The Powers That Be; Book 1 of The Rational Fear Series

By Dr Sam J Schaller

What would you give to live the life you choose? We make our own decisions and there are consequences. Kate Willis, aka Razilee Martin, a bright, upwardly-mobile environmental chemist, risks everything to follow her dream of a world unrestrained by an artificial shortage of clean energy. But the Powers That Be have their own agenda. Do they want her inventions, her paranormal abilities or do they just want her dead? With her husband Jack and a former Ranger named Kelly, they find that freedom, integrity and redemption have a higher price tag than they ever imagined. Together they grapple with ruthless government suppression and ambitious intelligence officers, across 8 countries and 5 continents, against overwhelming odds. Do you have the courage to take the journey with them? The first of four books of the Rational Fear Series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dr Sam J Schaller
• Release date: Aug 3, 2011
• ISBN: 9781466040984

Dr Sam J Schaller

Dr. Sam J. Schaller is a retired physician, medical researcher, pilot, ordained minister, environmental chemist and world traveler. But first and foremost Doc Schaller is a student of life with an unquenchable thirst to know and understand. Sam currently lives in one of the countries mentioned in the Rational Fear series and can be contacted at [e-mail]

Book preview

Chapter 1

Razilee slammed down her pen in exasperation. Damn Internet connection was down again!She hadn't even made a dent in the stack of old work covering the left side of her desk that had to be done by Monday, and it was already Sunday afternoon. She just didn't have time for this. Not now, when she was so close. She sighed and emptied the glass of fresco perched on her desk, looking for some work she could do off-line. Mango fresco was her favorite, but mangoes weren't in season and she wasmaking due with water apples, which they could pick from their tree and didn't cost them anything. It didn't help that she was working on a prospectus for several funding proposals, her least favorite part of the job. Her computer always seemed to malfunction at times when she was working on things she hated to do, and she secretly wondered, and worried, if she had somehow sabotaged it. It had been many years since anything too strange had happened that could definitely be traced back to her. And she had learned to control her emotions, especially around sensitive electrical equipment.

The warm Costa Rican breeze, scented with ylang ylang, drifted through the open window, from the tree near the house.

Oh well, as good a time as any to take a break, she thought out loud, and headed toward the kitchen for a late lunch of black beans and rice, which was know here as gallo pinto, and tropical fruit. Last week's bananas were already turning black on the counter and the bunch she had bought yesterday at the feria, the weekly open air market, was still green. So she peeled and chopped some pineapple and papaya as she intermittently stirred the warming gallo pinto with the other hand. Right or left-handedness was a concept that had always been lost on Raz, who just used whichever hand was closer to the task to be done, despite her former teachers' protests. She plopped down in a wicker chair on the back terazza, which was covered and breezy. At least wicker doesn't mold here. It was cooler outside. Most homes in Costa Rica didn't have either heat or air conditioning, even the million dollar homes. Of course, the office would be on the southwest side of the house, making it the warmest spot in the afternoon. The mamon chino trees were heavy with lychee fruits and she wished she had some chicken to put with them for dinner tonight.

Hey!! Keep your dirty paws off of that avocado! she yelled at a fat squirrel, jumping from branch to branch of their avocado tree. Probably the same little bastard that had stolen the biggest and ripest tomato she had planned on using for yesterday's dinner. Razilee abandoned her lunch and climbed the rickety wooden ladder against the tree to rescue the ripe avocado from certain theft. Dumb glutton. I probably saved him from an early heart attack, she muttered. She ate her lunch distractedly, watching the cutter ants rapidly dismantle a flowering plant with an unpronounceable Spanish name.

Languages weren't Razilee's strong suit and she would have preferred to do her research in an English-speaking country, with a language and culture she understood. But here she was, out in the middle of the canton of Perez Zeladon, in Costa Rica, which she swore had to mean no-where jungle, with just the squirrels, pizotes, monkeys and insects for company most of the time.

Jack should have been back by now. Would it kill him to actually stick to a schedule? As the required electronic components became more sophisticated and harder to find, Jack was away more and more, leaving Razilee to do the daily monitoring and the financials. They just needed another two, maybe four months, and they would be sitting on the biggest re-discovery of the century. Which was why they were in a remote area of Costa Rica, a green and alternative energy-friendly country where their lives were relatively safe, as was their secret.

Jack had found them a remote five acre farm near Esperanza, a coffee and pineapple-growing area in the southern zone for only $300 per month. The road had been impassable after an unusually wet winter and the fence had been falling down, which Jack repaired, electrified and installed a surveillance system, complete with waterproof infrared cameras to cover the periphery. Little by little, they had made the 48 square meter, about 500 square foot, Tico-style house livable. The initial structure, still sitting on the original, crumbling concrete slab, had originally been little more than 300 square feet, with cement block walls and a corrugated metal roof. It had consisted of a small kitchen, one bathroom and a common room that served for everything else. The walls of the addition were made of a jumble of mismatched boards, obviously whatever could be scrounged at the time, to construct two bedrooms without inside doors nor screens in the spaces that served as windows. The laundry room, which consisted of a washing machine and a tile-lined cement sink, was outside on the back terraza, which was also used as their workshop and outdoor eating area. They only had four months left on their three year lease. It had become home and she hated the idea of having to move again. With a few thousand dollars more, she could have this whole project wrapped up by then.

After dumping the dishes in the sink, Raz washed her hands, using a swipe of the solid dish detergent. It was horrible, harsh stuff that was formulated to dissolve any amount of grease in cold water. When she returned to her office the red light on the modem was still blinking; what a surprise! She quickly disconnected everything again and brought them back up in order. In the meantime, she cut and pasted pictures among the text and wished they had the funding to hire a secretary to do it.

At 4:30 p.m. Jack burst through the door in high spirits announcing, I'm home, you lucky blond, in perfect Spanish, then adding, Qué es para la cena, mujer?" What's for dinner, woman? Unlike Raz, languages came easily to Jack and he thoroughly enjoyed trying out some new tiquismo, colloquial Costa Rican expression, that he had picked up that day.

"Equivocado, Jack," Raz warned.

You mean "Eso fue un error," That was a mistake, Jack corrected.

"Bigger equivocado, Jack."

As their funds ran low, Razilee had switched to Tico-style cooking, which included a lot of rice and black beans, along with whatever fruits and vegetables the animals didn't get and whatever eggs the chickens laid; a sort of forced vegetarianism. Today, it just annoyed her more than usual. Jack had never brought it up, much less complained about it. But then he had never complained about her cooking either.

"Mon chéri, he said, wrapping his arms around her, a hard day? He would always trot out his French accent when he wanted to charm or disarm her. Although born and raised in Midwest America, Jack had studied in Paris and also spoke flawless French. Unlike Raz, who was your stereotypic do-it-my-way" American, Jack was more a citizen of the world. If it weren't for his six foot five inch height and dark blue eyes, he could fit in with a tribe of pygmies as easily as with a group of European grad students. Here in Costa Rica, Jack had found his perfect match in the beer-drinking, confrontation-dodging Ticos. He was in heaven. Manana, manana, didn't fluster him at all and he could discuss everyone's family longer than the Ticos themselves. Maybe the American lifestyle could kill you with stress, but here the lifestyle could kill you with frustration.

Jack, why are the avocados you were supposed to trade with Monica for milk and cheese still in the back of the truck? she asked, glancing out the window at their old, beat up 1987 Toyota pick up truck, parked on a precarious slant by the guanabana tree. Their truck wasn't much to look at, but it was cheap, four wheel drive with a re-built engine and a suspension that could handle any road they threw at it.

"Oh, I'll do that tomorrow, mon coeur."

"Mon coeur will not be happy in the morning without milk for her coffee." The coffee here was definitely a perk. Nothing started the day off right like a cup of rich Tarrazu or Cafe Quetzal Dota coffee with fresh raw milk and tapa de dulce, a sweet syrup which she made herself with cinnamon sticks and raw sugar.

Razilee was feeling the old restlessness again, just below the surface, but couldn't quite put her finger on what it was. Jack noticed it too, but knew better than to say anything.

Chapter 2

Jack reached for Raz and found her side of the bed cold and empty. He glanced at the clock. Almost three o'clock in the morning. Typical. Something was up and she always knew it. He got up and sat beside her on their worn sofa, slipping his arm around her.

Are we gonna have another earthquake?

She shook her head. After an unusually long pause she said, They're looking for us, Jack, and they're getting close.

Who? Who is it, babe?

She broke into tears, I don't know, I just know that they're trying to find us.

I'll change the electrical field pattern around the farm first thing in the morning. Jack had created an electrical cloaking device to obscure the magnetic fields of their experimental generators from the prying eyes of the surveillance satellites of the world's super powers.

No. It has to be our IP address. Our scrambler must not be working. I was online a lot yesterday. They know we're here, Jack. Costa Rica's a small country. We're running out of time.

OK, don't worry. I'll fix it before we go online again. I'll make them think we've gone to Argentina. He smiled, displaying a confident certainty he didn't feel.

Jack was almost as disturbed by Raz's last data drop as she was. Jack called these episodes data drops because they seemed to just drop out of the sky. It was amazing how she could sense an earthquake in the making, before a cat could, and had an incredible way of locating people and things that she knew well. At times, when Jack was away, he swore that she was there, nudging him to think of something or come back home. She insisted on complete honesty between them and recently it had become almost impossible to hide anything from her.

Who are you thinking about? she asked. Jack quickly tried to think of something else, but she picked up on the switch.

No, just before.

"Oh, just an American guy I knew in Paris, named John.

Why would you think of him now?

I don't know! Maybe because it's three o'clock in the morning and I'm still half asleep! Although Jack was definitely a morning person, he could be impossible if awoken before he was ready. But something didn't quite ring true. Jack often sounded irritated when he was trying to cover up or avoid talking about something.

Can we discuss this at a decent hour?

Fine, go back to bed and dream about the bald guy.

Jack wasn't able to suppress his reaction. After being together for three years, it still jolted him when she did that look at his mental pictures thing.

It's OK Jack, I'm not jealous, she teased, smiling.

Jack just smiled and shook his head as he walked back to the bedroom. "Good night, chéri. Come back to bed soon."

John Pickford, alias Jean Luc, had been prematurely bald back in 1993, when he and Jack met at a sidewalk cafe in Paris. Jack had noticed he was reading a French translation of Asimov while sipping a latte and decided to cut his only morning class. After all, real conversation in French was much more valuable than listening to his professor drone on about irregular verbs that he had already memorized. Jack was initially disappointed to find out that he was an American, but pleased that they shared so many interests. Sci-Fi was a good place to start. Both his resemblance to Jean Luc Piccard and his penchant for futuristic inventions, had earned him the nickname of Jean Luc.

Jack stared at the ceiling. Everything was starting to feel so out of control. He'd surprise Raz and take her to lunch in town with the money he had saved up from the return of some electrical components that turned out to be the wrong size or shape. When Raz came back to bed, he was still awake. He curled up behind her, like nesting spoons, and wrapped his arm around her, more to reassure himself than to comfort her. He had a premonition of his own that forces beyond his control were already in motion.

Chapter 3

Jack was up before dawn, re-setting and re-programming the relay devices that kept their Internet searches and IP address anonymous, among other things. It was 8:00 a.m. before Raz stumbled out of the bedroom, looking for coffee, which inexplicably smelled awful to her. Jack smiled, holding up a small pitcher of milk.

Jack, you didn't bother Yesenia for milk again. They have a new baby.

That cow gives nine gallons of milk a day. They don't mind. Jack was an expert at schmoozing his way in or out of any situation. He proudly pointed to the computer.

All fixed. I even printed out the prospectus you put together yesterday. Find me an envelope and I'll get it mailed out today. Jack could never find anything, even though Raz compulsively put things back in their place, which he never did. It never ceased to amaze her how rapidly he could clutter and dis-organize every room in the house.

On second thought, why don't you come with me and we'll go out for lunch to celebrate.

Celebrate what? Do you know how many proposals I put together for every one that nets us even a few thousand bucks?

Oh come on, this one is going to be it. I can feel it.

Raz wasn't feelin' it. Just a sense of impending doom and deep distrust of Jack that she kept trying to sweep aside. She had read that pregnancy could make you feel emotional and needy, but this was crazy! She was looking for signs of betrayal everywhere. It probably had more to do with her own childhood and her father making good on his promise to leave if her mom ever got pregnant. This would be a lousy time to start a family. But is there really ever a good time? Besides, she wasn't even sure. Jack had been told he would never have kids due to a sports injury in high school, which had never made any sense to Raz, and was something about which he would never elaborate.

Jack sealed and addressed the large envelope, then poured himself another cup of coffee. Raz looked more than tired.

"Go back to