Professor Auturo Martinelli, a Nobel Prize
recipient is on the verge of discovering a cure for cancer,
but instead he opened a Pandora’s Box of something more disparaging than either the atomic or nuclear bombs.
It’s the summer of 1991, eight months after the Berlin
Wall fell. Professor Auturo Martinelli, a Nobel Prize
recipient is on the verge of discovering a cure for cancer,
but instead he opened a Pandora’s Box of something
more disparaging than either the atomic or nuclear bombs.
His discovery is so destructive in nature that it makes
atomic and nuclear bombs look like pea shooters.
Unlike the atomic or nuclear bombs, Professor Martinelli’s
formula is exacting in its target: Annihilation.
Professor Martinelli reached out to the President for
assistance, but his call for help was intercepted by
government parties unknown.
It’s a race against time as corrupt forces of the United
States government agencies set out to obtain Professor
Martinelli’s Formula by any means necessary. But
little do they realize that he will never surrender
his formula.
As far as the safety of the project goes, no one
can be trusted and we are all...expendable.
Excerpt
Chapter One
The Experiment
The summer of 1991
6:01 A.M. Somewhere in the outskirts of upstate New York.
Deep in an underground laboratory, the blaring whine of the alarm exploded through the loudspeakers in modular screams. The deafening wail fills the lab as a bright crimson light flashes throughout the complex as security and various staff members scurry to get to their various departments. The entire facility was thrown into organized pandemonium, where their months of mandatory security protocol training went out the window when reality crashed in under the ear shattering wail of the alarm.
"What's happening," The lead doctor asked.
"The radioactive isotope containment field went down,” An assistant said, nervous about the mishap but more nervous about the possibility that the doctors would blame him for the whole mess. “The acid treatment is venting throughout the complex,” “It’s slowly making its way through the filtration systems.” “At the rate it’s going, I can bet that we’ll be quarantined within the hour.”
"What about Mr. Soul?” The head doctor asked, leaning into the assistant close enough that the assistant felt the warm anger in the doctor’s breath. “What about the patient?” “What was his reaction to the Microhydrin Ellagi?"
"Mr. Soul is…dead…doctor," The second assistant stated through a nervous stammer. "Something in the formula changed and triggered a lethal chemical imbalance. Instead of curing Mr. Soul of his cancer it killed him and is now venting from his body and into the outside the test area. Sir, it’s transformed from a blood borne serum into an airborne toxin as soon as it mixed with the oxygen."
“It’s like a human’s blood being purple in the body,” The first assistant said. “When the blood hits the oxygen, it turns red, but that’s not really the color while it resides within the body. The same thing happened to the formula. It mutated from a liquid to a gas when it left Mr. Soul’s body and we don’t have a contingency plan for that. It wasn’t supposed to happen.”
"What the hell happened with the containment field?" asked the head doctor while he frantically attempted to get the containment field up before they all met their respective makers. It was only a matter of time for the toxin to reach this room.
"It got stuck and overexposed the M.H.E.A.T.” The first assistant said as he helped the professor with his futile attempt at fixing this containment field within the room,” “I think that might be the reason that the formula turned into a mist that kills instead of heals."
"We've been getting calls from throughout the complex,” Another assistant yelled among the chaos as she got updates from the bank of blinking phones in front of her. Everyone in the room could hear the screaming on the other end of the phone receiver she was holding. “The staff is dropping like flies, sir. Some of our security personnel died during breakfast in the dining room and there were a few smokers in the lounge that it hit pretty quickly."
“Find out when all of those employees logged out for a smoke break and breakfast,” The professor said. “If we can establish a timeline of when they died, we can determine the speed in which the virus is spreading.”
“I’m on it, Professor,” The assistant on the phone said as she frantically punched up buttons to get to someone who handled the time cards. She shook her head. “Sir, I don’t think anyone can help me.” The line just goes dead.”
“Ladies and gentlemen, we need to shut this thing down before it claims any more innocent lives and we need to do it now,” said Professor Martinelli. “We need to find a way. The containment field in this room can’t be repaired. I need to go to the source…I need to go into the room with Mr. Soul.”
Jonathan, who was assisting the head doctor with the containment field, looked sadly around the room, as if he were caught in a macabre wonderland that was too scary and frantic to be real. His eyes stopped and fixated on the body of the lifeless Mr. Soul in the lab. It was eerily still but the manner in which it was lying made the poor man’s body appeared edematous, liquefied and what seemed to be tiny luminescent insects were coming out of Mr. Soul pores and bursting into the air around him as they left his body until they were gone . . . The tiny lightning bug type insects all just seemed to had disappeared into thin air.
“Look Professor. The animals; the rats…the chimpanzees…they’re all alive,” Jonathan exclaimed as he averted his eyes to the cages, as if they all needed something positive circling around in this madness. Tears almost swelled up in his eyes as he spoke the words. He looked at Mary Lou, the chimpanzee in cage number 010. Mary Lou made her lips quiver and it made Jonathan smile that she was still able to make those familiar noises, even if it was from a room away. “They’re all alive."
Auturo Martinelli stopped his attempt to restore the containment field as he saw how relieved Jonathan was about the animals being alive. What they were doing wasn’t for the faint of heart and it was the heart that made this research unbearable. Auturo knew that Jonathan was a whiz kid for his age and there wasn’t anyone in here that he’d like working alongside him, but in the field of scientific research, Jonathan’s heart was his only drawback. His feelings could be the one thing that would make or break the success of the formula. And normally Auturo would reprimand him for jeopardizing years of research in lieu of personal attachment but even Auturo Martinelli couldn’t deny that the moment was special for all of them.
"One of you, get on the intercom and tell everyone to evacuate the complex,” Martinelli yelled, shaking off the brief moment of calm. “Do it now!”
The assistants scrambled around as they had trained for in their emergency procedures. The first assistant got on the intercom as the second assistant called the necessary people about their situation.
“I’m going in there to shut the containment field myself before any more harm is done," said Martinelli while he walked briskly over to the closet containing the radiation suits.
"But professor, you don't have any idea what the mist is capable of," Jonathan said, thinking of Mr. Soul’s lifeless body that was stuck in a suspended state of animation. “Mr. Soul…”
"I am not going to sit here and do nothing while people die” “I'm not that kind of man," the professor responded as he struggled with the suit. "Now help me get this thing on. Hurry before it's too late,” “We’re all going to die if I don’t do this.”
Professor Martinelli zipped up his radiation suit and looked at everyone in the room through his small, fiberglass face shield. His breathing echoed in the small enclosure around him as he silently turned and activated the lock on the door. It hissed open and he stepped quickly into the small chamber between the rooms.
Jonathan locked the door behind him and he gave Professor Martinelli a dismal thumb-up and a smile that was worried that he’d never see the man again. Martinelli responded with the same as he turned around.
“All clear,” Jonathan said.
Auturo Martinelli took a deep breath and exhaled within his helmet, fogging up the glass slightly. And as his nerves crept up into his throat, he unlocked the next door into the contaminated chamber.
And everyone watched in nervous terror as Professor Martinelli walked casually into the contaminated room, disappearing into the general area of the containment field.
Chapter Two
Jason Shieldwolf
It was an early midsummer evening in the city known as the Big Apple Jason Shieldwolf had just finished dropping off his nine year old son Kristopher at his ex-wife's apartment. He and his son spent a day at the Museum of Natural History viewing the Jurassic Park exhibits and afterward they stuffed themselves at Ray's Pizzeria.
Jason's day had been almost perfect up until the time his ex-wife Dianna had started another argument over nothing. As Jason drove home, his mind sought relief from the emotional bombardment and guilt trips she tried to put on him for abandoning Kristopher and her.
As Jason tried in vain to clear his head, he forced himself to focus on his upcoming date with his girlfriend Yvette. Perhaps an evening at the ballet would change his mood. Reaching down, he picked up his car phone and pressed the memory speed dial button that would ring her phone.
It rang three times before she answered with a cheery and inquisitive "Hello?" "Hello Yvette," Jason responded, "it's me, is tonight still on?"
"Hi Papi," Yvette melodiously countered, "Oh babe, I'm sorry but I can't make it tonight." "My baby brother Juanito just came home from the Marines, he's on leave and the family is getting together this evening to welcome him home, I'm really sorry babes'," she expressed with genuine disappointment. Jason wondered to himself what else could happen to spoil his almost perfect day.
"It's Okay my love, I understand," Jason replied failing to disguise the disappointment in his voice. Yvette realized that she was only compounding his disenchantment with her change of plans so she tried to put his mind at ease.
"Babe, you know that if it wasn't for my baby brother coming home, that I would be with you."
In spite of his ill mood he found himself smiling and replying "I know that princess and I really appreciate it. Tell your brother, that I said hi Okay?"
"Okay. Papi," responded Yvette, "You know that you are always welcome, so why don't you join us?"
"No Mami," said Jason. "To tell you the truth, I'm not in a very festive mood this evening. You have a good time and I'll call you sometime during the week, okay?"
Yvette answered in her sweet sultry Latin voice, "Okay babes I love you."
"I love you too," Jason ardently replied. "I'll talk to you later."
Feeling the way he did, it was a relief to know that he didn't have to be in anyone's company that evening. Perhaps he'd stay home alone, but then it would be a sin to waste the excellent tickets that he had for the ballet.
How could he miss the performance of his favorite prima ballerina, the incomparable DeLita Martinelli? If anything could lift his spirit, it would be DeLita Martinelli's dynamically exquisite performance.
Jason had made up his mind. He would go home, shower and prepare himself for attending the performance.
As he stepped from the shower, Jason paused to inspect himself in the mirror. His practiced eyes scanned his six foot three inches, two hundred five pound athletic frame critically.
The years of physical training and self-denial had left their mark on his mocha brown body.
His strong neck, broad shoulders, and slender waist gave him the appearance of a gymnast at the peak of his form. His powerful thighs and muscular calves were like those of a sprinter. Jason smiled with satisfaction revealing a perfect set of pearly white teeth below a sharply trimmed black mustache. Without thinking, Jason goes into a preset stretching routine.
As Jason sat on the floor in a Japanese split his mind drifted back to his ex-wife Dianna. In spite of everything he admitted to himself that he still cared for her. He'd had considered reconciling himself with her but the hurt was too great and the bond of trust between them had been broken. The fault for the end of their marriage had to be shared equally by both of them. He hoped it was for the best. The ringing of the phone was a welcome interruption to his dour thoughts.
Jason gets up and answered his bedroom phone. "Hello," Jason answered.
"Hi Papi," said the voice over the phone. Jason hears and recognizes the sultry voice. It was Yvette.
"Hello lady," responded Jason, "What's up?"
"Jason," answered Yvette, "I just wanted to let you know that I am here if anytime you need a friend to talk to." "And Jason I am here for you if you need me to make love with." "Papi, you know how I feel about you," said Yvette amorously.
"Yeah, Jason replies, yes I do know, and I care very much about you also."
"Papi," said Yvette, "I just want you to know how I feel about you, Okay?"
"Yes gorgeous, and thanks for being so understanding and for just being you."
"What time does the ballet end Papi," asked Yvette.
"Eleven o'clock," replied Jason. "Well, I'll be by tonight."
"I'll see you later," said Yvette as she concluded her conversation with a kiss and, "I love you babes," then hangs up the receiver so not giving Jason a chance to respond.
Jason astounded by hearing Yvette hang up the phone on him without giving him a word in edgewise, looked into the transmitter then chuckled, saying to him self aloud, "That is one positively direct lady."
Jason showered, and he thought about Yvette, and how much of a beautiful woman she was . . . Her beautiful turquoise colored eyes, Indian-red tanned skin, Triguena as she was called by most Spanish speaking people. She could hypnotize you with a kiss, never has a woman's tongue communicated so well her desires. Jason could visualize her five foot ten inch tall slender but curvaceous form lying next to him . . . hmm. Jason thought to himself that maybe tonight will not end the way he first thought it would, but would start tonight and finish in the morning with a bang and a smile came to his face like the cat that swallowed the canary.
He then got dressed and left his Concourse East Apartment to go to the City Center located at 131 West 55th Street in Manhattan.
Chapter Three
The Rumors
As Jason drove his Candy Apple Red Z into the city he wondered if the rumors that he had heard about DeLita Martinelli, being a racist were true.
He had heard that DeLita's grandmother, Gloria Grey was born and raised in the Deep South brought up on a cotton plantation in Mississippi. DeLita's grandmother, Gloria Grey was taught to believe that blacks were inferior to whites. DeLita's mother, Katherine Ann Grey, was an up and coming ballerina when she met DeLita's father Arturo Martinelli, they fell in love and got married. DeLita's mother died giving birth to DeLita and for that DeLita has sworn to be the ballerina that her mother could have been if she had lived. But DeLita's grandmother, Gloria Grey had taught DeLita much more than to dance . . . She taught her bigotry.
Jason could only hope that some of what he had heard wasn't true. He had thought to himself, that how could someone who brought so much beauty to the world and who illuminates in such splendor could hold so much ugliness inside her. Hatred is a waste of time and prejudice is the lowest form of ignorance, Jason's father had told him many times. Jason believed in what his father had told him and he remembered never to make false judgment . . .
Chapter Four
The Show must go on
Jason arrived in the vicinity of the City Center, but he decided to drive past the Center before going to the garage. The front of the City Center was packed with people arriving and entering the Center. He could see limousines of all sizes and colors pulling up in front of the theatre. Even Governor Mario Coumo and Mayor David Dinkins arrived here for DeLita Martinelli's first New York appearance.
Celebrities from stage and television were all there to welcome DeLita Martinelli to New York. Backstage in DeLita's dressing room, Carl Cummings, world renowned black ballet dancer and choreographer, founder of The Black American Dance Company, spoke in a somewhat mild introvert.
"Ms. Martinelli," Carl Cummings said with sarcasm in his voice, for he would really like to tell DeLita (this bitch as he would call her) where to get off. "Can't you see that there is no alternative Ms. Martinelli?" "Gabriel is sick, he cannot perform tonight," said Cummings.
"He was fine a few hours ago," said DeLita sharply.
"But the doctor said that Gabriel has food poisoning and may not be able to dance for at least four days," Cummings replied. "So you’re going to have to dance with Lowell Jones in "Manifestations," "Swan Lake," and "Fire Bird," Cummings concluded.
"It seems that the Association for the Performing Arts has asked a little too much of me this time," DeLita blurted out with the look of displeasure written on her very beautiful but heavily made up face.
Then Cummings spoke in his experienced diplomatic voice, "Remember Ms. Martinelli that you are a responsible individual and the monies raised from your performances will enable the Association to give out many more scholarships this year for the talented, underprivileged but deserving up and coming dancers." "We must not think of ourselves but of others who long to be where you are."
Not answering, stubborn as the day she was born, DeLita got ready for her first performance . . . five minutes to curtain call, Ms. Martinelli, said a voice from behind her dressing room door. DeLita took one more look at herself in her dressing room mirror . . .
DeLita's performances were absolutely brilliant. Jason wished that he were in Lowell Jones’ shoes and that the dance never ended as ballet was as beautiful to Jason as the martial arts.
Chapter Five
The Autograph
Jason left the Center soon as the last performance was over so he could get his car from the garage and hurry back for autographs from DeLita and the other performers. Jason parked his car and walked toward the backstage entrance. He could see DeLita's fans asking her for her autographs.
"Ms. Martinelli, may I have your autograph," a young lady in her early twenties asked.
"DeLita," an older man exclaimed, "me too!"
About ten or fifteen minutes passed by and the small crowd slowly disappeared . . . Jason walked over as the last autograph seeker walked away.
"Ms. Martinelli," Jason asked politely, "may, I also have your autograph?"
Slowly raising her head to the sound of a very handsome sounding voice, DeLita was shocked to see the face behind the voice. Noticing that Jason was black, DeLita rudely snatched the photograph of herself out of Jason's unsuspecting hands.
Moderately taken with surprise by DeLita's impertinent demeanor Jason paused before continuing to speak . . .
"Your performance was excitingly brilliant, you danced so exquisitely graceful, you looked so beautiful," Jason said to DeLita as she began to sign the picture.
"Thank you what would you like me to write," DeLita questioned pretentiously.
"To Jason, my number one fan would be fine," Jason answered. As DeLita signed Jason's photograph of herself he could not help to notice how unpleasant she seemed and as he watched her thoughts of the rumors flashed through his mind. He thought to his self that maybe she was tired.
Jason noticed DeLita's limousine pulling up alongside of her. Her chauffeur got out to escort her into the car. As DeLita got into her limousine, Jason did what any red-blooded male would have done. He watched DeLita's every movement as she got into her limo. DeLita noticed Jason admiring her then she abruptly pressed the automatic window button to close as she stuck her tongue out at Jason.
As the stained window rolled up, Jason was left in awe by DeLita's actions. Jason shook his head and turned to walk toward his car.
Chapter Six
The unexpected guests
Disappointed by DeLita's behavior as he walked away just before he reached his car, Jason heard a sound as if glass had been broken. Turning about to see if what he heard was correct Jason heard muffled screams coming from inside DeLita's limousine . . .
Men dressed in all black suits approached out from the shadows, and they didn’t seem to have noticed Jason quietly watching. DeLita then rushed out from inside her limousine.
DeLita stepped out of her limo and she encounters one of the men dressed in black. Jason seeing driver’s side window splattered with the blood and brains of DeLita’s chauffeur quickly realized that whoever these people were that they were playing for keeps and without a second thought he ran over and jumped into the air and flying side-kicked DeLita’s attacker in the waist.
As man’s body folded, Jason then took hold of DeLita’s would be attacker’s head and pulled the man in black’s face into Jason’s knee. Jason then placed one hand on the man’s chin and one on the back of his head and without as second thought snapped the man’s neck and the man in black’s body dropped to the pavement.
When DeLita saw the man in black’s body drop dead right in front of her feet DeLita stared at Jason in complete amazement. Jason then took hold of DeLita’s hand and pulled her in the direction of the street. DeLita’s body resisted at first with some reluctance, but something inside her allowed her to allow Jason to lead her away from her limousine and they ran toward the street were Jason’s car was parked.
As Jason and DeLita run toward the street Jason could a voice shout out, “Don’t shoot, you might hit the girl!” The dark figures then scattered into different directions in an effort to recapture DeLita.
Chapter Seven
The Chase
Arriving at Jason’s car Jason’s opened the passenger side then jumped and slides over the hood of the car to the driver’s side. Then while getting into his car, Jason notices he had gotten a ticket. Jason took the ticket off of his windshield, Jason started up his vehicle and he and DeLita were off, as the motor raced, car screeched up and down the Westside streets.
Jason looked to see if they were being followed and although he didn't see anything his instincts told him that they were.
DeLita turned and looked at Jason hysterically and begun shouting, "What is going on here," "Who are you," she questioned Jason, "and what do you want from me?"
Jason confused by DeLita's questioning tried to explain, but before he could, DeLita begun shouting even more overwrought as she told Jason to pull over and let her out right now!
"I don't know you, for I know you could be a part of all of this!" shouted DeLita.
Jason still surprised in DeLita's actions didn’t know what to do, then he heard, DeLita say, "Let me out of this car you freaking nigger!" "Let me out right now!"
Jason shocked and horrified at what he had just heard, without a second hesitation brought his car to a screeching halt at the corner of 57th street and Columbus Circle. He reached over DeLita's lap and opened the door to the passenger's side.
DeLita's face showed signs of fear, confusion and regret for the things that she had said so abruptly to Jason. She didn't know what to do although she did feel sort of safe in Jason's company. DeLita noticed a public phone on the corner. She took another look at Jason and like a child asking for forgiveness, but without a word made her way toward the phone.
Jason shouted out to DeLita, "I hope you know what you are doing?"
Then as DeLita approached the public telephone out of nowhere one black, and one grey Mercedes came out of the shadows heading straight toward her. For DeLita everything seemed as if it was going in slow motion as a dream when you’re being chased and you can't seem to pick up any speed. DeLita looked back at Jason.
Jason noticing the cars racing toward DeLita begun to shout to her, "DeLita come on run, come on DeLita run, run!"
DeLita begun to run back to Jason's car as she heard the cars coming to a screeching halt about her. The black figures were running to catch her. It seemed as if everyone was moving fast, all except her, she moved in slow motion. Suddenly she found herself sitting in Jason's car once more, but as she was beginning to feel safe, a hand grabbed hold of her jacket. Jason then slammed the accelerator pedal down to the floor and slammed the door. As he and DeLita race off to safety they dragged for some distance a battered dark figure as another dark figure came to his aid, after he released DeLita's jacket and rolled into the tar paved street.
The dark figures then ran back to their cars and resumed the chase to recapture DeLita. Darting in and out of traffic Jason raced his Z into Central Park and Columbus Circle in an effort to escape from DeLita's unknown assailants.
"DeLita," said Jason, "use my car phone and call the police, tell them who you are and what's going on." "Also, find out where's the nearest police station is located."
DeLita picked up Jason's car phone and quickly figured out how to dial. She dialed 911 and she could hear the phone ringing on the other end.
Jason drove his car onto the parks strolling path, heading toward Wollman Memorial Ice Skating Rink. DeLita screamed as the car flew from the park streets over the park lawn onto the park strolling path. The two Mercedes was being held back by traffic at the intersection. As Jason's car darted past the newly renovated Wollman Rink now known as Trump Wollman Rink, the intersection light changed and the two Mercedes were off again in pursuit of DeLita and Jason. The Mercedes shot into the park heading into the same direction that DeLita and Jason shot off into.
The Emergency Service had finally answered. A sigh of relief came from DeLita as she heard a woman answer and say; "May I help you?"
"Yes," DeLita responded, "My name is DeLita Martinelli, some people are after me, they shot my chauffeur and now they're after me!"
"Where are you?" asked the emergency operator.
Perplexed because she did not know where they were, DeLita repeats the question, "Where are we?" "Where are we," DeLita asked Jason?
"We're in Central Park heading for 64th Street and 5th Avenue," Jason rapidly replied.
"We're in Central Park heading for 64th Street and 5th Avenue," DeLita told the emergency operator.
"Heading?" questioned the operator.
"Yes, heading," repeated DeLita noticing that they now were on 64th Street and 5th Avenue and were now racing past it. "We're passing 64th Street now and we're heading where?" said DeLita not knowing what to tell the operator, "Where are heading?" DeLita questioned Jason.
Jason Answered, "We're heading east."
"We're heading East and we're being chased a group of murders," Shouted DeLita at the emergency operator, "by men driving one black and one grey Mercedes," DeLita concluded.
"Tell them that they're trying to kill us," Jason told DeLita.
"They are trying to kill us!" DeLita hysterically told the emergency service operator.
"Ask the operator, where is the nearest police station," Jason said to DeLita as he was tried to maintain his composure.
"Where is the nearest police station," DeLita had asked the service woman.
"She wants to know your license and registration numbers," DeLita told Jason with the tone of sarcasm in her voice (Like what is she going to ask for next?)
"Hang up!" Jason told DeLita, "and dial, 411 and ask for the nearest police station."
By the time DeLita had hung up on the emergency service operator and dialed 411, the emergency service woman had dispatched an A.P.B. out on Jason's car after putting a trace on Jason's car phone service and received the needed information.
In a police Squad car nearby it could be heard on the squad car radio," Be on the lookout for a Candy Apple Red Z, license number SHLDWOLF, registered to a Jason Lightfoot Shieldwolf."
"We have a possible murder and possible kidnapping in progress," "the suspect is thought to be armed and dangerous."
DeLita dialed 411 and a woman answered, "May I help you?" "What borough," the operator asked.
"Manhattan," DeLita responded. "Where is the nearest police station is located?" DeLita then looked out the car window to see where they were. "We're at 79th Street and Lexington Avenue," said DeLita.
"The nearest precinct is located at 86th Street and Park Avenue," said the operator. 86th Street and Park Avenue DeLita told Jason and without another word from DeLita he raced toward the precinct.
The operator then asked DeLita, "Would you like me to connect you the police station?"
"Yes," DeLita answered, "and thank you." "She's connecting us to the police," DeLita told Jason.
"Central Park Precinct,” Sergeant Brown speaking, "may I help you," a deep voice asked.
"Yes," answered DeLita relieved that she had finally gotten through someone in authority, "we are being chased by some maniacs who are trying to kill us and they have guns," DeLita hysterically blurted out, after she noticed in the right side mirror that the Mercedes were still pursuit.
"Where are you," the deep voiced Sergeant questioned.
"Right at this moment we're headed for your police station." "We're in a red Z." "We're now at 84th Street and Second Avenue."
"You sound like that car that we have an A.P.B. out on," said Sergeant Brown. "There's an A.P.B. out on a red Z. license plates SHLDWOLF, owned by Jason Lightfoot Shieldwolf for a possible murder and a possible kidnapping, to be considered armed and dangerous." "Are you Shieldwolf," asked Sergeant Brown.
"Are you Shieldwolf," DeLita questioned Jason.
"Yes, why do you want to know," asked Jason.
"Because the police have an A.P.B. or something or other on you and your car," DeLita told Jason.
"Tell the officer that we are on our way in." "Our E.T.A. is in two minutes." Jason told DeLita as he pushed the accelerator down to the floor.
Jason took every light and avoided any collision, by going in and out of cars, even jumped the curve and drove on the sidewalks, Jason heads for the Central Park precinct. Then as Jason neared the police station he and DeLita noticed police squad cars approaching them from every direction.
"We're almost there," Jason yelled as he shifted gears. "As soon as we're in front of the station and I stop the car, get out and run inside the station, Okay," Jason told DeLita.
“Okay,” DeLita replied, "but where will you be," asked DeLita.
"With you," responded Jason.
]
Chapter Eight
Welcome to the Central Park Precinct
"This is car whiskey tango 92 the suspects are headed right for the base, right to our front door."
Jason drove his car up the stairs in front of the precinct as the police cars followed.
Bring his car to a halt, Jason and DeLita then got out of the car and started running hand in hand up the precinct steps. They both were about to feel safe . . . until guns brought them to a standstill.
As they looked all about them they found themselves surrounded by policemen and women, uniformed and plain clothed. It must have been thirty to forty guns or more. A deep voice over a loud speaker shouted, "Stay where you are, drop your weapons and put your hands up where we can see them . . .
Jason and DeLita stood frozen in their tracks. Jason without a second’s hesitation raised his hands in plain sight of the Sergeant and his men. He did not want any accidents to occur by any trigger happy police officer.
DeLita felt a little leery as she complied with the Sergeant's wishes fore she was no criminal. DeLita's big beautiful light brown eyes made her look as a little child who was on the verge of crying. DeLita then looked at Jason, then she very unwilling complied with the Sergeant's demands. Five police officers quickly converged and surrounded both DeLita and Jason, pat searching them for weapons and then handcuffed them.
Jason stood not too pleased with their present situation, not speaking and just following the officers' directions. Meanwhile, DeLita was so hurt and offended by the officers' misjudgment, so outraged by their manhandling that DeLita could no longer stay quiet . . .
"What are you doing," "We're the ones who called for the police to help us," DeLita fearfully exclaimed. "Hey, that hurts!" "You don't have to press so hard," said DeLita angrily. "Wait until my attorney finds out how I've been mistreated." "You better all start looking for new jobs in a different country." "Somewhere cold, like Siberia" DeLita hostilely threatened.” "My father has a very important friend in the government, a very important friend," continued DeLita with confidence in her voice.
"Yeah, yeah, sure," responded Officer Brody, not at all impressed by DeLita's ranting. "And my mother is the President, and my father is the Treasurer of the United States of America," continued Officer Brody as he begun to read DeLita her rights . . .
"You have the right to remain silent, which I think you should do lady if I were you," Officer Brody adds, "Anything you say or do will and can be used against you in a court of law." "You have the right to an attorney and if you cannot afford one, an attorney will be appointed to you by the court," Officer Brody concluded.
"Who do you think you're fooling," DeLita confidently questioned Officer Brody. "We haven't broken the law, so how can we be under arrest?"
As DeLita concluded her questioning of Officer Brody, a deep voice amplified over a bull horn exclaims, "Bring them in now!" "The rest of you men,” Sgt. Brown continued, then noticing officers Nancy Morales, Candice Burlington and Victoria Burnham standing amongst the male officers each with a look of dissatisfaction added, . . . “and women report to your assigned details." "On the double, so let's move it out!" "And get those cars off these precinct steps." "What do you think this is a parking lot," shouted Sgt. Brown. "If the Capt. were to see this we'd all be walking a beat in the South Bronx." "So let's hop too it."
Sergeant Brown's orders being understood, the squad cars begun to drive away from the precinct's stairway, officers go off to their assigned duties as the five officers bring Jason and DeLita past Sergeant Brown and into the station house. "Okay, Okay," said Sergeant Brown in his very deep voice. Sergeant Brown was not at all pleased with police Officer Brody's apprehensiveness in quickly handcuffing both DeLita and Jason.
As Sergeant Brown walked over to DeLita, the Sergeant began his questioning. "Are you the young lady whom which I spoke with over the car phone?"
"Yes," replied DeLita. "Yes, I am, and we are not criminals."
"I did not say that you were criminals," Sergeant Brown responded.
"Then why are we handcuffed, and treated in this manner," asked DeLita angrily.
"Well, "replied Sergeant Brown, "you may not be criminals, but driving your car up this precinct's front stairs wouldn't exactly win you the key to this city." "Besides, we received a call that someone was being kidnapped and shot at," Sergeant Brown concluded. "Is this the man who abducted you," Sergeant Brown questioned.
"No,” responded DeLita, "This man is the one who rescued me from my, would be kidnapers and from the persons responsible for murdering my chauffeur and friend Bill Stokes."
Sergeant Brown looked puzzled and he questioned Officer Brody. "Brody, do we have anything on her chauffeur?"
"Nothing," responded Officer Brody.
"Where did the shooting take place," questioned Sergeant Brown DeLita while she looked through her personal effects.
Realizing the Sergeant was talking to her, DeLita responded, "DeLita," "DeLita Martinelli."
The Sergeant not hearing what DeLita had said to him asked, "Excuse me, what did you say?"
DeLita then repeated what she had said to the Sergeant, "I said that my name is Martinelli, Ms. DeLita Martinelli the worlds' most renowned prima ballerina."
"Oh, I see," responded Sergeant Brown, "so you performed tonight at the City Center." "We had people on double shift to cover the big wigs there to see your performance tonight." "So tell me Ms. Martinelli, after this what do you do for an encore," Brown snidely remarks.
"Hey, lighten up, what do you think you're doing," quickly responded Jason in DeLita’s defense.
"Well," DeLita blurted out, "where were your men when my chauffeur was shot, and I was attacked in the backstage driveway area," DeLita questioned Sergeant Brown.
"Your chauffeur was shot backstage," asked Sergeant Brown.
"No," answered DeLita angrily, "he was shot in the backstage driveway area." "He was about to take me home," DeLita sadly replied as she recalled the horrible murder of her friend and chauffeur, Bill Stokes.
"Cory," Sergeant Brown called out to a female officer standing outside his office, "look into the shooting of Ms. Martinelli's chauffeur, Bill Stokes."
"Okay Sarge," responded Officer Cory.
"Brody," Sergeant Brown questioned, "did you of any other squad car see any vehicle or vehicles pursuing the red Z?"
"No sir, we did not see any vehicle or vehicles pursuing them, sir," answered Officer Brody.
"Did you or any other of the arresting officers find a weapon on either one of the so called suspects or in or about their vehicle?" questioned Sergeant Brown.
"No Sarge," Officer Brody unhappily responded.
"Un handcuff these people," Ordered Sergeant Brown.
Both Jason and DeLita were happy to be relieved of the uncomfortable handcuffs.
"Brody," Sergeant Brown commanded, "go and see what Officer Cory has found out on the shooting of Ms. Martinelli's chauffeur." "After you forward me the needed information, I will take time out of my already arduous schedule to explain to you proper arrest procedure." Sergeant Brown concluded.
Officer Brody disconcertingly responded, "Yes sir," as he exited the station house reception area.
Sergeant Brown then turned and faced Jason and said, "So, you must be the owner of the Candy Apple Red Z. license plate number, or should I say license plate with the name SHLDWOLF, right," questioned Sergeant Brown.
"Yes." Jason replied, as he showed signs of being quite perturbed, but maintaining a cool sophisticated aura about him as he answered; "I am Jason Shieldwolf, the owner of the car mentioned."
"Ms. Martinelli, Mr. Shieldwolf, would you please follow me," Sergeant Brown politely requested. Sergeant Brown led DeLita and Jason into a small office down the hall from the reception area. "I'd like to hear exactly what happened," said Sergeant Brown as they entered the office.
Sergeant Brown pulled up seats for both DeLita and Jason. Brown sitting behind his desk cluttered with paperwork, pictures of his ex-wife and his children; three girls and two boys from the age's seven to thirty-four, three cups of unfinished coffee were also amongst the muddle. Sergeant Brown politely asked DeLita and Jason to have a seat.
Sergeant Brown then picked up his phone and put through a call to Detective Sergeant Tempesta and asked him to please come to his office. Shortly after Sergeant Brown finished with the phone, DeLita quickly asked if she could call home to let her father know that she was all right.
"My father must be worried to death," said DeLita with great concern in her voice.
"Yes, yes, Ms. Martinelli, go right ahead," Sergeant Brown responded as he realized that he had forgotten to ask them if they had to use the phone.
DeLita had called home. Her father answered the phone, "Hello, Papa," DeLita affectionately sighed as she recognized her father's voice. Her young independent womanish stature seemed to have disappeared with sound of her father's voice, and she resembled a college freshman who's been away from home for the first time, and was away too long. DeLita missed her father and it was quite noticeable.
Now Jason had got a chance to see another of DeLita's beautiful qualities.
"Dee, are you all right," questioned DeLita's father.
"Yes Papa, I'm all right," DeLita answered in an innocent tone of voice.
"I had tried to reach you on the car phone," said DeLita's father, "but no one answered," DeLita's father continued. "Then after several attempts a police officer answered and told me that my chauffeur had been shot and killed," said DeLita's father.
DeLita's beautiful goddess like face shown the sadness for the loss of her friend, Bill Stokes, and a tear came to her almond shaped light brown eyes, as DeLita grievously told her father that Bill Stokes is dead.
DeLita's father, Professor Martinelli had told DeLita that he had asked the police officer who had answered the car phone and if she was injured, but the officer would not tell him.
"I guess he was just following procedures," DeLita's father responded.
"Yes Papa, I am safe." DeLita responded. "I am at the Central Park Precinct, located at 86th Street and Park Avenue," DeLita told her father. "How long will it take you to get here to take me home," DeLita had asked her father.
"I could be there in twenty minutes," answered DeLita's father.
"Then I will see you in twenty minutes," said DeLita. "Ciao Papa," DeLita sweetly told her father then threw him a kiss before she hung up the receiver.
As DeLita hung up the phone, Sergeant Brown asked Jason if there was anyone that he would like to get in touch with.
"Yes, there is," replied Jason as he looked at his watch remembering that Yvette told him that she was going to be waiting for him at his apartment. "Yes, there is someone whom I must call," said Jason.
As he picked up the Sergeant's phone Jason dialed his home phone number. Jason could hear his answering machine with music by Kitaro playing in the background . . . You have reached 992-3964, no one is home at the present, but I would like very much to return your call. So at the sound of the tone please leave your name and telephone and I will return your call. Take care, bye now . . . Beep . . .
Jason attempted to get Yvette's attention by yelling over his answering machine . . . "Hello, Yvette." "Hello Yvette, are you there?" "If you are there, please answer the phone." "Yvette, Yvette."
"Hi Papi," Yvette softly and amiably answered as she recognized Jason voice.
"What happened," Yvette questioned Jason with deep concern. "Are you all right?"
"Yes I'm all right babes," Jason answered happily in hearing Yvette's sultry voice. "But you're not going to believe what happened to me on my way home from the theatre," Jason intriguingly replied as he looked at both DeLita and Sergeant Brown.
"What happened to you Papi," Yvette curiously asked Jason.
"I'll have to tell you when I get home," replied Jason, "Okay," said Jason.
"Okay. Papi," Yvette sweetly answered. "I'll be waiting for you." As Yvette hung up the phone she wondered what could have happened to Jason.
As Jason hung up the phone, Detective Tempesta walked into the office with some reports held under his arm and a cup of coffee in his hand.
"Hi Ron," said Detective Tempesta as he referred to Sergeant Brown. "I have the reports on the shooting of Ms. Martinelli's chauffeur, Bill Stokes," continued Detective Tempesta. "It was one nine millimeter slug right through the windshield, right into the chauffeur's left eye splattering his brains all over the passenger side." "It was definitely an expert hit," Tempesta concluded.
Sergeant Brown interrupted Detective Tempesta's ensanguined description of the shooting of Ms. Martinelli's chauffeur . . .
"J.T., this is Ms. Martinelli," said Sergeant Brown as he introduced both Jason and DeLita to Detective Tempesta.
"It's a pleasure to meet you," said Detective Tempesta politely as he took DeLita's hand in greeting. "Ms. DeLita Martinelli, the world's most renowned Prima Ballerina," Detective Tempesta continued while he admired DeLita's beauty and then looked at Jason. "You know that the both of you are very lucky to be here." "That was a professional hit." "The only thing that saved you Ms. Martinelli, was Mr. Shieldwolf's swift and decisive response in coming to your rescue," said Detective Tempesta.
Jason then questioned Detective Tempesta; "Did you find out anything on the two Mercedes?"
"No," responded Detective Tempesta, "Not one of our men reported ever seeing a car or cars chasing you not to mention two Mercedes," replied Detective Tempesta.
"We're not going to get them this time," said Tempesta.
DeLita then turned and looked at Detective Tempesta and questioned; "What do you mean that you're not going to get them this time?" DeLita not at all pleased with the thought of this happening again.
"Well, Ms. Martinelli," responded Tempesta, "we must figure since they did murder your chauffeur, that the murderers of your chauffeur and your would-be kidnappers are serious, and will make other attempts," said Detective Tempesta.
"I need a drink," responded DeLita as her mouth became dry at the thought of her life still being in danger.
"Oh, I'm sorry," said Sergeant Brown, "I have been a terrible host." "What would you like?" "We have some vending machines in the lounge, and I could use another cup of coffee," said Sergeant Brown. "So, please follow me."
As Sergeant Brown left his office with DeLita, he looked at the three cups of unfinished coffee on his desk that he didn't get a chance to complete and said; "Maybe I'll get a chance to finish this cup," and he smiled as he left his office.
After Sergeant Brown and DeLita leave Sergeant Brown's office, Detective Tempesta questioned Jason . . .
"So Mr. Shieldwolf, tell me what did you see, what happened," Detective Tempesta interrogatively asked.
"Well" Jason responded, "I was on my way to my car after DeLita had autographed a photograph that I had of her." "Then I heard a noise that sounded like glass shattering and screams muffled from inside DeLita's limousine." "I turned about and saw men come from out of the shadows." "I counted six of them."
"Ms. Martinelli was about to exit her limo when she was met by one of the attackers." "DeLita struggled to get away but to no avail" "I then ran over and stopped him," said Jason.
"Stopped him," questioned Detective Tempesta, "how did you stop him?"
Jason not wanting to make known his martial arts expertise replied, "Well it happened so fast." "All I can remember is that I gave him a couple of quick but well placed blows to his mid section, then his face, and he released Ms. Martinelli and fell," said Jason. "I was most fortunate that he did not see me coming," Jason concluded.
Detective Tempesta not satisfied with Jason's story continued to interrogate him . . .
"That's all that happened," questions Det. Tempesta, you didn't break anything on him when you struck Ms. Martinelli's attacker," Detective Tempesta continued. "You're a pretty big guy, and I wouldn't want you to hit me," Det. Tempesta concluded.
"Well," Jason replied, "I didn't have time to check, we got out of there fast." "I can only say that Ms. Martinelli was scared and we both feared for her life."
"What about your own life," Det. Tempesta questioned and without waiting for a response Detective Tempesta continued. "Mr. Shieldwolf, do you play any ball?"
"Not really, when I was younger I tried to get on an amateur team," Jason answered.
"Because you look like a football player, a defensive lineman," said Det. Tempesta. "What do you do, pump iron," Det. Tempesta continued questioning.
"Yes," responded Jason "I pump iron."
"I knew that you must do something to be big as you are," said Det. Tempesta. "That is why I asked you if you think that you broke something on Ms. Martinelli's assailant," continued Det. Tempesta.
Jason answered, "Well, I did hit him pretty hard, with all the excitement and all, but I couldn't tell you if I had broken anything on him." "And why is that so important," Jason questioned.
"Because Jason, if you broke some bones on this man, it's a good possibility that he's going to need medical attention," responded Detective Tempesta, "and we could put out a watch on all the city and private hospitals." "If you hit him hard enough the man could have internal bleeding or something," said Tempesta.
"Well, Jason responded, "There is a slight possibility that I could have fractured or broken Ms. Martinelli's attacker's left rib cage and maybe I busted his left cheekbone."
"Shit!" exclaimed Detective Tempesta. "For someone who doesn't know how he brought someone down, you sure do remember where you struck him," detective Tempesta concluded.
"To tell you the truth," said Jason to detective Tempesta, "I'm not sure how many times I struck Ms. Martinelli's assailant." "But I do know what was open to me," concluded Jason.
"So you’re a fighter," responded Tempesta.
"No," responded Jason, "I am a man of peace I don't like being hurt or hurting anyone."
"Well fighter or not," responded Tempesta, "it was certainly enough to have saved Ms. Martinelli's life." "You're a hero Mr. Shieldwolf," replied detective Tempesta.
"No," said Jason, "I'm just someone who couldn’t stand by and see someone hurt or taken advantage of."
"Mr. Shieldwolf, did you notice anything else," detective Tempesta questioned, "the, Mercedes license plate number, anything about the way the attackers were dressed, their voices did, they have an accent?" "Can you recall anything at all?" detective Tempesta interrogated.
"No," responded Jason," everything happened so fast there was no time to see who our unwelcome guests were," answered Jason.
"How did Ms. Martinelli handle the situation," questioned Tempesta.
"At first she seemed frighten to death," said Jason. "There was the look of pure terror on her face." "Then, after I subdued her attacker there was a look of being confused written all over her face," Jason replied. "She wasn't sure whether or not to go with me she kept on looking back at her dead chauffeur and screaming, "Bill!" "Bill!" as we both ran toward my car," continued Jason.
"As we drove away she seemed relieved" said Jason. "But as we got a distance from the theatre's backstage area, DeLita, I mean Ms. Martinelli, (Jason said correcting himself) started to yell at me," Jason concluded still in shock at the absurdities that DeLita had called him ran through his mind. She did hurt him. She did so disappoint him.
"Yelled at you,” questioned detective Tempesta.
"She yelled hysterically," said Jason. "She was shouting at me to stop the car, that she didn't know me, and that it was possible that I was a part of the scheme." "She was shouting obscenities at me," said Jason. "I truly didn't expect that of her," Jason said sorrowfully.
"Why not," asked Detective Tempesta, "she's a person," "but most of all she's a bigot," concluded Tempesta.
"A bigot," Jason calmly exclaimed partially surprised by Detective Tempesta's remark.
"Yes, a bigot," responded Detective Tempesta. "You're such a great fan of hers’ I would think that you'd be up on all the happenings with Ms. Prima Ballerina, her whereabouts and the latest gossip," continued Detective Tempesta.
Jason surprised at Detective Tempesta's knowledge of DeLita bigotry then answered. "Yes, I have heard some hearsay about DeLita being a racist," responded Jason. "But I didn't know how true the rumors were," Jason responded protectively, neglecting to tell Tempesta about his very disappointing experience when DeLita had called him a nigger. He thought to himself that there was no need to make things any worse than they already were.
Then Detective Tempesta interrupted Jason's thoughts . . .
"I was just thinking," said detective Tempesta, "this could be a racial attack on Ms. Martinelli's life." "You know with the Benson Hurst murder happening just a few months ago," said Tempesta. "And there have been a few more racial occurrences but they have been kept quiet to prevent unwanted violence," Detective Tempesta concluded.
Professional Reviews
Barnes and Nobles
I started out reading "Nex Forma" as a favor to a friend and coworker,Randolph Giles. I ended up taking a journey into a world of mystery, intrigue, danger, and romance. "Nex Forma" grabbed me @ the beginning, took me hostage til the end (3am I might add). I was left wanting more and ended up almost demanding sequels so I could find out what happened to other characters...Write faster Randy can't wait.
Amazon
Nex Forma
The book was exciting and flowed very well. The characters were believable and I enjoyed this creative adventure that kept your imagination waiting for a happy ending. The ending had suspense and surprises which included how real human beings on Earth are working towards a peaceful existence. I am letting a friend read the book and then my husband then I'm going to read it again just to make sure that I didn't miss anything. You will enjoy this book so don't pass it by.
Amazon
Science Fiction Thriller !
By Mark Fuchs on September 10, 2013
Format: Paperback
Nex Forma
A science fiction thriller, full of adrenalin pumping action and suspense, sure to keep you reading well into the night. Mr. Giles displays great skill at allowing his main characters to evolve intellectually and emotionally, without sacrificing any of the pulse pounding pace. Multiple minor characters are also developed and skillfully intertwined as the plot unfolds. Giles has a "clear" purpose for every character, and he does an excellent job of disguising those "clear" purposes, into an endless group of guessing games, for his readers. You know that every character will have a crucial impact in the story, you just don't know where, when, or how. The evolution of the "Prima Ballerina" from sheltered, bigoted diva, to "street wise" resident of the South Bronx, is nothing short of extraordinary. Giles handles this monumental transformation, with such realistic and logical ease, that you find yourself almost forgetting the 180 degree turns she makes physically, emotionally, and spiritually, while the suspense continues to build. The exploration of multiple underlying themes, while the fate of the world hangs ever so delicately in the balance, right up until the unexpected conclusion, left me craving for more, wondering what wild ride Giles' imagination will take me on next. Bring it on Randy, your fans are waiting !
Maria, raised in the Mafia and educated by the gangs of New York, is hunting the man who killed her Akalina, and she will kill anyone who gets in her way.
