Eon: Almost God - Brossura

Glawe, Dennis

Brossura

ISBN 10: 1524601039 ISBN 13: 9781524601034

Casa editrice: AuthorHouse, 2016

Riassunto

He was the only survivor at Roswell in ’47. They moved him to Area 51 in order to retro-engineer his spacecraft and squeeze as much information out of him as they could. And they thought they had everything under control as construction of his unique ‘aircraft’ neared completion sixty-eight years later. But they were wrong. Autopsies on his crewmates showed that he had no vocal cords. He couldn’t speak, but then he didn’t have to—he could read human thoughts. From day one he knew what they were thinking. He could tell that they were never going to let him go! So he planned his escape. While they were studying his scientific advances, he was putting together a small team to help him bust out of Area 51. With only four humans with whom he could communicate telepathically, he inched closer to freedom. But escape wasn’t the only problem. He had to prevent the US Military and the CIA from pursuing him after his escape. Even worse, they might follow him home in his own designed spacecraft. In order to prevent that, he would have to steal their almost completed spaceship and bring down the force behind the military and CIA—the United States Government. Impossible? Of course not! With help from the Master, it was even probable. His escape would change the world, just like the death of his half-brother, Jesus Christ, over 2000 years ago. They would have much to talk about when he got home.

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Eon

Almost God

By Dennis Glawe

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2016 Dennis Glawe
All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-5246-0103-4

CHAPTER 1

At the Beginning ...

Anthony Bellicoss had been a detective with the Washington DC police force for twenty-eight years, the last ten of those assigned to homicide. Today he was working as a fill-in for a regular detective out with the flu. This case was a piece of garbage. Now it was his. Luck of the draw. He'd seen it all; thieves, con artists, prostitutes, and every shape of bully, rapist, and killer imaginable; but this one was the worst by far. He didn't mind that the call had ruined his Christmas morning with his family; he could understand that, in fact, he half expected it. It was part of the job when you were on call. So be it. If he had to try and solve this case, bring it on. It was the fact that he was standing in a psychiatric hospital for the criminally insane, and he really hated hospitals, all hospitals!

This was a 'missing person' case, and even though it wasn't his cup of tea, he could deal with it. He could deal with the fact that his partner was an inexperienced rookie four months out of the academy. Tony knew he'd get stuck doing the paperwork. None of that bothered him. He was bothered by the fact that a mentally disturbed patient, a convicted murderer in fact, had escaped from the most famous psychiatric hospital on the East Coast! This was St. Elizabeth Hospital in Washington DC, the hospital that held John Hinkley and other well known, even notorious, criminals. No one had ever escaped from here before! It was simply unthinkable! So Detective Bellicoss stood with his partner in the hallway wondering what kind of major incompetence had caused this to happen.

His keen eyes did not see a scene of Christmas cheer, even though decorations were everywhere. The ward from which the escape had occurred was in chaos. It was on the fourth floor, east wing, and the staff was running around like the place was on fire, spreading fear and panic everywhere instead of peace and joy. The clients, twenty-four on this floor, minus one, were herded into the breakroom for the time being. They sensed something was wrong and filled the air with hoots, whistles, and screams.

Detective Bellicoss, known by his peers as Tony, stood outside the room of the escapee waiting for Dr. Harper, the head psychiatrist, to arrive from his home across town, a good fifty-minute drive. Tony and his partner, Stan Freesen, a tall gangly man with a boyish face that made him look ten years younger than his twenty-five years, had been questioning the staff for almost an hour. They had a pretty good picture of what had happened, but there were some details only Dr. Harper could provide. And they needed to search the patient's room. They could not enter Mr. Christoffer's room, (that was the escapee's name, Jesup Scott Christoffer), until Dr. Harper gave them permission. Nowadays it was all about privacy and human rights, and Tony wasn't going to commit some tiny mistake that would allow some lawyer trick to spring this criminal on a technicality. He knew that if they searched the room without permission, any evidence found that might be used against the patient in court would, almost certainly, be deemed inadmissible. It was a cute lawyer stunt that allowed many criminals to walk and Tony didn't like that.

As they stood waiting, Tony went over the checklist in his notepad with his partner. With his long tan trenchcoat and rumpled suit, he could have played the part of Columbo on the old TV show. Like Columbo he wore his fifty-eight years with an easy unassuming demeanor. Yes, he had some extra weight around the middle and his arthritic knees were noticeable when he walked, but he still had a young man's twinkle in his eye and a quick smile when needed. His curly salt-and-pepper hair, compliments of his Greek mother, and his grizzled face, compliments of his Irish father, gave him the appearance of a man who could be trusted. His cluttered persona often put people at ease, allowing them to talk more freely, often causing them to give away important information, information usually withheld in the interrogation room.

"Okay," he said to Stan. "So far we've got the night watchman, Mr. Spencer Casteel, saying all was well when he rounded at midnight. At 3:30 a.m. he noticed that Mr. Christoffer's bed was empty. Night nurse ... (flipping pages in his notepad), Mrs. Helen Moylis, saw no unusual activity during her shift. Building superintendent, Mr. Cole Parther, found a folded set of patient clothes just outside the front door, with a master key lying on top. That was at 3:45 a.m. when he clocked in, earlier than his usual five a.m. start due to the holiday.

"Since the patient hasn't been found on the grounds, we can probably assume that he escaped on foot or got a ride. Since his hospital clothing was left here, we can assume he changed into civilian clothes and is probably trying to blend in with the public. Yes, it is possible that he is still hiding somewhere in the facility, but then, why would he leave the master key at the front door, a key that would open any door in the hospital? No, it means he didn't have use for it anymore. He was leaving, and we have to assume he probably escaped the campus."

Tony scratched his head as if manually pushing the gears in his mind to help him think. "Okay. The campus has a high wall around it, which means he probably left through one of the two gates. Fred Belger at gate one had ten arrivals, all new clients. All ten vehicles were examined when they left and no one was found hiding in them. Then there is Sam Hester, security guard at gate two, the service gate. His shift lasted from midnight to 6 a.m. He said that of the fifty-five vehicles that left, forty-nine passed between midnight and 1:30 a.m. Only six vehicles left the campus between 3 and 6 a.m. One pizza delivery van, three POV's (privately owned vehicles) with employees going home sick, one food service truck making regularly scheduled drop-offs, and a laundry service van, picking up dirty laundry.

"The only thing Mr. Hester noted as unusual was the laundry truck. He said it had a doctor sitting in the passenger seat, and he thought that was strange. When he asked, the driver told him he was giving him a lift into town. Mr. Hester couldn't remember the doctor's name."

The cellphone on Stan's belt began to ring loudly. Holding up his finger for Tony to pause, he answered it.

Tony frowned. He didn't like interruptions when he was working a case.

"Detective Freesen." He proceeded to listen for several long minutes. "Really? Great! That answers one question. Thanks." He ended the call.

"What?" Tony demanded.

"I called the precinct and asked Phillips to see if he could ring the laundry service while we were interviewing the rest of the staff. He got the driver's name and phone number from the owner. A Mr. Manny Washington told Phillips that he picked up a naked guy walking down the road here at St. Elizabeth's about 3:30 a.m. Said he let him wear a set of dirty scrubs from a laundry bag in the back of the truck. Said he came back up to the passenger seat with a lab coat on, a lab coat with Dr. Harper's name stitched above the pocket. Mr. Washington said he was running late and didn't want a hassle from the guard. If he had admitted that he was a patient, he never would have finished his route, and he had Christmas plans with his mother. He said he had no idea who the guy really was."

Tony wasn't buying it.

Stan took notice and continued. "When Mr. Washington asked if he was a patient here, the man said no, he was just a free man setting out on a mission. He didn't ask him anything else, but figured that if he were really a free man, he'd certainly be a patient if he kept walking around naked. So he gave him the scrubs. The lab coat he made him give back when he dropped him off at a Denny's over at Liberty and Jackson. That was in his own car after he finished his route.

"Mr. Washington said he gave him an old pair of his sneakers along with a sweatshirt he just happened to have in his car. The stranger didn't say much during the ride, but he did tell him that he had to make it to some church by seven this morning. The stranger never said which church."

Tony checked his watch as he considered arresting Mr. Washington for aiding a fugitive. It was 7:12. Wondering if the escapee made it to whatever church he had mentioned, Tony noticed a man getting off the elevator just beyond the glass doors. He wore an expensive topcoat over a dark-gray suit. With silvered hair and wire-rimmed glasses, his walk was focused.

"That must be Dr. Harper," he said under his breath to his partner. "Wonder if he's missing a lab coat?"

Unlocking the door with a passkey, Dr. Harper quickly joined them. "Detective Bellicoss? I'm Doctor Harper. We spoke on the phone."

Detective Bellicoss shook Dr. Harper's outstretched hand noting the doctor's sour disposition and shortness of breath.

Dr. Harper quietly gulped air as he read the detective's mind. "I have asthma." Pulling an inhaler from his coat pocket, Dr. Harper used it to make his point.

Tony ignored his comment and looked down at his notebook. A non-confrontational demeanor was important. "Seems you have a patient missing," he said dryly.

"So it would seem," Dr. Harper answered bitterly.

Tony watched Dr. Harper for a reaction. When his blank face flashed frustration, fear, and then anger, he knew the good doctor most likely had nothing to do with this whole affair. If any information came in that suggested that Dr. Harper helped him escape, he could always put his name back on the short list.

"Is he dangerous?" Tony added.

Slowly wringing his hands, more from the morning chill than nervousness, Dr. Harper's eyes narrowed. His breathing eased, but his sour mood didn't.

Tony was surprised at his arrogant demeanor. It was his patient that had escaped and he might suffer serious consequences because of it. This was a reflection of incompetence at some level, and the reputation of the hospital was at stake here. His job and reputation were probably on the line also.

"Of course he's dangerous!" Dr. Harper replied, irritated. "That's why he was here!"

Tony noted his condescending tone. He thought he could read the doctor's mind, but his over-educated arrogance blocked some of the normal cues. With an understanding nod Tony assumed Dr. Harper was thinking about the inconvenience this imposition was causing him. Tony suppressed a grin. The man was obviously clueless.

"When did you last see Mr. Christoffer?" Tony asked, still maintaining a curious and friendly tone.

"Last night about 6 p.m., as I was leaving. The night watchman was walking out with me. We stopped in front of Jesup's room when he called my name. We looked in the open door. The head nurse locks all the patient room doors at eight. We saw that he was praying against the far wall. He didn't turn when I called his name. I wished him a Merry Christmas and he said, 'goodbye'."

"Was that unusual?"

"Well, not really," Dr. Harper replied.

"Not really?"

"Well, now that I think about it, it was the first time he used the word 'goodbye'."

"And why was that strange?"

"Before that, he always said goodnight." Dr. Harper, a good head taller than Detective Bellicoss, kept his eyes on the windows into the breakroom.

"So his escape was planned. Is that what you think?"

Dr. Harper shrugged. "I don't know. All I can say is that his answer was different. Maybe he did have a plan. Why would he wait forty years to use it?"

Detective Bellicoss raised his eyebrows. "He's been here forty years?"

Dr. Harper nodded. "We have the same birthday only ten years apart. I turned sixty this year and he turned seventy."

Tony wondered about Dr. Harper. Here was a man only two years older than himself, a man who lived in a totally different world, a world of money, prestige, and complete power over all these pathetic patients? Tony suspected that he had excellent health insurance too, probably a job perk. "How dangerous is this guy, really?" Tony asked bluntly.

Dr. Harper took a deep breath before answering. "He has delusions. He thinks he's Jesus Christ. He talks to God. None of our medications or therapy has made a dent in that belief. He was placed here because he killed a priest. Will he kill again? I don't know, but, in light of his lack of progress, I'd say it is a definite possibility."

Not the answer Tony wanted to hear. Only one victim? So why was he in a psychiatric hospital instead of prison? Tony reminded himself to ask one question at a time. "What's his diagnosis?"

"He's a classic schizophrenic. All of these types are admitted to psychiatric hospitals initially. Usually they are moved back to prison at some point in their progress, but, since Jesup never improved, he never got moved.

Tony kept writing notes. "Any friends or family nearby? Did he have any visitors?"

Dr. Harper shook his head. "Only church people trying to convert him. I don't think he had any real friends on the outside. His history is pretty bland. He grew up in Kansas, committed the crime in Chicago and was sent here because everything was full in Illinois. If I had to guess, I'd say that probably he's going back to Chicago or Kansas."

Chicago? Kansas?, Tony thought. Not likely. "Was he converted by any of his church visitors? What religion is he anyway? Jewish?" Tony added with a touch of his own sarcasm. It completely missed Dr. Harper.

Tony glanced into the small room as he tried to hurry the process along, hoping to escape this hospital himself as soon as possible. Against the wall opposite the bed were stacked dozens of telephone books.

Dr. Harper frowned at the implication. "He always attended all the services. I'm not sure which religion he truly practiced. I think he was brought up Catholic. He had long talks with those who would convert him, but he always embraced a universal God. He told me religion was a personal thing and couldn't be defined by the label of one faith or another."

"Are those telephone books?" Tony asked.

Dr. Harper followed the detective's line of sight. "Yes," he replied flatly. "It was his hobby. For forty years he asked for and studied telephone books. He got them from all over the country. Old ones. He'd write to telephone companies and they'd send him old, outdated phonebooks. Strange, huh!"

Tony nodded and watched another man as he got off the elevator and approached the glass door. Nurse Wilson hurried over to let him in. Tony made a mental note that this new visitor didn't have a key.

"This is not a good time, Reverend Matthews," she said apologetically as she let him in.

"Wait a minute," Tony interrupted. The nurse stepped back as though she'd done something wrong.

Tony wanted a word with this young preacher. "Reverend Matthews is it?"

"Yes, and who might you be?" the young minister asked.

Tony held up his badge. Anthony Bellicoss, DC police force. You aren't by some chance familiar with a patient named Jesup Christoffer, are you?"

"Why, yes, I do know Jesup. Is he in some kind of trouble?"

"You might say that," Tony continued, eyeing Dr. Harper. "Friends, are you?"

Reverend Matthews nodded. "I would call him a friend, yes."

"Have you seen him this morning, by any chance?"

"No, I ..." The eyes in Reverend Matthews' head grew large as he realized what the question meant. His look of surprise could not be suppressed. "Is he missing?"

Tony ignored the pastor's question, but he did note the blush of embarrassment on Dr. Harper's face. "Do you have a church in DC?" Tony marched on.

"Yes, Saint Paul's Episcopal Church on Bittness Road. It's about five miles from here."

"Mind if we have a look in your church when we get done here, padre?"

"Of course not, but I just came from there and I didn't see anyone in the building when I left."

"We'd like to check it out just the same. Do you consider him a dangerous man?"

Reverend Matthews considered the question for a moment. "Not really. He always said this was a huge mistake, his imprisonment I mean. He said ... oh dear!" A look of shock filled the preacher's face.

"What is it?" Tony demanded.

Reverend Matthews gazed around the ward as if collecting a memory. "He always said that one day he would leave here."

"Did he tell you where he'd go?" Tony asked.

Staring straight as Dr. Harper, the preacher answered. "He always said he felt sorry for Dr. Harper, that there was no getting around his fate."

"And?" Tony pressed.

"He said that one day he would switch places with Dr. Harper. He would ride out the gate as the healer and Dr. Harper would become imprisoned in this building for the rest of his life."

Tony watched Dr. Harper's face turn an even brighter shade of red. He wasn't going to mention that Mr. Christoffer had worn the good doctor's lab coat when he left the grounds. "Anything else?"

A commotion in the breakroom caused the group to turn and stare through the large glass window. A patient was standing with balled fists making loud noises. A male aide was trying to calm him down. Another patient was guarding what looked like a coffeecup. Obviously, the two had gotten into an argument.

(Continues...)

Excerpted from Eon by Dennis Glawe. Copyright © 2016 Dennis Glawe. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

Dettagli dell'edizione

• Editore: AuthorHouse
• Data di pubblicazione: 2016
• Lingua: Inglese
• ISBN 10: 1524601039
• ISBN 13: 9781524601034
• Rilegatura: Copertina flessibile
• Numero di pagine: 416
• Contatto del produttore: non disponibile
• Persona responsabile: non disponibile