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Category:
Mystery/Suspense
Publisher: John Spencer Yantiss
ISBN-10: 1481030914
Type: Fiction
Pages: 40
Copyright: October 2, 2010
ISBN-13: 9781481030915
Price: $2.99 (eBook)
Erelim. ac-cording to some ancient Jewish and Christian texts, the highest rank of angels, and defenders of God’s throne.
In Code Name: Erelim, genius, New York detective, Sherrod Colsne, receives a cry for help from a childhood friend of his country of origin, England. Sir Guy Hugo de May, Marquis of Maubrey, once head of MI6, and now President and CEO of Tower Of London Aegis, or TO-LA, is in Jacksonville, Florida for a conference with an American partner firm, Biocon, and Organic Processing Technologies, Inc., or OPTI, a rival enterprise claiming that it owned the rights to a very special CPU, or at least the bio-electrical materials and manufacturing procedures used in producing it. That processor, in the final developmental stage at Biocon, to-gether with software developed by TOLA, constituted a system referred to as “Erelim,” in fact a long-predicted technology of the most profound implications, organically-based computer processors, and potentially threatening intelligence and security agencies and processes the world over. Sherrod Reynard Colsne’s incisive genius, and his employment of all necessary resources, brings to light the culprit, while Monty’s hair-trigger reactions prevent further inju-ry or deaths.
Some very disturbing incidents have taken place at Denham Court, a substantial house situated on at least a couple of acres of riverfront property, at the end of Desmond Street, in Avondale, an old and refined neighborhood of Jacksonville. Along with his dauntless associate and chronicler, Monty Weston, Colsne hurriedly packs so as to catch Amtrak’s Silver Meteor at Penn Station.
What follows is a deceptively intricate train of events wherein one of the conference attendees is shot, and Monty is almost mortally poisoned. The Erelim device is
Excerpt
I am so used to functioning as point man, I bounded to the door in two steps, positioning my foot to keep it from fully opening, until we knew what was coming. Turning the knob, and allowing a four-inch crack, I saw that it was Miss Kincaid, by herself. I opened up, and she rushed, practically fell in, stopping herself by grabbing the back of the straight-backed chair Colsne had moved up to look at Sir Guy’s computer screen. She actually banged Colsne’s arm with the little shoulder bag she carried, its contents partially spilling out on the floor.
“Mr. Templeton has been shot!” she said, gasping for breath as she knelt unsteadily to retrieve the few scattered items. “I—I think he’s—I’m afraid he’s dead.”
She gulped, breathed hard some more, and some sounds began that my great-grandmother would have said were the prelude to a conniption fit. Having jumped up when she surged into the room, Colsne was in front of her. He helped her up, and then, holding her shoulders with his long fingers, gave her one good shake, firmly, but not violently. In another second, he did a reprise. The sounds subsided.
“Where, Miss Kincaid?”
“Out by the pool,” she said, now subdued.
Her form became quite rigid, and she swayed slightly. It looked like the shock was taking its toll. As Colsne eased her over and onto the loveseat, I dashed out the door, and raced down the hall to the stairs, tearing through the central hall and two intervening rooms. I was just about to the French windows that opened onto the lawn, separating the main house from the pool, tennis court, and docks, when Colsne caught up with me. Together we ran at breakneck speed to where we saw three people standing in a group, about four feet this side of the pool. As we covered the last thirty yards, I recognized Miss Waverly, Mr. Truman, and Ms. Traurig. I also recognized something on the ground in their midst. It was Roger Templeton, or his body.
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