“So I can expect little difficulty with your new weapon’s results?” Pencor asked.
“La Palma is a more precise and easily manageable target grid. We know exactly where to direct the electromagnetic waves using the existing geo-survey data as a marker beacon. We’re not really causing the event, but expediting something that will eventually occur sometime in the future,” Osama said smiling, as he poured himself another cup of tea.
“A naturally occurring catastrophe from an unnatural weapon…how appropriate,” Pencor said with a smile.
“And what is the progress of your plans for the worldwide deployment of your Zero Point Generators, or ZPGs, as you so lovingly call them?” Osama asked, tapping the stub of his missing fingertip on the polished desktop.
“Production is ongoing, and, the first two shipments from my production facility in Safi, Morocco, can set sail at a moment’s notice. You may not realize it, but the facility on Tenerife is being powered by a smaller version of my industrial ZPG that I plan to deploy worldwide,” Pencor said proudly. “The unrealized quest of a few scientists in America was ultimately silenced by the oil industry’s strangle hold on energy, along with the power of their money to buy out greedy politicians. Their dream of free power from the vacuum went unrealized, much to my benefit,” Pencor said as he picked up his briefcase and set it on Osama’s desk. “The prototype powering my production facility in Morocco has been on line and producing energy for the last two years with flawless results. Imagine, my friend, virtually free energy from a process that has been known to be feasible since its discovery by Tesla in the early 1900s; the Zero Point field theory. Energy from the vacuum of space and time that is going to change the course of history, and we will have complete control of it,” Pencor exclaimed with excitement in his voice. “The world will see us as the saviors of mankind with the result being a clean environment and an unlimited source of energy. The theory can even be applied to vehicles in the near future and we will be in control of it all.”
“For a price, of course,” Osama added.
“Of course, Yagato,” he replied with a grin. “My planned assault on an unsuspecting United States will no doubt result in its economic and infrastructural collapse, the likes the world has never seen. Confusion and chaos will reign supreme. Then, after a short period, we will roll out our ZPGs for global distribution. The oil cartels of the world will ultimately collapse. Fossil fuels, as we know them, will eventually go the way of the dinosaur,” Pencor said, chuckling at the irony as he opened his briefcase. “The Middle East sheiks and South American despots can all choke on their oil. Before too long, they won’t be able to give it away. Take a look, Yagato,” he said proudly as he slid the briefcase to face him. “Inside you will find all my final design plans and patents, which will be revealed to the world after our little surprise has been implemented on the U.S. They will never suspect the connection, and we will be long gone from the Canaries soon after the weapon has successfully achieved its goal. Until then, Yagato, I want you to safeguard my documents. You have the manpower for it.”
“It will be my pleasure, Robert. What about the money?” Osama asked politely as he noted at the stacks of money in the briefcase.
“It’s all here, as promised; ten million dollars American currency, plus a contractual 30 percent of all future profits from the ZPGs as they come on-line worldwide. I’ve waited years for this moment, and can now see success within my grasp. I will not allow anything to interfere with our plans. Speaking of which, I have heard the report of a group of archaeologists beginning work near our facility on Tenerife.”
“Yes, Robert. We are aware of their project, and I have made my displeasure known to the fool who approved their permits to excavate the site. They are very close to our facility; too close for my liking. When the news of their discovery leaked, the media was everywhere and asking for access to our plant for interviews. They even want camera access over-looking the site they are working on,” Osama said.
“We cannot afford prying eyes this close to the success of our plans, Yagato. I trust you will rectify the matter at once,” Pencor said, his voice rising in anger.
“I am leaving for Tenerife tomorrow to handle the situation myself, Robert. The island official’s assistant who approved the project met with an unfortunately fatal car accident this morning. It was taken care of by my security head at the facility. He knows I do not tolerate failure and took care of the matter personally. I am also concerned that we may have a few scientists at our facility who are having second thoughts about following through with the plan. I will deal with them and the archeology team, who will sadly meet with an unfortunate, fatal mishap,” Osama said flatly.
“Very well then. I’ll be arriving at your facility in a few days for the final phase and pick up my patents, but first I must finish inspecting the plant in Morocco. I want no loose ends, Yagato. Do you understand? I also want no suspicions aroused when the archaeologists are eliminated. It must look like an accident.”
“Accidents happen all the time, my dear friend,” Osama replied as the powerful Oyabun bowed politely and began to laugh.
4
Two days later, a nervous Yashiro Fuiruchirudo sat at his computer terminal staring at the screen in front of him. His job was to monitor the Longitudinal Wave Interferometer levels, but his mind was elsewhere. The very essence of his soul screamed to him that taking this assignment was the greatest mistake of his life.
They are going to kill me, he thought as he glanced around the Bishamon Facility Command Center. Its sterile environment of metal desks was set in an arc around the wall of a circular room. A large monitor hung from the ceiling at the head of the semi-circle making it look like a cheap Hollywood version of the bridge of a Star Ship. The rear of the room was occupied by banks of electrical circuit panels with large throw switches, and manned by ominous looking men carrying weapons.
Yashiro made his hourly log entry that listed the power output level. He once again sadly noticed the empty chair next to his, which used to be occupied by his friend and confidant Wari.
Wari had disappeared the night after they discussed their plans to escape the facility of which they were now prisoners, forced to work on Yagato Osama’s sick plan of destruction.
Could it be that they monitored our talk over dinner the other night? And now that monster Osama is here, he thought, noting his arrival to the complex center this morning. They must have used the Mind Snapper on Wari.
Yashiro had seen the Mind Snapper, or psycho-energetic longitudinal electromagnetic gun, a weapon that Osama and his minions used freely and often. Yashiro had seen the results of this terrible gun. It had been used on more than one of the islanders who were caught trying to break into the equipment facility building on the other side of the compound over the past year. Osama always ordered that the scientists and technicians witness the executions as a way to convey what fate would befall anyone who betrayed or failed him.
Yashiro knew that the electromagnetic wave gun, set at a low power, could cause all those in its interference zone to fall unconscious. At high levels of output, death would be instant by destroying the entire human nervous system. Every living cell in the body was effectively killed at once, including bacteria. A body hit by this weapon was reduced to the likeness of irradiated meat and horrifically preserved up to thirty days without decay.