Traveler Chapter 272
An e-mail was circulating around the students of the school and a copy appeared in my in-box:
RULES FOR BEDROOM GOLF
1. Each player shall furnish his own equipment for play, normally 1 club and 2 balls.
2. Play on a course must be approved by the owner of the hole.
3. Unlike outdoor golf, the object in this game is to put the club in and keep the balls out of the hole.
4. For the most effective play, the club should have a firm shaft. Course owners have the right to check the firmness of the shaft before play begins.
5. Course owners reserve the right to restrict shaft length to avoid damage to the hole.
6. The object of the game is to take as many strokes as necessary until the course owner is satisfied that the play is complete. Failure to do so may result in being denied permission to play on the course again.
7. It is considered bad form to begin playing the hole immediately upon arrival at the course. The experienced player will normally take time to admire the entire course, with special attention to well formed bunkers.
8. Players are cautioned not to mention other courses they have played or are currently playing to the owner of the course presently being played. Upset course owners have been known to damage a player's equipment for infraction of this rule.
9. Players are encouraged to wear rain gear whenever playing the course.
10. Players should assure themselves that their match has been properly scheduled, in particular when a new course is being played for the first time. Previous players have been known to become very irate if they discover someone else playing their private course.
11. Players should not assume a course is in shape for play at all times. Some players may be embarrassed if they find the course to be temporarily under repair. Players are advised to be extremely tactful in this situation. More experienced players will find alternate means of play when this is encountered.
12. Players are advised to obtain the course owner's permission before attempting to play the back hole.
13. Slow play is encouraged, however players should be prepared to proceed at a quicker pace temporarily as directed by the course owner.
14. It is considered outstanding performance, time permitting, to play the same hole several times during one match.
15. The course owner will be the sole judge of who is the best player.
NOTE: Players are advised to think twice before considering membership at a given course.
Additional assessments may be levied by the course owner and the rules are subject to change. For this reason,
many players prefer to continue play at several different courses prior to making a private course
commitment.
Even though I had seen this particular e-mail before I still got a laugh out of it. I stopped laughing when Yuri came in talking about the rules. I know that he has seen much more than he should have at his age, but still… Well, he is only a ten year old child.
I am constantly being bombarded by companies and individuals to purchase what they have. Sometimes a good deal presents itself and I sit down with the principals and work out an order. Of course I don't make a small order, that is not my style. Instead I go all out as I try to look down the road to see what my future needs might be. Such was the case when a company representative from Chicago that I had worked with before sat down in my thirty eighth floor office with me in early October of 2011. Before he left me I had ordered eight new 737 MAX-9 airliners powered by CFM International Leap-1B engines. I ordered one for each of my schools in Europe and one to replace the aging ©. The one drawback… delivery won't begin until 2017. Revamped to meet my requirements the new planes will seat two hundred and fifty slim teenaged bodies comfortably.
As I did the final edit of this chapter I was watching the ABC News. This story appeared and I was reminded of this following exert from a story called The Desert Gathering that I penned on. July 4, 1999 I thought that the similarities between the two stories prove that truth is often stranger than fiction.
Cindy admired herself as she dressed in front of the three-way full, length mirror. She felt really good with the blonde hair. The money she had spent had been well worth every penny. At almost six feet tall and one hundred forty five pounds she didn't need to work hard to be noticed. She did enjoy the attention of the young men and with the job she had to do today she really wanted to attract attention.
"The months of training was going to pay off," she thought. It had been fun living in the mountains but it was work. There were fifty people in her "class". They had trained from dawn to dusk and beyond to bring terror to the masses. They had been taught how to make plastic explosive from common elements easily purchased everywhere--and non-traceable. A dollar ninety-nine wrist watch made a perfect, and accurate, timing device.
Weapons training was an important part of their daily regime. The sound of gunfire was not uncommon in this part of the world. The shepherds went on about their business paying little mind to the echos reverberating through the canyons. A lad, of about thirteen, sat on a ridge above his father's flocks. He watched as the dust cloud came closer through the canyons. Ever once in awhile he could catch a glimpse of the long, black, shiny, car as it sped along to its destination. Communicating in a series of whistles and squeals and with hand signs, he told his father and brothers of the approach. When it was clear that the car was headed straight for them, the shepherds led their flock through a narrow opening into a blind canyon. The flock of sheep concealed their tracks as they knelt down and waited for the car to pass.
A half mile past the shepherds' hiding place the car came to a stop. First to get out was a swarthy little man in a light colored three piece suit. He had a manner that bespoke money and class. Next out was a very tall woman. She stood every bit of six feet tall, long and thin. Her blond hair shone in the desert sun. She walked with the grace and charm of a lady. Her long white legs accented by the short black, neckless dress she wore.
Two men in army fatigues rushed up to meet the new arrivals. They led them to a small rise where a canopy was set up and chairs awaited the newcomers. The gentleman stayed under the canopy talking as his companion went over the rise to the line of men firing a wide variety of weapons at targets below.
All eyes were on the lady as she glided across the sand. Twenty men, twenty lust filled hearts… Seeming not to notice the attention she walked straight to the nearest man on the line. She took his modified Glock machine pistol from him and fired twenty rounds at his silhouette target fifty feet before them, she cut it in half. He bowed low as she returned the gun and walked to the next man. With each marksman she used their weapon to make a similar demonstration of weapons mastery. Her skills were remarkable and she went unchallenged.
A large metal box had been removed from the trunk of the car and was being carried by two men in lab coats to the tent at the end of the firing line. The lady walked that way and entered the tent. Her gentleman companion and the two men in fatigues entered a few moments later. The box was on the floor and open. A man in a white lab coat removed items from the box and explained their purpose as he laid them on a work table. What appeared as an ordinary insulated drink bottle from an ordinary lunch box was placed on the table. Carefully removing its cap he showed those in the tent the shaped plastic explosive inside. He explained how the Krighton switches had been wired and how the very case itself was made of a very dirty plutonium. With long tongs he removed a small cylinder, about the size of a fat cigar, but only five and a half inches long, and carefully placed it in the center of the "drink bottle" and replaced its cap. He placed the "bottle" in its place inside the lid of the lunch box and rotated it so that what appeared as worn marks in the paint lined up with the bail that would hold it in place.
Holding the lunch box at an angle he explained, "The salt and pepper shakers contain the batteries. The power is carried through hidden circuit trails to the bail holding the "drink". This hard-boiled egg is the timer. Two little pins in the bottom of the box make the connection. By pressing the egg down onto the pins the timer is activated for a ten minute delay."
"Do we have a pilot?" asked the gentlemen.
"Pilots we have. Every one wants to go."
"That doesn't seem very big," chimed someone in the group.
"Size isn't important. Results are what we're after. This is equivalent to just a few hundred pounds of TNT, less than a ton but the results of a nuclear blast of any size in the skies over their cities will have a most satisfying effect. The people will panic and revolt. They will demand action and as more devices are detonated. Then they will over throw their government and chaos will reign. We will massacre them at our will."
Without a word the lady and gentleman rose and returned to their car and drove away. Twenty minutes later they were back at their airplane. A crewman rushed up to their car and opened the door for them. They exited the car and boarded the airplane. The car drove away, and a few minutes later the plane was airborne.
"What's next?" the gentleman asked.
"I think we need to go to New York," the lady said as she drank her martini.
"Very well my dear, as you wish." With a nod to the waiter he settled back and shut his eyes.
The waiter walked to the cockpit, opened the door and said, "New York."
A few hours later the dapper duo were heading upstate New York in a black limousine. They drove for three hours through heavy woods before turning off the highway onto a dirt road leading around a mountain and down to a low meadow. They arrived about an hour before sunset but their arrival was expected. They were escorted to a wooden building in the midst of what appeared like a summer camp beside a small lake. Inside they found themselves in some sort of dinning hall. A sumptuous meal was awaiting them. A group of about twenty men sat on the far side of the room silently. Their actions toward these two newcomers showed that they were held in the highest esteem. The duo sat down to eat without a word or gesture to the others around them.
After dining they stood. The gentleman looked toward the group and bowed, "We are very tired. I know you have a lot of questions but please allow us to rest and we will start tomorrow morning on the path to victory for God."
One of the men arose and led the man to his cabin. Another man led the lady to her little cabin which was neatly adorned with red and blue silk sheets and curtains. She stepped in and shut the door behind her. She crossed to the dressing table and removed the blond wig and vigorously scratched her short cropped blond hair. She slipped out of the black dress that she had worn for so many hours and went to the bathroom for a hot soak in the pre-prepared tub. Laying back in the mounds of bubbles she let forth a sigh and relaxed for the first time in many days. "This is a risky game we're about," she thought. "But what a prize if we win." She sat and soaked for half an hour then rose and stepped into the shower. Emerging she took a large towel and went into the other room and lay across the bed. She didn't stir until a half hour past sunrise when the whinny sounds of many small two cycle engines yanked her from her dreams.
She knew the power that her presence had over the men so she slipped into a pair of very tight fitting coveralls and fixed her face before placing the long, blonde wig on her head.
Cindy stood at the door of her cabin and looked out across the field at the strange looking little airplanes standing in a row on the flat grass meadow in front of her. The men that had watched as she dined the previous evening were mounting the small aircraft. When they reved their engines the craft began to roll along the ground. In moments all of the hang gliders rose into the air and formed into a formation that disappeared over the tops of the tall trees around the clearing.
"Are they ready?"
"Yes, m'lady. This is their last flight over the lake as the national competition wraps up today," her host answered her.
"These stupid, rich American infidels with all of their toys have given us the perfect chance to train over American soil. No one will look twice as one of those air things fly near their cities. They will never know what hit them when the bombs explode five hundred feet in the air."
Alright, that is all of that story that I am going to share with you. I filed the original story away on a archive hard drive after September 11, of 2011. I feared that someone might get an idea from my writing and harm more of God's children and my countrymen. Now my fears have become reality as three men in Spain have been discovered with the means to destroy my country in a fashion very similar to this story.
The ghost of Wilson popped into my life one afternoon, and as it would just have to be it occurred when Jace and Frank were sitting with me having a cold Michelob™ on a hot summer afternoon. Let me fill you in on the circumstances that uncovered more of the dirty work set up by Evangelimos Pagonis and Hikmat Klien.
An old college chumb of mine that had attended many of Charley's parties during our days of perpetual horniness called me and asked for an appointment. He sounded despondant and when he told me that his kids were facing bankruptcy I agreed to meet him at my offices downtown. The story that he had to tell me was one that is all over the news media today, but that was my first experience with an actual victim of the scheme. When my friend's son applied for a student loan for college his application was denied due to excessive debts. The boy had paid off his car and he paid cash for everything that he did, he didn't even have a banking account. I looked over the paperwork that I had been handed and could see a trend. I have heard of this sort of ID theft, but I was astounded by the complexity of what had happened to this boy. To compound matters his twelve year old sister owned a sixty five thousand dollar car and two homes in Europe valued at over two and a half million dollars, each.
I pushed a few buttons on a hidden control panel in the drawer of my desk. My friends chair turned ninety degrees and the foot rest came up as he watched the paneled wall in front of him open to reveal a large LED panel array of monitor screens. The top of my desk opened to reveal four computer keyboards and another twenty two inch LCD monitor. My fingers began to fly over the keyboards and twenty different pages opened on the large monitor array. I studied each page and began to curse under my breath. I asked dispatch to connect me with Randy Hobbs.
"Good evening boss, to what do I owe…OH!… Oh shit. What am I seeing? I know what I am seeing, but what…"
"Randy, did we miss this one? Is this more of Weller and Oban's handiwork. Did they get involved in this or is this some of the work of those that were part of their machine?"
"BOSS!! Look at page fifteen, second column, fifth row." I only saw a number. I looked to the first column to see the name of a bank.
"Is that an account number that I should know?"
"Not necessarily, but you have seen it before. Look at the monitor on your desk." I turned to look at the screen and let out a long, low whistle. "You have the power to ruin him, boss." The screen began to go through columns and rows of figures, seven and eight figures, before the decimal point. "What do you want me to do with this."
"I want to help Thomas and his kids. Here are their Social Security numbers and pertinent information, clear their books. Restore all of the money that has been stolen from Mr. Thomas's account and clear his mortgage, in fact pay his house off. Give each of the kids a living trust fund of, oh say, two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Give the boy a little extra because of his age. I will handle the investment and set them up with a solid portfolio.
"After that is done move all of the money that you can find from Hook's accounts. Set it up so that Interpol can sort it out then contact Andy's people there to get in touch with that international police agency and show them what we have. I will contact Enquêêteur Henley directly and bring him up to speed on all of this."
I turned to Thumbs, a nickname that we had given Thomas in college because of his clumsiness in Chemistry class. "I have good news and bad news for you. First the bad news is that your children have been the victims of identity theft for the past four years. Your son owes a total of five point three million dollars and the banks are preparing to seize everything that he owns. Good luck with that one, right?
"Your daughter is sitting in a pretty good position right now. She has assets of over three million dollars and no outstanding debts. I am going to hurt these people by using your daughter's properties. I am going to sell everything that she has on the open market and let the chips fall upon whom they may. Not for you to worry, everything that I do will be covered so that there will be no trace of my having anything to do with their losses, and there will never be anything that will tie you daughter, yourself, or anyone in your family to any of this.
"This is what I do, Thumbs. I love to do this sort of work, it is the second best part of my investment work."
"Chris, I am so sorry for referring you to Mr. White. I had no idea that he was…"
"Hey, that's water under the bridge, just let it go and move on. I came out of that one quite well, than you. His son, Warren, is better than his dad ever was at spotting trends in the market. That boy lives in my house and works in my office handling much of the day to day work for me." I was asked to begin to Thomas's finances again, I sat back and stared at him. "I am very involved with my schools around the world, but for you I will make room. I want you to remember that the market isn't what it once was so your money won't grow as fast as it did a few years ago." He agreed. We shook hands and went our own ways. I wanted to get after the Bulgarian Mobsters that think that other people's money is theirs for the stealing.
Every once in a while justice is served out at the time of the crime. I was privileged to listen in to an act of hate against one of my boys. I was in my car after just having finished a long talk with Andy about the new security procedures that were being installed around me. As I contemplated the pros and cons of what was about to happen to my life I listened to my family of happy fairies as they cruised the mall checking out boi packages.
Jericho is soft spoken and he carries himself in a femine way. The family has worked with him, but old habits and traits are not easily corrected in a short time. An incident at the mall woke the boy up to his sissified demeanor, big time.
A small group of boys had circled Jericho and began to push him around when some of my other students came to his aide. Jericho showed a side of himself that none of us had ever suspected that he had. He approached the largest boy in the other group and told him to back off or there would be trouble.
"Yeah, for you fruitcake." The boy sneered and swung, connecting with Jericho's jaw. Quicker than anyone could follow the boy was on the ground with his hand bent backwards and Jericho's foot on his throat.
I was through the doors and could see the face off when I heard Jericho's high pitched voice say, "If you don't want this wrist broke then tell your thugs to back off." One of the plain clothes security agents stepped in front of me and told me to wait. The other boys in the group backed away as Jericho spoke to the boy on the floor, "You want to suck my dick and you call me a fruitcake. Go to a stall in that can with me and I will fill you with more than you suspect me to have."
I quickly touched the bully's mind and found Jericho there as he peeked in. I also sensed the strong desire in the boy's mind. He is closeted, but always on the look out. I felt the green eyed monster of jealousy nearby and I sought it out. The boy had himself another boy that loved to get his cock sucked. I looked into Jericho's mind, "Hey, dad." The boy has powers that I never suspected. I stepped forward and broke up the little tangle on the floor then I took the bully that had created the problem into custody. I led him to the mall's security office and closed the door behind us. Twenty minutes later I had the story of very closeted gay football player whose dad would kill him if he found out his secret. I gave Tate Englund directions to BAW and told him that I was glad to have him as a new student.
There were things afoot that I could not share with anyone. I needed to make sure that my boys would stay out of my mind and let me do my work. The entire family had flown to Oklahoma for Thanksgiving weekend with the relations. I took all six of the boys on an early morning helicopter flight to the top of Base C in Arkansas. RD has not developed any mental abilities to listen in on the thoughts of others, he can send and receive messages, but he can not hear anything that is not directed directly to his mind.
On the other hand, Cory can read the thoughts of others as long as they are quite close to him. He can read well if his subject is in the same room, he does well when in the same building with his target, but if more than a few hundred feet get between them Cory is unable to maintain his contact. My problem is with three of my younger sons.
Cory Stevens has moderate to no demonstrated abilities, Yuri is stronger than Roddy. Cullen James is the one that I have to guard against. Cullen James, Roddy, and Yuri got off alone with me recently and helped me to put a welded lid on my mind to keep Awinita at bay. Sagi, Quemela, and my wife can get together and break through my defenses, but I can generally feel them prowling in my mind and can shut them out. That was one of the reasons that my sons and I were under my mountain base in Arkansas and riding through the tunnels under the mountain toward my cash stash. Deep within that mountain no one could penetrate my mind except those that were with me.
We had told our wives that we were going to go look at the fortune in cash and jewels that we had talked about one afternoon on an outing in Italy. Adsila wasn't about to allow Roddy to go along if she couldn't go. Ugitsiha got in the girl's face and told her to get used to our father son bonding trips. Adsila stormed off to walk back to her house that Roddy had built in the summer of 2010. Ugitsiha kept her in mind contact, but let her go. All teenagers go through stages where they feel that they are being left out, but I really believe that girls are worse.
RD and Quemela were staying at Quetisi's, Pam's mother's, house. Little Randy, some in the family call him Junior, a name that I hate, was born on August 22, 2011, a week after our return from Italy. He was the best birthday present that RD ever had. Little Randy is a quiet baby, when he is awake his large dark eyes seem to follow every move that anyone makes. He was born a week after our return from Italy and Pam says that had she known that a trip like that could make her baby drop then she would have gone on a long trip before that. I love my young grandson and I love his parents with all of my heart. Adsila is being a little mother to the baby as she hoovers over him all of the time.
At the very summit of the mountain over Base C sits a small glade of about 9002', a little over 30' by 30'. That is just large enough for a small helicopter to land. When it is needed the operator deep inside the mountain can raise a circular landing pad that opens like a flower as it rises from under the ground. Pete had delivered us to Tahlequah the day before then Bryan had ferried us on to the top of my mountain. We located the nondescript old station wagon that had been left for us, it looked to be on its last legs of usefulness. We drove down a rugged dirt trail to a hidden entrance five hundred feet above the main entrance to the base and pulled up to the gate. A uniformed guard ran out and moved the station wagon away as my boys and I walked toward the guard at the gate, I was about to test our new insoles that I wore inside of my hiking boots.
When I approached the gate it opened, the armed guard at the gate took his hand off of his side arm and stepped aside, so far so good. Once inside the gate we climbed aboard a waiting cart with a Lt. Colonel for a driver. The man saluted me and shook hands with each one of my sons. He praised my two little ones about how mature they were acting for ones so young, I smiled and thanked him. We headed into the command center, but stayed away from the classified operations there, the boys are not cleared for our nation's secrets. Potty breaks were in order and cold drinks fit the young ones quite well. RD and Cory both drank hot herb tea while I cleared my LOCH–Lack of Coffee Headache– with a coffee fix.
After a twenty minute break the seven of us Dicksons moved to a security door which opened without anyone around. We loaded into another cart for the trip that the boys were anxious for. Once through the security barriers the computers knew that I was there, but to play it safe with my boys I asked the base coordinator to have the controller manually shut down the alarm system with the automatic machined guns that can spray the path with three thousand rounds of armor piercing 30 caliber bullets a minute. Once on our way through the tunnels I spoke to Andy on the secure phone line. "I like these insoles. They do save a lot of time by not making me input security codes and run my hands over scanners, or the best one is being blinded by the laser beam in the eye scanner." Andy laughed at me. His research team is always looking for new and better security measures, I just seem to be the guinea pig when it comes to testing new stuff.
security shoe sole
High-tech security? Forget those irksome eye scans. Meet the biometric shoe.
A new lab at Carnegie Mellon University is working on shoe insoles that monitor access to high-security areas, like nuclear power plants.
The idea is based on research showing that people have unique feet and ways of walking. Sensors in the footpad collect data and check the patterns. |
My sons are obedient and responsible, but they are boys. When we had gone as far as possible with the electric powered cart we got out to fly on to our goal. We all changed into barn owls so that we could see in the dim light coming from the LEDs along the pathway. Cory helped me with the smaller soundbud and a collar mounted microphone so that I could stay in contact with the control room to turn the security system back on when we reached our take off point and then to turn it back off when we were ready to leave the cavern.
I had vacuum compressed Mithril suits for everyone of us into a small package about the size of a three ring binder notebook. The rocks are cold and the younger ones could catch a cold with their bare buns sitting on them. I asked Cory to carry the package of clothing in his strong talons to our destination. I let RD carry our lunch of pita bread sandwiches and to Yuri and Roddy I gave bright LED lights to show us the way. I let Cullen James fly on his own, but I carried Little Cory in my talons, I feared that boy taking off and getting lost in the large cavern. I had the boys stay between me and Cory in a single file, RD was behind me with CJ, Yuri, Roddy behind him, and Cory bringing up the rear.
Cory had crawled around and over the rocks of the cave with me in 2007 so he knew to keep the boys close together and to follow me without question. After Chief Steve died in 2005 I asked Andy to build a shrine to house an urn containing his ashes. At that time Andy was putting together his communication base, and I was putting together a plan to protect all of us from a world wide financial collapse to come. At that time I didn't know that anyone had the ability to transform themselves into other life forms so I had skinned my knees and hands as I crawled around in the dark cavern and found just what I thought that I needed.
I located the spot where I placed my safe first, and from that vantage point I saw the perfect place to build a huge vault that no one would be able to get to without massive amounts of gear and explosives. I had brought two men into the cave to install that safe and paid them more than they would have earned in several months at their regular jobs.
The paved surface that winds around through the cavern for four miles to the location of the large vault that contains the family fortune is about eighteen hundred feet below the surface of the entrance. The natural cavern remains moderately cool all of the time. Along the way through the cavern one will find hot water springing from the rocks, a few of those form pools of hot mineral water. I have found six of those pools that are large enough to sit and soak in as I reinvigorate my tired, achy muscles after a trip through the cavern. The perilous trip is not supposed to be easy so that if anyone hunting around down there will get discouraged and try another route. There are no markers to show the way and I took great care to cover all of the signs that the workmen had left behind.
Dynamite in a cave is very dangerous, it can literally bring down the roof upon one's head. I had used small amounts of explosive to eradicate the wide path that had to be cut to get a six foot wide, twelve inch thick steel vault door, with frame, to the entrance of the reinforced concrete room that I had built. That feat was accomplished by assembling a portable crane with a one hundred foot reach and a three ton weight limit, Working in relay teams the crane was assembled on a pad of solid granite by one team, then the door was moved by another team. The crane was disassembled by another team then another team came in to reassemble it further in. I had used several small contractors from different parts of the country, each with only one or two men, to do each part of the work. All total it took four months and fifty teams to move the door sixteen hundred feet back from the paved pathway. Because of the large rocks some of the times that the crane was set up only fifty or sixty feet could be gained, I expected that and prepared for it. No one contractor knew what the others before him had done, or what would be done by those that followed him. I let no one know or accompany me as I went in and blew each assembly pad apart then caused large rocks to fall over that area, hiding it forever.
The boys and I flew over rocks as large as a full sized truck, and in between boulders that would dwarf a house. The little ones were tired, but they kept going because they could see the pictures that I kept in their minds of what lay ahead. I knew that my bird brains would sense hunger very quickly so I flew as fast as possible without placing the boys in any danger. We perched on a rock over looking the cavern below us, with our owl vision the sight was impressive, even to me and I have seen it many times.
I led the boys on inside the area near the vault and told them to change into small wolves so that they could drink from the fresh water spring in the room. We didn't have any paper cups with us to drink from or carry away when we left. Once they had their fill of water I dressed the two little men in their Mithril garments so that they would not catch a chill. The other boys unfolded their garments as well and put them on. We even had Mithril stockings to keep our feet away from the cold stone of the cavern.
Our sandwiches were wrapped in one bag together so there would be nothing to carry out except that one single item. Along with our pita sandwiches of sprouts and three different cheeses with diced onions and cherry tomatoes we had an assortment of veggy sticks. Everyone was happy with his meal and every bite was eaten. We did have to go over to the spring and drink water from our cupped hand, or, as the boys did, lap it up with their wolf puppy tongues.
While everyone ate I moved a rock that covered a hidden compartment. Inside were parabolic shaped pans of silvered foil. I placed four of those into preselected spots about the area and then set the LED flashlights so that they were aimed at the center of each bowl. The result surprised everyone as the room grew as bright as a well lit room inside of a house, even brighter than some. With great effort I moved a rock the size of a truck tire to one side. I then stepped up to the opposite end of that wall and began to push. A heavy granite wall was mounted on nylon glides set into the floor and it moved easily, once I got it started.
When the rock wall was moved aside the huge vault door could be seen. It had an electronic keypad in the middle of it, but all of the LEDs on the pad were dark. From the bag that had contained our lunch sack I removed a Lithium Hearing Aid battery and inserted it into the side of the keypad, the LEDs came on at once. "This is a family affair, boys. I would like for each one of you to step over here and place your passcode finger on this print reader." One at a time the boys lined up with RD going first, followed by Cory, then Roddy, and Yuri. I lifted Little Cory up and he stuck out his left hand, middle finger and touched the pad. I did the same with Cullen James and the door began to make noise as the two inch diameter bolts that secure the door within its frame retracted. I spun the large four spoked control wheel to retract the final four bolts inside the door then pulled on the handle, the door swung open. The light from the LED flashlights in the room illuminated the safe's interior so that the boys could see stacks of cash.
(Pix not seen in on-line version)
There are major reasons that I will not use the insoles on the safe, foremost being that I don't want anyone to know that the safe exists. Should anyone discover it then any method at their disposal would be brought into play to get to the largest amount of cold hard currency in anyone place in the entire world. That safe contains more cash money than any bank or depository in the world. To send in a crew to install the necessary hardware to enable the insoles would only invite trouble.
I had the boys move so that they could see what I was doing as I stepped inside of the vault and reached over to a metal cabinet sitting to one side of the large interior. This I opened with my own finger passcode, as I told the boys that any of them could open that cabinet by himself with his own finger. Little Cory was looking at his middle finger until Roddy took it and told him to flip somebody else off. I had the boys step into the doorway of the vault. I turned and opened a simple access panel on the back side of the door and showed the boys a lever. I explained that one could lift that lever and turn it like a tiller on a boat to release the latch bolts at once. I shared a picture of them old and grey with long hair and a long white beard sitting on the stack of money waiting for someone to open the door to let them out.
At the sight of that image a twinge of pain for what could be passed through me and I shed a tear. I was instantly covered with boi kisses as all of my sons embraced me and told me that I had made sure that such a scenario would never occur. I know that they were right, but I have to consider all possibilities, especially where my precious sons are involved. My only sexual attraction to that group of boys is for Cory, but at the time I was looking at him more as my son than my lover. All of the boys read that thought and hugged me even tighter, Cory gave me a hard on kiss.
I placed a few trays of bobbles and bangles on top of the cash stash and let the boys pick up a stone and look it over as he would. The rubies and emeralds were their favorites because of the color and semi-transparency. While they held the stones up so that the light shone through it I got down to my real purpose for bringing the boys into the cavern.
I thought out for them, "Boys, I have been called upon to take on a mission for our government. I don't want the name of the agency that you can see in my mind to be spoken, just know that this famous branch of our National Security has called on me to do what they can't. I am going to change my looks and go in as a raw recruit to help them learn who the traitor, or traitors, in their organization are. Many things have happened lately that can only be explained by the intrusion of what we call a mole. I have been asked by the few people that have an idea of what I can do with my mind probes to help them identify those that would see America destroyed by itself." Of course a mental image carries so much more than words can describe and before we passed from that image to getting ourselves out of the tunnel and back to the surface the boys had learned a lot about the agency that I would be working with and what my mission would actually entail.
Before we transformed back into Owls Little Cory told us that he really had to do number two. I took the boy out of the enclosed area and over to a rocky grotto to do his deed. In my mind I could envision some archeologist some several thousand years into the future finding CJ's coprolites—fossilized excrement—and painting a picture of some pre-historic man-like creature that must have entered the cavern to hunt. I felt, before I heard, the laughter of the other boys as they put a picture in their mind of an archeologist digging up Little Cory's shit.
So there you have it. Is your friction enhanced by my fiction?
Tell me about it at
fisherman@iname.com
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