Passkey to the Formulary: Idiomerica Book 4

By J. M. Fagan

Just when you think things are hopeless, something good can happen. And just when you think you’ve got it made—well, think again. The quest to find the real wizards behind the screen has led the Jargonauts on a nationwide hunt through the minefield of a complex hierarchy of enemy operatives, hundreds of potential sources for the secr

• Language: English
• Publisher: Nitrous Oxide Press
• Release date: Feb 20, 2018
• ISBN: 9780999247389

J. M. Fagan

Sometimes called Dr. Death (no connection to Kevorkian), having survived over a dozen near-death experiences, J. M. Fagan has found a safer way to face danger vicariously through fiction writing. The fly fisher, woodworker, flamenco and classical guitarist, and forty-year Oregon educator graduated from Northern Arizona University and Lewis & Clark College and completed further studies at universities in Eastern Oregon, Madrid, and Tokyo.

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cover.jpgIdiomerica: The Quintessential Account of Mason and the Jargonauts in the Quests for the Gordian Keys, by J. M. Fagan

The IDIOMERICA Series

Book 1: Through the Keyhole to One L of a Mess

Book 2: Keyed Up in Seconds

Book 3: Key Figures Get the Third Degree

Book 4: Passkey to the Formulary

Book 5: Keystone of the Fifth Column

Book IV: Passkey to the Formulary

Passkey to the Formulary

Nitrous Oxide Press, LLC, Tigard, OR 97223

©2017 by J. M. Fagan

All rights reserved. Published by Nitrous Oxide Press, LLC. No part of this publication may be reproduced or distributed in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

No characters in the story depict real people, living or deceased, and any resemblance would be pure coincidence. Nor are the names of any products or businesses that were created for the story meant to represent or characterize any that may be real. However, the plants and substances, and many of the locations and businesses, are real. My apologies for any errors in their depictions. The story is meant to be a fun read, and no offense is intended toward any person, group of persons, company, entity, race, gender, religion, or creed.

Editing and design by Indigo: Editing, Design, and More

ISBN: 978-0-9992473-8-9

For my editor, Kristen Hall-Geisler, who tactfully pointed out the many errors of my ways, kept me on track, and provided suggestions that have greatly improved the story. For Laura Garwood, Jennifer Zaczek, Vinnie Kinsella, Olivia Croom, Laurel Boruk, Ali Shaw, Brian Ridder, Susan DeFreitas, and Tina Granzo, whose proofreading, formatting, advice, and other services were indispensable. And for my tai chi instructor, Diana Hobgood, and physical therapists Laura Caudle and Scott Taylor, from whom I’ve learned to ease pain, to improve balance and posture, and to find tranquility in times of need.

Contents

Series Title Page

Book Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

1. Reaching a Happy Medium

2. Normal Deviation

3. A Contradiction of Terms

4. A Numb Feeling

5. There Are Two Sides to Every Story

6. For Better or Worse

7. A Crying Shame

8. Paradox Found

9. Opposites Attract

10. A Tense Calm

11. A Sporting Chance?

12. A Whole New Ball Game

13. Hitting the Big Time

14. Team Chemistry

15. To Your Health

16. The Calm Before the Storm

17. When It Rains, It Pours

18. A Real Barn Burner

19. Gut-Check Time

20. Animal Instinct

21. It’s a Jungle Out There

22. The Nature of the Beast

23. A Perfect Plan

24. There Is No Such Thing as a Perfect Plan

25. Divide and Conquer

26. A Time to Rise and Shine

27. Take Me to Your Leader

28. Into the Deep End

A Note from the Author

1

Reaching a Happy Medium

Come out, come out, wherever you are, intoned the voice from the other side of the cabinet door. I cringed. That voice. The Runt! It was doomsday. I was jammed into the under-sink bathroom cabinet at Atibia Boneset’s veterinary clinic, hiding from Pharma hit men who had found out she was related to the friends of Isaiah. Isaiah had gotten roped into working for Pharma. They had accused him of treason, and recently Pharma hit men had murdered him. Now they were after the bunch of meddlers—the Jargonauts and our allies, though they still didn’t know exactly who we were—who had killed some of their operatives and threatened to disrupt their master plans.

I had nearly killed the Runt twice, once in San Angelo and once on a Red River bridge. Now with a chip on his shoulder, he had a personal vendetta. I didn’t know if he knew I was at Atibia’s, but it appeared he’d soon find out. I was a human pretzel, scrunched in tighter than a sardine, bent in several directions, and in pain. Worst of all, I knew that Tara and Atibia and I would all die. Maybe even the friends of Isaiah as well. I felt helpless, unable to defend us because I couldn’t reach my gun. It was in the waistband of my pants, and I couldn’t reach it. Even if I could, any noise made in trying to retrieve it would give me away.

As the vile runt opened the cabinet door, I closed my eyes and held my breath.

Hey, Jus, take a look in here, whoever was with him called from the other room. I guessed that he’d found Tara.

The Runt took a quick glance under the cabinet and closed the door. He left to join his partner. Had he seen me? Not knowing how soon he’d be back, I stayed put. I could hear voices—deliberating, arguing, questioning—but couldn’t tell what was happening. The longer I waited, the more helpless and guilty I felt, and the more excruciating the pain became. Things were poking me, joints were aching, limbs were going numb, and I wasn’t sure if I could even get back out under my own power.

Soon there were banging and crashing sounds and angry voices that continued through each room. An eternity later, the place became quiet. Were Atibia and Tara still there? Still alive? Was a goon still around, waiting for me to come out? I waited another half hour and was about to attempt extrication from the cabinet when I heard, The coast is clear. It was Atibia. What a huge relief.

I could use a little help down here, I called to her.

Once I got the kinks worked out, she and I went in to the damaged kitchen. Atibia poured us each a stiff drink, and we sat at the table to assess what had just taken place. She explained how the perps had come into the clinic, telling her they were law enforcement agents with a warrant. She was cooperative but objected when they proceeded to turn the place upside down. They went apeshit, tearing apart anything that might contain evidence of her collusion with enemies.

The taller one had roughed her up, grabbed her arm, put a gun to her head, and shouted threats. He kept a tight grip on her as he worked his way through the rooms. When he found Tara, he called to the screwball Justin Inch, the Runt, right as he was opening the cabinet door I was behind. Heavily disguised and sedated, Tara was apparently unrecognizable as one of our Jargonaut members and unable to give them any information. They rifled through the things in her room but left her alone, believing Atibia’s story that she had an infectious disease. None of the animals were harmed, but the thugs thoroughly went through the kennels and cages and supplies. When the men were done, they again threatened Atibia. They would be back, they said, and if they learned she was lying or harboring fugitives, she and many others would die. She waited awhile after they’d gone before letting me know it was safe to come out. I thanked her for not letting on or giving in. And I promised to help her clean up the mess and pay for any damages.

The next day, Matt Finish called from a convenience store burner mobile phone to let me know that Pharma operatives had come to his home and those of the other friends of Isaiah. Like the goons at Atibia’s had, the enforcers threatened and searched and let them know they’d be closely monitored. All the friends played dumb and, at least for the time being, were in the clear.

The ordeal took some of the luster off my high from Webb’s discovery that the head of the FDA could be Pharma’s top dog. A few of my old doubts and fears crept back in, tarnishing the glimmer of hope. Of course it wasn’t that easy. Even if Al Imentary was the main man, spotting Goliath and killing him were two different things. Even if you nailed the Pharma leaders, there could be millions of elixir-modified people still capable of who knows what. We had no idea exactly how far their cancerous scheme had metastasized. Without a cure or an antidote, we could win the battle and still lose the war.

The weight of the world was settling in, and it churned up memories of my all-but-abandoned Life’s Contradictions list I’d started long ago at Rosie’s request. The thought conjured up images of our mission and its relation to the rest of the world. It seemed like everyone and everything was in a constant process of either creation or destruction. Nothing is static. According to the law of conservation of matter and energy, everything is still there somewhere, but the forms are just different. There is constant change. Maybe I needed to embrace change more, go with the flow and all that. But if Newton’s third law of motion applied—for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction—did that mean I’d wind up back where I started? Were we simply spinning our wheels? Tilting at windmills?

Pharma was doing everything to destroy what was good about our country to create something Mephistophelean that would only serve a minority of evil tyrants at the expense of all else. For the Jargonauts, we’d always said that as long as we believed that what we were doing was right, we’d never give up the good fight. I guess you had to believe forward progress was being made, or all would be lost for certain. Anyway, I didn’t have time to dwell on it.

It was time to seek advice about how to make the next forward progress. I consulted my computer button KRYSTAL BALL.

What can I do for you? I asked immediately to see if I could throw her off guard and loosen up her usual brusque manner.

You can take my advice, she replied.

What’s your advice?

Stop being smartass.

Sorry. I’m at a loss as to what our team should do next.

You are serious, no?

Yes, and appreciative. It’s awfully nice of you to help us out.

Then I’m terribly pleased to be of service.

It’s just that our options seem about as clear as mud. Sometimes it feels like we’re progressing backward. No matter what we do, it’s damned if you do and damned if you don’t. How can you expect to keep your nose clean if you’re not supposed to pick your nose?

You have qvite a vay vith vords. You’ve been kissing the Blarney Stone lately?

No. I didn’t mean to unload on you, but things are still pretty ugly. Tara Byte is still in rough shape and convalescing at Atibia Boneset’s clinic, and I’m tired—mighty weak, in fact. Can’t seem to think straight.

Vell, you are facing minor crisis. You have been through a lot and feeling stress, like you are betveen Scylla and Charybdis. Or maybe it’s just your slacks are too tight.

Beg your pardon?

Just thinking out loud, she muttered. Nothing’s impossible. There is alvays a vay out. Before you take action, get some rest. Take a day or two off to get your mind right. Othervise, you vill succumb to rectal cranial inversion, if you catch my drift.

I did. She was right. I probably sounded like a whiner to boot. Okay, I promise. Then what?

I help you because I believe in you. But only vhen you are truly ready. Then stay ready and expect the unexpected. Mmm…I’m seeing a Veston…Athena, a Southport… a Fork Union, an…Unalaska, and a Pearl City. And a Duck Valley.

Could you elaborate a little?

No. That is all. You are velcome. Good luck.

How am I supposed to— Once again she made her trademark disappearance. I was irritated that she’d left me with yet again another puzzle. Even if I found the places, how would I know who or what to look for? I resolved to be grateful. It was more than I had a few minutes ago. I shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Her suggestions had been right each time so far. Either we’d find more answers, or this was just her way of putting some distance between the Jargonauts and impending danger. Whichever way, I couldn’t ignore her advice.

Unalaska was in Alaska, and I found Westons in four states, but the only one with an Athena and a Weston as well was Oregon. I found a Fork Union in Virginia, a Southport in North Carolina, a Pearl City in Oahu, Hawaii, and a Duck Valley Indian Reservation on the Idaho-Nevada border. At least that narrowed things down a tad.

2

Normal Deviation

With no time to waste, I thought it best to trade any new information with the Jargonaut teams and then dispatch them ASAP in pairs to the locations suggested by KRYSTAL BALL. From West Virginia, Donny Brook and Bertha Vanation reported having located the SynthePharm lab in Charleston. After many frustrating dead ends in Palestine, Bethlehem, Athens, Troy, and Homer, they also managed to identify what they believed were test labs in St. Marys and Harper’s Ferry. I filled them in on the latest news and promised a new assignment once I’d heard from everyone.

While I waited, still hiding out at Atibia’s in-house veterinary clinic, I was able to spend short periods of time with Tara. Though quite weak and fragile, she wanted to know what all she’d missed. I stuck to the more positive events, not wanting to upset her or give her cause to worry—especially after the incident with the Runt and his buddy. I reminded her of the new allies we’d acquired, like Eve Adams and Adam Eaves; Moses Cort and the Theo Logians; Pharma defectors Mark Mywords, Esther Truth, and Levi Strauswaltz; and the rest of our computer button allies. Their contributions were steadily bringing in names of plants used in Pharma’s recipes, names of their operatives, and names and locations of their labs, all of which meant that success for our mission could soon be within our grasp. I told her about how Webb Masters had cracked some of Pharma’s codes and learned that the head of the FDA, Al Imentary, was the biggest Pharma operative we’d uncovered, perhaps the biggest of all. I explained how Sybil Pythia’s husband, Graham Bassador, was a friend of the secretary of the interior, Sam Ewell, who in turn could be the way to get to Al Imentary and others in the government that might be involved. I told her that the surveillance cameras she’d acquired were all still in place and sending crucial data to our teams, and that our scientists Flora and Fauna and ARENAY MESSENGER nearly had the formulas decoded; finishing touches on the antidotes were soon to follow.

Tara wanted to know about the guy who shot her. I