The Luftwaffe Lair

By Lindy P. Lawrence

The Luftwaffe Lair is a fast-paced erotic, science fiction and crime novel that takes place in Salt Lake City, Utah. By the year 2115, the world population has exponentially declined, due to a century-old contaminated flu vaccine. The sinister inoculation caused serious defects in the human reproductive system, causing some females to be born with male genitals, and some males to be born with a vulva. The unfortunate group of humans cannot reproduce, and they are targeted for elimination by the Luftwaffe, a clandestine organization. A scientist, who was on the verge of discovering a cure, and her lover, are assassinated, and Detective Kyle McKay and his emotionless partner, Simon Scalene, are the homicide detectives assigned to the investigation. They soon discover that a special weapon was used to commit the murders, and a prominent senator is the prime suspect in ordering the murders. The detectives must stop the senator, and the underground organization, but they discover the Luftwaffe organization has many members...and very ominous facets.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Torrid Books
• Release date: Oct 22, 2015
• ISBN: 9781633556621

Book preview

Prologue

By the year 2115, the world population had been reduced to less than five hundred million people. The United States census plummeted from a pinnacle of three hundred and fifteen million citizens to less than seventy-five million. The cause for the exponential decline was easily identified; a contaminated flu vaccine that was mandatorily administered to every human in the year 2015, which included infants and children. Through the last century, there have been many spirited debates on who had caused the problem, but there was no argument as to the detrimental results to the integrity of human DNA.

Scientists discovered the contaminated vaccine initiated a mutation in the somatic cells; which affected the one pair of sex chromosomes in each individual cell. Females normally have two X chromosomes, whereas males have an X and one Y chromosome. The mutation caused a genetic disorder in fetuses during embryonic development. Ordinarily, the X chromosomes in females are permanently inactive, and the phenomenon is called lionization, but the mutation altered the anatomically correct process in the majority of the human population.

The results of the mutation began manifesting immediately, and approximately half of all infants born after the contaminated inoculations were considered as normal, male or female Homo-sapiens. But half the normal children were rendered infertile—incapable of reproducing. The other half of the newborns were not considered normal by society.

Fifty percent of this segment of society was identified as gune anthropods, or female humans. They possessed all the characteristics of a feminine female, except anatomically, they possessed male genitals. The other half was identified as aner anthropods, or male humans. They possessed all the characteristic of a masculine male, but anatomically, they possessed a female vulva. The abnormal humans were also incapable of reproducing.

Collectively, the unique humans were known as anthropods—anths for short. Derogatorily speaking, they were labeled lepers. The unfortunate group was stigmatized and persecuted, and vehemently targeted for elimination by a ruthless clandestine organization.

Chapter 1

December 20, 2115

Salt Lake City, 10:05 p.m.

Dr. Kelly McGraw opened the curtains of her sliding glass patio doors and gazed eastward toward the majestic Wasatch Mountain Range. The view of the translucent moon nestled slightly above Parley’s Canyon was breathtaking from her seventh floor condo in the heart of downtown. Anticipating her lover’s tender embrace from behind, she let her eyes drift toward the ceiling as she slightly tilted her head backwards. She exhaled, feeling pleasure as her lover gently caressed her full breasts. In slow, continuous circular motions, her lover teased her nipples and moved slightly outward massaging her areola’s.

Kelly welcomed her lover’s first kiss on the right side of her neck, causing a rush of warmth starting slightly above her pubic bone and transcending sensually through her entire pussy. Involuntarily, she leaned forward and pressed her ass tightly against her lover’s groin. Her lover slowly reached around her and slid a hand beneath the low-clinging waistband of Kelly’s silky panties and gently cupped the glistening, moist folds of her pussy. At first, her lover teased the erogenous region with just gentle fingertips; caressing the outer lips of her swollen vulva and then caressing the soft, pink folds within. Kelly felt her legs weakening.

My love, if you don’t assist me onto the bed, I’m afraid I may collapse on the floor, she whispered lovingly.

Her lover picked her up and gently laid her on the bed. Kelly lay on her back, with the bottoms of her feet facing the patio door. Kneeling on the floor beside the bed, her lover quickly removed Kelly’s silken panties, sliding them down her long legs and tossing them onto the floor. Kelly watched as her lover kissed her inner thigh and then gently kissed a path upwards to her clit, where that glorious, devilish tongue of hers danced light, sweeping circles around the sensitive pulsating nub. Kelly moaned loudly and immediately achieved a gushing orgasm.

That was wonderful my love, but please, come make love to me. I want to feel your hard warmth inside me, Kelly pleaded.

Her lover eagerly complied, quickly spreading Kelly’s legs and entering her welcoming cunt. Slowly, her lover moved in and out of her with a steady, rhythmic pace. Kelly looked at her lover’s face and was pleased she could satisfy her lover’s desires. She watched with pleasure as her lover rose up and smiled down at her, but suddenly, her lover’s face went slack as if paralyzed. Violent convulsions spread throughout her entire body. Confused, Kelly could not comprehend her lover’s unexplained malady.

After a brief moment, her lover rolled to Kelly’s side and fell lifeless on the bed. Shocked, Kelly realized her lover was not breathing. She sat up and attempted to revive her lover, but without warning, the first paralyzing wave of electrical pulse entered her body. The pain she felt in the center of her back was excruciating and incomprehensible.

Convulsing, Kelly fell on top of her lover. She died before she could embrace her one last time. Her lover was her best friend and faithful companion.

Her lover was a female-anthropod.

Chapter 2

December 21, 2115

Salt Lake City

It was just after seven that morning when I awoke. My fourth floor, south Salt Lake Sugar House condominium was abnormally cool, even in light of the wintertime chill. Obviously, a cold front had moved through the area overnight, making me realize I should have turned up the heat before I went to bed. I found my robe, which lay wadded up on the floor, and enveloped myself in the thick velour as I walked down the hallway. Heater on...maintain seventy degrees, I said as I passed the thermostat.

Good morning, Detective McKay, maintaining seventy degrees as instructed, came the obligatory response in a pleasant feminine voice. Have a nice day.

I shuffled into the kitchen and poured myself a cup of coffee as I verbally ordered the flat screen television on to channel 432. I wanted to watch the world news. As usual, the temperature of my coffee was at a perfect drinking temperature, and as I enjoy my second sip, I cringed as the alarm on my wrist computer activated. I knew by the alert tone that it was a call from my employer.

Detective McKay, this is dispatch; please respond. Detective McKay, this is dispatch; please respond.

I pressed the two-way button on my wrist computer. This is Detective Sergeant Kyle McKay. Do you read me?

Yes, Detective and I’m afraid your day is going to start a little earlier than normal, dispatch replied.

I recognized the dispatcher’s voice and knew it was Sandy. She had been a dispatcher long before I started with the police department, and she was well respected and admired by everyone she worked with. She was perennially jovial, and delightful to be around, but she was extremely self-conscious about her weight which I believe was well over three hundred pounds.

Good morning, Sandy, and why am I so lucky to get to hear your beautiful voice this early in the morning, not to mention before I get to come to work early and fight crime for the great state of Utah? I asked.

Kyle, I need to know if you’re alone, she said, quietly and very seriously.

Well, yes. Milano, my girlfriend, has already left for work, but Sandy, I never dreamed you would call me for verbal electronic intimacy? This is truly a wonderful, early start to my day. Do you want to start off, or would you like me to try and think up something clever to begin the impromptu naughty festivities? I asked jokingly.

Stop kidding around, Kyle. Torsten Jenkins, the Utah Attorney General, contacted me personally and ordered me to call you and order you to report to work. I’m afraid we have a very serious situation that not only needs your attention, but you need to respond immediately, she explained.

What can be so serious that I can’t finish my coffee and at least get in a short swim before I don my crime fighting tunic? I asked.

A very important woman was killed last night, she whispered.

For god’s sake, Sandy. I’ve been working homicide for twelve years. In my view, all victims of homicide are very important. But, may I ask why this murder is more important than that any other average citizen? I asked.

You know that I’m not authorized to disclose that information over an open channel, but I’m sending you an electronic message with the address of where you need to be; as soon as possible, I must emphasize. And seriously, the Attorney General said he is expecting your best effort and most professional service on this investigation. In other words, no screwing around on this one.

You have nothing to worry about, Sandy. I promise to be on my absolute best behavior, and I assure you I’ll be on the way shortly, but you know I have to ask you the obvious question. Have you already contacted my partner?

Do you even have to ask? You know I already have. If Detective Scalene doesn’t arrive on the crime scene first, you know I would never hear the end of it.

Yeah, I just had to confirm, thanks.

Chapter 3

Denver

Thirty miles west of downtown, Patricia Atwood prepared to leave for work. She was late and hurriedly collected her belongings from the kitchen table before she raced down the stairs of her second floor Englewood condominium and out her front door. As she turned and inserted her index finger into the biometric reader to lock the door, she sensed the presence of a man standing to the left of her on the veranda.

Ms. Atwood? The man inquired.

Yes, I am Patricia Atwood, she replied, slightly startled but not alarmed. May I help you with something today, sir?

Yes ma’am. You may, the man said as he slowly raised his left hand and pointed his index finger directly toward the sky. You may die immediately. I assure you that shortly, this will be your final existence on earth, but I was instructed to inform you that before you die, you need to know your futile efforts have been in vain.

What do you mean I will die, and my efforts have been in vain? she replied defiantly. What are you talking about?

You are the national spokesperson for an organization, the anthropods, a group vehemently hated by the righteous few. Are you not? He didn’t wait for her answer as he already knew it. Your death will mark the end the movement, and the beginning of a new era without mutants; without the cursed lepers. Your life will come to a very meager conclusion, and soon, all the lepers of the world will join you in hell, he cogently declared, as he slowly waived his hand upward and turned away.

Patricia gazed at the stranger as he walked down the sidewalk, dismissing him as completely deranged. Seemingly unaffected by the strange encounter and determined the conversation would not deter her day, she inhaled deeply and scurried toward the staircase. Before her left foot touched the first step, two sharp, hot, pulsating pains stabbed at the center of her chest. Frozen by the penetrating pain, she convulsed briefly before she rolled down the front steps. She died before her body slithered awkwardly to the bottom step.

Chapter 4

Salt Lake City

I reluctantly climbed into my work vehicle, the Beast of Blight I non-affectionately referred to her. The Beast was an older model transport pod, ten years old to be exact. The somewhat antiquated machine was a 3005 Ford Cobalt Charger, but in reality, all personal transport vehicles were referred to as pods. Mine was adequate, but the cylinder-shaped carbon fiber composite shell looked more like an antiquated tin can rather than proper transportation. It was petite by modern standards, and purported by the manufacturer to seat four people, which I would agree if you were inclined to stuff anorexic children inside the cramped quarters.

Regardless, all law enforcement vehicles were targeted for vandalism, and mine was no exception. The body of the Beast was so scratched and dented it looked like it had just run a destruction derby. Approximately once a month, I took the vehicle into the shop for a body makeover to remove the unsightly graffiti and make the appearance a little more tolerable and aesthetically pleasing.

All personal transport pods consisted of one large front wheel centered in the front axle, and two smaller back wheels. The vehicle is powered by a self-charging cobalt battery, but due to government restrictions, the maximum speed you could obtain was eighty-five miles per hour.

The other unique attribute of the blighted machine is that it was equipped with a state of the art gyroscope, a device for measuring or maintaining orientation based on the principles of angular momentum. Simply speaking, no matter how you turned the vehicle, it would not fall over to its side, or if it did, it would simply right itself immediately. In addition, all vehicles were equipped with a cobalt outer shell filament that was magnetized. If you ventured too close to another vehicle, the magnetic field would reject the other pod and prevent a collision. Occasionally, if speeds were too excessive, and impact was inevitable, the chances for serious bodily injury were minimal, because the vehicles would simply bounce off of each other, similar to over-sized inflated balloons when they came into contact with each other.

The same applications were applied to all transportation vehicles, with the exception of the electronic transport system referred to as rocket trains. The trains were very efficient and utilized a minimal amount of electricity in conjunction with battery reserves from a self-charging battery system. They could easily reach speeds of over three hundred miles an hour.

St. George, Utah—considered the golf mecca of Utah, especially during the winter season—was approximately three hundred miles south of Salt Lake City. It was common practice for the affluent members of the Salt Lake community to board a rocket train during the winter months and venture south. A traveler could make the journey in less than an hour; play eighteen holes of golf, and be back in Salt Lake City by lunchtime.

I maneuvered my pod out of the basement parking lot of my complex and headed west on 21st South Street to State Street. According to Sandy’s message, I was destined for the City Creek Condominiums in downtown Salt Lake to inspect the alleged ‘important’ crime scene. The drive was normally less than twenty minutes in traffic, or three and a half miles in total distance, but I decided to engage my holographic law enforcement lights and siren to reduce the travel time. There was not a critical need to expedite my appearance at the crime scene, but the obnoxious thought of beating my anal retentive partner to the scene was very appealing.

My partner, Detective Simon Scalene—for reasons he never disclosed, he only wanted to be referred to as Scaly—was the same age as me, thirty-four, but we exhibited opposite personalities and demeanors. He was five feet seven inches tall, thin, and had short black hair with long pointed sideburns. He also maintained a meticulously groomed black goatee that was less than an inch in length, but he refused to wear a mustache, routinely shaving his upper lip. Ironically, his appearance resembled the 20th and 21st Century actor Leonard Nimoy from the television and movie series Star Trek. Unquestionably, my partner exhibited similar subdued characteristics as the actor’s character, Mr. Spock. In the twelve years we have been partners I have never seen him laugh or even smile for that matter. Regardless of his unique features, he is and has been an outstanding partner and a treasured friend.

I parked on 1st South Street in front of the Cheesecake Factory Restaurant and I walked half a block to the entrance of the City Creek Condominiums. The condos were one of many exclusive residential complexes in the downtown area. They were considered pricy in the real estate market, not only for the magnificent view, but for being within walking distance of the businesses encompassing the region. The downtown area hosted several headquarters of major corporations, which included high tech companies and medical research facilities. Two blocks west of the complex was the western headquarters of the Cobalt Genetic Corporation, where the alleged victim was employed.

I rode the vertical transport system up to the seventh floor, and as usual, I was a little motion sick when I reached that level. For some unexplained reason, elevator transport companies were under the opinion their carriages should emulate the speed of bullet trains, only they vibrate substantially more. The fact I had indulged on spicy burritos and multiple Margaritas the night before did not help the unpleasant rumbling in my stomach.

When I excited the vertical transport system and walked down the hall, I was somewhat surprised by the lack of activity. If I had not been informed of the murder, I would have never imagined an incident had occurred.

I strolled down to room 722, where the door was open just enough for me to slip through the opening. A young police officer immediately nodded a greeting.

He was wearing the traditional police uniform, consisting of a baggy black tunic secured at the waist of pleated black pants by a thick leather belt. His pant legs were tucked neatly into his polished black, high-top boots. His service weapon, a Colt .228 pulse pistol, was secured in a small Plexi-leather case on his right hip. The small handgun delivered a debilitating pulse that immediately incapacitated a suspect. Each electrically-charged round was effective up to one hundred and fifty feet, and the effects of the painful current would disable a suspect between four to eight minutes. If necessary and during extreme emergencies, the weapon could be set to deliver a lethal charge.

Good morning, Detective, the young cop said. He was obviously a new officer based on the lack of insignia on his left breast pocket and only one small vertical gold bar embroidered on his shirt collar. The medical examiner and her assistants have just arrived, he continued, and Detective Scaly requested that you join him in the back bedroom. And sir, he asked with a puzzled look on his face, please forgive my question, but is that the detective’s real name?

I didn’t have to force a chuckle. Even after all the years of fielding that very question pertaining to my partner’s unique name, it still amused me to see the looks on peoples’ faces when they asked it. I haven’t the foggiest notion of what his real name is, I said. Just trust me on this one; never address him as anything but Detective Scaly. By the way, have you had any interest from the neighbors or any inquiries that might be out of the ordinary or suspicious?

No, strangely, it has been very quiet and business as usual, sir. Several residents have walked by the apartment door, but none of them stopped to ask any questions. But Detective Scaly also wanted me to tell you that he contacted the manager of the building and has officially subpoenaed the video surveillance footage from the camera system. From what I understand, there is nothing on the footage that is out of the ordinary.

Thank you. I nodded my appreciation at the young cop and stepped further into the condo. I was immediately impressed with the living room décor. The furniture was modern, sleek, and the paintings of various National Park landscapes that adored the walls were impressive. The owner also obviously had a proclivity to collect intricate glass ware. There were expensive glass vessels and pottery displayed throughout the living room on glass bookshelves. I am not a connoisseur or collector of fine art, but I recognized that several of the pieces in the collection exceeded more than a month’s worth of my wages.

I walked down the hallway and easily located the master bedroom. When I entered, Detective Scalene was standing with his back toward me. His attention was focused on the large, circular bed that was slightly elevated off the floor. The new medical examiner, Dr. Angela Michaels, knelt on the bed, inspecting the two dead women lying there naked.

I did not interrupt her; instead I chose to study her a moment. From what I could discern from her profile, she possessed attractive petite facial features and short, neatly cropped blond hair with a hint of bangs. She looked to be about my age—thirty, give or take a year or two—and at only about five-one, she was a compact, curvaceous package that any man who liked an armful of soft woman would find appealing.

I also noticed there were two assistants with her. One of them was methodically taking photographs from across the room, while the other assistant stood at the ME’s elbow, recording crime scene notes.

I was also surprised there were two victims.

Interesting, Dr. Michaels said softly. She paused and then rolled the first deceased body off the top of the second one. Her action revealed that one body was that of a complete woman, while the other one was that of a female-anthropod. She was very attractive—slender, dark-haired—with medium-sized breasts. She also displayed the obvious compliment of male genitals.

There does not appear to be an obvious cause of death, which is incredible based on the original positions of the bodies. Dr. Michaels noted quietly.

I watched, somewhat concerned and perplexed by her revelation, similar to the other participants in the room whose faces also displayed a look of confusion. Several seconds passed before I interrupted the silence. Doctor, is it possible that there was an accidental overdose of some type or consensual suicide?

Oh, good morning. You must be Detective McKay? The ME looked up at me and smiled warmly.

Yes, and welcome to the department. I apologize I haven’t stopped into your office to welcome you to Salt Lake and the department. I just haven’t had a chance to get down there."

No apology is necessary, Detective. I quite understand. Still, it’s unfortunate we have to meet for the first time under these circumstances. Also, at the moment, I am slightly embarrassed that I have no initial, reasonable assessment of this situation.

She motioned for her assistant to hand her a small metallic briefcase. I watched as Dr. Michaels opened the container and retrieved a small metal body scanner. I interrupted her work. Doctor, I agree with you that there does not appear to be an obvious, visual sign of the cause of death, but do you have a theory of how these individuals may have expired? I asked.

Yes, Detective, I am quite confident these unfortunate women died a quick and painful death. Both of the victim’s eyes are fixed and dilated, and the interior rods and cones indicate there was severe trauma, very severe in fact. Normally, if an individual is killed with a pulse weapon, similar to the one you carry, there is substantial trauma to the orbital region, but I have never observed damage to this degree.

Is it reasonable to assume the victims were shot and killed with a pulse weapon? I asked.

That would be my best presumption at this point, but there is no obvious, external sign their bodies were subjected to trauma of that nature. As you are aware, even if the outer epidermis is even minimally phased, or contacted by a pulse isotope, it leaves a deep hematoma and an easily detected large red welt manifests immediately. For now, I am at a loss to explain this anomaly, she said.

I’m assuming there is no remarkable evidence on the other victim? I asked.

That’s correct. She began to move the molecular scanner in a circular motion over the chest area of the woman that was previously on top of the other victim. She stopped and looked at the electronic display and gasped. This read-out is impossible!

What does the scanner indicate? I asked as I moved closer.

It indicates the impossible, to the point the results can’t be valid; wait, let me check the female-anthropod. The damage to her eyes is even more substantial she said.

Collectively, we all watched in anticipation as the doctor moved the scanner over the female-anth’s breasts and lower abdominal region. She stopped her analysis and did not say anything as she slightly scooted forward on the bed and held the scanner near the right temple of the anth’s head.

I watched as Scaly moved closer and leaned down to view the display. None of us in the room were overly surprised when the doctor protested.