked by emotion to the point of indecisiveness. Almost mindlessly, he sat on the floor and propped himself up on the back seat. Carefully, he lifted Valarie’s head and put it in his lap. Hot tears stung his cheeks as he caressed her face. Pressing on her carotid artery, Sigmund was surprised and relieved to feel the telltale rise and fall of a pulse. Unbelievably, it wasn’t weak or thready, but rather was strong. Sigmund yelled toward the front of the limo. “Hospital… we need to get her to the hospital!”
Valarie opened her eyes and turned her head to look at Sigmund. “No, no hospital.”
“You’ve been shot! I don’t want to lose you so soon after finding you!”
“You won’t… trust me, please… no hospital.”
Against his better judgment, Sigmund told the driver to head to the airport instead of the hospital. Back at the plane, he carried Valarie and sat her down in a seat and reclined it back as far as it would go. “Trust me,” Valarie reiterated before closing her eyes to go to sleep. Sigmund feared that he would never see her beautiful emerald eyes again. How selfish it was of him to put the binder of lab notes ahead of her. If she died, he knew that he would never be able to forgive himself.
The flight back to Washington seemed much longer than the one to Geneva. Sitting beside Valarie, Sigmund held her hand for a good majority of the trip. Somewhere over the ocean, he also fell asleep. When he woke, he glanced over to check on Valarie. Sigmund was alarmed that she wasn’t in the seat. Dried blood stains covered the chair where he had placed her, but there was no trace of her body.
Panicked, Sigmund jumped out of his seat and started searching feverishly. He was preparing to enter the cockpit when the door to the lavatory opened and out stepped Valarie. Her face was beaming and a warm smile was aimed at Sigmund. Dark red stained her blouse, but she appeared to be fine otherwise.
Sigmund’s expression was one of puzzlement. “But how?”
Valarie unbuttoned and removed her blouse and approached Sigmund. Although there was dried blood on her abdomen and back, there was no evidence that any wound had ever existed. She pulled Sigmund’s hand and moved it over her stomach. Her skin was smooth and supple and if there had been a gunshot there, it was gone now. Grabbing his other hand, Valarie deposited the remains of two spent bullets into his hand.
“I don’t understand. Were you wearing some sort of bulletproof vest?”
“No, my dear Sigmund! There is, however, something I have to tell you.”


Chapter 17

Somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean

Sigmund wasn’t sure that he wanted to hear what Valarie had to tell him, but in the end it was better to know, even if it was bad news, than to be left wondering. Valarie had changed his perspective on women. Before, they were nothing but a distraction from his studies and work. Now, everything else seemed secondary. He wasn’t sure when the transition had occurred, but he knew that he never wanted to go back. In Valarie, Sigmund had discovered a freedom of sorts. He was no longer tied to his incessant need to constantly absorb new information. For the first time in his life, he had the opportunity to really live. In the back of his mind, he wondered if the feelings he was experiencing were like the ones his father had when he fell in love with his future wife.
Sigmund searched in Valarie’s eyes for a hint of what her secret might be, but there was no clue to be found. Sitting down, he prepared himself for whatever it was that she had to tell him. As the jet banked lazily to the left, the angle made it difficult to stand, so Valarie took a seat next to Sigmund. He stared at her stomach and chest, looking for any trace of where a wound had been. It was a fruitless search. No matter how many times he examined Valarie’s body, there simply was no evidence that she had ever been shot.
Valarie wrapped both of her hands around Sigmund’s hands. Looking directly into his face, there was no dishonesty or deception present. What she was about to reveal to him was a startling truth. “Sigmund, my love, and yes I said love -- I hope you don’t mind -- you know that I too work for The Agency.”
Sigmund shifted a little in his seat. “No, I don’t mind at all. In fact, I feel the same way, and yes, I do know that you work for The Agency. I guess I just don’t understand the depth of that statement.”
“We have several ongoing projects. Viktor would do a much better job of explaining the intricacies of each one, but I’ll try to give you a rough overview. The project that you will be heading, with help from your father’s research, is called the Arbiter Project. I will let Viktor go over that one with you. I also oversee a project known as the Sentinel Project. I have been working on my project for the past five years, so it is in the advanced stage.”
Sigmund was focused intently on Valarie’s words. “So what exactly is the Sentinel Project and what are its goals?”
“The Sentinel Project is designed to work in tandem with the Arbiter Project once both projects have met their objectives. My project is to the point of waiting for your project to be finished so the two can be integrated. The Sentinels will basically be watchers over the Arbiters. They will give the Arbiters their assignments and monitor their progress. Should anything go awry, the Sentinels will also be responsible for contacting The Agency so that Cleaners can be sent to scrub the scene and erase any evidence that an Arbiter or Sentinel has ever been there.”
“So the Sentinels are the watchers of the Arbiters. I understand that part, but what is it that the Arbiters will be doing that makes it necessary to erase their presence? Does it have something to do with the timeline getting screwed up?”
“As far as the objectives of the Arbiters and the Arbiter Project, you’ll have to ask Viktor to clarify that for you. In regard to the timeline, that’s a difficult question. I suppose the best answer I can give is ‘yes and no’. It would certainly influence the timeline if the Arbiters or Sentinels were discovered, but it is mainly because The Agency is a privately funded and clandestine organization. Let’s just say if we were discovered by the government, law enforcement, or any news agency, it would not be good for the company. I’m sure Viktor will have more to say.”
“All of that still doesn’t explain how you took two bullets and don’t have any wounds.”
“It does, actually. The Sentinels are watchers for the Arbiters. There may be occasions when they are in harm’s way. In those situations, they need every protection that can be afforded to them. To that end, all Sentinels are trained extensively in several of the martial arts as well as self-defense. They also have a special serum administered to them that greatly accelerates their ability to heal.”
“If you’ve only been working on the Sentinel Project for five years, you should be experimenting on mice or at most primates, right?”
“The Agency needed the program accelerated. I couldn’t allow any other human being to take the risk, so I took the serum myself and became the first Sentinel.”
Sigmund was shocked. “But there are scientific guidelines! Ethical principles! Why would The Agency ask you to violate those principles?”
“Sigmund, dear, you are forgetting something. Everyone that works at The Agency, except you, is from decades in the future. Even The Agency building itself was made from future materials. The principles have changed greatly since your time. We adhere to the guidelines of the future. One day, you will see. I don’t expect you to understand right now.”
“Wait, you said everyone besides me that works at The Agency is from the future? Does that include you?”
“Yes, Sigmund, it does. There was no safe location for The Agency to exist in my time, so we came back through time with our technology to build The Agency here. That’s why it is so important that Seneschal Island remain hidden. If other agencies from my time were to discover its location, it would have severe consequences to the future and the future’s very existence.”
“I’m having a hard time wrapping my brain around this. If you traveled back through time, when we actually reach your time from my time, what will happen? It shouldn’t be possible for two of you to exist. Will you be as you are now, or will you be decades older as you should if you aged naturally?”
“What, you don’t want to grow old with me? I’m not exactly robbing the cradle, you know.”
“Of course I want to grow old with you, but will you want to grow old with me? When I am old and decrepit, will you still be young and beautiful? Not that it matters, I’m just wondering.”
“Honestly, I don’t know, but you’re right, it doesn’t matter. At least not to me.”
“But…” is all Sigmund got out before Valarie leaned in close and kissed him deeply and passionately. The kiss seemed to last for hours and when it ended, Sigmund wished time could have slowed even further to make the kiss last even longer.
Valarie whispered “That, my love, is all that matters.” With that, she kissed Sigmund again. Afterward, she excused herself for a few minutes to wash off the dried blood in the lavatory. When she returned, they resumed where they had left off. They continued for the rest of the flight as the plane headed west over Canada.


Chapter 18

The Agency - Seneschal Island, North Pacific

The window afforded Viktor Ulmeck a panoramic view of the Pacific. Hundreds of feet below, a flock of seagulls languished over the ocean, rising and falling with the tepid breeze. Further toward the horizon, a giant tail fin from a massive gray whale sent an explosion of water into the crystal blue sky. Viktor was still admiring the view, deep in thought, when Sigmund and Valarie entered his office. Without turning around, he pointed to the spot where the whale had just surfaced. “You know, Sigmund, the gray whale is a majestic creature. Every year, they travel between 5,000 and 7,000 miles as the northern ice pushes them southward. They start in the Bering and Chukchi seas and migrate to the warmer lagoon waters of Mexico’s Baja peninsula. Seventy-five miles a day they swim, not stopping for anything night or day. Their will is indomitable. Instinct drives them and they keep pushing until they reach their goal. They only have two natural predators – humans and orca. I’m sure you can guess which one claims more of the whales lives each year. So many were being hunted that they were granted protection from commercial hunting by the International Whaling Commission in 1949. Forty years from now, their numbers will surpass 25,000 and the protection order will eventually be lifted in 2019. A year later, a researcher will find a previously undiscovered gland that secretes a special oil. That oil will eventually be mixed with a series of amino acids and the resulting solution will be found to double human life expectancy. Within five years, the gray whale will be hunted to complete extinction. Another protection order could have been issued, but under-the-table deals made certain corrupt politicians look the other way.”
Valarie moved to Viktor’s right while Sigmund stepped to the left. All three were watching as the whale again sent a geyser of water thirty feet into the air. After pausing briefly, Sigmund sighed. “That’s certainly a tragic story. Strange to me that you are talking about it in past tense like it’s already happened, but definitely tragic. What’s your purpose for telling it?”
“A philosophical question. I’ve told you what is going to happen. If you knew the name of the researcher and the exact date, time, and location that the discovery of the special oil is made, would you try to stop in order to keep the gray whales from going extinct? Or would you let it happen knowing that in the end the discovery has the potential to give billions of people much longer lives?”
Sigmund considered the question for several minutes while Viktor waited patiently, never taking his eyes off the path of the gray whale. “Even if the one researcher were stopped, who’s to say that another wouldn’t be there to take his place? It’s awful about the whales, but perhaps it is inevitable that the discovery will be made. Maybe it is meant to be made. The real question is, do I consider the complete destruction of one race to benefit another acceptable?”
“And what would your answer to that be?”
“No, I don’t think it is acceptable, but I also don’t see how any one person could be held responsible. Certainly not the researcher that made the discovery. A scientist’s job is to question and push the boundaries of what is known. The whalers are to blame for actually hunting and killing the whales. The corrupt politicians are also responsible because they knew about the problem and did nothing to stop it. It would be nearly impossible to bring them all to justice.”
“So does that mean, then, that you would do nothing with this information?”
“I didn’t say that. I just don’t see how the chain of events could be stopped. I think perhaps the best option, given that I now know the information regarding the oil and the extinction of the gray whales would be to get ahead of the curve.”
“How would you propose to do that?”
Sigmund stroked his chin with his right index finger. “I would research the oil and figure out a way to synthesize it before even the first whale is killed.”
Viktor laughed lightly. “A noble idea, but how would you get the oil without killing a whale?”
Without hesitation, Sigmund answered. “Well, considering that you can bring future materials back in time from the future to build this building, I’m sure you could manage to snag me a vial or two of the oil. Right?”
“Fair enough,” Viktor conceded, “the story I told you about the whale’s migrations is indeed true. The part about the oil, however, I made up.”
“What, was it some sort of test?”
Viktor at last turned to face Sigmund. “In a manner of speaking, Sigmund, yes it was a sort of test. You see, the underlying question of the story was really this – if you know what is going to happen, how would it affect your actions in the future when the time for decisions is at hand? Most people would have said to either do nothing or to kill the hunters, politicians, and the researcher. But your solution is by far the best and most creative that I have heard.”
Sigmund grinned. “Thank you! Do I win the grand prize?”
Viktor shook Sigmund’s hand. “If you mean do you get the job, the answer is obviously yes. The Agency needs you, Sigmund. It may be true that the Arbiter Project needs an adaptation of your father’s formula in order to get off the ground, but I think you are the only person alive that would be able to make the necessary changes to the formula. In fact, without you, the Arbiter Project would never get off the ground. In the story I told you about the whale oil, you were correct in pointing out that if the one researcher was killed that another would inevitably take his place if the discovery is meant to be made. In the case of the Arbiter Project, though, that same idea does not hold true. No other scientist or researcher could take your place. You are the only one that can do this, Sigmund.”
“I don’t see how that can be true. All a scientist would need would be my father’s lab notes, correct?”
“The notes are important, Sigmund, I will give you that. The research your father did, however, is not the entirety of the puzzle. Your father was an absolutely brilliant man. I’m sure you know that. We have reason to believe that he took a piece of his research – a key piece – encoded it and buried it inside of your memories.”
“But you said that my memories were not even my own. That someone had planted false memories in my head.”
Viktor looked over his right shoulder at Valarie. She stepped forward until she was right in front of Sigmund and took both of his hands in her own. “It’s true. Someone did plant fake memories in your mind. We think it was an effort to overwrite the embedded memories and destroy any chance that the remainder of your father’s research could be obtained.”
“But why?”
Valarie looked over her shoulder at Viktor, who took a seat in his red leather executive chair. He punched in a few numbers on the computer keyboard in front of him. Within moments, there was a knock at the door. A man in a charcoal suit entered and proceeded to sit in a guest chair facing Viktor’s desk. The man motioned for Sigmund and Valarie to take a seat as well.
“Hello, Sigmund. My name is Arthur Willows. I knew your father. We spent several months working together before he came home for your twelfth birthday.”
“Please forgive me, Mr. Willows. I don’t recall my father ever leaving.”
“I’m not surprised, Sigmund. Your father had groundbreaking research in the areas of memory and cognition after we started working together. His advances were still tied to his formula – quite a powerful formula, I might add. Fortunately the realm of memory, thanks to your father’s help, became similar to working with a computer’s hard drive.”
Sigmund had to interrupt. “I’m sorry, Mr. Willows…”
“Please, call me Arthur. Mister Willows is so formal and since we’re going to be working together, I’d prefer a more informal interaction.”
“Very well, Arthur, I’ve only recently been introduced to computers since technically they don’t exist in my time, at least none that I’ve seen firsthand. None the size of the ones I’ve seen here, anyway.
“Please forgive me, Sigmund. Sometimes I forget you are from the past and may not know about all of our technology. Anyway, a hard drive is like a computer’s storage device. Think of it like a cabinet in your kitchen. In it, you store various things like canned food. A hard drive works much the same way, only it stores computer programs and data. Hans… sorry, your father, discovered a way to work with memory like a computer works with a hard drive. Along the same principles, data can sometimes be recovered even after it is deleted from the hard drive. I have high hopes that your memory will work the same way. We have a machine that should be able to help us retrieve your lost memories.”
“I would like to get to the bottom of what’s going on.”
“Of that, Sigmund, I’m completely certain. Now, to the reason Viktor asked me to come down to speak to you. Valarie has no doubt told you all about her Sentinel project. I’m here to brief you on the Arbiter Project and to answer any questions that you might have before you get started.”
Sigmund raised his index finger as if telling Arthur to wait a minute. “Before we discuss anything else, I have an important question. I’m not exactly sure who to ask, but it needs to be asked.”
“What is that?”
“I’m happy to work here and all, but what about living arrangements? I’ll likely have to sleep, eat, and shower at some point.”
Viktor glanced up from his computer monitor. “We have living facilities and anything that you need here in the building. We have our own chefs that prepare all of the meals, a workout center, gym and recreational facilities. If there’s something you need that we don’t have, let me know and I will make sure you get it.”
Sigmund nodded and motioned for Arthur to continue.
“Throughout history, there have been systems for the justice and punishment of criminals and alleged criminals. Some, such as the criminal justice system in the United States, have been based on the premise that one is innocent until proven guilty by a jury of peers beyond a reasonable doubt. For the most part, the system’s averages have been on track – the innocent are freed and the guilty imprisoned or put to death. The judicial branch of the government was intended to be one of the checks and balances to keep any one arm of the government from gaining too much power on its own. When there is greed and corruption in one branch, the other two can usually compensate. But, when it is in more than one branch and those branches are working in collusion, the system no longer functions as it was intended.”
Sigmund nodded in agreement.
Arthur continued. “In your time, there have been miscarriages of justice. The innocent have been imprisoned. The guilty have been set free, often on a technicality that has nothing to do with the case itself. In the majority of cases though, the justice system gets it right much more often than not. A couple decades from now, DNA (the human genome) is introduced into the justice system. It greatly reduces the number of wrongly imprisoned and helps many innocent individuals from going to prison. The impact on bringing justice to the guilty, however, is not as drastically affected. A few decades after that, corruption runs rampant through all three branches of government and a fair trial becomes harder and harder to receive. The guilty are often set free so as to not violate their ‘civil rights’ and the innocent are often sent to prison because they have somehow spoken out against the government or simply because a politician doesn’t like the person. Still, though, there are a few miscarriages of justice even in your time.”
“Oh, I’m sure. Why are you telling me this? What does it have to do with the Arbiter Project?”
Arthur stood. “Come with me.”
Viktor returned his attention to his computer while Valarie took Sigmund’s hand and followed Arthur to the elevator. Once in the lab, Arthur keyed in the combination to open the wall in front of the cryogenic stasis chambers. When the computer keyboard slid out, he typed for several seconds. Within a few minutes, the viewing portals to two of the chambers defrosted.
Arthur stood in front of the suspension chamber containing Adam Lucas. “Former United States Senator Adam Lucas. One of the most upstanding politicians of his generation. He suffered more than his fair share of struggles in his personal life, none of his own making. His daughter, Elizabeth, was viciously raped and murdered when she was seventeen years old. The murderer was found with the victim’s blood on his clothes and the murder weapon in hand. The case went to trial and because of under-the-table political deals, the man was acquitted of the crime and set free. Prior to murdering the Senator’s daughter, he had killed five other girls. After gaining his freedom, rather than steer clear of Senator Lucas, he helped orchestrate a scandal that would ruin the Senator’s political career and then oversaw the abduction and murder of Adam’s wife, Lorraine, right before the former Senator’s eyes. The entire time, Adam Lucas knew that Kenneth Davis Cobb was responsible for sexually assaulting and killing his daughter and for murdering his wife. Cobb even told him so, but there was nothing he could do about it. The system failed him. By my time, the justice system is irreparably broken. That is why the Arbiter Project is so desperately needed. So that the truly guilty are judged and punished for their crimes before they have the opportunity to hurt anyone else.”
“Makes sense to me. I wish there had been an Arbiter there to stop whoever shot my parents. How will the Arbiters be able to judge?”
“That’s where the memory research I was involved in with your father comes in. We were able to develop an interface for the brain that works on two fronts. It connects to the Hippocampus, which is the memory center of the brain. That allows the Arbiter to witness the memories firsthand. The other part works with the Frontal Lobe, which is the brain’s center for reasoning, problem solving, judgment, and impulse control. This allows the Arbiter to experience what the person was thinking at the time of the memory – emotions, conscience, and true intent. Taking the full scope of the memories into account, the Arbiter is then armed with the necessary information to render judgment.”
“Okay, I get that they see the memories and feel what the person feels when they are committing their crime, but don’t they bring their own ideas of right and wrong as well as their own influences to the judgment process? How is that unbiased?”
Arthur acknowledged the implications of Sigmund’s question. “That’s a very good question, but there is more to the Arbiter Project that you must hear about in order to understand.”
“Sorry, Arthur. I’ll hold my questions until the end.”
“No, not at all. Please ask them when you have them. If you’re anything like me if you wait to ask, you’ll probably not remember what the question was by the time I’m done.”
Sigmund nodded and Arthur continued. “We have the memory aspect of the Arbiter Project completed since I was able to work with your father on that portion. It’s the rest that we are missing. And for that, the tiny mouse named Lazarus that you met in the lab earlier holds the key.”
“How so?”
“We’re not sure exactly, but we suspect that the key to the formula that prolonged the mouse’s life is in your father’s lab notes. Most of it anyway. The other part is locked in your brain, which we should be able to help extract when we restore your true memories.”
Sigmund sighed. “It sounds like I really need to spend some quality time with my father’s lab notes. I’m eager to get started, actually. Could we postpone the rest of this discussion until after I’ve thoroughly went through the lab binder?”
Arthur stepped in front of the other chamber with a defrosted viewport. “Certainly, Sigmund.”
“Before I go, who is the other person in the chamber next to Adam Lucas?”
“Go ahead and read your father’s notes, then I will tell you. Trust me, you will be even more motivated to work on this project when I tell you who he is.”
Valarie, who had been quiet the entire time since leaving Viktor’s office, wrapped her arm around Sigmund’s. “Why don’t I show you to your living quarters?” She then leaned closely and added in a whisper “And help you break in your bed.”


Chapter 19

The Agency - Seneschal Island, North Pacific

Sigmund Richter was used to sleeping alone, so when a sultry “good morning” broke the silence after his first night’s sleep, he jumped and nearly fell out of the bed. His heart raced while his mind attempted to make sense of the situation. Fortunately, it only took a moment for memories of the previous evening to come rushing back into his brain. Valarie Brielle snuggled closer as Sigmund savored every moment of their encounter for a second time.
After stretching, Sigmund lightly kissed Valarie’s forehead before swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. He hadn’t had any time to investigate his new living quarters the night before other than the bed. In the morning light, the deepness of the forest green walls seemed to absorb the sun’s rays, giving their appearance a slight glowing quality. The furnishings, though sparse, seemed lavish. A large, overstuffed ivory leather couch faced a monstrous television that somehow had been mounted to the wall. Enough chairs were scattered around the living room that Sigmund would be able to comfortably host at least a dozen visitors. Sliding glass doors framed a balcony overlooking the blue waters of the Pacific ocean. He could definitely get used to this. Standing up, he was only slightly embarrassed to remember that his clothes trailed from the entrance to the bed. Valarie’s outfit was intermingled with his own. Before he could take a step, she wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled him back on the bed. He didn’t object.
An hour later, Sigmund found that the bathroom was a light lavender color and was nearly as spacious as the living room. The heat and pressure from the shower’s water felt pleasant as it washed over Sigmund’s body. Closing his eyes, he luxuriated as the steam opened the pores on his skin. Relishing in the tropical environment he had created, he didn’t hear Valarie as she slipped into the shower behind him. As she enveloped him with her arms, Sigmund kept his eyes closed and just let his mind relax.
In the dining area, he and Valarie sat at a raised circular pedestal table. The padded chairs molded to their occupants as they each swiveled and adjusted the controls. Once situated, Valarie pushed a button in the center of the table. A moment later, a voice issued from a small speaker next to the button. “What can we get you?”
Valarie ordered a double stack of wheat pancakes with butter and maple syrup, an egg over easy, two slices of bacon and a cup of black coffee. Sigmund, still looking for a menu, shrugged his shoulders. Valarie grinned. “You can order anything you want. Anything at all -- even pizza or cheesecake. Thinking for a moment, Sigmund ordered a Belgian waffle with fresh strawberries and maple syrup and a glass of skim milk. Ten minutes later, there was a whirring sound as two small doors opened on the wall. Inside were both of their breakfast orders. Sigmund was astonished. “Wow! And they can make anything?”
Valarie giggled. “Yes, Sigmund. Anything at all!”
After eating and changing out of their robes into their normal clothes, Valarie left Sigmund alone in his living quarters so that he would have time to review his father’s lab notes. Taking the binder out on the balcony, Sigmund sunk into a black all-weather chair and propped his feet up on the adjacent ottoman. The warm breeze washed over him as a pair of seagulls cried somewhere out of sight. The ocean waters ebbed and flowed, their relaxing sound bringing a sensation of peace as Sigmund at last opened the words of his father’s work.
Everything Sigmund had heard about his father was validated by his lab notes. The man was truly a genius. Reviewing the various equations and calculations, Sigmund continued to pore over every pen stroke, allowing the knowledge to absorb into his mind. To the average scientist, even an explanation of what was contained in the binder wouldn’t be sufficient in giving understanding. To Sigmund, however, it was instantly perceived. The work was fascinating, especially when his father began studying the mouse that would come to be called Lazarus. Revived after several hours of rigor mortis and death? No trace of the cancer that his father had injected into him? Amazing! The reanimation was only the tip of the iceberg, however. What was this about Lazarus chewing through an electrical wire and being brought back to life for a second time? Blue glowing eyes? A spark of electricity between test subject and scientist? The formula was brilliant and likely centuries, if not millennia, ahead of its time. A piece of it was missing, though. No one would be able to recreate the formula without the piece that was lacking. It suddenly became clear to Sigmund why he was vital to the Arbiter Project. If the rest of the formula was indeed locked inside of his head, then he was the only person alive that could complete his father’s work. Sigmund placed the binder containing the lab notes in the nightstand by the bed. He was eager to start the procedure for retrieving his lost memories and unlocking the rest of the formula.
The chair Arthur Willows had Sigmund sit in reminded him of a dentist’s chair. Thickly padded, Arthur reclined the seat until Sigmund was nearly parallel to the floor of the small lab. “Okay Sigmund, this will only hurt for a second, then your body will go numb. Don’t be alarmed, it is necessary in order to minimize the risk of the interface. The brain is a very sensitive area, which is why it is contained within the thick bone of the skull. Any movement at all on your part and you might just turn into a vegetable. So, this is only a precaution for your safety.”
The needle stung as it pierced Sigmund’s right temple. As the contents of the syringe were pushed into his system, he could feel a cooling sensation. Like a flowing stream, it washed across his head and quickly found its way through the rest of his body. By the time the fluid reached his toes, he was in a complete state of relaxation. It was an odd sensation. He couldn’t feel any part of himself, but somehow he was still conscious and aware of everything that was being said and done in the room. Although Sigmund couldn’t feel it, two tendrils no thicker than a human hair extended through the tiny hole made by the needle. Searching, the small tentacles sought different parts of Sigmund’s brain. Once they had found their target sections, the tendrils gently wrapped around their part of his mind.
Sigmund watched as thousands of dots appeared on a large computer monitor. For a minute, there was no order to the spots, only chaos. Swimming around each other, some dots began attaching themselves to others until there was only a series of larger circles in a perfect horizontal line across the screen.
When Arthur pushed the first marker, the image resolved into an approximation of a movie on the screen. Sigmund could see what was displayed on the monitor inside of his head as well. 
The chestnut pony seemed very large to young Sigmund. He was three years old and about three and a half feet tall. His hair was the same bright orange color as his father hoisted him into the saddle. He cried and cried -- he was so scared! His mother’s arm around his back gave him a sense of security and he at once calmed down, still sniffling and occasionally gasping for breath, but no longer fearful.
The image of the pony faded and Arthur pressed another button, this one closer to the middle of the screen. He was at a conference with his father in Düsseldorf. He was thumbing through a journal on Astrophysics in the lobby of the hotel... as suddenly as the memory appeared it vanished. Different colored pin-pricks of light exploded across Sigmund’s vision. Had the neurotoxin not been administered prior to the procedure, he would have been startled enough to at least twitch in his chair. I wouldn’t make a very good carrot, he thought to himself and then recalled the comment Arthur had made about becoming a vegetable with any movement during the procedure.
The multi-colored fireworks show inside his head went on for what felt like hours. Several times, there was an intermission in the vibrant display where everything went dark. The feeling was unsettling to Sigmund and he empathized with the blind. To live life without light or color -- how very sad. Of course, those blind from birth wouldn’t know what they’re missing. Still, Sigmund didn’t like the sensation that he was all alone in the middle of a giant, consuming darkness. Eventually, he stopped thinking about it.
When he again became aware, Sigmund’s body was still numb but it was as if he was fully awake. The colored light show had finished and the nothingness was gone. Arthur was once again standing in front of the large monitor, typing furiously on a keyboard. 
Another memory began to flicker in Sigmund’s mind. It wasn’t steady at first, blinking in and out of his mind like a film reel that kept getting caught and released. Soon, the picture was vibrant and clear.
It was Sigmund’s tenth birthday party. He was surrounded by dozens of his classmates, though all of them were far intellectually inferior. Sigmund tried as best he could to fit in. His mother came into the room carrying a large birthday cake with ten blazing candles on top. She had made his favorite kind of cake -- German chocolate. The coconut in the frosting was the best part. First his mother, then all of the other children started singing. ‘Wie schön, dass du geboren bist, wir hätten dich sonst sehr vermisst. Wie schön, dass wir beisammen sind, wir gratulieren dir, Geburtstagskind!’ Sigmund cheered, closed his eyes and blew out the candles. He didn’t tell anyone his wish for fear it wouldn’t come true. He could have wished for a new toy car or for a new book about the stars and planets, but he didn’t. What Sigmund wanted more than anything was for his father to come home. His father had left for the United States two months earlier. When he went, he told Sigmund that he would just be gone for a little while and to mind his mother. The candles extinguished as Sigmund blew and the image faded from his mind.
His memory jumped forward six months. His mother had finished packing and they were moving to the United States to be nearer to his father. Sigmund felt overjoyed that he would at last get to see his papa. His wish finally came true even though it seemed to have taken a while.
Slowly, the false memories were replaced with the true memories. The last of the altered memories took the longest to resolve into clarity.
The warm sands of Fuerteventura shifted between Sigmund’s toes as he walked hand-in-hand with his parents. His father had promised a family vacation for years but was always too busy with work. Every year he had canceled, but at last they were getting to spend time together as a family. Sigmund had never felt happier in his life. His father accidentally bumped into a blond tourist. After apologizing profusely, she introduced herself as Susan Meadows. She seemed like a really nice lady. They continued on their way. A short while later, Susan came running back up to them. Sigmund couldn’t hear everything that was said, but he picked out something about ice cream. It was hot and something cold sounded wonderful. A moment later, his father explained that it was okay, that Susan was going to take him to get an ice cream cone. She took him to a small ice cream shop where he ordered one scoop of pistachio and one of chocolate. The coolness of the ice cream melting over his fingers tickled a little, so he licked off the excess. Within a few minutes, he had consumed the entire confection. Returning to the beach, his parents were no longer where they had been. Sigmund started to worry. Susan reassured him by telling him that she knew where his parents had gone and that there was someone special there that she wanted him to meet. Although his intelligence far surpassed other children his age or even ten years older, Sigmund had no reason to suspect Susan had anything but the best intentions. After all, his parents seemed to trust her. Accepting her hand, he walked with her to a building further down the beach.
The door opened and Susan led Sigmund up several flights of stairs until they emerged on the roof of the building. There a man in a black cloak was waiting. His face was covered and Sigmund nearly turned and ran as fast as his legs would carry him back down the stairs, but Susan put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay, Sigmund, Flicker won’t hurt you. He just wants to show you something.”
It was at that moment a second man stepped around a large air conditioning unit. The second man carried a gun, which frightened Sigmund, but there was something familiar about the man. He seemed to be very sad as he set the rifle down on the roof and gazed directly into little Sigmund’s eyes. Then, for some reason, the man with orange hair sunk to his knees in front of Sigmund and started crying. Then he just kept repeating the same phrase over and over again -- "oh Sigmund, what have I done?"


Chapter 20

The Agency - Seneschal Island, North Pacific

Sigmund Richter sat in shocked silence. Night had fallen outside of his living quarters, but he did not turn on any lights. In darkness, he stared through the wall at nothing in particular. The memory retrieval procedure that Arthur Willows had performed had been partially successful. It hadn’t broken through to the memories that contained the final piece of Hans Richter’s formula. The false memories that had occupied Sigmund’s mind were gone, however -- replaced with his true recollections. The problem was, now that Sigmund knew the truth, he wished Arthur could put back the false memories. His life had been so simple and uncomplicated until just a few days before. Now, everything he had ever come to believe was in question. What have I done? The words kept echoing around inside his head, threatening his sanity. How was it even possible that what he witnessed was true? It shouldn’t be possible, yet there it was. As a young teenager, he stood on a rooftop in Fuerteventura staring down the man responsible for shooting his parents. Murderer! How could he gun them down in cold blood? His parents didn’t deserve to die, especially like they did. Of course, the boy at the time didn’t know that his parents were dead. They had merely vanished from the sands of Drop Beach without a trace. The man that was reliving the memories knew that Hans and Elsa Richter had been shot and killed, however. As Sigmund stood transfixed, seeing through the boy’s eyes, the full implication of what he was seeing would not and could not sink in. Thus, the shock. There, ten feet in front of his boyhood self, crying and obviously remorseful for what he had done, was the adult Sigmund Richter. The Sigmund that was nearly the same age as the one in the padded chair -- the chair that reminded Sigmund of a dentist’s seat. Sitting in the dark room with no lights on, Sigmund couldn’t accept what he was seeing. Surely this memory too was false. He loved his parents, both of them. Never in a million years would he ever dream of raising his voice at them, let along murdering them in cold blood. Murderer! No, it wasn’t me! It couldn’t have been me! It’s not possible!
A chime from the front door did not phase Sigmund. If he had laser vision, he would have burned a hole where he was staring at the wall. Another chime. Still, no response. Then, a thought entered his mind unbidden. The lab notes weren’t all that he recovered from the safe deposit box in Geneva. The small brown leather-bound notebook was calling to him, begging him to read it. How could he ever bring himself to read a letter his father had written to him prior to his death? Especially considering he was the one who killed him. Murderer!
Maybe there would be some comfort in his father’s words -- some consolation for what he had done. No, Murderer! That notebook will just tell you that he knew it was you! You seek forgiveness, but you won’t find any in that notebook!
Sigmund had to know what was in the notebook, even if it meant eternal condemnation from his father. Grabbing the small tablet from the nightstand drawer, Sigmund laid on the bed and turned on a bedside lamp.
The words in the notebook proved not to be a letter after all, but rather a personal journal. There was no redemption or consolation contained in its pages. Neither was there the condemnation that Sigmund feared. Instead, the tablet appeared to be a random hodgepodge of dates selected from Hans Richter’s memories. Skimming through his father’s words, there was no reference to his formula or his work on the top secret project. It was a collection of events surrounding Sigmund and his mother. By the time Sigmund had reached the final page, the tears were flowing freely. No understanding came from the perusal of the journal. He actually felt worse than he did before he picked up the notebook. Sigmund prepared to toss the tablet back into the nightstand drawer when he spied something written hastily on the back cover. It was small to the point of being nearly illegible, but Sigmund had excellent eyesight. Holding the small booklet close to the light, he was able to make out what his father had written -- John 11:43-44 -- Sigmund recognized that the scribble was Bible verses.
Sigmund was not a religious person. He didn’t not believe, but he also didn’t subscribe to the misinformation that much of organized religion was divulging either. He considered himself more of a realist, although he was more accepting of some religious principles than other scientists. His beliefs leaned more towards Creationism than the Universe popping into existence by the completely random appearance of matter and energy. Order out of chaos. That is all that religion and science both strive for -- to bring understanding where there was none before. To lend purpose to existence. In his infinite curiosity, Sigmund had read the Bible from cover-to-cover. To him, it seemed to be full of contradictions -- the Old Testament saying one thing while the New Testament took a completely different stance on the same subject. Sigmund used to keep a Bible in his own nightstand drawer, just in case he ever wanted to explore theological questions. Unfortunately, he didn’t exactly have time to pack when Viktor Ulmeck had come calling. Still, out of habit Sigmund checked the drawer anyway and was surprised to find that it did contain a Bible. As he pulled it out from its resting place, he noticed that it was weathered and worn. This book had seen a lot of use. Looking inside the front cover, he was shocked to find the name of the person that had owned the Bible -- Hans Richter. Someone from The Agency must have ran across it at some point and left it in the drawer in what would be Sigmund’s future room. The people were, after all, from the future, so they would know if Sigmund was going to accept the job or not.
Carefully, Sigmund opened the Bible to the New Testament and flipped through the pages until he found John 11:43-44. The passage read “And when he thus had spoken, he cried with a loud voice, Lazarus, come forth. And he that was dead came forth, bound hand and foot with graveclothes: and his face was bound with a napkin. Jesus saith unto them, Loose him, and let him go.”
Sigmund read the verses over several times, trying to determine his father’s motivation for writing the reference to the scriptures on the leather-bound notebook that he had left for him. In the lab notes, it was clear to Sigmund that his father had raised the mouse from the dead not once, but twice. Was the reference merely an explanation of why he named the mouse Lazarus? Surely the meaning was deeper than that. There was a message there, but Sigmund wasn’t understanding it. Remembering his father’s secret fascination with cryptology, Sigmund attempted to arrange the words of the verse in various ciphers, but none of them made any sense or contained a hidden message. It didn’t take long for Sigmund to get frustrated. What are you trying to tell me?
Pocketing the notebook, Sigmund decided to head down to the lab containing the animals and see if maybe his father had concealed another message on Lazarus or somewhere in his cage. It was a long shot because the cage was undoubtedly set up after his father’s death, but with everyone but himself in The Agency being from the future, anything was possible.
The lights were all extinguished in the lab as most of the animals lie dormant. Rather than disturb the animals that were sleeping, Sigmund retrieved a flashlight from the supply cabinet. Lazarus sat in his golden cage, soaking in the moon rays from the second story balcony of his tiny estate. The mouse watched Sigmund with inquisitive eyes as he first looked all around the outside of the cage. Lifting the cage up, Sigmund found nothing written on the bottom. He examined every square inch and found no hidden writing or secret message from his father. Sliding with his back to the cabinet opposite of the golden cage, Sigmund sat on the floor and stared at Lazarus. What is my father trying to tell me?
And he that was dead came forth. The sentence tickled the edge of Sigmund’s perception. The words kept coming back to his mind again and again. I get it, you raised Lazarus from the dead. I realize that, but there has to be more to the message! What is it that you want me to understand?
The epiphany came when Sigmund had his face buried in his hands. Running his fingers through his hair, he remembered his father’s notes about the accident with the lamp. The exchange of energy between his father and Lazarus. The rodent’s eyes had glowed blue and a jolt passed from his little paw to the scientist’s finger.
Sigmund searched frantically -- pulling open drawers and throwing open cabinet doors until he came across a soldering iron in the same supply cabinet where he had found the flashlight. Grabbing a pair of scissors, he sat the flashlight down on a desk, illuminating the surface. Cautiously, he opened the scissors and angled them through the electrical cord of the soldering iron, being careful not to sever the wires inside. Once he had stripped and exposed a two inch section of wire, Sigmund found the plug nearest the golden cage and plugged in the soldering iron. Vigilant to not touch the exposed wire or let it touch against the metal of the cage, he opened the cage and placed the iron inside. Lazarus retreated into his mansion and a few seconds later poked his nose through the miniscule front door. There was understanding in his eyes as he looked up at Sigmund. Without hesitation, Lazarus ran over to the exposed wire, sniffed it, then pulled it to himself using his teeth. There was an immediate reaction. Convulsions shook the rodent’s body and smoke formed. Two seconds later, Sigmund unplugged the soldering iron and the current stopped.
Lazarus fell to his side and at first, Sigmund thought he had killed him. For thirty seconds, there was no movement in the cage. Then suddenly, the tiny black eyes began to glow an eerie cerulean color. Rolling over, Lazarus walked to the edge of the cage and sat up on his back paws. When he peered out of the cage, Sigmund could sense something in his mind as if the mouse were trying to communicate. Although there were no words, Sigmund could understand the message. Do not be afraid. I intend you no harm. Hold out your hand.
Reaching forward, the mouse pushed his arm out between two of the cage bars. When Sigmund’s hand was an inch from Lazarus, a small current of electricity arced between them. Sigmund’s instinct was to pull away, but the connection didn’t hurt. Inside of his head, he envisioned a hallway with locked doors. At the end stood a red steel door with a huge padlock holding it in place. Keeping the connection with Lazarus, Sigmund was able to walk toward the door in his mind. When he was a foot away, the padlocked unlocked itself and dropped to the floor taking its chains with it. He reached to grab the handle, but the door swung open on its own. From within, a bright white light beckoned to him. It wasn’t intimidating, but instead was overwhelmingly welcoming.
Sigmund stepped through the threshold and proceeded into the room of light. There were no walls -- only the white light as far as his eyes could see. Ten feet in front of him, sitting on the ivory tiled floor was a golden retriever. As Sigmund approached, the dog began to glow with a golden aura. Before his eyes, the animal morphed into a bipedal creature of light with rough estimations of legs, arms, and wings. The creature was so beautiful that Sigmund felt compelled to drop to his knees in reverence.
When the being spoke, its voice was as melodious as the most beautiful symphony. “Rise, please. There is no need to worship me. I am not God. I am the seraphim known as Auriel, Archangel of Earth. I have been sent to guide you. The path of humanity has been corrupted and the timeline polluted. Efforts must be made to return to the intended course before Armageddon is unleashed upon the world resulting in mankind’s destruction. I was sent to protect Adam Lucas and to ensure that his path to the Presidency was unimpeded. I believed that a demon took possession of an already evil man, Kenneth Cobb, in order to prevent the event from happening. I failed in my mission because I underestimated the enemy. It was no ordinary demon that possessed Kenneth Cobb. It was the great deceiver Lucifer himself. Adam Lucas as President would have ushered in an era of goodwill and peace and postponed a millennia of evil, pain, and torment. The fallen one could not allow that to happen. Now I have been ordered not to directly interfere with humanity’s free will and I shall obey my commands. I established a failsafe, however, should my mission to protect Adam Lucas fail. As a backup plan, a special gift was sent in the mouse you refer to as Lazarus. His blood is the key to the awakening of the Arbiters. One drop added to Hans Richter’s formula is all that is required. I may not be able to interfere directly in the events of humanity, but indirectly through the Arbiters much evil can be stopped. Understand, there is a war raging on Earth between the seraphim and the demonic armies, though the battles are invisible to almost all human eyes. You see death and destruction, but there is more happening than your vision can reveal.”
Auriel approached and placed his hand of light over Sigmund’s heart. “Be at peace, Sigmund Richter. The vision of you murdering your parents was a false one meant to keep you from bringing forth the Arbiters. The one responsible shall yet be brought to justice, but it shall not be by your hand. Now, it is your time to bring forth the Arbiters.”
Before the vision faded, Auriel placed the hand that had been covering Sigmund's heart on his forehead instead. In his mind, Sigmund felt a wave sweep through his brain, taking away all of the false memories with it. When it had passed through, Sigmund’s true memories were restored. His father had indeed left for the United States. He and his mother followed months later. They had walked on the sands of Drop Beach in Fuerteventura. Susan Meadows did buy young Sigmund an ice cream cone. The gunman on the roof, however, was not the older Sigmund. It was the man in the suspension chamber next to Adam Lucas. The Arbiter on the roof of the building changed young Sigmund’s memories. Susan Meadows had introduced the cloaked figure to young Sigmund as Flicker, but it was not the truth. Somehow, Sigmund knew that Flicker had glowing orange eyes. This Arbiter’s eyes were a neon green color.
Sigmund was jerked from reviewing his true memories by the penetrating sound of alarms going off. He opened his eyes. The lab was bathed in a red pulsing light as the beacon in the hallway rotated. Unplugging the soldering iron, Sigmund shoved it into his pocket, closed the door to the golden cage, and darted into the corridor.
Viktor Ulmeck and Arthur Willows raced past Sigmund toward the clean lab. Valarie Brielle was not far behind. When she saw Sigmund standing in the hallway, she grabbed his arm as she passed. Following along, Sigmund yelled in an effort to be heard over the deafening sirens.
“What’s going on?”
Valarie shouted back. “There’s a fire in the clean lab!”
Smoke billowed forth from the room. Considering the circumstances, no one bothered to put on an environmental suit. Viktor and Arthur had pulled fire extinguishers off the walls of the lab. Sigmund noticed two more on the wall by the lockers in the changing room. Retrieving one for himself and one for Valarie, he handed the second to her as he pulled the pin on his extinguisher and started squeezing. Several more scientists came, each carrying a fire extinguisher of their own.
Within ten minutes, the fire was out. Ten of the suspension chambers had been destroyed. Only two remained -- the ones containing Adam Lucas and the gunman from the roof in Fuerteventura. Viktor keyed in a sequence of numbers into the keypad and the computer keyboard slid out of the wall. Typing furiously, he suddenly stopped and turned to face everyone. “There was a short in the controls of unit four. That’s what started the fire.”
Sigmund moved closer to examine Adam Lucas. The skin on his lower body was badly charred, but he seemed undamaged from the waist up. Feeling his neck for a pulse, Sigmund was surprised to find a weak heartbeat. “He’s alive!” Sigmund shouted and sprang into action. Adam didn’t have long to live unless Sigmund took drastic action. Once the others realized what his intentions were, everyone in the room assisted him in moving Adam Lucas to the floor of the lab. The tiles, which had been spotless, now were blackened and burnt.
“The formula -- my father’s formula -- where is it?”
Arthur answered. “It’s secured in the dispensary. I’ll get it!”
“A syringe -- Someone get me a syringe!”
Within seconds, Arthur returned with a vial of blue liquid and a syringe. Grabbing both, Sigmund sprinted to the animal lab. No longer concerned about waking the animals, he threw the switches for two banks of fluorescent lights as he ran to the golden cage. Lazarus was pressed up against the side of the cage as if he was expecting Sigmund to come flying through the door. “Sorry, buddy, no time for proper aim!” Poking the needle into the rodent’s side, Sigmund drew a small amount of blood into the syringe. He thrust it into the stopper on the vial of formula. Pushing a single drop of the mouse’s blood into his father’s formula, he dashed back to the body of Adam Lucas. Again feeling for a pulse, Sigmund worried he was too late. Nothing. He was about to ask for a crash cart when he felt a single heartbeat. It was very faint, but it was there. Not wasting any time, Sigmund jabbed the needle in the side of Adam’s neck and emptied the contents into his body. “Let’s get him moved to a proper bed!”
Next to the animal lab was a room with several hospital-style beds. With the help of Viktor, Arthur, and Valarie, the body of Adam Lucas was carried in and laid down. For thirty minutes, the four observed with no change. Adam’s pulse was weak but steady.
Everyone jumped when one of the other scientists that had helped put out the fire stuck his head in the room. “We may have a problem.”
Without taking his eyes off Adam, Arthur responded. “What do you mean?”
“Ten of the chambers were destroyed and you brought number twelve’s occupant here.”
Arthur waited expectantly for the man to continue, but he didn’t. “And the problem is?”
“Sir, chamber eleven -- it’s occupant is missing.”
Arthur turned at the news. “What do you mean missing? No one can wake up from cryogenic sleep that quickly! Judging by the damage the fire caused, he shouldn’t even be alive. So tell me, Jenkins, how can he be missing?”
“I don’t know, sir. Everyone had left the room. I only went back because I dropped my badge in the mayhem.”
Sigmund hadn’t forgotten about the man in chamber eleven. The gunman who had killed his parents in cold blood. “What is the name of the person from chamber eleven?”
It was Viktor that answered. “Kenneth Davis Cobb, why?”
Sigmund stumbled backwards and almost fell. “Oh my God!”
Before anyone could express concern for Sigmund, Adam Lucas twitched. Everything else was momentarily forgotten. Adam’s eyes began to glow with a fiery orange color. Valarie moved by Sigmund and placed her arm around his waist and he reciprocated. Across the table, Viktor and Arthur watched with anticipation.
Together, they witnessed the rise of the first Arbiter.


###

About the Author

Marek Storm was born in Fort Wayne, Indiana, in 1971. He grew up as the youngest of three children by a full six years and subsequently had to develop a very active imagination. His undergraduate studies involved a healthy mix of Business, Information Systems, Communications, Psychology, and Theater. Marek graduated with a Bachelor’s degree from Indiana University in 2000. He has often contemplated pursuing a graduate degree, but would much rather spend his time doing what he truly loves, which is writing. He currently resides in Bloomington with his wife, two daughters, and three cats. A male cat was added to the family a little while ago in order to help balance the testosterone/estrogen levels in the house.
Marek began The Arbiter Project as an experiment by releasing it in serial format through his blog. The three-part series serves as the prequel and backstory to his upcoming novel Ion, which is set for release later this year. Ion is the first of Marek’s Arbiters of Justice series of novels, which explore a society where the justice system is irreparably broken. The guilty walk free due to greed and corruption that permeate to the very apex of the Federal Government. An organization known only as “The Agency” is formed from private funding and the Arbiters are born. Walking the line between two worlds, their sole purpose and intent is to balance the scales of justice and see to it that the guilty are punished for their crimes. Some see the Arbiters as superheroes because of their unnatural powers and ability to instantly pass judgment on the guilty. Others consider the Arbiters vigilantes that work outside of the law and will stop at nothing to put an end to The Agency once and for all. Ion begins not long after The Arbiter Project leaves off.


Discover other titles by Marek Storm at Smashwords.com
REASON (Part One of the Arbiter Project Trilogy)
RENEWAL (Part Two of the Arbiter Project Trilogy)
Connect with Marek Storm Online


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