From Here To 1137 AD; Episode 16, Getting Some Cash

This is episode sixteen 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.

Getting Some Cash    

Tom slung on his coat and slipped into his work boots. He jogged to the location of the invisible pod. He entered.

Tom sat in the captain’s chair. He looked at the various digital instruments. He mentally asked how to operate the pod. His brain quivered gently, and for an instant, he felt as though he lost consciousness. Then he knew all about the pod. 

“Brain,” Tom said, “How soon can I get to New York City?”

“We can get there in minutes,” Brain said.

“How many minutes?” Tom said.

“Depends on how many minutes you want to take,” Brain said.

“Fifteen minutes?” Brain asked.

“Yeah,” Tom said. 

“Any particular part of New York City?” Brain asked.

“Here’s what I have in mind,” Tom said, “I want to use the Instaport to place me inside Frankie Grasso’s safety deposit box room of the Manhattan Fidelity Trust Bank on Broad Street. Do we have the technology to open his box?”

“A device can be provided to disable any type of lock,” Brain said.

“Good,” Brain said. “How soon can we get underway?”

“Just give the command,” Brain said.

“Brain,” Tom said, “you’re in control. Take us about one hundred thousand feet over Frank Grasso’s bank. Go!”

Tom felt a slight movement. It was his first flight in the pod. There was no sensation of movement or flight. He glanced out the forward windshield. It looked like a cloudy blur with speckles of tiny flashing white light. 

A plan rolled around in his mind. He reworded and honed the plan to fit different possibilities. 

“Brain,” Tom said. “Give me the dossier on Frankie Grasso.” 

A hologram white screen appeared in front of Tom. Information about Frankie Grasso appeared on the screen. Tom asked a series of questions, and the answers appeared on the screen. He read over them as they travelled.

“We have arrived,” Brain announced.

“Check the room where Grasso’s safe deposit box is located,” Ton said. “Is it empty?”

There was a pause.

“If you are Instaported now, you will have thirty minutes before it is open for depositors,” Brain said. “In fact, no one can enter; its lock is set on a timing device.”

“But we can?” Tom asked.

“With no difficulty,” Brain said.

“That’s perfect,” Tom said.

Tom stood and walked back to the Instaport dock. 

The Instaport docking area was the portal where objects could be invisibly transported from one location to another. It could be activated from anywhere on the pod, but it was like using the door to walk in, even though the garage door was already open. Tom stepped into a doorless room about the size of an elevator. 

“Brain, you have my location?”

“Yes.”

Tom waved his hand over an activation scanner on the wall. In a blink, he was gone and suddenly in a room full of safe deposit boxes. 

He looked around the room until he found box 252. That box belonged to Frankie Grasso. He held the unlocking device over the keyhole. He heard and felt a click. Grabbing the handle, he pulled open a drawer about the size of a desk top.

It was full of strapped one-hundred-dollar bills.

Tom counted twelve straps and placed them in a leather briefcase. The safety deposit box was closed and locked.

Tom stepped back. “Brain, retrieve me.”

In an instant, Tom was back aboard the pod.

He stepped out of the room. “Cloner, I’d like breakfast. Two eggs, over easy, two strips of bacon, hashed brown potatoes, and Sumatran coffee—strong.”

Tom dropped the bag of money next to the Instaport dock's doorway. Next to it was a small opening in the wall with a tray containing the breakfast. He removed it and walked forward to where a chair and a dining table waited for him.

Tom sat and began eating breakfast. 

“Brain,” Tom said. “I don’t know how it’s done, but this is the best breakfast I’ve ever had. Especially better than the ones I prepare. That Cloner is incredible. I think everyone should have one. However, it doesn’t match my mother’s love.”

“And it never will,” Brain said.

“Brain, you really know how to make a guy feel better, don’t you?”

“It’s what I do.”

“I have a question,” Tom said. “We here on earth, for as long as I can figure, have, at times, named inanimate things. For example, we name things we use: The Queen Mary, The Spirit of St Louis, Gemini, and so on. My dad had a hammer he called Brutus. Does this pod have a name?”

“No.” Brain said. “It has been called Pod Two.”

“I don’t know,” Tom said, “A number is so impersonal. I’d just like to give it a name.”

“That is your decision,” Brain said. 

“And I don’t want any help,” Tom said. “I don’t want you manipulating me and outsmarting me into a perfect name.”

“Only if I’m asked,” Brain said.

“I got a name,” Tom said. “I want to call this pod, The North Forty.”

 “A wise choice,” Brain said. “A rugged Midwestern bucolic sound to it. It matches who you are.”

“I knew you would agree,” Tom smiled and continued eating breakfast.