From Here To 1137 AD; Episode 23, Edgar's Gone

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

Edgar's Gone

Tom rested for a while. 

“Brain.”

“Yes.”

“Earlier, I mentioned a rental car,” Tom said. “And it came to me that I’m too young, so Instaport me to in front of the bed and breakfast that Edgar is staying at.”

“Anytime you are ready,” Brain said.

Tom stepped into the Instaport. “I’m ready.”

Soon, he stood in front of the bed and breakfast. He walked up to the door and pushed the doorbell button.

An elderly man in slippers and casual clothing came to the door. “Can I help you?”

“Yes, I’m looking for Edgar Bales?”

“Are you his brother?”

“Yes.”

“He left a little over an hour and a half ago. He said if you came by, to tell you he would take care of everything.”

“He said nothing else?”

“That’s it.”

“How did he leave?”

“He called a cab.”

“Thank you, sir,” Tom said. “Have a good evening.”

Tom walked out to the street and walked away from the bed and breakfast.

“Did you hear that, Brain?”

“I did.”

“Can you access the local cab companies and find out where he’s heading?” Tom said. “But I think I know.”

“I am running through the data now,” Brain said. “I will have something in a moment.”

Tom continued walking.

“I have it,” Brain said. “He has taken a cab to Rossi’s.”

“Crap!” Tom said. “Can you Instaport me to that alley near Rossi’s again?”

“I can and will,” Brain said. “But too many Instaport encounters in a twenty-four-hour period could be dangerous.”

“Can you explain that in simple terms?” Tom said.

“Your entire makeup is jumbled around, converted into a transferable frequency, and rearranged in another location. A body can only take so much. We can still do it, but it is wise to leave at least a couple of comfortable usages in the event we may encounter other unforeseeable situations.”

“I think my brother is going to confront Grasso,” Tom said. “I don’t know if Tom has a gun or not, but it sounds to me like he’s heading for trouble.”

“Without you asking,” Brain said, “may I suggest an alternative course of action?”

“Wouldn’t that be novel?” Tom said sarcastically.

“I can send you the Darter,” Brain said. “With it, you can be at Rossi’s in minutes. We can shroud it so it cannot be detected. ”

“Perfect,” Tom said. 

“In one hundred and twenty-two feet, there’s a row of hedges, the Darter will be behind it.”

“I see the hedges,” Tom said. “And by the way…”

Brain interrupted, “As soon as you sit in the Darter, the MAS will be in place.”

“You are slowly but surely becoming the brains of this outfit,” Tom quipped.

“You suddenly noticed that?” Brain said.

From Here To 1137 AD; Episode 22, Brain's Humor

This is episode twenty-two of the novel, From Here To 1137. 

   If you would like to purchase From  Here To 1137, it is available on Amazon in Kindle format or paperback.

Brain's Humor           

Shortly after stepping into the alley, Tom was back in the pod. He sat in the captain’s chair.

“Brain.”

“Yes,” Brain replied.

“Remove the MAS. I know it’s not supposed to bother me, but I feel funny.”

There was silence for a moment.

“It has been done,” Brain said.

“I’m going to relax for a while and then go get Edgar. I need some cash for a car and other expenses. I hate to ask the Replicator to provide me with money. Technically, it’s counterfeit.”

“May suggest confiscating more of Grasso’s money,” Brain said. “Either from his safe deposit box or the storage unit on Long Island.”

“I don’t want to go back to either of those places,” Tom said. “I know it can be done safely, but it is tense no matter what.”

“If you want,” Brain said, “the money can be transported without you visiting either location.”

“You mean I didn’t have to go either time?” Tom said.

“No,” Brain said.

“Do you have any idea the stress I was under?” Tom asked harshly.

“Your breathing and pulse were elevated, but still in the range that it was nothing to worry about,” Brain said.

“Why didn’t you at least hold that out as an option?” Tom said.

“You never inquired,” Brain said.

“You should know those things!” Tom said.

“My ability to make decisions on certain matters is limited,” Brain said. “There are occasions when I can offer alternative strategies or suggestions, but not in every case.”

“Now you tell me,” Tom said. “All I have to say is that somebody has to be the brains of this outfit, and it sure can’t be you.”

“Was that an attempt at humor?” Brain asked.

“Yes, it was.”

“Ha, ha,” Brain said.

“You’re killing me,” Tom said. “And let’s work on sincerity while I’m thinking about it.”

“Let’s see,” Brain said, “‘You’re killing me,’ that’s an idiom for ‘are you exasperated or amused?’”

“Let’s just call this a draw,” Tom said.

“I must be winning,” Brain said. “Ha, ha.”

From Here To 1138 AD; Episode 21, The Agreement

This is episode twenty-one of the novel, From Here To 1137. 

   If you would like to purchase From  Here To 1137, it is available on Amazon in Kindle format or paperback.

The Agreement

Tom walked toward Grasso’s table. Grasso was playing a game of Solitaire. Tom lifted slightly the chair that was across from Grasso and let it drop. 

Grasso looked up to see Tom. Grasso tried to hide the surprise on his face.

Tom pulled the chair back and sat on it.

“It’s a lonely man’s game,” Tom said. “After my dad died, my mother worked crosswords.” 

“I’ve never been good at words,” Grasso said. 

“Crosswords are how you get good at words,” Tom said.

“I know enough words as it is,” Grasso sneered.

“Well,” Tom pursed his lips, “I suppose you’re wondering about your men, or not. Anyway, they’re probably going to a hospital. I’m sure one will have his jaw wired shut, and the other will have his ribs wrapped for a month or so.”

“You got people waiting outside?” Grasso asked.

“No,” Tom said. “Let’s just say I got in a couple of lucky punches.”

“I say the word and this whole bar will come down on you and tear you apart,” Grasso said.

“Mr. Grasso,” Tom said, “I have a SIG P219 in my coat pocket. I can put a round in your head before these heathens put their drinks down.”

Grasso swallowed hard and leaned back in his chair.

“Here’s the way it is going to be,” Tom said. “I’ll assume, because you accepted my bag of cash, that you accepted my offer to forget Edgar’s debt. Do you understand me?”

Grasso stared coldly.

“Mr. Grasso,” Tom said firmly, “I expect a nod or some sort of vocal affirmation.”

“Affirmation?” Grasso said, puzzled.

“See, you do need crosswords,” Tom said. “That means a ‘yes’ or a nod—either will do.”

Grasso nodded.

“Understand this, Mr. Grasso,” Tom said, “I don’t wish to cause you any harm or upset your criminal enterprise, but if my offer is not honored, bad things will happen. I know that you look at me and see a harmless farm boy, but I just sent two of your men to the hospital, walked in here with $100,000 cash, and I know everything about your business, your family, and that bimbo on 42nd Street.” Tom smiled and leaned closer. He held his hand to the side of his mouth and whispered. “I also know about the bathhouse in Passaic.”

Grasso’s mouth drooped as if he might vomit.

“Capisci, Mr Gasso?”

“Certo,” Gasso said sullenly.

“Grazie mille,” Tom said.

“My brother’s debts are forgiven. You go about your business. You will never hear from me again. If something bad happens to you, your family, associates, or enterprises, be assured, it is not me.”

Grasso gave a slow nod.

Tom stood. He reached across the table and offered Grasso his hand. Grasso grabbed his hand and shook once.

Tom pulled his hand out of Grasso’s grip. Tom looked in his eyes and sneered. He reached into the side pocket of his coat and pulled out the pistol just far enough for Grasso to see the handle.

“It’s quite a weapon,” Tom said. “Christmas is just around the corner. How ‘bout if I send you a gold-plated one? What grip would you prefer, pearl, ivory, or—it just came to me, something with your family's coat of arms? Anyway, it will be a little reminder of our brief experience—in case you might forget.”

“Who are you?” Grasso asked painfully.   

A sneer left Tom’s face. It changed to cold and serious. “I’m Edgar’s brother.”

Tom walked out of Rossi’s and back to the alley.

From Here To 1137 AD; Episode 20, Going For A Walk

This is episode twenty of the novel, From Here To 1137. 

   If you would like to purchase From  Here To 1137, it is available on Amazon in Kindle format or paperback.

Going For A Walk

   Tom suddenly appeared in an alley in Brooklyn. He looked down at his feet, and the bag containing the $100,000 of Grasso’s money suddenly materialized. 

‘Brain?’

‘Yes, Tom.’

‘This place stinks. The alleys are better in Manhattan.’

‘They pay higher taxes.’

Tom walked toward the street. ‘What’s the name of the bar I’m going to?”

“Rossi’s,” Brain said.”It is a really tough bar. Remember, as long as you wear MAS, you can’t be hurt.’

“Except by a nuclear blast,” Tom reminded.

“To be candid, there are a few other exceptions; however, none will come into play tonight,” Brain said.

“Unless Grasso has a competing alien intelligence apparatus,” Tom said. 

“He doesn’t.” Brain assured.

‘Does the Instaport ever make a mistake and forget to transport the MAS? I can’t tell whether I’m wearing it or not.’

‘No, however, I checked again to ease your anxiety.’

‘You are quite a fella—ahem, thing, apparatus, machine, whatever.’

‘Your expressions are noted,’ Brain said.

Tom walked toward a neon sign hanging over the sidewalk that said, Rossi’s. 

He walked in. Nearly everyone turned, stared, and nudged the person next to them. As soon as they had a look, they went back to their conversations and drinks.

Tom walked toward the bar. He looked for Frankie Grasso’s table. He spotted it just as described. Grasso was a short, round man with a puffy face and a thick, shadowed black beard.

He changed direction and walked toward Grasso. Immediately, his two guards stood and hurried to each side of Tom. They were husky, wearing cheap suits.

“What’s your business?” One of them said.

“My business is with Mr. Grasso,” Tom said.

“Do you have an appointment?”

“I can see that he’s not busy, so his calendar must be empty.”

“Throw him out of here,” Grasso said.

“I have $100,000 in this bag for you,” Tom said, holding the bag up.

“Check the bag,” Grasso said. “There better be something in the bag besides groceries.”

Tom unzipped the bag, and one of the guards looked inside.

“There’s a lot of Gs in here.” 

“Sit down,” Grasso ordered.

Tom sat in the chair across from Grasso. The two guards stood behind Tom.

“You realize,” Grasso said, “walking in here with a $100,000, the money stays, and you go. You ain’t so smart, farm boy. Looks like you just came in on the last load of tomatoes.”

“How are your mother and father?” Tom said.

“Fine, what’s that got to do with anything?” Grasso scowled.

“Just a friendly get-to-know-you type of question,” Tom said.

“Take the hayseed for a walk, fellas,” Grasso said. “Leave the bag.” He laughed.

The guards grabbed Tom and stood him up. 

“561 238 2879,” Tom said. “That’s your mom’s and dad’s number on 2189 Sally Drive. You should call and see how they’re doing. I hear the weather is very nice tonight in Boca Raton.”

“Let him go,” Grasso ordered. He nodded for Tom to sit.

“Trust me, Mr. Grasso,” Tom said, “your mom and dad are just fine.” Tom looked at his watch. “About now, they’re playing cards with that couple around the corner from them, the Donatello’s.”

“Okay,” Grasso said. “What’s up?”

“You love your mom and dad—your family,” Tom said. “So you’ll understand. My name is Tom Bales. I’m the brother of Edgar Bales. I love him. He’s the only family I have. Our mother and father have both passed.”

“He owes me a lot of money,” Grasso said.

“Mr. Grasso,” Tom said, “with all due respect, my brother was set up.”

“He got himself in the mess that he’s in,” Grasso countered.

“I’m willing to be fair about this,” Tom said. “There’s $100,000 in the bag. I think that should pay off his debt.”

“He owes about $110,000,” Grasso said.

“I understand,” Tom said, “but I figure ten percent off by paying in full.”

“It doesn’t work that way,” Grasso said. “Here’s something else, you know a lot about my mother and father, but if they were in jeopardy, you wouldn’t be negotiating with a bag full of money.”

“Well, you got me there,” Tom said. “I’m a softy. I know a lot about your mom and dad; I’d never dream of hurting them. So that means we’re back to square one.”

“It does?” Grasso said. He looked at the guards. “Take this chump for a walk.”

The guards lifted Tom. 

“As you wish, Mr. Grasso,” Tom said, “but after we’re done with our walk, I’ll be back to talk over our agreement.”

Grasso laughed. “Get this clown out of here.”

The guards rushed Tom out the front door.

On the sidewalk, they faced Tom as if they were about to do something pleasurable. 

“We can do this here,” Tom suggested, “or there’s an alley a few doors down.” 

The one guard belted Tom in the stomach. Tom moved slightly. The man appeared surprised that Tom didn’t fall to the ground. 

Tom’s arm hung limp at this side. He made a fist. He felt the MAS tightening it. He swung with his left-handed fist and felt the velocity exceed his expectations. His fist met the jaw of the man. To Tom, it felt like hitting a baseball perfectly. And a crack echoed much like hitting a baseball solidly. The man collapsed. With Ton’s clenched right hand, he hurried a punch into the ribs of the other man. He growled and bent over. He tried to straighten up, but the pain was too great.

“You two should get to a hospital,” Tom said. “That’s a broken jaw and about three cracked ribs. If you like, when I go back inside, I can call an ambulance.”

They cursed and hobbled away.