NEPTUNE ISLAND, page 15
Enheim turned to Katya. “Go with Michio. Make sure that runabout asshole gets him to Saipan General.”
“What about you and Napoleon?” she protested.
“We’re staying here. Napoleon never leaves my side. I still have a date with the asshole who gave the order to kill us and destroy our home.”
“My home,” Roland interjected.
Enheim ignored Roland. “And that’s a date I intend to keep.” He pulled Katya to him and kissed her passionately on the mouth.
She weakened a little in his arms as she always did and smiled. “What a man.”
“Family comes first,” Enheim said proudly.
Katya kissed Lincoln on the cheek. “You are a good friend to Mitch-o here. It’s my turn to look after him now. Mitch-o will be fine.” She climbed aboard the runabout and sat next to Michio.
The boat owner gawked one last time at Katya. He winked at her then throttled up. He pushed forward on the throttle and roared away. The runabout disappeared among the thousands of other crafts lining the horizon.
Roland, standing next to Enheim, glimpsed movement in the water to the left of them. The ocean churned, swirled, and became a frothing maelstrom of white bubbles. The landing shuddered as a shockwave resonated from the ocean and surged through the rock face.
“What now?” Lincoln groaned.
34
10:00 a.m.
The ocean turbulence at the base of the cliff continued to churn. The white water maelstrom suddenly bulged in the center and expanded outwards. Slowly, a black metallic dome broke the surface and emerging from the water like a giant black leviathan rising from the ocean depths. Its glossy surface glistened in the morning light as water streamed from its rounded sides and cascaded back to the ocean below. The structure continued to climb the rock flank as it crept toward the apex of the cliff.
The dome was two hundred feet in length and fifty feet high. Apparently created from the latest nanocarbon compounds, the structure appeared incredibly lightweight for its size. A raised circular viewing platform surrounded by a safety rail was built into the dome’s top. Below the platform, on the fourth level, a floor-to-ceiling window encircled the structure. Below the vista window, a thin water channel ran the circumference of the structure. The research and development laboratories, located on the other three levels, featured recessed balconies and intermittent portholes. The bottom level housed two giant doors—the transom to the lower floors. The dome’s color and rail tracks matched the shade of the cliff face.
From a distance, it appeared that the structure had levitated up the side of the island. Hidden behind the dome and facing the cliff wall were dozens of giant girders supporting the structure. The crossbeams, mounted to an elongated plate, spanned the rear of the building. The plate attached to several rails running side-by-side, embedded in the cliff rock. The rails ran the vertical length of the cliff from below the ocean’s surface all the way to the compound at the summit.
A figure emerged from within the dome’s roof and stood at the platform safety railing. Jonathan Kane.
Kane faced the fleet of boats and aircraft before him. He spoke to the media, print and digital. He spoke to anyone concerned with the future of humanity, to anyone concerned with the future of Mother Earth.
Now was his moment.
“Thank you for your time. Thank you for your patience. Thank you for caring enough to listen to what I have to say. Sincerely, I thank you all. Your effort will be rewarded. People of the world, I give you—Neptune!” Kane raised his arms in a welcoming manner and smiled.
The blaring of safety horns, emanating from thousands of vessels at the same time, blasted across the ocean. Kane gloried in triumph.
*
On the landing, now far below the structure, the three men peered up at the massive building hanging from the cliff’s apex.
Roland shook his head in awe. “Now there’s something you don’t see every day.”
“Kane… you magnificent bastard.” Lincoln stared, amazed at the sight before him.
Enheim, eyes wide with astonishment, absently caressed Napoleon under the chin. “I’ll be fu—.”
Two cables slammed into the rock wall beside them. Armed with machine guns, two security personnel landed on the pier. The guards released their rappelling harnesses and trained their weapons on the trio. One of the guards quickly disarmed them. The muscle-bound guard from the sentry tower grabbed Lincoln’s cap and threw it aside.
“Good try,” he said, grinning at Lincoln. “You nearly got away with it, too—except for one thing. Glenn, the guard you left in the cell after taking his uniform, is gay.”
35
Surrounded by security, the three men were being marched across the compound when the plane thundered overhead. Lincoln stopped, midstride. His eyes lit up at the sight of the Bell V22 Osprey, a plane-helicopter hybrid with tiltrotor technology. The others almost ran into him as he gazed at the aircraft.
The plane turned laterally in mid-air, kicking up a storm of dust and dirt, then descended vertically toward the helicopter pad. The craft landed on the raised platform, its wing-tip mounted Rolls Royce turboprop engines slowly turning to a stop with a veil of swirling dust engulfing the craft. The rear cargo ramp swung down, and a slender woman wearing a helmet and padded motoring gear emerged, pushing a motorbike.
“This Kane has some serious money,” Lincoln muttered, as the three stared in awe at the aircraft before them.
“These things start at seventy million. Then there’s the maintenance—not to mention the fuel bill, you know,” Roland said, equally impressed.
The muscle-bound guard shoved Lincoln in the back with the butt of his rifle. Lincoln winced but continued walking, his eyes on the magnificent aircraft just a few feet away. The helmeted woman shot him a sidelong glance as she continued toward the superstructure, now at ground level with the cliff’s edge. A metal gangway, the width of a small truck, spanned the several feet between the cliff’s edge and the entrance to the dome. She walked her bike over the bridge, stopped to glance back at the trio, and then disappeared into the shadows of the structure.
The guard shoved Lincoln in the back again, jerking his head in the direction of the dome. Lincoln tried to rub the pain away as he crossed the bridge. Despite the roar of the crashing waves echoing between the cliff and the dome, he forced himself to not look down and to focus on the towering black doors looming closer. Between the gaps in the metal grating, the waves were visible far below smashing against the rocks. He pushed the mental image to the back of his mind, preferring not to relive that tortuous climb and the gut-wrenching fear of falling.
Inside the dome, the guards marched them down a hallway that to Lincoln appeared practical and functional. The service elevator doors slid open, and the guards herded them inside.
The elevator doors opened to a world of five-star grandeur. The guards escorted them down a plush, carpeted corridor where paintings of seascapes adorned the walls, including several of Neptune wielding his mighty trident. Ornately designed sconces, their lighting perfect balanced, decorated the hallway at regular intervals. A well-dressed woman in smart business attire, her blonde hair tied back, sat behind a chic workstation at the end of the hallway. She looked up, tapped a key on her pad, and silently, a panel behind her glided opened. She nodded to the guards who ushered the trio into the adjoining room.
“Holy shit,” Enheim exclaimed, admired the surroundings. “This is one classy bloody office.”
36
The elegant design and furnishings in Kane’s office exuded power and sophistication, presenting a perfect symbiotic relation between architect and interior decorator.
The opened shutters, mounted outside the floor-to-ceiling acrylic windows, allowed in the splendour of the late-morning glow. As the sun’s rays refracted over the stone’s perfect composition, light sparkled and danced across the marble floor, and the pastel-colored walls added to the soft ambiance of the space. Kane’s imposing desk, positioned before the large window vista, would have been at home in the Oval Office.
Kane stood leaning against his desk, studying the motley crew before him. “These are the men?” he asked the guard.
The muscle-bound guard from the sentry tower nodded.
Kane walked over and closely examined each member of the trio, their ragged and torn clothes soiled with grime and dirt. Meeting with human odor that invariably accompanies a short time in the tropical jungle, Kane rubbed his nose in disapproval.
Kane had been flabbergasted by the earlier call from security, and now he found it difficult to imagine that these men before him had achieved so much in so little time. He turned to the tower guard. “These are the men who acquired my property and technology and found their way onto my island undetected? They evaded my security force, shot my chief security officer, managed to escape, and by chance were captured again. Then, to top it all off, you now inform me that two of them have escaped. Does that sum it up?”
Embarrassed by the events of the previous few hours, the tower guard discreetly lowered his eyes. “Mr Kane,” he said, “Mr Maxwell has brought me up to speed with recent events and has asked me to take over his responsibilities while he is recovering in the infirmary. I have personally assumed all of Mr Maxwell’s duties.”
Kane glanced at the muscle-bound thug before him. “Understood.” He walked around the group, his hands clasped behind his back, contemplating his response. “Your responsibilities are noted.”
The guard grinned, pleased with his latest promotion.
“May I?” Kane indicated the pistol in the guard’s shoulder rig.
The guard hastily withdrew the firearm and handed it to Kane.
Kane flipped off the safety and took aim at Lincoln’s head. “Like my security personnel, I, too, have access to the security footage—sound and all.”
Lincoln stared back into Kane’s unblinking, emotionless eyes.
“You said—and I quote—‘What a waste. We could have had some real fun with her.’” Kane kept his eyes on Lincoln while speaking to the guard.
This unrelated comment took the guard by surprise. “Why, yes. Yes, I did. I had to keep up the act, Mr Kane. I had to let them think that they were getting away. It worked, too.”
“Yes, it did work. However, you didn’t know it wasn’t your friend Glen until Mr Monk here subsequently made the mistake of mock-shooting all the men in the group.”
The guard had heard rumours regarding Kane—unsettling rumours. His confidence evaporated, replaced by uncertainty. “Y-yes, sir. Th-that’s right.”
“So, when you said, ‘We could have had some real fun with her’ before you knew of the deception, you meant it. That was your true nature.”
The guard hesitated, unsure what to say.
Kane lowered the gun and confirmed that there was a round in the chamber. He locked the slide back in place and fired—at the muscle-bound guard. A crimson hole appeared in his forehead and he fell back, dead before he hit the floor.
The other three guards glanced sideways at each other and shifted uneasily.
“I do not want chauvinistic troglodytes in my organization. Women are to be respected.” Kane turned to Lincoln. “Don’t you just hate guys like that?” he said, waving the gun toward the body sprawled on the floor beside them.
Lincoln glanced down at the dead guard. “A real asshole,” he agreed.
“Exactly. All muscle and no brains.” Kane shook his head and continued with genuine sincerity. “I do not understand men of that nature. Don’t they know intelligence is to be sought after, not this ridiculous alpha-male display?” He shook his head in disgust. “I have worked too hard and too long to have my vision of a new world jeopardized. I cannot and will not tolerate ignorance or failure. It’s simply not an option.”
Kane glanced at the guard closest to the body. “Take him away.”
“Yes, Mr. Kane.” The guard whispered into his earpiece and two more guards entered the room. As they dragged the corpse out of the office, they watched in disbelief as the body smeared blood across the polished marble.
Kane, emerging from contemplation, had lost his train of thought. “Where were we? Oh, yes. That’s right.” He leveled the gun again at Lincoln’s head. “You and your friends have done remarkably well for men who were out-gunned and out-manned. I applaud you.” He gave them all a small golf clap. “However, all good things must come to an end.”
This guy is a real nut job.
“So… How would you like to die? On your knees, or on your feet?”
Lincoln stood his ground, defiant, unwavering.
“Good for you,” Kane said, impressed.
“Can I have a cigarette?” Lincoln asked.
“Of course you can. But only if I can have one, too.” He grinned like a caught-out schoolboy. “Don’t tell anyone.”
Lincoln nodded toward the back pocket of his jeans.
Kane pulled out the pack of cigarettes. He handed one to Lincoln, then lit it and lit one for himself. “We have a lot in common, Mr. Monk. It’s a shame it has to be this way.”
Lincoln took in what may have been his last draw of a cigarette, and exhaled. Enheim covered Napoleon’s head with his hand and swiped away the excess smoke.
“Ah, that ridiculous man with that ridiculous dog strapped to his chest.” Kane went over to Enheim and gazed at Napoleon, still in the harness. He tried to remove Napoleon from the pouch, but the dog held tight. Kane nodded to the remaining guards. The first guard raised his pistol and held it at Enheim’s head. The second guard yanked down on the pouch. The stitching tore as Napoleon came free. Kane gently lifted Napoleon from the harness. He turned the little dog around in his hands, studying the small canine.
Enheim’s face became a mask of hate and furious restraint. “You hurt one hair on that dog’s body and—”
“—and what?” Kane said. “You are in no position to make threats.” He turned back to Napoleon, reminded of another time, another place. “When I was a young boy, we sometimes went for days without food. The hunger consumes your body, your mind, your soul. Soon, you will do anything to stop that hunger.” He glanced from Napoleon to Enheim’s steely gaze. “The cooked flesh is quite satisfying. If it’s marinated for a few hours, it can be very delicious.”
Enheim took a slow, deep breath to relax, then asked casually, “So you’re the guy who gave the order to destroy my house and kill me and my family?”
Kane stroked Napoleon under the chin. “I’m the guy who wanted my property back. But if you put it like that, then yes. I’m the guy who destroyed your house and tried to kill you and your family,” he repeated, mocking Enheim.
“Oh,” Enheim shrugged. Before Kane could register his response, Enheim pounced. In one swift motion, he grabbed Napoleon and head-butted Kane square in the face. Kane staggered and clutched his bloodied face, open-mouthed in surprise.
“That’s how cockneys deal with assholes,” Enheim spat.
The guards leapt into action, pushing past Roland and Lincoln. Lincoln collided with the closest guard and fell to the floor.
Enheim was preparing to hit Kane again when the guard slammed his pistol butt into the back of his head. He collapsed to the floor, with Napoleon still in his arms. The second guard kicked him in the ribs for good measure as the pistol butt came down a second time. The guard raised his gun again, but Kane waved them off.
The guards backed away, leaving Enheim moaning on the floor.
Kane wiped the blood from his face and knelt next to Enheim. “I’ll give you that one. I was rude. I apologize.” He nodded to the guards who lifted Enheim and dragged him back into place next to Roland and Lincoln. Enheim held his free arm to his ribs and winced. Roland offered to hold Napoleon, but Enheim shook his head.
Kane faced them again, still wiping blood from his nose.
“Do you know that all the dogs on the face of the Earth, right now, are descended from wolves?” Kane stared directly into Enheim’s glaring eyes.
Lincoln, knew he had to diffuse the situation. “Humans from a distant past developed the ability to train wolves,” he said. “Eventually the wolves became domesticated and bred to become what we know today as the canine species.”
Kane laughed. “I really do like you, Mr. Monk. You are full of surprises.” He nodded. “One hundred percent correct. Well done. Little dogs are… for want of a better phrase… just little dogs. They never make a difference. They are inconsequential. The big dogs of the world, however, they are the survivors. They do the real work—the work that must be done. The big dogs are the rulers of the canine world who will always command the little dogs. It’s nature.”
Kane turned to Roland and smiled. “Mr Pom. You are here for the spoils of war.” Kane leaned over to Roland and whispered, “The technology is amazing. It will revolutionize the world, don’t you think?”
“Yes. It most certainly vill. May I ask you a question?”
Kane waved his hands in a why not gesture.
“The V22 Osprey outside. Reports on them are mixed. Do they really handle that badly?”
Kane looked at Roland with admiration. “You know your craft.” He paused to consider the question. “Let’s just say that Osprey is my second one this year. I’m just waiting for the V280 Valor. It’s far more practical and requires less maintenance.” He winked in Roland’s direction.
Roland nodded his approval.
Kane clasped his hands together as if preparing for work. “So, here we all are, full of surprises. Well, I have one more surprise that will knock your socks off, as they say.” He spoke into his headphone. “Lana, I need to see Sophia please.” He returned to his desk and leaned against the edge, waiting.
Sophia, the petite publicist, walked through the door, barely glancing at the men being held at gunpoint. She had seen captured activists and eco-terrorists in Kane’s presence before. Today was just another day at the office.
