Pulling The Dragon's Tail (5 page)

Then the innermost layer, containing the
precious cargo, would be revealed. That would ultimately lead to
his exoneration by Dr. Devereaux. That was the plan. Plans always
go well in computer simulations and in one’s imagination.

Moments later, he let out an excited, “Yes!” The
outer shell fell onto the floor. A glance at the clock registered
8:56 a.m. Two minutes later the cube was solved. It too fell apart,
and he delicately held the transparent star shape.

Now if only the rest of the operation would
go as smoothly as this step
, he thought. Sliding two points of
the star away from the center, the entire star fell apart onto the
bed sheets. And there it was! Nate resisted the temptation to mug
again for the hidden cameras. The tiny plastic card, no larger than
a thumbnail, contained the digital movie reels that would prove his
story. At the very least Dr. Devereaux would have to stop the Neuro
Shock treatment. He shuddered at the prospect of his brain cells
being needlessly re-arranged.

The Ellis Clinic had the feel of a musty old
library. Positioned at the top of a regular medical hospital, it
was a mixture of the very old and the very new. Waxed and buffed
floors brightened the dingy wallpaper. State of the art computers
competed for space alongside worn couches and dilapidated chairs.
The aroma of freshly brewed coffee mixed haphazardly with the
traditional smells of a sterile hospital.

Due to the scheduled treatment, Nate had been
excused from morning exercises. Strolling past the day room, he
caught the eye of a fellow patient, Harlan, puffing and panting
along with about two dozen patients. Staff members leisurely drank
coffee off to the side as Keagan held center court. This casual
attitude permeated the staff because, as everyone knew, CLUES did
much of the work. All they had to do was monitor patients. And if
any patient dared to get out of line, the Personal Protective
Device each of them carried would soon rectify the misbehavior.
Violence was virtually eliminated from psychiatric units.

Keagan looked up. Once again, Nate felt the
burning gaze of hatred directed at the Church of Abraham pendant
around his neck.
Stick to the plan
, he reminded himself.

“Hey, Harlan,” Nate called out, “I have two of
the answers to that crossword puzzle we’re working on,” and held up
two fingers in a peace sign, flashing it twice.

Harlan was a rather large African-American male,
a veteran of World War III, and he was a frequent patient at the
Ellis Clinic. He blamed his psychotic episodes on super-secret
nanotech experiments by the KGB and UN Security Forces. He and Nate
had immediately become friends, perhaps bonded by similar lives of
keeping secrets. They had stealthily agreed upon a plan while
working together on that crossword puzzle. Harlan flashed back a
broad smile. Then he signaled the peace sign two distinct times
back to Nate.

Nate turned around and approached the nurse’s
station on the other side of the hallway, greeting the nurses
exactly as he had done the other mornings. Casually observing the
offices behind them, he noticed one was open. “I’m going to watch
TV in the common room,” he said to them, none of whom responded.
Continuing on down the hallway, he saw the common room on his
right. He stationed himself just inside the doorway, hoping to make
himself invisible from the computer monitors. Then he waited.

Moments later a large crash reverberated from
the exercise room. A frantic voice screamed into the overhead
paging system, “STAT 8! EXERCISE ROOM! STAT 8! EXERCISE ROOM!”

Peering toward the commotion, he saw all five
nurses running into the exercise area. Harlan was doing his
part.

Nate slipped into the deserted nurses station.
He smiled in triumph, finding a forgotten wrist computer that staff
members usually wore. Slipping it under his shirt, he exited the
room and walked casually back into the hallway. At least half a
dozen staff cornered Harlan, threatening use of their Personal
Protective Devices. Nate could barely conceal his glee as he
watched Harlan tackle Keagan and muscle his PPD away from him.
Waving the strange pen-shaped instrument about, he did his best to
sound psychotic. “My nanocomputers even now are infecting you white
Anglo-Saxon pigs. With every breath you take, the Super Bug Plague
is going deep into your lungs. My KGB friends will hunt you down
and separate you from your family. There is no place to—” Suddenly
Harlan’s pseudo-psychotic ramblings ceased. Nate winced at the
thought of what the PPD sting must feel like. Then he gladly obeyed
the staff and entered his room.

Doing his best to conceal the stolen computer
from all camera angles, he set about to download the contents of
the secreted chip into the hospital’s computer system. Disabling
the voice activation code, he proceeded to access it the old
fashioned way via the keyboard.

Years of secrecy had taught him well. Until now
though, he had never practiced it in a psychiatric hospital,
moments from a date with a brain-altering machine. “Ten minutes,
that’s all I need.”

Just then Jentry, the psych tech, entered the
room. “Nate, CLUES indicated that somehow my portable computer is
here in your room”. It was more a question than an accusation.

That allowed him enough time to lie
convincingly, “Well how could that be? CLUES can’t be wrong,” he
said grinning. “Look around,” he blurted out. As if she really
needed his permission. Of all the staff, he thought Jentry was the
most real and genuine. But how much could he trust her; how much
information dare he reveal?

“I need to go to the toilet.” Slipping the
computer under his shirt, he quickly headed into the bathroom. He
shut the door. Once again he set to work, projecting the virtual
keyboard onto the tiny counter beside the sink. Several key strokes
later he had disabled much of the firewall security. He grimaced.
The next step was crucial. Holding the tiny chip between thumb and
forefinger, he waved it slowly in front of the blinking infrared
light on the side of the stolen computer. A moment later he let out
a sigh of relief. The infrared sensor had stopped blinking for two
seconds, indicating it downloaded the data from the chip into the
hospital’s server. Next he attempted to locate the hospital’s mail
addresses.

He pulled up another data screen. It indicated
the hospital’s security system was only moments away from detecting
his intrusion. “They have fifty year-old flashlights, but state of
the art firewalls. Go figure,” he mused. But now he was closing in
on the prize: to send an electronic message wirelessly to Dr.
Campbell Devereaux’s computer mailbox.

He located the main hospital’s address
directory, and scrolled down the list.
This old man is glad to
know the ancient art of typing
, he thought.

A strong rap of angry knuckles pounded against
the door. Panic rolled over him. He had forgotten to secure the
door! Grabbing the curtain rod from the shower, he hastily wedged
it between the door and back wall.

“Mr. Kristopher, I advise you to let me in.”
Keagan’s voice was almost a growl.

“Please, Keagan! Can you give me just a few
minutes? My stomach’s in turmoil.” He groaned and tried to sound
sick. Returning to the computer, he finally located Dr. Devereaux’s
mailbox.

Keagan was done simmering and had reached the
boiling point. “Mr. Kristopher! You need to let me in NOW!”

Stalling, Nate replied, “Why?”

“You know good and well why,” his booming voice
echoed around the room. “Your little psychotic scheme to hack into
our computer system is doomed to failure. Now give me back the
computer!” Keagan pushed hard against the door. The curtain rod
bent against the force but held.

It did not help that Keagan was cut and bleeding
from his encounter with Harlan moments before. Pounding on the
door, he railed, “You psychotic god-damned heretic! If I had my
way, you and your kind would be on a spaceship with no life support
heading to where your supposed God lives! YOU’RE ALL DEVIL
WORSHIPPERS!”

Nate froze. A wave of real nausea swept over
him. He swallowed hard to prevent the burning stench of his
morning’s breakfast from rising further up his throat.

Jentry shouted, “Keagan! Calm down!”

Just as quickly as his explosion began, Keagan
once again hid behind his professional identity. Pounding the door
one more time, he announced, “Mr. Kristopher, you have exactly one
minute to hand that computer back to me or face severe
consequences!”

Breathing once again, he stalled for more time.
“You’ll have it back in a minute. Just leave me alone!” Keagan’s
heavy footsteps stomped angrily out of the room.

“Nate!” Jentry approached the bathroom door. “I
don’t know why you stole my computer. But if we can talk about it
maybe we can work something out. Maybe you can even avoid the
isolation room.”

Going to the isolation room was a nice way of
saying he would be slammed to the floor by a PPD shock wave,
dragged to a dungeon, and drugged so heavily he wouldn’t recall the
next week.

Struggling to subdue the nausea, he pushed the
send key, and held his breath until he read Transmission sent:
Urgent Protocol. Leaning back on the toilet seat, he slowly let out
a long breath and held his stomach. He realized he had done his
best to communicate with the only person who could release him from
this prison cell.

It’s unfortunate that I can’t convince
Jentry that I really am ninety-one, tell her what I’ve seen, to let
her know the sheer joy of staying young. Why, if the world had more
people like her, then there’s still hope that humanity could
survive, even if I can’t stop the End-Date. But I can’t do any of
that until I’m released. At least nobody suspects my original
identity. Imagine if I told them THAT!

“I intend to avoid much more than the isolation
room,” he called out boldly. “I’ll only come out when Dr. Devereaux
personally comes in here and speaks with me about the message I’ve
sent her.”

A moment later he got his wish. The
psychobiologist stormed in accompanied by two psych techs armed
with PPDs.

“Mr. Kristopher! I suggest you walk out NOW and
face me before I break the door down!”

Be careful what I ask for
, he derisively
told himself. He opened the squeaky bathroom door and was
immediately grabbed by the techs.

Dr. Campbell Devereaux looked to live up to her
nickname of Dr. Devastate. With hands on her hips, her scowl ran
right through him. A dark blue blouse with a collar lay underneath
her white lab coat. Shoulder length strawberry blonde hair sat atop
a stern face. Her high cheekbones and narrow nose were complemented
by steely dark green eyes,

Reaching into her lab coat hip pocket, Dr.
Devereaux fingered a small experimental computer. She searched in
vain for the on button, desperately wanting to scan the patient for
violent intentions. “Mr. Kristopher, your shenanigans have only
proved one thing. Neuro Shock should have been administered
yesterday
! If you think there’s any way
that—”

An insistent beep sounded in her ear. “Who the
hell is paging me on high priority?” She tried shutting it off but
to no avail. “Escort him to the isolation room while I take this
page. If he so much as sneezes, stun him!” She wheeled around and
was gone.

Jentry’s jaw dropped as she slowly shook her
head and looked at him. “Did she just get beeped—by the message you
sent her?”

Nate nodded solemnly as he was led away in the
firm grips of the techs.

How could anyone—let alone a supposedly insane
patient—have been able to utilize the hospital’s computer system?
Not counting certain staff members, Nate Kristopher was by far the
most intriguing case Jentry had encountered in her short span in
the field of psychobiology. The day’s events had just gone from
mundane to extraordinary to absolutely astounding, and it was still
only 9:25 a.m.

The vast openness of the Kansas plains always
seemed to soothe Herschel Hatton. Under a canopy of trees that
overlooked his vast agricultural operation, he once again found
solace. As the ever-present wind swept through his hair, he prayed
and read for hours. Yet he couldn’t get his mind off Wakely Karris
or the information she provided on Marisol, William, Kasai, and
most of all, his old friend, Skip, who now called himself Nate
Kristopher.

Then he recalled last month’s visit with his
Alpha Group pal, Chad Delavan. That visit had made all the
difference. Still, what God was asking of him was difficult.

* * * * * *

“My Lord and my God! Master!” Herschel, in total
awe of meeting Jesus, bowed down to the ground. The exquisite
aromas and blissful sounds of Heaven permeated his being.

“My son, welcome to Heaven. Please arise!” Jesus
knelt and cupped his hands over Herschel’s head. Extending his hand
to Herschel’s upper arm, He assisted the awe-struck visitor in
getting back on his feet.

Jesus was dressed in a flowing white robe,
glistening with a starry brightness. Although the radiance reminded
Herschel of gazing at the sun, he was aware there was no need to
squint or shade his eyes. The Christ figure arrayed before him had
olive brown skin, shoulder-length brown hair and beard. His deep
brown eyes sparkled, reminding Herschel of his favorite Bible
picture.

The Son of God is right in front of me!
Like a man with a parched throat, he gulped down the refreshing
water of Jesus’s presence.

Chad Delavan had indeed promised the Jesus
Machine would be powerful. But until that moment, Herschel hadn’t
realized just how powerful. Herschel Hatton’s virtual reality of
Heaven exuded the proverbial delights of legend, just as he had
programmed it to be.