East of Eden West of Hell

By John Dee and Katt Lynn

Fact or Fiction? Eden, Prester John, the Christian religion, the Roman, and Greek gods and goddesses. To Pope Alexander the Third's 28 year old Physician/legate, Philippe Affonso Demetrio Marino, all are the same. The same as the chamber pots his faithful manservant empties every day.
To Philippe's 14 year old bride Alivia; all are true. Especially Eden. Oh especially Eden! Only after they find it will Philippe consent to love her. Things were different in 1177, 2004, 2299, and 02 B.C. A lot different. Ask some of the people who lived then.
James Dean Jenkins; race car driver, hootch and grass importer. Sharon Elizabeth Chambers the 6 foot two beauty of the bunch who could shoot the eye out of a flying nat at a thousand yards. Of course we can't forget the Feds, the CIA,,or the NSA who want Jenkins, Chambers, Sarge, and the Professor dead or captured. And let's not forget 15 years old Scarlett; the nympho of the bunch. Seducing Married men got her tried as a witch, 850 years ago. So, I guess it's ok if she rocks Jenkin's world now.
East of Eden West of Hell spans over 3,000 years; From 7 BC to 2,299 AD and beyond. More than 3,000 years of Love, War, and Sex. Join Alivia, Deano, the Professor in the search for Eden.

• Language: English
• Publisher: John Dee
• Release date: Sep 7, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215342756

John Dee

Traveling the world for fifty years I picked up some "What ifs" along with a large amount of "it could have happened(s)," and smattering of truth is stranger than fiction. (not true)I am an Irish Texan born for yarn spinning.In the "Also" category; international tour guide, exploratory mineralogist, (did I spell that correctly?) and custom gemstone buyer.

Book preview

EAST OF EDEN WEST OF HELL

By

John Dee & Katt Lynn

Copyright 2018 by Kathy Lynn O’Keefe and John D. O’Keefe

Smashwords Edition License Notes.

This E-Book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.

You know the rest of this speech; so, do what's right

Thank you.

John Dee & Katt Lynn

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Other Smashwords Novels and books for your enjoyment by John Dee and Katt Lynn

Kelley’s Bar, The Nam, Way out West a Christmas poem, Holy Baloney,

Dead Right by John Dee; with cover art by Katt Lynn

(Translated from late Latin, Azuki, late twentieth century, and early 21st by Doctor Henderson.)

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Table of Contents:

Chapter:01 And we begin

Chapter:02 Found them!

Chapter:03 Plans made

Chapter:04 Death Warrant

Chapter:05 Wine Tasting

Chapter:06 Bob Marley

Chapter:07 Safety

Chapter:08 The Soldiers

Chapter:09 Save Him

Chapter:10 Babies

Chapter:11 Exposed

Chapter:12 KattLynn

Chapter:13 No Fly List

Chapter:14 Gilroy

Chapter:15 History

Chapter:16 Get Dressed

Chapter:17 Religion

Chapter:18 Escape

Chapter:18 ½ Knights Death

Chapter:19 Back to now

Chapter:19 ½ Back to Then

Chapter:20 New Foods

Chapter:21 There Yet

Chapter:22 Agent Wagner

Chapter:23 Ellen

Chapter:24 Laura

Chapter:25 Dispensate?

Chapter:26 Leave!

Chapter:27 Jounieh

Chapter:28 King Baldwin

Chapter:29 Friends or Foes?

Chapter:30 Ambush!

Chapter:31 XXX

Chapter:32 Recruits

Chapter:33 Information

Chapter:34 Road Trip

Chapter:35 Revelation

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Chapter One: And we begin.

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TOC

09:05 Monday, January 2nd 2299

Treasury Department; Financial Crimes Enforcement Network: Washington D.C.:

Maria Sanchez followed close behind Division Chief, Clayton Powel, as they entered the cubical maze, which was the nerve center of FINCEN. The North American Union’s guardian against financial crimes.

Quickly glancing up from their work ‘Holos,’ in their ten-by-ten cells, which some still called an office; eyes eager to check out the 'new girl', braved the chief’s glare as the duo passed by.

It was worth the risk. Not for the view of Clayton, who was on the down side slide of upper middle age and showing it. But for Maria, who was a five-foot seven-inch, raven-haired beauty with blue eyes staring out of her perfect satiny smooth face and white toothed smile. From her long lashes to her thin ankles with major model measurements in-between; this woman had stem cells worth killing for.

Clayton, unerringly guided Maria to her new cubby hole in the autocratic capital of the world. This was no simple feat in the fifty-three-thousand square foot complex of five hundred dungeons.

"Here we are M. Sanchez. Your name plate will be ready this afternoon and someone from Supply will deliver it. I suggest you familiarize yourself with 'Windows Universal' this morning; if you are not already familiar with the system.

M. White, in the cubical next, is your section leader and will answer any and all questions you may have.

In the future; he will be the liaison between yourself and your senior officers. Work hard, work efficiently, keep your record clean and in no time, you will make G30 and be enjoying forty weeks of paid vacation per year. Good day M. Sanchez."

As was the custom for government employee protocol; Clayton never looked at Maria, during their brief encounter; thus, lowering his chances of becoming the target of a 'Sexual Harassment' suit and jeopardizing his forty-eight weeks of paid vacation per year.

Maria told the computer to power up, while she surveyed her new domain and was instantly greeted with; It has been five hours since ‘Windows’ has been updated. Would you like to update ‘Windows’ now?

She gave the per functionary Yes, so she wouldn’t be bothered with ‘update’ notices every three minutes while she was working.

Windows has four hundred and fifty-two ‘critical’ updates for your computer would you like to download and install them now?

Yes.

Figuring she might as well meet her immediate supervisor while the computer was updating; Maria went to the cubical adjacent to hers and announced from the entrance way; Good morning, M. White; I’m your new neighbor Maria Sanchez.

Without looking up from his computerized hologram; Robert White replied in a flat monotone voice.

Welcome aboard M. Sanchez; I’m sure you’ll enjoy working for the Treasury department just as much as the rest of us do.

M. White; seeing as how we are going to be working together, you have my permission to address me as Maria.

Again; without looking away from his computer holo; the large athletic looking black man in his mid-thirties, reached over his shoulder with his left hand open as if he were waiting for something to be placed in it.

Maria, stepped back to her cubical; rolled the chair over to her 'personal notary', and waited for it to recognize her. Then she requested co-employee permissions. When the form popped up, she completed it with her laser pen then signed it with her right index fingerprint; which ejected the 'thumb viewer'. Retrieving the miniature holo box, she went back to White’s office and dropped the device into his waiting hand which was still open behind his head.

Robert placed the 'mini' projector on his desk, and then activated it with a single word; display.

The section supervisor waited for the hologram to stop flickering, then began to read the form out loud.

I Maria Lucida Carla Antonio Guadalupe Sanchez, do hereby consent to the following. All co-workers may address me as Maria. All co-workers may look at me. All co-workers may fist bump my fist when congratulating me. With permission, some co-workers are allowed to substitute hugs for fist bumps. All co-workers are allowed to invite me to join them for lunch in the commissary. All co-workers will abide by the 'Three Strike' rule on the matters of dating, requesting casual sex, and contract proposals. All co-workers may tell jokes in my presence regardless of genre, or theme. Dated 09:24, January 2nd 2299. Iris recognition; print signed.

Her supervisor dropped the ‘Permie-chip’ into his ‘Consent Safe’ then turned to Maria, and bumped her fist while welcoming her aboard.

Sanchez returned to her cubical with Robert’s consent chip and deposited it in her own safe. (This could only be opened by the Impropriety Board, should she be accused of sexual harassment by a co-worker.)

Afterwards; she kneeled on her chair, in front of the holo screen, and began the thankless task of searching out people who would defraud the North American Union’s Government.

Three days later she hit pay dirt!

Chapter Two: Found them!

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TOC

15:47 Thursday January 5th, 2299 Washington D.C. Treasury Department:

The excited voice of Maria impacted Robert’s ears; pulling him out of a ‘Computer Trance.’

Robert; I found one! Wait a minute, make that thr- - -no; make that four! I found four in one shot; can you believe it? I - - -

Lock your targets! quick!

Do what Robert?

Save your image! Do it now!

Maria looked at her multiple holographic screens in dismay as the images on them disappeared one by one. She whispered a belated save in desperation, to which the last screen paid no attention as it winked out.

White knocked on the entrance way partition to Maria’s cubical as he entered; while explaining in an understanding tone.

Same thing has happened to all of us, Sanchez; more than once. The ‘POPIP Act’ of 2176 gives the law-abiding pawns the right to anonymity; which means we have to inform the precious people when we are checking up on them and they have the option of limiting the search to three seconds; unless, we have an electronic warrant. Most people have one of those cheap five-thousand credit ‘Privacy Act’ programs installed on their computer, and it times you down to the millisecond. Forget about them; it’s almost quitting time, and there’s still plenty of termites left in the tree. Don’t worry. You’ll catch the bad guys tomorrow.

What’s the POPIP Act?

Privacy of Personal Information Protection act. Privacy of personal information protection; Sanchez; along with a thousand other laws to protect the criminals.

Thanks, and if you don’t mind, Robert; I’ll catch them tonight. I remember how I found them.

Won’t work Maria. That damn privacy act will block you for a hundred and eighty days from using the same source without a warrant and we don’t have enough info for a warrant.

Not a problem boss; I kind of remember the name of the city where they are from. I think it began with an H; something like Hatch or Hitachi, if I’m not mistaken. Any way it’s in California; this much I am sure of. Would you believe those idiots all have the same address? Not too bright if you’re going to scam the government; is it?

"Well; have at it, Sanchez. This is what I like about you. You remind me, of me, ten years ago; when I was working twenty-hour days, trying to save the world in a week. Until I realized, all I was accomplishing was my early demise. No matter how many I put away today; there was always one more 'taker' the next day. I’ll see you in the morning Sanchez. Don’t blame me for the circles under your eyes."

Maria’s coworkers were leaving like lemmings in a forest fire, while she sat back down in front of her holo screen; readying herself for the uphill battle to outwit those who would illegally take money from the government.

The first attempt she tried was against White’s advice. When she found ‘access denied’ at her original discovery site; Maria shouted her new battle cry to her computer, and the now empty room.

Assholes!

It wasn’t until four in the morning and a proctology department later she claimed her ‘golden finger award.’

Gotchya boys and girls; let’s see you get away this time.

Chapter Three: Plans Made

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TOC

09:01 Friday January 6th 2299 Washington D.C. Treasury Department:

Good morning, Maria. I slept so much better last night, knowing you were diligently fighting crime while I was dreaming about being a dashing, devil may care field agent, like double 'O' seventy-seven. My name is White; Robert White and this is my number one operative Sanchez; Maria Sanchez. She has a license to kill. Now; the only thing I have to do, is look good, when Clayton gives me my Section Chief of the Year Award for all your hard work. Seriously, Maria; was the loss of sleep worth it?

I’m glad you asked that question double 'O' seventy-seven, because I would like to introduce you to Thomas David O’Malley, James Dean Jenkins, Sharon Elizabeth Chambers, and last but certainly not least, Doctor Bryan Adam Henderson.

Outstanding Sanchez! And just where do we find these four felonious felons?

They all have the same addresses in a place called Hiouchi, California; right next to the Redwood Forrest, up by Crescent City.

That’s two outstanding’s in a row Sanchez; are you bucking for my job?

Not a chance boss; I just want all your fringe benefits. You can keep the job.

Then I had better start doing it. You get us three chits for the San Francisco shuttle, while I find a field agent to tag along as chaperone and a persuasion tool; in case our desperadoes don’t wish to come along with us quietly.

Twenty minutes later they were on the roof; waiting for a hover bus and the field agent.

The agent showed up first.

Howdy; you two must be White and Sanchez. Field agent Carol Moore at your disposal; where we off to?

The three agents exchanged ‘Permie-Chips’ and viewed them, prior to White answering agent Moore’s question.

We are going over to Northern Cali; Up by the Oreg border. Got ourselves four desperadoes; who are crying out, to be set back on the path of righteousness.

Then, I am just the girl of your dreams, Robert; path finding was my favorite subject in school, just above righteousness. Let’s go get the bastards. By the way; what did they do that was so intolerably non righteous?

Don’t ask me. Ask Sanchez; she’s the one who tagged them. Personally, I don’t care who, which, or where; did what, or when, to who, or whom, as long as it gets me out of the office for a few days.

I’m with you there Robbie; I was suffering from terminal boredom myself.

It’s Robert.

How about Rob?

Nope.

Then I suppose Bob is out also.

Most definitely. The moniker of Bob White just doesn’t command respect in this business; especially if one happens to be of African descent. Which in case you haven’t noticed; I am.

Forget respect; I’m just attempting to find a name that will get me into your pants and Robert just isn’t going to do it for me.

Why don’t we just jump into bed and figure it out during foreplay?

The Treasury Department shuttle bus chose that moment to land; interrupting Carol’s reply. The trio stepped onto the bus, and seconds later were headed towards ‘Capitol Hill’ world airport. White decided to change the subject from the bedroom to the classroom as he took on the job of tour guide.

Ladies; off to the east of us is Arlington National Cemetery and of the sixty-three million service men and women interred there. Eighty-nine percent of them never saw their twenty-first birthday. Out to our left is the Pentagon, which I’m sure you recognize. But did you know it was attacked almost three hundred years ago? This is where the phrase; ‘better a clerk than a corporal’ came from. Everyone remembers the clerks who died on 9-11; which is why September 11th is a national holiday, but no one remembers the service men and women who died in the pentagon. Ah! There’s ‘Capitol Hill World Airport’ coming up. It used to be called ‘Ronald Regan National,’ but everyone knew its main function was to house the private planes of the congressmen, filibusters, and embassy personnel, on ‘Capitol Hill.’ It just took a while for the name to catch up.

The three agents hailed a ‘corridor cab’ to take them to the ‘Frisco Shuttle’ gate; a mile and a half away. Once they were seated in the plane, Maria attempted to pick her section chief's brain.

Robert, seeing as how you want to play Trivia; explain to me why we have to go into outer space just to get to San Francisco.

I’ll let Carol answer this one for you Maria; after all, she travels more than both of us.

Think of it as ballistics, Maria. If you shoot an arrow from a bow in a straight line parallel to the earth, it will land at a given point depending on how much energy was transferred from the bow, to the bow string, to the arrow. Now if you raise your bow, so the arrow will travel in an arc; the same amount of energy will allow the arrow to go two, three, or even four times further depending on the arc. So, today; we will go up to the edge of outer space; which is closer than Baltimore is from the airport. Once we are in the thermosphere, the Captain will nudge the throttle a little bit, and combined with the earth’s rotation; we will be doing Mach-five in about two seconds. Then, hopefully we will come down in what is best described as a controlled crash. So, for about the same amount of fuel as it would take us to go to Richmond right down the road for a facial; we can make it to San Francisco for a shopping spree in about a quarter of the time.

Ladies and Gentlemen; this is your captain speaking. We are cleared for immediate take off, so fasten up, hold on, and hope for the best. Thank you for flying Government Subsidy Airlines; where we traded profits and safety, for higher upper level management paychecks.

Speaking of safety, Robert; did either you or Maria, cross check our suspects with the other agencies, to see what we are getting into?

White looked at Maria inquisitively, and she shrugged her shoulders briefly before replying.

I have absolutely no clue of what you two are talking about.

Carol explained; If you have a suspect who wrote a bad E-chit to the government. You don’t go and knock on their door, until you have checked his, her, or their numbers with the local, state, and federal boys; to see if he, she, or they are also wanted for mass murder, or some similar felony. This way; you can chime S.W.A.T. in, to press the doorbell for you, and they get the face full of 'laser needles' instead of you.

Ladies and Gentlemen; we will be landing in two minutes. Thank you for flying G.S.A. The local time is seven-fifty-two and the temperature is a lovely fifty-eight degrees.

Another corridor cab took them the two miles, to the baggage claim area, where they were met by the liaison from the Frisco field office of the Treasury Department.

Welcome to the ‘Gay Bay.’ My name is José Alejandro Murrieta. Robert; you are the only one I need a Permie Chip from, and I do hope it says all the right things. As for me, I am just fresh out. Gave every nasty little one of them away on my stroll to baggage claim. So, I guess you can all say anything, or do anything to me you desire. I’m game. Besides; those chips are just so tacky. They take all the mystique and romance out of dating. I say just give the person of your passion a big kiss on the lips, and see if you get a slap on the face or a tongue in the mouth for your effort. It’s what I always do, and sue me if you don’t like it. So far, I’ve never been sued; lucky me.

Matching words to deeds; he kissed all three of the Washington agents. Then picked up their luggage and headed for the door, before they could spit, slap, or swoon.

José had the bags in the back of the van and doors open for the trio, before they finally figured out to follow him. When the threesome clambered into the new 99 G.M.C.U.S.A. mini touring mobile; their liaison officer made his appeal.

Please, please, pleeease! Don’t tell me you’re suits. I have this simply marvy weekend planned out for us. The weather will be to live for, and there are no earthquake warnings in the forecast. So, I thought we would do the old wine country and a little synthy-vino, before we hit historic 101, up the coast. Then we could stop at this cute little Microtel tonight. It simply serves the most fantastic synthy-food on the whole planet, and we could just stuff ourselves. Afterwards we could take in some quality bed time; my room or yours. It doesn't really matter. And when we go to Crescent City; you can drop me off at Maurice’s for a mani-pedi; while the three of you venture forth and arrest the baser element of society. What do you say; is it doable for you? It is for me.

Robert answered from the safety of the back seat.

We were instructed to cooperate with the San Francisco office, and as far as I am concerned; you are that office, José; as long as you don’t kiss me again.

Spoil sport!

They were sliding through Sausalito at 09:00 local time when Carol asked Maria to pull up the suspect info on her ringputer.

After Sanchez had complied, Moore continued; You'll want to do this all the time from now on. It will save you and the field agent a lot of headaches in the future. Add the takers’ names, then tell your computer to copy; then pull up all agencies. Got it? Good; say select all. Next; say paste all. Finally; say send. Now we wait for them to get back to you. It might take four or five seconds, but be patient. What did they come up with?

Nothing; they are all in the green. No wants, no warrants from anybody. Feds or otherwise. Not even a parking violation. So, I guess we are good to go.

You bet your sweet ass we are. Finally; I can relax and enjoy the wine, which we were promised years ago.

"Don’t get your laser vest in an uproar girlfriend; I’ve got my blinker on for the next exit and Botticelli’s winery.

Chapter Four: Death Warrant

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TOC

12:00:47 Friday January 6th 2299

Langley, Virginia. C.I.A. Headquarters:

With red lights flashing on his holo screen and klaxons blaring in his templeceiver; Agent Rather; spoke calmly into his implanted Jaw Mic.

We have a ‘Pandora’s Box’ situation; sender, treasury from Santa Rosa California; numbers four. Package; Hiouchi California, also contains four parcels.

12:00: 47 Friday January 6th 2299 Fort Meade, Maryland. NSA Headquarters:

A single mini light on the console strobed, while the operator conversed with an unseen supervisor; Enigma- sector Charlie - 105- transmission -Treasury - sector Charlie - 101.

12:00:47 Friday January 6th 2299 Washington, D.C. F.B.I. Headquarters:

As her screen flashed; this agent also spoke to an unseen controller; We have the ‘Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse’ located; Hiouchi, California, with riders in Santa Rosa, California at Botticelli’s Winery. Satellites in position; three minutes twelve seconds.

In all; at forty-seven seconds past twelve noon Eastern Standard Time, there were fifty-three locations around the world; where lights were flashing, as bells, whistles, or sirens were screaming for attention; while dispassionate desk jockeys, speaking with their unseen supervisors in cryptic chatter were uncaringly signing the death warrants of the four Treasury Agents who were having their first sips of synthy-wine in Santa Rosa.

The treasury agents, were blissfully oblivious that plans for their immediate and untimely demise was being debated around the world, in various National Capitals.

But, of the four people who actually lived at 23175 Redwood Lane in Hiouchi. They were anything, but oblivious as to what was going on.

Hey guys; twenty-six more embassies in Frisco just received their Code Reds, and the Department of Homeland Security just came on line. Not bad; they are only ninety-three seconds behind Monaco, and the Vatican. But then again, to their credit, they are almost three seconds ahead of Botswana.

What’s the total Jim?

Forty-eight and climbing Tom; How’s it going with the ‘fuzzers’ and decoys?

Decoys in place and ‘fuzzers’ operational. Seventy-eight trillion credits' worth of satellites are now blind anywhere within a hundred-mile radius of this joint.

The ‘joint’ to which Tom was referring; was their fifty-thousand square foot, two story, log cabin.

The four occupants present; figured out a long time ago this simple formula. They all needed space; if they were to live together in harmony, which by strange necessity was their only other option to incarceration.

Individually; they didn’t stand a chance against the powers to be, but jointly, they were pretty much unstoppable.

The house; which looked like your typical California Billionaire retreat from the outside; was if anything, atypical. Between the interior and exterior walls, was a two-foot-thick tynanium steel reinforced 'Kevment' mixture which would stand up to a direct hit of a five-megaton blast.

Beneath the bowling alley in the basement, was a tunnel system, which put the catacombs of Rome to shame. Their private armory would have been the envy of most military commanders.

In the middle of it all, was an electronic command post. Which, on its own was cutting edge, but under the tutelage of Jim, was devastating.

Thus, bringing us to the human occupants of this abode.

Taking into account everyone in the ‘cabin’ knew the major governments and organizations of the world, were presently sending various ‘death squads’ to capture, or eliminate the four of them. All concerned were taking it quite well. For instance. Jim, the electronic/computer wizard mentioned above; was kicked back in his favorite chair, with his feet propped up on the table in front of him. Surrounded by his E.C.M. (electronic counter measures) gear and computers; each screaming in their own way for attention, while he calmly ate homemade ‘Double dip chocolate, triple fudge almond delight’ ice cream, and washed down each bite with a sip of raspberry wine cooler. (The real stuff; not synthy.)

James Dean Jenkins (A.K.A. Jim, Deano, The Movie Star and Shorty) was five-three, one forty-four, with hazel eyes, light complexion, and long blond hair slicked back in the style of his namesake.

Thomas David O’Malley (A.K.A. Tom, Sarge, Tight, and Hard Ass) on the other hand was six-three, two hundred eighteen pounds, of Afro-American dynamite. At the present time, he was sitting in the twenty-foot hot tub located on the rooftop balcony, releasing 'fuzzers' into the atmosphere, after setting them.

The beauty of the bunch was Sharon Elizabeth Chambers. (A.K.A. Beth, The Bitch, Annie, and Lady S). She was six-two, one-sixty-seven, with red hair, green eyes, and freckles in all the right places. If that didn’t turn heads, her thirty-eight, twenty-four, thirty-six packaging did.

Sharon was the ordinance expert of the group and could put the eye out of a flying seagull at a thousand yards. She also was in the hot tub. Only she was beneath the bubbling surface; reassembling an AK-47 with her eyes open.

The father figure of the group; although he didn’t act it most of the time, was Byron Adam Henderson. (A.K.A. The Brain, Professor, Pops, and Mister Bones) He was slim; five foot eleven, about one-forty-five, with slightly graying wavy hair. And presently, he was still in his pajamas, smoking his pipe, while searching through five hundred shards of pottery waiting to be placed in their proper position, before the restoration of the three-thousand-year-old Anasazi ceremonial bowl would be complete.

The first three inhabitants appeared to be in their mid to late twenties, while the latter was a good looking fiftyish. But appearances can be; and are quite often deceiving. Such is our case here.

Beth rose from the bottom of the Jacuzzi holding her reassembled '47' and fired off a round to clear the water from the bore before she inquired; What about those four sitting ducks from the Treasury Department?

Tom answered her in a flat emotionless voice; They make it here; we’ll take care of them Beth.

And if they can’t?

Then it’s God’s job to take care of them. After all, Shim is the one who got us in this mess to begin with.

‘Shim’ was Tom’s way of sidestepping the inane issue of whether God was male or female. To Tom; God was (A) He (B) She (C) Both (D.) Neither, or (E.) All of the above; depending upon his mood.

I still think we should warn them.

Jim broke in on the conversation; "Ok kiddies, it’s time to turn off your throat mikes and ear pieces; I don’t want anyone’s 'big brother' listening in. Don’t worry Beth; if Hard Ass doesn’t warn them, I’ll do it. They are in no immediate danger; the C.I.A. is still an hour and a half behind them, and the Feds won’t catch up till Monday. Although, the black robes are screaming out of Frisco, like their asses are on fire. The Pope's, personal posse poses no immediate danger, because they’ll come straight here, and not worry about knocking off witnesses, until after they neutralize us.

Chapter Five: Wine Tasting

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TOC

11:00 Friday, January 6th 2299

Santa Rosa, California, Botticelli’s Winery:

The liaison toasted his co-workers; "Ok workiepoos, bottoms up, but first drink your wine. There are plenty of places to see and people to do, before night starts. Besides, I think we have sabbed (sabotaged) this place all it can stand, and I would hate to see a grown waiter cry. No, I wouldn’t; I lied, but let’s go anyway.

14:00 Langley:

The orders fell from above; Walk down the aisle with Pandora and retrieve box, there are to be no; I repeat no wedding guest. They are still assembled at the winery; remove them from the list with extreme prejudice.

14:05 Washington, D.C.:

Have located the 'horsemen'. ‘Prophets’ in Santa Rosa no longer needed to test sacramental wine.

14:07 Fort Meade:

Code breakers a threat, they are on the move towards enigma. Expedite elimination. Do not rely on 'Spooks' (C.I.A.) or 'Vacuum cleaners' (Hoover/Feds) for removal of code breakers; oversee operation expeditiously.

20:07 Vatican:

Proceed directly to cathedral; you are not to interfere with parishioner and priest squabbles along the way. You may perform excommunication rites after the services.

11:09 Healdsburg, California; 'Three Oaks Winery':

The four treasury agents were sitting in the rose garden pavilion annex of the Three Oaks Winery tasting room, and José was still dominating the conversation.

The only reason we tarry here my friends; is because timing, is everything. If we spend enough time drinking wine; then when we hit 'Sky line drive', before our dive to the 'Old Ocean highway'. The sunset will be absolutely divine, I promise. Besides; if we just sit here and drink; how much trouble can we get into? And as far as my nasty old driving log is concerned; I am recharging our vehicle’s batteries. This is why I purposely grabbed my car from the motor pool with its meters in the yellow. I am such a conniving bitch. Don’t you just love me?

For the next hour; the three senior agents mixed liberal amounts of synthy-wine, with an equal measure of 'Field Stories'; much to Maria’s delight.

Being a novice; she took the highly embellished accounts of past actions as gospel. She didn’t understand; 'this is what happened to me one day,' was a kissing cousin to, 'once upon a time.'

José, excused himself with an 'I’ve heard that one before' nod of his head when he went to check on the batteries.

He wound up, doing a bit more than checking out the car.

12:10 Hiouchi:

Jim’s eyes widened slightly, as he announced; It’s Party Time! to his friends, then told his computer; to treasury agents José Martinez, Robert White, Maria Sanchez, and Carol Moore. Imperative you make it to 23175 Redwood Lane if you wish to go on living. Come here and eat hibachi grilled chicken or stay there and become some. A 'smart bomb' is on its way compliments of NSA. Turn off your P.T.D.’s and all other electronics. The F.B.I. is in your area. C.I.A. close behind, along with fifty-two other hostile companies looking for takeover. The four of you are 'Black Listed'. They want you dead. Washington will be of no help; you are expendable. We will get the blame for your deaths. Move Now! Now! Now!

12:11 Back at the Three Oaks Winery parking lot:

José saw the lower torso of a man sticking out from underneath his car. His eyes instantly began searching for the lookout; while his right hand reached for his three-millimeter laser shell 'Beretta,' and his thumb flipped the safety into the business position. He spotted his adversary sixty feet away next to a tree. The liaison snapped off two quick silent shots, before the man in the black suit and silver sunglasses had his own weapon raised to the firing position. José watched as bark from the tree chipped away next to the man’s head. The chauffeur stepped to his left, and this time took proper aim prior to squeezing the trigger. He had the satisfaction of seeing his opponent drop, but not before he felt the tingling sting of a laser shell in his upper arm.

He waited for the explosion, but it never came. The same could not be said for the man José first spotted. He, was now advancing on him with a 'Flash Knife.' The liaison’s Beretta was lying on the ground twenty-feet away; where it had flown from his grasp, with the impact to his shoulder. José looked at his rugged antagonist and inquired.

Do you think we could just kiss, make up, and then forget about all this violence? No? Well; have it your way then Jay Edgar.

Skipping to his right, José spun around like a ballerina, and placed the heel of his right foot, into the right side of his assailant’s right knee joint; dropping the antagonist to the ground. Then; as he rebounded from the kick José spun to his left, lifting his right leg over the knife blade; kicking his foe, full force in the temple. As the stunned agent looked up in disbelief; José took his left hand and pulled out a 'tranky gun'.

Just before he squeezed the trigger, José looked at the fallen fed and exclaimed; Mother was so right; those silly dance lessons do come in handy. Nighty night, sweet prince. Then he put a dart into the man prior to inspecting the car.

After removing the three G.P.S. activated bombs from beneath the van; he opened the door and told his machine to scan for other explosive devices. As soon as his autoputer gave him a clean sweep report, it greeted him with; you have one message oh divine master.

He listened to Jim’s message then jumped behind the wheel, and raced across the parking lot. When he got to the rose garden, he kept on going. While he was crashing through tables and terrifying the winery’s clientele; he reached up and pressed the hollow in his left collarbone, thus turning off his P.T.D.; Then he screeched to a stop in front the treasury trio; who had confusion written all over their faces.

He quickly lowered the passenger window and yelled; We have the choice of going to Hiouchi for hibachi grilled chicken; whatever that is, or staying here and becoming some! Turn off your Personal Tracking Devices and Jump in!

As the doors slammed shut and he ordered the van into reverse, then demanded; Kill your SatComs, computers and anything else which may be used to track you.

Careening back through the tables and astonished patrons; he slid to a slow down by an awestruck waiter, and threw him a five hundred-credit comchit while yelling; That’s for table one-twenty-four, which will be the recipient of a 'smart bomb' in less than a minute. I suggest you buss it quickly, and then get your cute ass out of here!

The four treasury agents heard the bomb detonate as they cruised up the north bound on- ramp, doing a hundred and fifty. When they were safely on the freeway José thumbed the accelerator; bringing the vehicle up to freeway speed then turned to his companions and explained the current situation.

Thanks to one of you Washington Einstein’s; I now have a ruined Nano silky blouse, and the department won’t reimburse me for a 'Tabyo.' Whose brain fart was it to pursue a L.B.D.T. file anyway?

Maria inquired from the back seat. What’s a L.B.D.T. file?

The chauffeur was quick to answer her; Look; But Don’t Fucking Touch file, Honey; with the emphasis on Don’t and Fucking.

Robert interjected; There weren’t any tags on this one, José.

Well, there should have been. Anyway; I guess there is no sense in crying over spilt semen. What’s screwed is screwed, and I suppose one should look at the bright side; half the world’s eligible bachelors are chasing us right now, and lucky me might just catch one, if he doesn’t put a shell into me first. Which reminds me; can you drive as you claim Handsome?

Robert sputtered out his reply; Better.

José directed his next question to Carol; How about you girlfriend; can you actually part the pubic hair on a peanut with a laser pistol, and not damage the goods?

Show me your peanut José, and I’ll show you my laser pistol.

Sorry girlfriend; I’m not into rough trade, which brings us to Florence Nightingale. Maria; when we get to lover’s lane, or the rest area as some still insist on calling it, you will remove the unexploded 'Laser Shell' in my arm while girlfriend pulls some armament out of the trunk. And 'King Kong' here, adjusts the steering console to accommodate the magnificent bulge in his pants.

Robert was nervously shifting things around, while José continued; There is a 'squeeze n please park' five minutes up the road, maybe fifteen-twenty miles away. I figure we have ten minutes tops to fix my arm, pick your weapons, and get my beautiful self, back on the road. So, Maria, pull the first aid kit out from under your seat and get ready. Now, everybody, take your 'Soby' pills except for me; I’m going to have a synthy-mescal neat, straight from the bottle no ice.

Putting words into action, he pulled a jug of the golden elixir from beneath his seat and raised it to his lips while exclaiming; Come to mommy; you, cute little wormy poo.

After taking a long pull on the bottle; the chauffeur explained why the car was still doing 160. Disconnected all the Breathalyzer sensors.

While they were pulling into the rest area; José popped the hatch and slammed on the brakes, yelling; Albanian fire drill! Next, he hit the emergency exit button; which opened all the remaining doors on the vehicle.

Everyone jumped from the van, except for José. He slid from the driver’s seat to the shotgun position, before the vehicle came to a complete halt. After telling the seat to recline; he yelled for Maria.

Medic!

The agent was by the chauffeur’s side and flipping the 'medi-visor' into the 'see everything' position before he could put an exclamation point on medic.

"Quit your yelling; I’m here. Now lie still, while I look in the hole and I’ll have your shell out before you can say erection. Let me just move this flap of skin covering the thing and then I’ll grab it with an extractor.

Maria gently, but quickly raised the two-inch flap of skin in José's upper arm with the plastic forceps. Then just as quickly, but twice as gently, she laid the flap back in place before explaining to the liaison.

Going to need the smaller suture kit girlfriend; back in a minute.

Maria left José and ran around to the back of the van where she found the field agent sorting through the weapons collection.

Carol; José has an A.P. in his arm and not a laser shell.

The field agent kept on searching as if she hadn't heard the new agent. Then, just as Maria was about to repeat herself, Carol shouted; Found It!

Swiftly dragging Maria to the front passenger side of the mini; the field agent grabbed the bottle from José's hand and took a long swig then passed the bottle to Maria before announcing.

Hey Tinkerbelle; what are you more fond of? Your love lily, or your shoulder?

What a silly question Butch; you don't give away the stallion to save a saddle; now do you?"

I figured as much, so I want you; to slowly, but as quickly as possible, get out of the van. It’s an Anti-Personal in your arm, not a laser shell. The 'Virgin Mary' here, has never removed one before, so I am going to show her how to do it.

Oh; this is really going to mess with my makeup girlfriend. Tell me you are just being homophobic and screwing with the fag. There is no way to remove a 'tongue twister'; which is why Maria hasn't done it before. Everyone knows you can't take one out; either you blow up alone or you take everyone with you. The timer runs out, or the medic trips the hair wires on it, trying to remove the thing. Thanks for telling me Carol; I'll get out of the van, take my bottle, and move over by the imo tree. Away from everybody and wait for the timer to yell surprise! It has been very nice almost knowing all of you. I am strictly speaking in the biblical sense of the word where Robert is concerned.

José, slowly got out of the van and reached for the mescal bottle, but Carol stepped in his way while explaining; I told you there is a new way to remove them and I am going to do it. So, quit playing Heroine Hanna with me.

Just then, Robert sang out. Hurry up people; we have company!

Carol swung the chauffeur around by his good arm so she could watch as the two black government plated vehicles slowly enter the rest area.

José exclaimed; Basic black; shows absolutely no fashion sense or imagination. This is exactly why I didn't join the F.B.I. I can't even do black at funerals. I have simply way too much respect for the dead.

Carol spoke in a hushed voice.

Maria, why don't you go around to the back of the van, grab the makeup I have laid out and shut the door before you and Robert get back in the vehicle, so we can make it to the next winery.

All the agents knew the opposition had 24-7 surveillance chips; audio and video for future training, for court cases both pro and con, also to point the finger when something inevitably went awry; which was why Carol was still talking cryptic to their injured chauffeur.

José, I'll bet these agents have been sent to help us; why don't we go over and check if they have a medical kit, seeing as how you forgot to pack ours.

Well, you can tie me up and call me forgetful, but just look at how many adorable rescuers they’ve sent us.

Carol and José slowly walked towards the new comers who had taken defensive positions behind the black cars. The field agent slipped her laser pistol into José's back pocket, as she put her right hand in view on the other side of him; palm out and then showed the world her left hand was empty also. The chauffeur already had his palms in plain sight.

If you are planning on having sex with these people princess; I would like to know ahead of time.

Oh! I am unquestionably planning on screwing as many of them as I can, José.

Could you leave some for me?

Take your pick

Well; there is pretty boy, hiding behind the hood and then the tall good looking one, over by the tail light.

As José kept up his babble; the feds came out from behind the black sedans and grouped ‘closed spread formation’ in front of the two advancing treasury agents. The agent closest to the center of the semicircle shouted to the pair.

That's far enough! Put your hands behind your head and get on your knees!

I'll gladly get on my knees for you, handsome; but the ‘hands behind my head’ part is simply going to be a bitch; if you are speaking about the head, I think you are.

Just get on the ground and tell your friends to come forward with their hands behind their heads also, or this is going to get ugly.

As José and Carol assumed the kneeling position in front of the feds, she yelled out; Then this is going to get about as ugly as you are; asshole!

Pulling her pistol out of José's pocket; she placed the muzzle of the weapon on the protruding A.P. in the chauffeur's arm and pulled the trigger. The mini m.i.t.v. (multiple, independently targetable, vessel) detonated in the middle of the semicircle.

The two treasury agents returned to their vehicle.

While Robert, slowly drove back to the Pacific Coast Toll Road, Maria began patching José's arm.

Looking past the attentive Maria to Carol, José inquired.

So, tell me, you ever so clever secret agent; how did you know about the trick with the gun and blowing out the A.P.?

You should know the answer to that, girlfriend. If in doubt, always try a blow job; it usually works for me.

Tacky isn't very becoming for a young lady, Carol; this is why I never am.

Well, you are now Princess Charming; exclaimed Maria as she put the Medi Kit away. There is suture glue under your bandages. So, sit still and let it set for five minutes, or you will start bleeding again.

Robert swore under his breath as he yelled to Carol.

"My lame; keep a sharp lookout field agent. I turned the auto drive on, so I could watch Maria patch up José; without realizing it would mark us, and here they come.

Chapter Six: Bob Marley

****

TOC

1300: Friday January 6th, 2299

The cabin near Hiouchi, California:

By the sacred sacramental sweat of Saint Sebastian's balls; are these people deliberately attempting to kill themselves? Jim was watching the information holo as Tom came in from the Jacuzzi dripping water all over the solid oak floors.

Want me to go get them for you?

Not really Sarge; I'm starting to believe like you. If they make it here, they make it here. If they don’t, they don't.

This of course was Sharon's cue to walk in.

I'm ashamed at both of you. Our first guest in how long? And you two, act as if you don't care one bit. Now both of you get some threads on and bring those people back here; alive!

Hell! shouted Jim. Those idiots turned on their auto driver telling every agent within five hundred miles where they were. Presently there are two choppers and six vehicles headed straight for them.

Then you had better get stepping on it; hadn't you?

Just agree with her Jim and let's get gone; I've got cabin fever anyway.

Ok Red; we are so out of here, but I ain't responsible for the ones who kill themselves before we get to em.

The two men grabbed their clothes and headed for the driveway without stopping to change from au natural. Sitting in front of the five-car garage was a modified armored 'Ferrari diplomatic Euro Cruzer 5000'. Fastest vehicle in the Euro Union, and the fastest thing on the North American continent. It was an aerodyne maxi van, with twin synchronized electro-glide Ferrari 5000 solar-luner, electronic power plants.

The driver's door opened when Jim identified himself. After climbing into the command seat, he, quickly threw his clothes on the dog house and told the vehicle; On. Then, he began a systems check, before engaging the 'Electro Counter Measures' equipment, he and the professor had installed. Meanwhile; Sarge was inventorying the on-board weapon systems and portable gear in the back. Inventory complete, he opened the side door and stepped in.

Sliding into the 'weapons-center', seat, he strapped in and yelled; Set! to Jim.

Strapped In?

Strapped In!

Lasers Armed?

Lasers Armed!

"ECM Targets On?

ECM Targets On!

Hostile Targets Located?

Hostile Targets Located!

Hostile Targets Locked?

Hostile Targets Locked!

Friendlies Located?

Friendlies Located!

Friendlies Locked?

Friendlies Locked!

On your count, Sarge!

Three, Two, One; Move Out!

The Ferrari Euro Cruzer 5000 electronic motors could take you from 0 to 230 mph in three point six seconds and the internal gyro auto GPS would get you there with hands off driving even in the city at that speed. On the toll roads she would pull three and a quarter all day long.

Jim shouted to the back of the van above the cranked up, 'Margarita Ville'.

ETA twenty-three minutes!

Tom hollered back.

No good; they are going to be so dead in fourteen if we don't do something now. And you know this will make Red hard to live with for the next six months. So, while I'm loosing the decoys; you stomp on it and blind them.

You got it Sarge.

Jim thumbed the speed up and hit the E.C.M. panic button. Which for all practical purposes killed satcom to earth in a five-hundred-mile radius; and this meant the movie star was now steering the van manually.

Tom had gotten the electronic signatures of the treasury team and sent fifty duplicates to the area surrounding the agents prior to satellite shutdown.

16:05 Langley, Virginia:

Wedding guest on the move to the north on 101; hold one, make that to the south on 101. Correction, make it east on California 128.

16:05 Washington, D.C.:

Lost contact with all prophets; head directly to the horsemen for capture or dog food.

16:06 Fort Mead, Maryland:

Code breakers have split-up, contain enigma, first priority.

13:06 Cloverdale, California: beneath hwy. 101 at the north bound 128 off ramp.

Robert pulled the van over to the side of the highway beneath the toll road while announcing; We'll wait here till dark, and then make our way north to Hiouchi when the satellites can't scope us.

Carol was sitting in the back seat, slowly shaking her head while she inquired; Robert; how long have you been in the service?

Fourteen years; why?

And how many missions of this type have you been on?

Several; why?

Then you should know, if we stay here; it will be laser rifles scoping us out real soon, instead of satellites.

I don't follow you agent; Robert answered, sounding confused.

You were voice printed and feature printed when we left the toll road. The vehicle was coded at the stop sign. And there are at least six anti-mugging and anti-graffiti cameras in this underpass, plus six anti-drug and anti-terrorist mikes. The opposition knows exactly where we are.

OK, Carol; I'm not a field agent and this is the first time I have been the one being chased. What shall we do?

Simple boss, we use the microphones and cameras for target practice; so, they don't know which way we are headed after lights out.

Matching deeds to words the three able agents jumped out of the van and began destroying the electronic monitoring devices.

When they were finished; Robert inquired; Which direction should we try folks?

After reloading and shouldering her side arm, Carol announced; We go nowhere.

But you said; 'we use the microphones and cameras for target practice, so they don't know which way we are headed after lights out.' just a minute ago

I know what I said Robert; before we shot the place to hell, and so do they; which is why we will sit here, while they search for us, out there.

Maria and Carol walked back to the mini mobile for a quick check up on José; leaving Robert alone for a second. That's when the cops showed up; which is to say about five minutes before all hell broke loose.

13:09: South on the one o one, doing 382 and playing the tunes.

Jim shouted over the music; By the stinking salt saturated saddle sores of Saint Andrew; what next?

Something not copacetic with you, Deano?

The fab four just got busted by the cops on a vandalism charge, and it went out over the airwaves three seconds ago; for every scanner within two hundred miles to pick up on.

Well, I've got good news and real good news for you.

"Give me the real good