Stringer 969

By Bob Avis

Paul Martin is in the process of recovering from amnesia when he witnesses a murder and then has an unknown teenage girl barge into his life to make matters even worse. Much worse.

Seven more people get killed when the girl is kidnapped and the Secret Service and FBI are involved in a shootout against each other.

Martin and the girl have the local police, FBI, Secret Service, and CIA among others looking for them.

A detective discovers an unbelievable relationship between Martin and the invention of the transistor that spans from 1906 to 1948.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: May 13, 2008
• ISBN: 9781465333605

Bob Avis

I received a BA degree in chemistry from the American International College in Springfield, Massachusetts, and an MS degree in chemistry from the University of Delaware in Newark, Delaware. I worked in chemical research for thirty-eight years before retiring in 1994. I have several U.S. patents and have traveled extensively throughout the United States as well as to Canada, Mexico, Europe, Asia, Japan, Malaysia, and Australia, implementing the essence of my inventions. Other books by the author are the following: The Coalition, Gone, and Stringer 969.

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Copyright © 2008 by Bob Avis.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in

any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying,

recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission

in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the

product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance

to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

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41356

Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

EPILOGUE

DEDICATION

To those with the desire and the courage to be different as well as the ability to lead others toward success, and to the rest of us who recognize and support their efforts.

CHAPTER ONE

Paul Martin checked his watch and then the wall clock in his lab. Both seemed to be stuck on 5:44 PM. He long since finished the work assigned to him, but he had to hang around until 6:00 PM. It was Friday, and most people left early to get a head start on what the weather bureau had promised to be a sunny and unusually warm mid-December weekend.

Paul decided to go to Dr. Mervin Kelly’s office a little early. It was obvious that Kelly’s secretary was long gone, so he knocked on the director’s closed door.

Come in, yelled Kelly, a slender man with horn-rimmed glasses. Kelly seemed surprised when he saw Paul. He checked his watch and said, So you want to join the evacuation.

Paul smiled and said, Yeah, I need to get away from this place.

Apparently Dr. Bardeen still has not seen the light, commented Kelly.

Oh, I know for sure he has seen the light, said Paul. He refuses to pass the information forward. His assigned experiments for the past two weeks are right on target.

Let’s be patient a little longer, suggested Kelly.

Thanks for the update, and have a good weekend.

Same to you, sir, replied Paul as he left the office.

*     *     *

On the way home, Paul was stopped at a red light when a bakery truck broadsided a car making a left turn in front of him. Both colliding vehicles smashed hard into Paul’s car. People swarmed from all directions to help the injured.

Mr. Martin. Mr. Martin. Can you hear me? said a medic in a loud voice.

Paul could hear his name but could not respond at first. Finally his eyes popped open, and he could now see the person calling his name.

Mr. Martin, are you all right? asked the medic.

Paul did a twitch test of all limbs and moved his head. He responded, I think so.

Don’t move your head, Mr. Martin, said the medic as he tossed Paul’s wallet on his chest. You received a nasty blow there. We are going to take you to the hospital.

Paul was thinking what a great start this is to the weekend when he passed out again.

Paul heard someone say, He has a concussion, a bump on the head, bruised ribs, and minor cuts; otherwise, he seems to be OK.

Paul flipped his eyes open then gradually was able to focus to the point that he realized he was looking directly into the cleavage of the woman who was bending over his body.

This must be heaven, muttered Paul.

The woman and two men present laughed.

Sounds like you are OK to me. The lady smiled.

Then Paul looked confused as he separately looked at the people looking at him. It was obvious by the expression on his face that he did not recognize his visitors.

I am Dr. Chandler, said the man in the white coat. Do you recognize anyone?

Paul stared at the lady whose chest he admired.

With her hands on her hips, she pleaded, Peg. I am Peg Drew.

Paul’s blank look faded as he closed his eyes for forgiveness and shook his head positively. Of course. My good neighbor.

Hi, Chuck, continued Paul as he extended his hand to Peg’s husband.

It seems like Peg’s breasts put you in la-la land for a while. Chuck smiled.

Now I know why you have that perpetual grin on your face, said Paul.

The doctor moved into position with his flashlight and examined Paul’s reaction to his probes.

The doctor advised, It might be wise to keep you another night.

What do you mean another night? said Paul.

The doctor walked over to the window and opened the drapes and the blinds to let the light flood the room.

It’s almost 8:00 AM Saturday, informed the doctor.

As Paul was trying to do the math, the doctor said, You’ve been in the hospital for about thirteen hours. If everything goes OK, I will be in early tomorrow for a noon release.

Paul was about to debate when the doctor said, That’s final, and left the room.

That’s ridiculous, said Paul. I’m all right to go home.

I don’t know about that, said Peg. You didn’t even know us when you first woke up.

Do you blame me? said Paul, looking at her chest.

Chuck smiled and replied, The hospital called around 10:00 PM last night. We got dressed as fast as we could and have been here ever since.

How come you had us listed as next of kin? asked Peg.

Paul hesitated for a few seconds and then said, My sister in Massachusetts is listed as next of kin. I have you guys listed as in case of emergency.

Chuck was going to pursue the fact that they had no way of getting in touch with his sister when he saw Peg shaking her head not to proceed.

We’re both pretty tired, said Peg. We should go now. We will stop by tonight and check in on you.

Thanks for your concern, said Paul. You are truly great friends.

Oh, by the way, said Chuck, some guy came to see you last night.

Who was it? asked Paul.

He didn’t give his name, replied Chuck. He just said he was from Bell Labs.

Bell Labs, repeated Paul with an inquisitive expression on his face.

The place where you work, said Peg in a loud voice, shaking her head in disbelief. Maybe you better forget about coming home tomorrow. Peg smiled as she sealed the top of her blouse with her hand and then bent over to kiss Paul on the cheek.

Paul extended his hand to Chuck as they exchanged goodbyes.

Bell Labs, said Paul to an empty room just before dozing off.

The nurses periodically awoke Paul throughout the day to ask questions and give medication. This time, the nurse shook Paul to consciousness to inform him that he had a visitor and reminded Paul if he didn’t start to stay awake more then he would not be going home tomorrow.

Paul checked his watch before he attempted to locate his visitor. It was 4:30 PM.

Hi, Paul, said the visitor as he moved toward the patient.

A dumbfounded look prevailed across Paul’s face as he tried in vain to recognize the visitor.

Oh, for Christ’s sake, muttered the visitor, you don’t recognize me. He then turned to leave and said, You need help.

Paul assumed the visitor was going to get a nurse or doctor, but no one came. He fell asleep again.

*     *     *

Chuck, I am worried about Paul, confessed Peg.

He will be all right, replied Chuck. You always worry too much about everyone. Silence prevailed for a few minutes as Chuck continued with the drive home.

I’m going to take a look inside his apartment, declared Peg.

No, you are not, snapped back Chuck.

He gave us the key in case of emergency, argued Peg. Contacting his sister about the accident and his present condition is the right thing to do. Chuck’s lack of reply was taken as a sign of cooperation. The twenty-minute drive was almost over when she said, I wonder why he never got married.

Chuck just shook his head in disbelief of her constant curious concern for other people. You need a baby, commented Chuck.

Peg smiled, as the car rolled into their driveway, and said, Don’t worry. That will happen soon enough.

Taking the keys out of the ignition, Chuck grumbled, I’m getting old you know.

You’re only thirty-one, laughed Peg, and I am twenty-nine.

The smile on Chuck’s face disappeared when Peg remembered, Paul is 39 . . . right?

Right, said Chuck as he watched and followed Peg at a much slower pace up the driveway and into the apartment complex. I’ll wait here, added Chuck, dreading the unforced break-in.

*     *     *

What the hell are we looking for? asked Chuck after nervously entering his neighbor’s apartment.

An address book, letters from Massachusetts, or a list of telephone numbers, replied Peg, figuring that she just stated the obvious. Peg immediately walked over to the telephone on a small desk and found an address book with very few entries and none from out of state, in fact, only neighbors and local stores.

The inquisitive frown on her face was only broken when Chuck announced, Here’s a telegram.

Is it opened? asked Peg.

Yeah, was the reluctant response from Chuck.

After a few seconds of no action, Peg moved quickly toward her husband saying, We are here to help, not harm him.

Chuck retrieved the telegram from the envelope just prior to the anticipated snatch from his grasp.

Duh, said Peg, what the hell does it say?

I need your help, informed Chuck. It’s signed, Mel.

There is no one in the address book called Mel, said Peg. Then needing more information, she looked at the shy, slow sleuth and grabbed the telegram from his hand. Walking toward the window, she muttered, The telegram is from St. Louis.

She carried the telegram with her as she examined both bedrooms and the only bathroom.

Well, Sherlock, what have you discovered? asked Chuck facetiously.

He is pretty neat . . . for a man, qualified Peg. The beds are made up, and everything seems in place.

You know his place always looked nice, commented Chuck.

"I know when he had company over it always