He walked over to the other side of the room, to a long bank of control panels with cabling similar to the ones Turner had seen in the Scalar weapon room. He saw the familiar, snake-like power cables descending from the ceiling into a large metal box affixed with built-in dials connected to what looked like an oscilloscope. Another smaller cable, similar to a black coax cable, fed into the back of what looked like a ray gun bolted onto a metal table. The gun was about three feet in length and looked like a conventional weapon, except for a conical barrel the size of a pocket mirror at its end.
“This is one of my favorite Scalar toys, Mr. Turner,” Osama said proudly as he toggled the power switch on at the control box and caused the gun to pulsate with a loud hum.
“Electromagnetic weaponry has a multitude of applications, Mr. Turner. One of them is this device, which uses the science of longitudinal waves to affect the mind,” he said, gently stroking the top of the barrel with his hand. “This is my psycho-energetic stimulator or, what I prefer to call, the Mind Snapper gun. That has a nicer ring, doesn't it?”
“Your twisted mind snapped long ago, Osama,” Turner said, angry that Osama continued toying with him. “You, and that other piece of shit,” he said, shooting a glaring look at Pencor, who smiled with growing anticipation.
“I’ve become quite adept at its many uses, Mr. Turner,” Osama continued, ignoring the insult and aiming its laser targeting system at Turner. He was helpless to resist, as the red targeting tracer cast its glow on Turner’s forehead. Osama continued his emotionless rant. “I discovered that when the offsetting EM wave patterns are used at the lower levels, it renders a victim’s mind open to any suggestion. I can persuade even the most stalwart mind to kill a friend, or their entire family. I can even induce you to believe that you are on fire, Mr. Turner. In your mind you are burning alive, though in reality, you are quite safe and comfortable,” he said with a shrill laugh. “You’ll experience the pain and horror associated with literally being on fire for as long as I see fit to indulge myself.”
Pencor, with his back facing Osama, watched in rapt fascination and smiled at Turner’s torment. He had not seen the Mind Snapper gun at work, and looked forward to the demonstration.
“You two,” Osama yelled in Japanese to the guards standing by the door. “Find the other two intruders that were with him and bring them to me. If they resist, kill them.” The two men quickly obeyed, exiting the laboratory in search of Samuel and Yashiro. Only the three of them remained. “I must say, Robert, it was fortunate that I came down when I did and discovered the main doors barred shut from the inside,” Osama said to Pencor, who merely grunted in agreement as the red tracer laser disappeared from Turner’s forehead. Osama quickly swiveled the gun’s tracer onto the back of Pencor’s head, and simultaneously powered up the longitudinal wave generator. Turner saw, to his horror, Pencor’s face go expressionless. It was like staring into the face of a department store mannequin. Osama began to laugh loudly.
“Before I have my fun with you, Mr. Turner, I wanted to let you see the full capabilities of my beautiful device. At half power, the mind begins to lose all concepts of memory, feelings, or desires,” he said as he inched up the power on the wave generator. Turner watched in revulsion as Pencor’s eyes began to bulge horrifically from their sockets, followed by uncontrollable drooling from the corner of his mouth.
“Pencor has outlived his usefulness to me, Mr. Turner,” Osama stated, gently toying with the EM wave’s power dial. “I tolerated his insolence long enough to gain my power from his financial backing. The fool doesn’t realize that while he was in Morocco, I had the original patents to his ZPGs transferred to my name and my operatives there took over his production facility. Robert was graciously going to let me have a percentage of the profit, but I prefer to have it all.” He smiled, staring at his motionless one-time benefactor. “Once the completed industrial ZPGs now loaded on container ships in Morocco are commandeered by my men, they will be safely transferred to my production facility in Japan. I will have complete control the world’s newest and most profitable power supply.”
“You’ll never get away with it, Osama!” Turner yelled in protest, struggling frantically at his bindings.
Ignoring the outburst, he said, “At full power, Mr. Turner, the cells of the mind are completely and utterly destroyed.” He slowly turned the dial on his instrument of death to its optimum power.
Pencor’s sickly, bulging eyes went dull and lifeless. In an instant, the rich, maniacal corporate leader fell to the floor like a rag doll. Osama slowly backed the longitudinal wave generator down to its lower level, laughing as he did so.
“Why don’t you just get it over with?” Turner yelled in defiance, knowing that he would never see his father, Samuel, or Maria again. He now resigned himself to his fate, and was saddened that he had dragged Samuel into this nightmare. However, he was relieved that Maria was still with his father somewhere on La Palma. Anywhere was better than here, he thought, as once again Osama leveled the tracer laser onto Turner’s forehead.
“A most effective device wouldn’t you say?” Osama said, tormenting Turner even more. “Unfortunately, it has limitations in preciseness at a distance. I would have loved tormenting Robert longer but, sadly, I must leave. You, however, will be able to enjoy my little toy much longer than Robert did. I’m sure someone will find you eventually, but by then I’m afraid you will most assuredly be insane,” he said as he powered up the EM wave to a lower output level.
Turner instantly felt his mind disconnect from reality. He felt nothing; no pain, fear, joy, or malice. He just stared, sightlessly and thoughtlessly, at his tormentor across the room.
“Mr. Turner,” a voice boomed in his mind. “The room that you are in is ablaze. The flames are getting closer and closer to you. You cannot move.” The echoing voice screamed in his mind as he suddenly felt the heat and saw flames about him. He wanted to scream, but found he could not as the inferno engulfed him. “You are burning alive, Mr. Turner.” The echoing words roared in his mind and it seemed as though blinding, agonizing pain erupted through Turner’s body. Nevertheless, his body was perfectly still in its bindings. There was no escaping this horrid torment. This was indeed hell and he was right in the heart of it. His mind tried to scream in agony, but it did nothing to relieve his distress.
Osama walked to the door and looked at Turner one more time saying, “I leave you to your karma, Mr. Turner. I have a plane to catch.” He then left the lab and headed back up the stairwell to his office. Osama casually gathered his papers and prepared to vacate, while his expendable mercenaries took care of the intruders below.
Upstairs on the main level, Samuel had heard the voice on Turner’s VHF telling him to drop his weapon, but after that all had gone silent. He knew his friend was in serious trouble, but he could do nothing to help as long as the guards still occupied the atrium. Peeking out the door and down the corridor, Samuel saw at least ten armed men milling about in the atrium. They were talking excitedly among themselves, and it appeared as if they were waiting for orders.
After what seemed an eternity, he heard the sound of someone in authority yelling orders in Japanese, which sent the Yakuza soldiers quickly down the staircase. He could see, through the slight crack in the open door, two guards heading his way and readied his weapon. As they got closer, he gently closed the door. The two shadowy figures passed by his darkened hideaway and went directly to the doors of the control room. Samuel heard the men begin to shout when they saw the shattered access card unit dangling uselessly against the doors.