From Here To 1137; Episode 33, The Big Race

This is episode thirty-three of the novel, From Here To 1137 AD. If you would like to purchase From  Here To 1137 AD, it is available on Amazon in Kindle format or paperback. 

The Big Race

Balsa and gliricidia trees surrounded Tom. Their pleasant green leaves wrestled in waves from breezes coming from the northeast. He walked out from the grove of trees onto a dirt path winding through the park. He hurried in the direction of the bank. He smiled at a young couple as they walked by, looking queerly at him.

‘I should have worn something for summer,’ Tom thought to Brain.

‘My apologies,’ Brain said, ‘I should have prepared you.’

‘I’m already starting to sweat,’ Tom thought.

‘The MAS has a cooling feature,’ Brain said. ‘All you have to do is say, MAS and the temperature.’

‘That’s okay,” Tom thought, ‘I don’t want to get soft.’

‘Okay, then,” Brain said, ‘you’ll remain at the ambient temperature.’

‘Can you give me a report on Edgar?’

‘He just entered the bank,’ Brain said, ‘Pedro is approaching the cab.’

Tom started to jog. 

‘Apparently, things went well for Pedro,’ Brain said. ‘The cab just drove away.’

Tom reached the edge of the park. He jogged two blocks and stopped across the street from the bank. 

‘Pedro is sitting on a bench. He is wearing a yellow shirt,’ Brain said. ‘Do you see him?’

‘Yes.’

‘He has a motorcycle parked three blocks away,’ Brain said.

‘What direction?’

‘East.’

Tom walked across the street and to the street heading east of the bank. He wanted to remain unknown to Edgar. He moved to a position where he could no longer see the front of the bank.

Moments later, Pedro streaked east, down a street full of pedestrians, vehicles, and shops. He ran in the direction of his motorcycle. 

Tom dashed after Pedro at his top speed. Tom quickly realized that on his own speed, he could never catch Pedro. And Pedro ran confidently that his pursuer would never catch up with him. 

‘Brain, is Edgar okay?’ He asked as he ran.

Brain responded, “Pedro pulled the knife and threatened Edgar. He handed over a bag. Edgar complied. He’s okay.”

Relieved, Tom ran harder after Pedro, who was far ahead. 

‘MAS, make me run faster.’ 

Tom’s pace became faster with no effort. 

“Stop!!!” Tom yelled.

Pedro glanced over his shoulder. Instinctively, he knew Tom was running faster. He caught sight of his motorcycle leaning against a building a block away. He ran harder and harder.

Tom caught up to Pedro. He gripped his shoulder and spun him to the ground. 

“Now you are going to pay,” Pedro said and pulled out his knife.

Before Pedro could develop another thought, in a blur, Tom grabbed hold of Pedro’s hand, gripping the knife. Tom squeezed until the knife dropped to the ground.

Pedro jerked and tried to break the grip around his wrist. It was as if he were handcuffed to a fire hydrant. 

“You can have the money,” Pedro said fearfully, handing the bag to Tom.

“Here’s what you are going to do,” Tom said. “You are going to go back to the bank. The man you took this from will probably be inside reporting to the police what happened. I know as well as you know that the police are very slow. That gives you time to return the money to the man and get away. I know your name. I know where you live. I know where you work. I know everything about you. If the money is not returned, I’ll come after you.”

“Please,” Pedro said, “my hand is numb, no feeling.”

Tom slowly released his grip. Pedro rubbed the circulation back into his hand.

“Start walking,” Tom said. 

They hurried toward the bank.

“Who are you?” Pedro asked.

“I’m a fast man.”

“What should I say to the man I took the money from?” Pedro said.

“You’ve been a liar all your life,” Tom said, “You’ll come up with something.”

“Do you think he’d believe that Jesus spoke to me?” Pedro asked.

“You could try it,” Tom said.

“I know all the fast runners in San Jose and all of Costa Rica,” Pedro said. “Why have I not heard of you or seen you?”

Tom did not answer. 

“You are very strong,” Pedro said.

Tom remained quiet.

“I am an athlete, you know,” Pedro said.

“I know that. I know all about you.”

“I used to box,” Pedro said.

“I’m aware.”

“I know about strength,” Pedro said. “I know what a man’s strength is. Your strength is not a man’s strength. And the speed that you grabbed my wrist: I’ve never seen anything that fast.”

“You should get out more,” Tom said, and added to change the subject, “Tell me what you are going to do when we get to the bank.”

“I will step into the bank,” Pedro said. “I will toss the money back and say it was all a mistake and run away.”

“That’s the best you can come up with?” Tom asked.

“They have guards,” Pedro said. “I could get shot.”

“Here’s what you do,” Tom said. “You bring up a good point. I don’t want to see you get hurt. Especially when a possibility existed that I could have stopped this from happening. Get out of here. Go get your motorcycle and try to live a good life. I know the odds against that are slim. I’ll see to it that the money is returned.”

“How do I know that you’re not the thief?” Pedro said. “And you’re just faster than me.”

Tom grimaced. “I guess you’re going to have to trust me on this, or I can force you back to the bank where you will be recognized, captured, or shot.”

Pedro stared ahead. He took a small breath.

“Pedro, go before I have to hurt you,” Tom said.

Pedro looked around, almost sensing this entire episode might be a practical joke. “I’ll go.”

“Smart choice,” Tom said.

Pedro hurried away.

Tom walked back to the bank. 

A police car stopped in front of the bank. 

Tom approached one of the policemen. “Excuse me, sir, I found this in a flower bed around the corner. There’s a lot of money inside.”

The policeman looked puzzled and took the bag from Tom.

“It’s the bank’s pouch,” Tom said. “The money must belong to them.”

“Did you see who put it in the flower bed?” The policeman asked.

“I think a man in a yellow shirt did it,” Tom said. “I think it was yellow. Maybe it was more gold. I’m not good at colors.”

“That matches a description of a man who stole a customer’s money. Come inside with me,” the policeman said. “There may be a reward.”

“That’s okay,” Tom said. “I’m late for a doctor’s appointment. I have to hurry. I’m glad to help.”

The policeman walked into the bank with the pouch in hand. Tom returned to the park. He found the grove of trees where he had been transported. He gave the command to transport him back to the pod. And he was gone. 

From Here To 1137 AD; Episode 32, On The Way To San Jose

This is episode thirty-two of the novel, From Here To 1137 AD. If you would like to purchase From  Here To 1137 AD, it is available on Amazon in Kindle format or paperback.  

On The Way To San Jose

From the pod, Tom arranged with his bank to have funds ready for transfer to Edgar’s bank in San Jose, Costa Rica. 

“It seemed prudent to wait,” Brain said, “but why are we going to San Jose, Costa Rica?”

“Things happen. As good as you are, you cannot read the hearts and minds of others. You can isolate a person and predict a high degree of probable actions, but humans are often irrational.”

“Well said,” Brain said. “It is good that you recognize my limitations. Total dependency on me is not good for your mental or emotional well-being.”

“Let’s get to San Jose,” Tom commanded. 

“All charted and ready to go at your command,” Brain said.

“Let’s go,” Tom heaved a thumbs up. 

Tom felt a gradual lift. The pod rose and soon went beyond the Earth’s atmosphere.

“We are at a cruising speed of Mach four-point-seven-five,” Brain said. “Is that sufficient?”

“As long as we don’t get stopped.”

“Can you locate the bank Edgar will be going to?”

“The data collected indicates a bank on the west side of San Jose,” Brain said.

“Make certain I’m protected with MAS and Instaport me to a secluded place near the bank.”

“Are you expecting difficulty?” Brain asked.

“Yes,” Tom said. “Edgar will be picking up five thousand dollars in cash. That is quite a temptation. All it takes is a bank employee named Rosa to call her cousin, Jaunita, who will call her brother, Giuseppe, who, with his buddy, Rico, will mug my brother, Edgar, before he has time to catch a cab to the airport.”

“Do you know these people?” Brain asked.

“It’s a fictional scenario.”

“Thanks for informing me,” Brain said. “I had already begun processing and identifying Rosa, Jaunita, Giuseppe, and Rico.”

“Here’s something you can do: monitor all phone calls leaving the bank where Edgar will be receiving his money.”

“In progress,” Brain said. 

In less than an hour, Tom ordered the pod shrouded and to descend to a thousand feet above the bank. 

“Brain, has the electronic transfer taken place?”

“Yes, it has,” Brain said. “And may I add that you understand human behavior quite admirably.”

“Meaning?”

“A woman named Emma Rojas, not more than a minute ago, placed a call to her boyfriend, at least that’s what it sounded like. His name is Pedro Montez. He is a fence contractor and low-level thief. He specializes in snatch-and-grab crimes. He’s very successful. He also plays soccer and is a fast runner. He played for the national team for three years. Emma Rojas appears to be only one of two other girlfriends of Pedro. Margarita Sanchez and Lucinda Zappa are also his girlfriends, and they work at banks. Apparently, Pedro is much better at love than soccer. Although he has erected several fences, it appears to be no more than a cover enterprise for what he does well—snatch and grab, and run fast.”

“Why is this of interest to me?” Tom said impatiently to speed the conversation up.

“I thought it might add some context and color to the situation,” Brain said. “Anyway, I was able to pick up their conversation. Pedro will be in front of the bank when Edgar arrives by cab. When Edgar goes inside to collect his money, Pedro will pay the cab driver to leave. When your brother comes out of the bank, Pedro will pull a knife on your brother, take the money, and run.”

“Well,” Tom said, walking to the Instaport, “let’s get me down there. And make it somewhere inconspicuous.”

“There is a park close by with no one around,” Brain suggested.

“Perfect,” Tom stepped into the Instaport.

“At your command,” Brain said.

“I’m ready, go.”

From Here To 1137 AD; Episode 31, Checking On Edgar

This is episode thirty-one of the novel, From Here To 1137 AD. If you would like to purchase From  Here To 1137 AD, it is available on Amazon in Kindle format or paperback.  

Checking On Edgar

The sound of the phone rang over the pod’s sound system. It picked up. 

“Hello,” Edgar said.

“Hi, Edgar. How are you doing?”

“Staying out of trouble,” Edgar said.

“I wanted to check in on you.”

“I’m fine,” Edgar said. “How are you doing?”

“I’m doing good,” Tom said. “It’s cold. We’ve had some snow.”

“What have you been doing?” Edgar asked.

“You know, the regular farm stuff. Oh, I went to a farm implement show over in Ft. Wayne.”

“Sounds like a great time,” Edgar responded sarcastically. “I bet you got a wall calendar, some pencils, and one of those rubber coin purses.”

“I wanted to let you know I can send you a little something each month.”

“My allowance?” Edgar said sarcastically.

“Look, I know this isn’t ideal for you. Let me figure some things out.”

“I saw a position open at a local restaurant,” Edgar continued. “They need a dishwasher.”

“Edgar, I don’t like seeing you live like you are. I want the best for you, but I want you alive.”

“I’m doing okay, Tom,” Edgar said. “I think I could enjoy this if not for looking over my shoulder all the time. Paranoia is real. I’m getting so I can’t sleep or eat.”

“You’ve had some time to think about this: where would you feel safe? Just name it.”

“It’s amazing,” Edgar said. “I have thought about that.”

“Well,” Tom said encouragingly, “where?”

“Tristan da Cunha,” Edgar said.

“You have my curiosity.”

“I read something recently where it is one of the remotest places in the world. Few want to go there. I thought about other islands, but that one seemed best.”

“How soon do you think you can be ready to go?”

“As long as it takes to get to the airport,” Edgar said.

“What about packing your bag?”

“I told you paranoia is real and terrible,” Edgar said. “My bags are packed.”

“Find out what it will cost to fly to Tristan da Cunha. Then go to a bank right away. Get all the information needed to wire the money to you.” Can you do that in two hours?”

“I think so,” Edgar said.

“Call me as soon as you have the information. Take care.” 

Brain disconnected the call. 

“Brain,” Tom said, “can we be in San Jose, Costa Rica in two hours?”

“With a good tailwind,” Brain quipped.

From Here To 1137 AD, Episode 30, Sell

This is episode thirty of the novel, From Here To 1137 AD. If you would like to purchase From  Here To 1137 AD, it is available on Amazon in Kindle format or paperback.  

Sell

After the meeting with Gene Francis, Tom drove back to the farm. He walked back to the pod and entered. 

He relaxed in the captain’s chair. “Well, Brain, have you been missing me?”

“Sorry,” Brain replied, “that’s not a concept I can grasp.”

“It’s a conversation starter.”

“Not for a machine it is,” Brain said.

“I want to take something up with you.”

“I’m all ears,” Brain said.

“You’re a machine.”

“Sorry,” Brain said, “given my latest reply, you are not in the mood for colloquial idioms expressing that I’m willing to consider what you intend to say.” 

“Let’s cut the man versus machine banter. I’d like to know when to sell the stock that I’m holding in Braxton Industrial Coating?”

“There are long-term investment strategies requiring…”

Tom interrupted. “Stop! You're sounding like one of those brochures again. You know my goals and intentions. Please deal with them.”

“Sorry,” Brain said, “I attempted to humor you with a ridiculous reply for your given situation. My algorithm indicated humor was needed to ease the recent tension you have been experiencing.”

“I appreciate it, Brain, but when can I sell and get this all behind me?”

“Given the present circumstances and taking into account prospects, you can hold onto the shares for another thirty days to reach full short-term benefits. I would be remiss not to mention them. However, I am aware of your desire to replace the funds removed from various places before being discovered and any ramifications that may ensue. A sell order can be placed at any time. This will allow all parties to be repaid. The condition of your trust will be safe. There is also awareness of your concern for Edgar. I would suggest sending him no more than one thousand dollars a month for a year. It should be done in cash. It would be best if Gene Francis were unaware of those transactions.”

“You meant he’s not to be trusted?” Tom said, shocked.

“No,” Brain said. “That is not what was meant. He has a legal obligation governing trust laws. Forwarding a stipend to Edgar would appear to fall beyond the legal scope of the trust arrangement. He may agree to such an arrangement out of loyalty to you and your family, but he would be putting himself into a legal quagmire if ever examined.”

“Thank you, Brain.”

“Back to your original query,” Brain continued. “You could put in an order to sell at today’s closing price. Keep in mind, such a sell-off may adversely affect the value of shares held by other shareholders; it will be temporary, lasting only a day or two.”

“Will this cause one of those disturbances Gordon spoke about?” Tom asked. “I don’t want to send some sort of signal to some faraway galaxy that something is amiss.”

“There is no need for concern,” Brain said. “These actions will cause hardly a blip in the overall stock exchange. A week from now, nobody will remember. I don’t mean that literally.”    

“I’m aware,” Tom replied and asked. “Can you give me a phone line and make it sound like it’s coming from my home phone?”

“I always do,” Brain affirmed. 

“You’re a real pal,” Tom said.

“I am not sure of your mental health,” Brain said. “Having a machine as a pal is not emotionally healthy.”

Tom held his head down and shook it.

“Don’t hide it,” Brain said. “You thought it was funny.”

“Make that call for me,” Tom grinned.

After the call was placed and answered, Tom said, “This is Tomas Bales. Can I speak with Sam Gilbert?”

Tom waited.

“Sam, this is Thomas Bales. Sell all of my stock an hour after the market opens tomorrow. Forward the funds to my bank.”

Tom listened.

“I’ll be in tomorrow to finalize everything. Thanks and see you tomorrow.”

Brain disconnected the call.

“Do you want to talk to Edgar?” Brain asked.

“Yeah, that would be good.”