The Olympus Device: Book Three Read online

  Some depicted the Texan as a fringe anarchist, throwing in an element of conspiracy theorist for good measure. They propagated the idea that anyone who didn’t trust his own government was an unsound and suspicious individual, especially if he were holding the Olympus Device – and using it. Was this unknown man from West Texas intent on taking power for himself? Did he want to rule the world? Could he be trusted?

  The opposite side of the spectrum embraced Dusty’s foresight and caution. Of course, the federal government couldn’t be trusted, they argued – especially given such a potent, society-altering technology. Corruption rampaged through the halls of Washington, and with something like the rail gun, the situation could only get worse.

  Trustworthy or not, the debate wasn’t lost on the national leadership. In the White House and on Capitol Hill, elected officials sparred from both sides of the bitter dispute. Core American values like free enterprise, private property, and individual liberties were leveraged against arguments touting orderly society, rule of law, and the principles of eminent domain.

  “We wouldn’t allow any individual to meander around with a nuclear weapon,” stated a senator on a Sunday morning talk show. “The device developed by Mr. Weathers is actually more powerful in some regards. No one person can be trusted with such capabilities.”

  The White House maintained an even starker position. “The United States government has maintained the world’s largest nuclear arsenal for over 60 years without incident or severe mishap. History has proven that we can steward mankind’s most potent discoveries. Why should this new technology be any different?”

  The opponents, however, had their own set of talking points. One senior member of Congress summed them up nicely, “Do we really want to make the same mistakes all over again? Do we want another arms race and cold war? The scientists and engineers who split the atom regretted that their work was weaponized, a turn of events that resulted in half a century of fear. Even today, one of our primary national concerns is the threat of a madman nuking one of our cities. We have spent trillions of dollars, invested significant portions of our national brain trust, and dedicated untold resources toward nuclear development while at the same time trying desperately to contain the genie in the bottle. Mr. Weathers is not only holding the moral high-ground on this issue, but also his position is forward thinking and sage.”

  For both sides of the disagreement, the elephant in the room was even more frightening – what if the Olympus Device fell into evil hands?

  Supporters of government’s controlling the device leveraged the incident along the Mexican border as their prime example, closely followed by what was known of the Russian attempt to procure the technology for themselves. Wasn’t it better that the U.S. possessed and protected the rail gun, even if it were to be weaponized?

  “Fear mongers!” came the response. “Just like the last arms’ race!” shouted the opposition.

  But it was Grace Kennedy’s voice that carried the day.

  Appearing in a nationally televised interview, she avoided the highbrow strategic arguments while at the same time appealing to what she knew mattered the most. “I can’t believe you would support such a gullible and simpleminded position. The only issue here is the economy,” she informed the host, deliberately challenging the old political standard. “Imagine the quality of life every citizen on the planet would experience if my client’s technology were developed to deliver free, clean, renewable energy.”

  “Take the example of food storage and preservation,” she continued. “Every household on earth could have a refrigerator. This would not only fight famine and malnutrition, but also create jobs. Somebody has to manufacture those appliances... ship them… maintain them. Imagine the average American household budget without energy costs. No electric bill. No natural gas bill. No filling up the gas tank on 2.5 cars in the driveway. Clean air in our cities, global warming, and carbon footprints – they all cease to become issues.”

  Without giving the host a chance at rebuttal, Grace spoke directly into the camera, “Every aspect of our lives would be improved. The cost of food, clothing, travel, healthcare, taxes… it would all go down with free energy. Could your city lower property taxes if it didn’t have to pay for the electricity used for streetlights? What about the cost to your children’s school for heat and air-conditioning? And all the while we’re eliminating millions of tons of pollutants.”

  The message resonated with the public. Grace was beautiful, bright and sincere. Her presence and presentation, combined with the potential of a better life, was uplifting. The fact that she touched on many Americans’ favorite subject, their spending power, couldn’t be ignored.

  Grace sensed a tipping point in her relentless campaign to bring the man she loved in from the cold, shouting her message to the masses using any venue available. She was interviewed for radio, sat for newspaper interviews, and recorded countless sound bites and appearances on nation television.

  The president and federal government had little choice but to modify their once-entrenched position.

  The press conference was like any of the other daily briefings hosted by the executive branch. The room exploded with questions when the announcement was made - the president was forming a Blue Ribbon Commission to study the best possible future for the Texan’s discovery.

  The press secretary ignored the reporter’s outburst, continuing with a list of appointees and reading a summary resume for each. There were several scholars, a retired Supreme Court justice, and experts from various government departments, including the Pentagon.

  The public’s reaction was just as the White House anticipated. The people were relieved that the government was going to put an end to the controversy once and for all. Those sympathetic to Dusty’s cause were pleased, the citizens who wanted the madman off their nation’s streets merely satisfied.

  An air of optimism quickly replaced both imminent doom and distrust. More than anything else, that’s what most of the Washington politicians had wanted.

  Most, but not all.

  The Cayman Islands were world-renown for white sandy beaches, tropical weather, and beautiful women. The resort community was truly a vacation paradise. All of this was lost on the man waiting for his luggage at Sir Captain Charles Kirkconnell International Airport.

  Nervously scanning his surroundings, he noted the general lack of noise and bustle usually associated with a transportation hub. “The name is bigger than the place,” he whispered just as the luggage began appearing on the automated belt.

  Dr. Leonard Church had never journeyed outside the United States before. That… and the fact that his assignment had mysteriously demanded absolute confidentiality regarding his travels… resulted in an extra layer of perspiration soaking his shirt.

  Always a high-strung individual, the Department of Energy employee had never been associated with anything remotely clandestine in his 12 years of government service. His knowledge of physics, gained while earning a doctorate at Michigan State, was typically utilized pouring over inspection reports from nuclear power plants. Hardly the stuff of Hollywood spy movies.

  “Suck it up,” he whispered to himself, hefting his bag and heading for the one and only taxi stand. “You’re finally doing something important. Don’t mess it up.”

  At least he thought it was going to be important.

  Graduating with a less-than-stellar GPA from a little-known program, Leonard had been passed over by all of the important research institutions after graduation. Now, a decade after finally completing his studies, he admitted the term “ignored” might have been a more apt description of his post-graduate job search. During times of deep, often negative introspection, he decided the phrase “laughed at,” might have been an even better fit.

  Were it not for his grandfather-in-law, Dr. Church might not have managed to land his lowly government occupation. Marrying the granddaughter of a serving U.S. Senator did have its perks.

  Pushing a pair of
unfashionable black rimmed glasses higher on his nose, Leonard entered the cab, handing the driver a slip of paper containing the address where he had been ordered to report.

  His mood improved as the taxi managed the island’s narrow lanes. In his late forties with thinning black hair and undistinguished green eyes, his career hadn’t delivered much in the way of gratification, notoriety, or promotion. Perhaps that was all about to change… perhaps his contributions and intellect were finally being recognized.

  The taxi’s master wasn’t running the vehicle’s air conditioner, a fact that further enhanced the doctor’s discomfort. Returning to dwell in his usual state of self-doubt, Leonard realized that wearing a black suit and red tie hadn’t been a wise ensemble for the tropics.

  “How can a man who writes articles on chaos theory not consider far enough ahead to dress appropriately for the climate?” he chided.

  Fortunately, it wasn’t far to the Cayman Reef Resort. After paying the driver in U.S. currency, Dr. Church almost forgot his briefcase in the back seat. Again, he cursed the strain, knowing the contents of the satchel were the primary reason he’d been summoned.

  He was so caught up in his thoughts about the meeting that he didn't bother to appreciate the passing scenery. Leonard arrived at the welcome counter, wholly focused on making a good impression on his wife’s grandfather, Senator Hughes.

  The clerk at the desk was a tanned young man sporting a white dress shirt and khakis. The young local tried not to stare at the arriving guest’s wool suit and tie, but the task was difficult given the amount of sweat pouring off the gentleman’s brow.

  “Hello, I'm Leonard Church,” the doctor announced. “I'm here to meet with Senator Hughes.”

  “Welcome to the Cayman Reef Resort, Mr. Church. You’re the first to arrive. You will be in meeting room B15,” the clerk stated after typing keys on the computer.

  “Thank you.”

  “Would you care for anything to drink from the bar? We’re famous for our margaritas and fuzzy navels here at the Reef,” offered the clerk.

  “No, no thank you. Could you point me toward the conference room, please?”

  “Of course, sir. I'll have someone show you to the meeting hall,” the clerk answered, as he waved one of the hotel workers over to the main counter.

  A young female worker with a ponytail, dressed in a nearly identical outfit as the clerk, rushed to the check-in counter.

  “Sally, please take Mr. Church to meeting room B15,” instructed the clerk.

  “Yes, sir,” Sally replied. And then turning towards Leonard she directed, “Follow me, please.”

  The doctor followed Sally down a long, lushly appointed hallway, still too keyed up to notice the expensive artwork and exotic island décor. They continued for several minutes, twisting and turning through the massive facility’s corridors. Finally, they reached a door presenting the appropriate bronze label.

  Sally used her key card on the lock, twisting open the handle to reveal a medium size room with an extensive table surrounded by leather executive chairs. In front of each seat rested a notepad, two pencils, and a water glass. Oh, thank heavens, a pitcher of ice water! I thought I might pass out any second, Leonard noted, nodding with satisfaction at the answer to his growing thirst while simultaneously mopping the sweat from his neck and slightly loosening his tie.

  “If you need anything else, just give us a call,” Sally finished after observing the guest guzzle a full glass of the cool drink in a matter of seconds.

  “Thank you,” replied Leonard, refilling the tumbler for the second time.

  After Sally had left, Leonard opened his briefcase and took a seat. He began to remove a stack of file folders, organizing them in a methodical fashion on the table. He thought of himself as a man of order and logic, a person who believed the world would be a better place if humanity’s existence were conducted with a more systematic approach.

  The doctor’s personal philosophy concerning his species went further than a mere distaste for mankind’s seemingly haphazard approach to propagation. Over the years, he’d developed a strongly held position that in order for humans to survive they must integrate more closely with the environmental systems that surrounded them. As his ideology morphed and transformed, scientific facts began to mutate into what one colleague had described as a “zealous, religious fervor opposing the footprint man is leaving on the planet.”

  After only a few years at the Department of Energy, Leonard found himself at odds with fossil fuels, nuclear power, individual consumption, and the tons of carbon emissions his species was dumping into the atmosphere every day.

  And that’s why he’d become fascinated with the Texas gunsmith’s invention.

  Frustrated by his fellow earthlings’ shortsighted, unquenchable desire to consume energy, the doctor had all but given up on his fellow man. The planet was dying right before their eyes, and none of them seemed to be able to turn the tide.

  But the rail gun, or more importantly the potential it held to produce clean energy, could change all of that. Out of nowhere, Leonard saw an opportunity to reverse mankind’s suicide charge. He had made a vow to do everything he could to bring the new technology to fruition before it was too late. Instinctively, he knew that the only way to accomplish this task was to take immediate action and harness a new weapon that had grabbed the headlines.

  His logic had fallen on deaf ears at the DOE.

  Despite numerous pleas, papers, requests, and meetings with the agency’s administrators, he’d watched in frustration as the government made mistake after mistake concerning the Olympus Device.

  The doctor’s protests became so adamant and vocal that he’d received a verbal warning, straight from the secretary’s office. “Tone it down,” the under-secretary had stated. “De-radicalize your position immediately, or disciplinary action will be taken. We are a nonpolitical entity, and the secretary wants to remain on the sidelines of this issue.”

  Angry, embarrassed, and now worried about his career, Leonard had fallen into a state of quiet depression.

  Two days ago, all of that had changed.

  A message appeared in his inbox, informing the doctor that his presence was required for an off-site study and briefing with Senator Hughes and his staff. Leonard was so thrilled by the assignment, he never stopped to question the unusual delivery method, or the fact that none of his co-workers had mentioned the upcoming conference. A round trip airline ticket was delivered the next day, along with an authorization for his absence from the office.

  After the files had been tidied up, Leonard leaned back in his chair, patiently waiting on the other attendees’ arrival. Perhaps there is a chance we can save the planet earth after all, he mused.

  The second person to arrive in the tropical paradise was a man that most of the staff at the Reef recognized immediately. Richard Hughes was a senator from Pennsylvania. He had long used the island’s finest resort to conduct business far and away from the prying eyes and often malicious press that occupied Washington, DC.

  In his early sixties, the senator was still considered an attractive man, or so he hoped. He preferred the term “steel” instead of “gray” when referring to his hair, often claiming his eyes were cerulean instead of blue.

  Richard was more than just another distinguished gentleman from the Keystone State. During most of his 28 years in the Senate, he’d earned a reputation as a fierce debater as well as a fair negotiator… and was credited with numerous important pieces of legislation.

  All of that had drastically changed in the last few years, however. After a failed attempt to win his party’s nomination for the presidency, Hughes had become bitter, his rejection by the American people seeming to drive the politician toward the fringe elements of his caucus.

  Recently, he’d been informed that the national party wouldn’t be supporting his candidacy in the next election.

  “It’s time to retire with honor, move on, and enjoy life and your family, Richard,�
�� the party bosses had stated. “You’ve served your country well for a quarter of a century, but the demographics of Pennsylvania are changing rapidly. We want to bring in some new faces and build momentum to retake the White House.”

  The message had been both clear and insulting.

  Years of serving in the world’s most exclusive organization had engrained Hughes with sage wisdom and plenty of partisan savvy. He’d merely smiled at the messengers, nodding his agreement while mumbling something like, “I was thinking of hanging up my hat anyway. I’m actually happy the boys down at headquarters see it the same way.”

  But deep down inside, Richard was a man on fire. Livid, offended, and feeling like he was being cast aside due to his strong views, the senator was intent on finding a way… any way to remain one of the most important, influential people in the world.

  To men like Hughes, power was everything. He wasn’t ready to retire, be relegated to the political sidelines or fade away to become a footnote in the most obscure of history books. Quite the opposite was true.

  The senator was stalwartly convicted that there was so much wrong with America - so much left for him to do. He saw a country in peril, sliding down a slope of despair, and needing her best and brightest to right the country’s course and steer her back to prosperity.