Kneel Or Die Read online

  Your life expectancy is going to be ten fucking seconds if you don’t get a few rules into that organic brain of yours!

  >>How would that be? I seek to understand. By the extreme language you are using I would surmise you are upset. <<<br />
  Gee, that was your hint? TOM’s sarcasm dripped through her connection. Her extreme language? You’re going to be surprised!

  >>Why is that? The spotty information I have been able to acquire shows an average of between eighty and ninety swear words a day for a normal human. Those in the military service are more, those in religious fields less. <<<br />
  Well, Bethany Anne can hit ninety cuss words when working out with her guards.

  >>So, she is in the military? <<<br />
  Hardly, she just has a prolific potty mouth.

  >>Potty mouth? I will have to look into this designation.<<<br />
  Enough you two. Yes, I’ll swear up a storm at times. Sometimes, it is just the right adjective, adverb, noun and exclamation to a sentence. Deal with it and adjust your research. My point, before TOM so conveniently took us off target, was that if you want to exist as an ‘independent’ entity, you will do what I say and request permission when you are outside of agreed upon activity.

  >>Wouldn’t that be a form of slavery? <<<br />
  No, it’s you being considered as a child. Parents are responsible for setting rules and restrictions. As your parent I’ll always know what is best. So, until you grow up and get your own house, instead of living in mine, I will tell you what you get to do. Otherwise, I will carve that little piece out of my head and stomp on it. That would be a significantly sucky day for you.

  Welcome to my orientation.

  Shut! The! Fuck! Up! TOM!

  >>Can we discuss child abuse? I have a few research projects to… I… I think I understand this is a non-winnable debate. I will research this ‘child - parent’ relationship a little more. <<<br />
  Yes, you do that. However, since you are so adept, I have some research projects I need you to handle. There are some bad people and I want to know where they are.

  >>I can do this. Where do I start the research? <<<br />
  You start with learning what you can about the terrorists that were involved in the attack on France a few months ago and then we move on from there…

  The Queen Bitch’s Ship Ad Aeternitatem - Mediterranean Sea

  “Those, gentlemen, are things of beauty.” Bobcat looked over the five new Pods that had been delivered to the Ad Aeternitatem. They looked like small, two-person helicopter bodies without a rotor. They did have small wheels, in a tripod configuration, for landing.

  William was a little bit more critical, “I don’t know, I see a few weld seams that they could have done a little better.” He used his thumb to glide down a weld seam, feeling a few areas he felt should have been ground smooth. The protective and radar dampening layers had been sprayed on nicely.

  Both men turned to look at Marcus. He looked back at the two of them, his eyes wide, a questioning look on his face. “What? Am I supposed to have a comment as well?” Marcus started walking around one of the Pods humming, tsk’ing to himself a couple of times, and then knocked on the Pod as if he was testing a watermelon. He looked up at William and then over to Bobcat, “Perfect!”

  William looked at Bobcat and shrugged. Bobcat looked back at Marcus, “You would say anything, just to get us to shove the engines in them and get them flying, wouldn’t you?”

  Marcus grinned, “You know what, Bobcat? That is what I like about you, the obvious is always within your grasp.”

  Bobcat looked back at William, and raised an eyebrow. William replied to the unasked question, “Yep, that was a zinger.”

  Bobcat retorted, “I thought as much, his first engines fly wonderfully and now his head can’t fit through any hatch on the whole ship.” Bobcat finished walking around his Pod, and slapped it, “I dub thee SHLY 02!” He looked over at William, “If you would do the honors, my good sir?”

  William bowed to Bobcat, “I think I might be able to accomplish that, my good sir.”

  “Gott Verdammt! Would you two stop dickin’ around and shove an engine in the fucking thing already?” Marcus had finally blown his cool, analytical, top. His teammates burst out laughing as William turned to grab one of the five engines they had waiting at the edge of the heliport. Captain Wagner had taken them out to sea, once the five Pods had been loaded at the port.

  William was busy checking the lockdowns in the first Pod, “I don’t know why you’re so anxious, Marcus. You know we can’t do anything for another 30 minutes, right? Still too much sun upstairs.”

  Marcus looked over his shoulder at the setting sun. Any other day he might have mentioned the beauty. Today, it was as frustrating to him as waiting for the final bell on the last day of school. Sunset just could not get here soon enough. He turned back around when he heard steps coming in their direction, to find Captain Wagner walking up to them.

  Captain Wagner spoke as he viewed the five SHLYs. “Gentlemen, I take it these are our new Pods?”

  Bobcat smiled as he walked over to the captain and shook his hand. “Come over and check them out.” The two men went back to the Pod Bobcat had been reviewing.

  “You can see that they have a pseudo-helicopter shape. This is due to the fortunate mistaken identities we received when coming back from the first operation.

  We’ve decided that should anyone see us again, we wanted them to believe we were small helicopters. Or at least, we wanted to improve the chances of being identified as helicopters. We have glass now on three sides allowing those inside to see out. It will also work for a Heads Up Display (HUD) and we’re developing instrumentation panel options. However, the glass is tinted so that others cannot see in.”

  By this time William had walked over to the front of the Pod. He started unlatching a fitting along the centerline, near the top. Bobcat continued his explanation, “William is disconnecting the top latch, which can be both opened and secured from inside. In addition, it can be locked from the inside in such a way that an external person can’t unlock it.”

  William grabbed both sides by small inset handles and the front opened outward splitting down the center like a pair of French doors. “We kept the same design to get in and out, because it seemed the most efficient.”

  “We made sure to provide plenty of storage areas.” Bobcat pointed to several areas, starting with the one beneath the seats. “That will be general storage, extra ammo, food, med gear, whatever they might need.” He indicated a post in front of where their feet would rest. “This will allow each member to fit … we’ll call it a holster, for their primary weapon. You’ll also notice that the seat backs are contoured. This will allow each person to sit somewhat comfortably while wearing their full packs.” With a somewhat nasty smile he indicated an area behind the seats. “From the outside it will look like the rotor drive housing, another feature to help with the helicopter illusion. Inside there is enough room to store heavy weapons like RPGs or SMAWs. Up above their heads is where a special booster radio will go. They will be Bluetooth capable and will link to each team’s personal radios. They are designed to enable the teams to communicate through the drive bubbles while in transit. Each of the main areas of storage have had special storage bags designed. They have been sewn using ballistic nylon, the packing is precise and protected.”

  Captain Wagner had been nodding his head up and down during the whole conversation, “These are certainly a step up from the first design, why do you have wheels on them?”

  William answered that question, “If someone should see them on the ground, we wanted to add a little more believability to the helicopter identifier. They land better, make them easier to get in and out of, and they allow us to move them around on the ship.”

  Captain Wagner looked at all three men, “Guys, these are significantly improved from the first effort we saw from you. I believe you can be suitably proud. I would very much appreciate a report on how well these op
erate.”

  Bobcat smiled, “Capt., I have direct orders from Bethany Anne. As soon as you give permission, one of these Pods is to be tested, by you, tonight.”

  Captain Wagner turned his head sharply to look at Bobcat, “No shit?”

  “Shit no, Captain.” This time, all three men wore huge smiles as the big reveal was delivered.

  Captain Wagner looked over his shoulder at the setting sun and then lifted his wrist to look at his watch, “I see it is 25 minutes until sunset. Let me give the command to turn due east and see how fast we can darken the sky!” He started walking away from team BMW, towards the bridge.

  All three men heard his exclamation, “Hot Damn!”

  William got busy installing the four remaining engines.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Chicago, IL - USA

  Anthony Chillenni was driving down E. Lake Shore Drive, heading to his contemporary two-level maisonette. The views were superb, and they should be. He had paid over four and a half million for the five thousand square foot condo.

  He parked in the underground lot and took the private elevator to the top level, his level. He had searched high and low for a beautiful location. Another determining factor was that he needed a place where his security needs wouldn’t be so obvious. When this condo became available, boasting a secured and private elevator, he didn’t even bother to negotiate the price.

  He figured that not having to add additional security saved him almost a quarter-million. Money well spent, or saved, depending on your point of view.

  He stepped out of the elevator to a sumptuous personal lobby. It was only a few steps to his door where he keyed in his security code. The red light turned to green and he stepped inside, resetting the alarm. Turning around, he walked through the dining room and into his in-home office. He took just a few seconds to set down his briefcase and then he continued into his bedroom. Sitting on his bed, he looked out his windows at the vista of Lake Michigan. He would never tire of this view.

  He was pulling off his second shoe when he felt uneasy. He stood up in his socks and silently went over to his nightstand, pulling open the drawer and grabbing the .45 auto he had in there. He walked back to the bedroom door and quickly took a look out. Seeing nothing in the dining and living room areas, he walked out and looked through his kitchen. Finding nothing there he continued to the other side of the condo, checking each of the doors. He walked back through the house and finally lowered the gun down to his side, still not sure what set off his concern.

  That was when a voice in his head started talking. First soft, then turning hard and sharp! “Mr. Chillenni, just what have you been up to lately? What are you hiding…”

  Anthony raised the gun back up into shooting position. He was turning his head left, then right, seeking the voice that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. It would start in his left ear, but end in his right. “Who’s there?”

  “Shouldn’t you be asking ‘who isn’t there’?”

  Anthony quickly turned around, ensuring that no one was sneaking up on him. He started backing towards the front door, constantly looking left and right. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “I am talking about humans, Anthony. People, Anthony. Mothers, fathers, sons, and daughters, ANTHONY!” His name reverberated in his mind.

  Anthony took three more steps towards the front door making sure everything was clear around him. He quickly entered the security code, but the light stayed red.

  Frantically, he keyed the security code in again. The lock indicator remained red!

  The voice taunted him as he tried to open the lock. “Anthony, Anthony, Anthony. Why are you running, Anthony? Would someone with a clean conscience run so quickly?” The woman’s voice rose in anger. Her tone creating a fear that threatened to overwhelm him.

  He kept keying the same code into the security pad. The same freaking code that had always worked. The same code that failed him now.

  “Running, Anthony? I haven’t done anything to you yet, and yet you run. What about those innocent people who had guns shooting at them in France, Anthony? Did you feel any sympathy for them, while they were in fear? How about when they had bullets going into and through their bodies? As they helplessly watched friends and loved ones bleeding their lives out onto the ground?”

  Anthony’s shoulders shook in frustration and resignation. His hand went through the motions on the security pad, his hope that somehow it would unlock fading away. Slowly, ever so slowly, his legs weakened and he slid down the wall. When he could move no farther he was kneeling in front of the door, weeping into his chest.

  “That’s right, Anthony. You feel the death which comes for you. As you have paid for death so many times overseas, the long arm of retribution has come back to hug you tight! Who are the people you talk with overseas, Anthony?”

  Anthony slowly shook his head, “No, no, no. I can’t give you that.”

  “I am not the government, Anthony. I don’t have rules I have to follow. You might say I don’t have a conscience, where terrorists are involved.” The voice got colder, dripping with malice. “You. Will. Give. Me. The. FUCKING. NAMES!”

  The recently renovated on spec condo on East Lake Shore Drive had a significant amount of soundproofing. The expectation was that the new owners would often throw parties. And they wouldn’t want their neighbors, on the floor beneath them, complaining.

  Unfortunately for Anthony Chillenni, it also stopped anyone from hearing his screams of terror and babbling promises to change his life. Finally, the sound proofing stopped anyone outside of his condo from hearing five names he provided.

  Twenty minutes later, Bethany Anne stepped across the nearly comatose Anthony Chillenni. “Oh my goodness does this man stink.”

  You did scare the … whatever… out of him.

  >> Should I change the alarm security code now? <<<br />
  Yes ADAM, please change the code back to the original one. And please make sure there are no log records, or whatever, of the changes you made.

  >> What would you have me do next? <<<br />
  Research and verify those names he provided. I’ll wait until you confirm they are legitimate. Then, Mr. Chillenni is going to take his last walk.

  Where are you going to stash the body? Getting this condo all bloody seems almost sacrilegious.

  Bethany Anne looked around, it was a really nice pad. It’s a shame he chose to use his option fund income for such an evil enterprise.

  Perhaps he felt it was appropriate?

  No, ADAM checked on that. He just loved mayhem and it worked to his benefit. He doesn’t have a care in the world about who gets hurt.

  Then why did you promise you wouldn’t hurt him?

  I didn’t say that. I said I wouldn’t stab him.

  Or shoot him, or cut him, or drop him off the balcony.

  All true.

  You’re not letting him go. I know you too well for that.

  True.

  Tom thought about it for a little while. As Bethany Anne continued admiring the view out the window.

  Ok, so no physical harm… I give, I have no idea what you’re going to do.

  Remember when we were trying to rescue Michael?

  Yes… NO!

  Yup.

  Damn, that is heartless.

  Not entirely.

  How is it not heartless?

  I don’t know for sure that he can’t survive in the Etheric. I suppose there is a miniscule chance that he could survive.

  Bethany Anne, I’m telling you there is no chance he is going to survive.

  TOM, have you ever been wrong?

  Well, yes. However, I’m not wrong about this.

  I’m counting on that, TOM.

  >> I have been able to trace all of the names he provided. Two names are in the Netherlands, two are in Germany and one in Great Britain. <<<br />
  Bethany Anne reached down and grabbed Anthony Chillenni by the neck. She picked him up with one hand, all one hundred and nin
ety-four pounds.

  She shook him until he finally woke up enough to get his bearings and feel the pain in his neck. He grabbed at the hand holding his neck, trying to pull free from her grip. “Let me go! You promised me you wouldn’t hurt me!”

  Bethany Anne snorted, “No, you fucking ass-tard. I promised I wouldn’t physically hit or stab you. No guns, no knives, etcetera, etcetera. And strangely enough, no balcony tosses. Not sure why you made me promise twice on that, but a promise is a promise. I didn’t promise I wouldn’t toss your traitorous ass into another dimension.”