The Return of Dr Schull v2.0

8/9/2019 The Return of Dr Schull v2.0

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Anthony A. Castro about 14,400 words1D Oak Crest CourtNovato, CA 94947(415)897-0305

[email protected]

The Return of Dr. Schull

By A. A. Castro

1874.

The soldiers advanced on the two men with their bayonets fixed. There were only a

handful of soldiers left, but they reformed their line and kept coming at them, the silver buttons

of their blood-red Beefeater uniforms reflecting the meager light. The soldiers advanced thru a

vast and empty chamber, the darkness that surrounded them broken only by the evenly-spaced

cones of light that shone down like spotlights in a theater of death. Glassy eyes, a death rictus

painted on their expressionless faces, their limbs moving jerkilythe two men fought a

desperate battle against the unloving, mechanized minions of a madman.

The younger man, jacket torn and hair disheveled broke the arm of one of the soldiers

with a splintering, cracking sound. There was no red blood spurting or broken bone showing


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Castro / Schull / 2

steam and oil poured out from the tubes hidden inside the wooden armature. He let out a small

gasp of pain as some of the hot oil spattered on his hand. His partner wrenched the toy rifle from

the hands of one soldier and smashed the butt into its face. The porcelain face of the soldier fell

to pieces, cogs and springs mixed with oil spilling to the floor in a grotesque parody of a human

wound. He recoiled in disgust at the sight, almost overwhelmed by nausea.

A small trickle of blood coming from his forehead, the older man eyed the heavy pipes

running off into the darkness all around them as his partner held off their inhuman assailants.

Carefully, he aimed his revolver towards a valve and firedhe heard the clang and whine of the

ricochet as his last bullet hit the valve and shattered it.

Within seconds, the soldiers began to slow down. A few seconds later, most of them

collapsed to the ground like puppets after their strings have been cut. The pipes that fed them

steam thru a series of tubes so fine as to be almost invisible were broken now, but the massive

boilers that created the steam were still running and the pressure continued to build.

Jim! Jim, are you all right? The older marshal helped his partner get up off the floor.

The younger mans bloodstained hand brushed hair from his forehead. Im fine, Artie

good shot! He shrugged off the remains of his jacket as his friend and partner kept talking.

Well, the doctors toy soldiers are taken care of but where is he? I cant make heads or

tails of this place

Lets follow those pipes wherever they end up, thats where Doctor Schull will be!

They ran thru the darkness of the doctors lair and saw just how far his genius went.

Pirate, cowboy, judge, genie, Roman centurion, riverboat captainthey lay scattered on the floor


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Castro / Schull / 3

in their extravagant costumes, all of his servants and henchmen rendered useless now. The cage

where the younger marshal had been held stood empty, the door swinging lazily. The ballerina

the doctor had sent to him was lying on the floor, as powerless and immobile as the rest of the

doctors toys. There was an ominous rumbling noise coming from the pipes they were

following, and every few seconds one of the pipes would shudder and shake. Time was running

short and they still hadnt found their man.

Suddenly, they saw the pipes curve upwards and run along the side of a corkscrew

staircase that went up into the silent darkness. They climbed until they reached a platform that

looked down on the master villain their President had ordered them to stop.

The two US Marshals stood at the railing, staring down at the twisted and bloated wreck

of a man who snarled So we play out the final scene here. You dont believe you can arrest me,

do you? Yes, I have lostbut youve lost too! When you destroyed the pipes, you did more

than just stop my soldiersthe pressure in the boilers cant be relieved and will continue to build

until the final explosion. I can still bring death to all of us here!

Dr. Zachariah Schull - scientist, inventor, sculptor, engineer, ventriloquist, puppeteer,

murdererthis was the man theyd been chasing for the better part of two years, a grim manhunt

from the waterfronts of San Francisco to the plains of Texas, from an underground maze under

New Orleans to Dr. Schulls underwater lair in New Yorks East River.

The older marshal said If what he says is true, those boilerswhen the water hits

them

Exactly! cried the doctor. It will be a marvelous explosionmy own personal

Armageddon, gentlemen, but youre invited


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NOW! cried the younger marshal, as he threw a small black device at Dr. Schull. The

two lawmen threw themselves to the floor as the device exploded, shredding the steam pipes and

wrenching an agonized scream of pain, anger and frustration from their quarry.

Jim! Jim, are you all right? The older lawman barely coughed the words out.

Im OK, Artie! You? The younger marshal helped him up.

Everythings still herewheres the doc?

The lawman tried to look thru the smoke and flames. Cant see a blasted thingwhoa!

The platform they were on, damaged by the explosion, swayed away from the wall and

threatened to plunge both of them into the inferno where the doctor had been. With a wild cry,

the two men desperately turned and leaped towards the stairwell. They both landed and barely

held on as the platform crashed down.

Both men ran down the stairs, trying to reach the door to the hidden elevator before the

rest of Doctor Schulls lair collapsed and the river reclaimed its own. Stumbling thru the

darkness and wreckage, coughing and almost retching from the smoke while debris fell all

around them, they found and activated it.

Nothing happened. They looked at each other and the older man started to speak when

the doors wheezed open. With a sigh of relief, both men ran in and hit the button marked

Surface. Again, nothing happened.

Oh, Godhere we go! The older marshal held on as the elevator cab began its shaky

trip back to the world above. Something hit the top of the cab, almost making it stop. The motor

kicked in and continued working the elevator, the chain shaking and vibrating as more debris fell


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on the cab. The two men held on with grim facesthe younger man swallowed as he realized he

could easily end up buried with his partner at the bottom of the river.

They made it to the surface and ran out of the abandoned old warehouse building just as

it fell into the river. As they collapsed on the cobble-stoned street from exhaustion, the water

shot up in a mighty tower and the ground shook with multiple explosions. The few people

around on a Sunday morning in the neighborhood screamed and fled in panic.

After a few minutes, the two lawmen looked at each other. Legs still shaky, they helped

each other get up. The older one said I think we can finally stamp closed on Dr. Schulls file,

Jim. The younger lawman looked thoughtfully at the river for a few seconds before replying.

YeahI suppose youre right, Artie. No man could have survived that.

######

2004.

Angelina Schuyler tapped the pencil absent-mindedly on the conference table. As the

President and CEO of Schuyler Enterprises she knew it was her part of her job to attend these

insufferably dull board meetings, no matter how heartily she loathed them. The young man

doing the presentation continued droning on about the capital and asset depreciation over the last

fiscal year in their Central Africa subsidiary.

She realized with a small start that the presentation was over and everyone was staring at

her. Angelina put her best corporate CEO smile on. Thank you, Mr. Lerner. Very

illuminating. Lets proceed with the Nigerian spaceport negotiations, but not through the


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Minister of Finance Im still not convinced about his honesty. I want to talk directly with the

Prime Minister.

She turned to her assistant. Len, please contact Stockbridge and have him look into the

other issues raised by Mr. Lerner. Ill need to see the report before the end of next week.

Leonard van Sloan, her assistant for more than twelve years, nodded while continuing to take

notes. Angelina didnt like Stockbridge, her top security man in Africa, but she did have to

admit the man was extremely adept at removing obstacles from the companys path.

Frankly, she thought to herself that a multi-billion-dollar multinational corporation

involved in everything from genetic engineering and alternative power research to developing

sophisticated satellite laser-guidance systems had no business interfering with the delicate

internal politics of Central Africa. On the other hand, this was the first real opportunity that

Nigeria had received to discard its reputation as a lawless haven for financial shenanigans.

Angelina left the conference room, her steps echoing down the hallway to her office. She

was tall, handsome and athletically built, with blonde hair and the piercing green eyes which ran

in the Schuyler family. Len silently followed her. Messages for you, Ms. Schuyler.

Summarize, please. Im expecting Mr. Raboy in less than 30 minutes.

Len pulled up the messages on his wrist console. His eyes quickly scanned them. Your

Tahoe housekeeper called, asking how many guests are expected this weekend. Le Mondes

representative called againthey need a firm date for your interview. NASA needs an update on

the Nigerian spaceport project. Oh, and Senator Patterson is wondering what youre doing for

dinner. Therere five more, but theyre all low priority. He shut his console and looked at his

boss, waiting for her orders.


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Tell Mrs. Marsh there will be no guests this weekend, schedule the Le Monde interview

for next Wednesday afternoon. Dont give them more than one hour, please. Tell the guys at

NASA theyll have an update by Monday. And tell Clyde Patterson Im very busy and Ill call

him when I have the time. Angelina quickly snapped her answers as they walked to her office.

She held up her hand for a second as they reached the door to her office. Len, please

hold all my calls for the rest of the morning. I need to prepare for Mr. Raboy. She walked into

the office and shut the door behind her, letting out a loud sigh. For all the success shed

achieved, her fiercest desire was still unmet. She knew Schuyler was not her family name. It

was changed in 1875 from Schull, to try and wash away the shame brought upon it by one

man, her great-great-grandfather, Zachariah Schull. He had been a genius, a mathematical and

engineering prodigy, a talented artistand also a cold-blooded serial killer. He disappeared in

1874 when his laboratory under New Yorks East River was destroyed after a pitched battle with

two U.S. Marshals who had pursued him and thwarted his plans.

Dr. Schull had been accused and convicted of multiple murders, with his wife and

daughter among his victims. He vehemently denied it all until the bitter end. Nobody believed

his claim that the evidence showing his innocence had been destroyed. His appointment with the

hangman had been quickly set, but he escaped from prison in San Francisco. Thats when hed

embarked on a mad scheme for revenge against the Supreme Court that had denied him justice.

The doctors plan almost succeeded. He killed two Supreme Court Justices while using a

childrens puppet show as his cover. President Ulysses Grant himself ordered his top two United

States Marshals to track down and bring Schull to justice. It was a manhunt avidly reported by

newspapers to millions of anxious readers around the world.


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But Angelina Schuyler knew the truth. Her great-great-grandfather was a genius who had

been betrayed by his own government, his name falsely accused and his scientific achievements

stolen or ignored. However, it was a truth she had never been able to prove, a situation that was

a constant source of frustration for her. Shed hired Al Raboy, a private investigator, to track

down anything he could find that might help her in her goal.

She saw a small blue light blinking at her desk. Good, she thought, Raboy is here. She

looked at the private text message hed sent earlier package found, was all it said. She bit her

lip in her impatience, wondering if Raboy had found what shed sent him to find.

The door to her private elevator, hidden behind a bookcase, opened with a small pinging

sound. A man stepped out, a fire-plug stuffed into a blue suit with an old boxers face on top. Al

Raboy walked up to Angelinas desk.

Good Morning, Ms. Schuyler. I have something for you, finally.

I got your message earlier, Mr. Raboy. Show me what you have, please.

Raboy reached into his suit jacket and took a small package from the inside pocket. It

was small, but it felt thick and heavy when he placed it in her hands. Angelina took a deep

breath to control herself the package was wrapped in brown paper and all she wanted to do was

rip into it.

Carefully, she peeled off the wrapping. If this was what she thought it was, it was fragile

and needed to be handled with care. The wrapping paper came off easily, revealing a small,

leather-covered book with a stylized ZS stamped on the cover. The realization flooded her,


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what this book was. She opened the cover and looked at the first pageyes, it was, what shed

been hoping to find. Raboy had found it, her great-great-grandfathers journal.

Thank you, Mr. Raboy

Youre welcome, maam. Is it what you were expecting?

Yes it is, Mr. Raboy, that and more. I am curious, though. Where did you find it?

Raboy coughed and cleared his throat. I found it in an estate sale in upstate New York,

the great-grandson of one of the first two US Marshals ever given that title. It was part of an

auction lotrather expensive, Im afraid. Raboy scratched the side of his nose and looked

expectantly at her.

Angelina smiled and pressed a button on her desk.

Her assistants voice curled from the hidden speaker. Yes, Ms. Schuyler?

Len, Mr. Raboy will need reimbursement from my special account. Hell be out in a

minute, will you take care of him, please?

Of course, Ms. Schuyler.

She extended her right hand. Thank you for everything, Mr. Raboy. My assistant, Mr.

van Sloan, will have something ready for you.

Raboy shook it. This was a good gig, he thought, Im going to take my shot. Is there

anything else youll need, Ms. Schuyler?


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I believe youve provided me with an excellent starting point, Mr. Raboy. Of course, I

will bear you in mind if I have further need of your, ah, special services.

After Raboy left, she opened the book and began reading. But she couldnt make any

sense of it it was written using a cipher. After a few minutes, she realized that it was a letter-

substitution cipher. She went to work on deciphering it.

Half an hour later, she had the first page decoded. It was exactly what shed thought; it

was her great-great-grandfathers journal, a detailed account of his adventures and experiments

written in his own hand. But all she could decode were the first three pages the cipher changed

to a letter-number-letter substitution based on a word key. It got worse after the tenth page when

the cipher changed to a substitution and encryption scheme with a 128 character alphanumerical

key.

The little part that shed managed to decode contained references to discoveries and

devices that could only be described as amazingflying machines, steam-powered automatons,

explosive compounds, remote power distribution systems, and more. It was the diagrams

towards the end of the book, the ones that showed the location and blueprints of his underwater

lab, that most interested her.

The journal included more than just a detailed plan of her grandfathers secret East River

lab. It included a set of schematic diagrams for a suspended-animation hyperbaric container he

intended to use as a last-resort escape device. It was revolutionary, still years ahead of anything

modern medicine had produced, a treasure trove of patents that could open new areas of medical

research. The land had passed from the Schull family to the Schuyler family and from there to

the corporation, untouched and undeveloped since the initial desultory efforts to find Dr. Schulls


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remains. If hed actually built it and if it had survived, she could mount a search operation and

cover it up as a minor riverside development project for a property that had lain fallow for many

years. Angelina might not be able to clear her great-great-grandfathers name, but perhaps she

could discover something that would overshadow his false guilt.

She sat at her desk, looking out the windows of her corner office towards the San

Francisco bay. What if, she thought, what if

#####

1874.

The explosion ripped apart the steam pipes that he used to animate and control his

puppets. The steam scalded his hands and face, but he couldnt let the pain stop him. Gasping

and coughing, he activated the elevator platform. It quickly lowered him, hidden from view thru

the central column, down to his last resort even as the rivers water rushed into his laboratory and

destroyed his lifes work.

Why had God denied him his Justice? Yes, he was a murderer but what of it? Hadnt he

been murdered once already by a corrupt government and faithless friends? How much longer

would he have to struggle and fight before his name would finally be cleared?

He could hear the two government agents as they ran down the stairs. They thought he

was deadgood, let them continue thinking that. The smoke and flames conspired with the

escaping steam to hide him from their eyes. Once he entered his special chamber, his last resort,

he would be safe from the collapsing structure around him and would sleep undisturbed by the


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world until a better tomorrow finally arrived. He calculated that a century ought to be just about

right

Suddenly, he felt and heard the lift cables snap above him! With a sickening lurch, the

platform dropped precipitously while Schull screamed No, not like this! Not like this!

Unexpectedly, the platform hit the bottom the cable had broken less than ten feet from the

bottom of the shaft! Laughing, crying, coughing from the smoke, Schull dragged himself from

the platform, unlocked the large metal door in front of him and entered his special chamber.

Quickly, he closed the door. He checked the levels of various gases and liquids fed by

rubber tubes into an opaque, sarcophagus-shaped container in the middle of the room. With a

satisfied smile, he lifted the lid and climbed into the container. He lay down, pressed a sequence

of buttons by his left hand, and sighed in contentment. The lid automatically closed. He

breathed deeply of the gases filling the container and slept.

Outside his chamber, the destruction continued unabated as the boilers exploded in a

massive chain reaction that buried the doctor under tons of timber, rocks, dirt and other debris.

His chamber was intact, though. Somewhere along the East River it lay, forgotten by all until the

day his stolen diary found its way back into the hands of his descendants

#####

2004.

The giant wooden sign that said East Palms Village, Opening Soon! Luxury Townhouse

Living For All! had lost its luster. After more than a year, the lettering had started to fade and

the sign itself was sagging to one side.


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It had taken time to get all the permits, environmental reports, toxic cleanups, and

community group approvals needed but the Schuyler Land Development Corporation had

finally cleared all the legal hurdles and workmen were finally beginning to drive the metal

support beams down to the bedrock. But there was a different type of activity going on behind

the chain-link fence that cordoned off the east corner of the project.

Angelinas blackberry was ringing and jumping on her dresser as she stepped out of the

shower. She looked at the screen it was Len, her assistant.

Good Morning, Len.

Good Morning, Ms. Schuyler. Apologies for disturbing you, but we just received word

from the East Palms Village project. It looks like the surveying team has found something on the

eastern edge of the development.

Angelinas eyes widened in excitement. It had to be the special chamber the doctor had

built for his hyperbaric container, right where the diagrams on his journal said it would be.

Interestingdid they give any more detail?

Yes, Ms. Schuyler, they did. It looks like a small concrete bunker, about fifteen feet by

fifteen feet and buried a little more than fifty feet. Thats all theyll know until they start digging

it out.

Tell them to start digging immediately! Im on my way there this morning, so please

cancel anything I had scheduled for today. Ill be reachable by blackberry, but only if its an

emergency.


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Less than 45 minutes later, Angelina was sitting in the back of her limo and headed to her

private airfield a little north of her mansion on Lake Tahoe. The flight would take most of the

day, but she was hoping there might still be enough daylight left to go immediately to the

construction site.

She paced the length of the cabin for the entire flight. The flight seemed to stretch on for

hours longer as they ran into bad weather over Chicago that almost forced them to land. Finally,

her pilot announced over the intercom that they had landing clearance from JFK and would be

touching down in less than thirty minutes. Tamping down her impatience, Angelina had to admit

11:30 PM was a bad time to visit a construction site she had the limo take her to the Plaza

instead.

When the construction foreman arrived on site the next morning, he was greeted by a tall

blonde woman impatiently waiting by the front gate. Once inside, she immediately asked to see

the records of the surveying team and what their equipment had detected the day before.

The surveyors and diggers arrived a little later and went to work under her direction.

Angelina was dying from curiosity inside, impatiently pushing the men to work harder and dig

faster. They had to be careful, though; they didnt want to risk damaging the bunker and

exposing its contents. Most of the heavy digging had been done that day before, while she was

in flight.

She heard the foreman call out something that looked like a doorway had been found.

Angelina ran out of the office trailer and scrambled down the path to the fenced area where her

men were digging. She reached into her pocket to pull out the walkie-talkie. Pratt, stop the

operation now, please. Tell your team to back away. There are specialists on the way.


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What? Excuse me, this is a secure, private channel on a restricted site! Who is this?

Identify yourself, please!

She hit the button. This is Angelina Schuyler. Please follow my instructions

immediately our records show there may be unstable hazardous materials inside that bunker!

That last part was, of course, a lie. Then again, if she really did find what she was looking for

A few minutes later, she was standing in front of a recessed metal door that was the only

entry into that concrete bunker. The door was smooth and featureless, except for the lock. She

knew her team would have no problems getting it open. They were already setting up the

diamond-tipped drill and lining the tip with the lock itself. The machine started and the tip began

eating into the metal, grinding and pulling sections as if it were a lemon being peeled. Angelina

was secretly grateful for the ear muffs that blanketed out the noise of the drill.

The operation took about 30 minutes. The drill chewed thru the lock, leaving the door

open. Angelina sucked in her breath as she watched her team pry open the heavy metal door, the

stale air inside the chamber whooshing to the outside like a genie escaping from its bottle. She

grabbed a construction helmet and climbed down to join her team while Pratt, the foreman,

yelled at her to be careful for Gods sake.

She motioned the team back. Angelina wanted to be the first inside. She turned the

helmet light on and aimed it inside. The chamber was small and empty, except for the long

container in the middle of it. Dust motes danced in the beam of the flash light that reflected off

the opaque, sarcophagus-shaped thing as she cautiously entered the chamber.


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Her hands gingerly touched the container, carefully brushing away the dust of more than

a century. There was a latch in the middle, also covered in dust. Using only her fingertips, she

gently swept it clean, revealing a Latin phrase in Gothic script inscribed on it.

Nemo me impune lacessithis motto. Angelinas voice came out in a whisper,

almost as if she were afraid to read the words out loud. She was convinced now shed found it.

After years of searching for something, anything, to help her in her quest Angelina had found the

final resting place of Doctor Zachariah Schull. That, and moremuch, much more.

#####

Calls, emails and instant messages flew back and forth through the Schuyler

Corporations internal network. Transportation was arranged, a special air freight charter to the

CEOs private compound in Lake Tahoe. A special team, hand-picked by Angelina Schuyler

and consisting of code-breaking intelligence analysts, physicists, medical doctors, metallurgists

and more assembled at her mansion. Their mission was a strange one: break the code of the

journal and analyze and identify what it was theyd found at the bottom of the East River.

At the end of the first week, Angelina Schuyler fired her entire team with the exception

of Professor Anton Zhukov. They all grumbled and complained, but she kept them satisfied with

a generous bonus package and transportation to any place in the world they wanted. She didnt

need them anymore, anyway.

It was Zhukov who first came to her after the second night of work. Hed figured it out,

but he just couldnt believe it. What the engineering teams had found was a suspended-

animation chamber with an engraving on the side indicating it had been built in 1873. It was the

work of a genius, still ahead of its timeand it was occupied.


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Ms. Schuyler, you dont seem very surprised by what Ive just told you. The old

Russian had a strong conviction Angelina knew exactly what the device had been all along and

who was in it. The situation he was in was odd, to say the least, but he was willing to go along,

if only for the sake of his own insatiable curiosity.

It was late in the evening, and Angelina was sitting and sipping a glass of chardonnay in

her back deck. She put the glass of wine down and stood up. Her green eyes locked into the

eyes of the old Russian and studied him intently for a few seconds. He was old, tall, and thin

with a full head of snow-white hair and a nasty set of scars on his arms. She knew hed defected

from the old Soviet Union in the late 1980s when the old Evil Empire was falling apart. He

worked for the CIA and the Department of Defense for a number of years before finally retiring.

Angelina was able to lure the aging genius out of that retirement with the promise of virtually

unlimited resources for whatever scientific project at Schuyler Enterprises he wanted to tackle.

Hed agreed immediately to Angelinas offer. For the last five years hed been conducting

genetic and cryogenic experiments for Schuyler Enterprises that, while not technically illegal,

would be deemed unethical by most people.

Picking her glass up, Angelina turned and walked inside. She went straight to her private

desk and, with her back to Zhukov, opened a hidden drawer and pulled out Dr. Schulls journal.

She opened it to the pages containing the schematic drawings of the container and turned to

Zhukov. Youre rightIm not surprised. Read this its what your team was trying to

decipher. She held out the journal to him, open to the drawings. Zhukov took the book and

looked with growing fascination at the schematics there. Angelina had given the team a series of

copies this was the first time hed seen the complete original.


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Ms Schuyler, this is amazing he said after a few minutes, whoever did this was a

genius, a true visionary. Where did you find this book? Who built this thing? I must know!

Angelina knew she had to be very careful with her information. She looked at Zhukov

with a half-smile and said I can tell you where I found it, Professor, but Im afraid I cant tell

you who built it, at least not yet. First, I need you to decipher how to work the locking

mechanism of the lid and open the container. If Im correct, if I find what Im expecting, Ill

explain it all to you then. But whatever we find, I must insist on the strictest secrecy regarding

this entire matter. Thats why I dismissed the rest of the team. You and I can complete the work

together, alone, in my private lab. Nobody can know what were working on until its ready to

be shown to the world. Those are my conditions, Professor. Accept them and stay, reject them

and Ill send you back home with a very large bonus. But if you break your word, Professor, you

will find that the world is suddenly a very small and hostile place, with nowhere to hide. I will

need your decision now, please.

Zhukov removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Ms. Schuyler, I do not

like threats. In science, they are of no value or use. Keep your secrets if you must; I am only

interested in the work.

Professor, said Angelina, excuse me for being so blunt. My intention was not to

threaten but only to clearly state the security issues regarding this project. She leaned forward,

staring intently at him. Frankly, I need you, ProfessorI need help that only Anton Zhukov

can give.

The old Russian smiled at the attractive young woman. He found her personal plea

touching and more than flattering to his ego. He agreed to her conditions, and the work began.


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For three weeks, they struggled to decipher the code the original builder used in his equations

whoever he was, thought Zhukov, he must have been an exceedingly paranoid person. Finally,

the day came when they cracked the code and were able to make sense, at last, of that part of the

journal.

Angelina and Anton attached the heavy electrical cables to the electrode points at the top

and bottom of the container. The lock consisted of a dozen interlocking cylinders held fast by

some kind of magnetic field. By applying an incrementally modulated electrical current, the

magnetic field holding each of the cylinders would be released. Then they would have access to

a keypad where they would punch in the final code theyd deciphered from the journal. This was

the theory. The reality was neither Angelina nor Anton knew if this would actually work.

With the cables attached, they both moved to their respective control panels. On the

count of three, they both hit their master switches. A hum started to fill the room as the electrical

current coursed thru the container. The electricity played across it and made the surface ripple

and flow, almost as if it were liquid mercury. Angelina said Electrical contact established,

increasing current by one point.

Check. Electrical contact established, increasing current by one point.

Magnetic field strength for cylinder one decreasing, down to 60%. Increasing current

by one point.

Check. Magnetic field decreasing, increasing current by one point.

Magnetic field strength for cylinder one continuing to decrease

40%...15%...2%...magnetic field for cylinder one disengaged!


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It was an astounding sight. Cylinder one had actually detached itself and seemed to be

floating in the blue-white aura that crackled around the container. The mercurial glow of the

container was now pulsing and steadily growing stronger, bathing both scientists in an eerie

silvery light, making them look like materializing spirits.

The electrical hum was getting louder and Angelina had to shout, Modulate electrical

current by one order of magnitude and hold it steady at five points!

Check! Modulating current by one order of magnitude and holding steady at five

points! the Russian shouted back.

Magnetic field strength for cylinder two decreasing, down to 85%...its working, Anton!

Increase current by two points!

Check! Field strength for cylinder two decreasing, increasing current by two points

yes, isnt it magnificent?

Cylinder twos field was disengaged. The container now glowed with a strong and

steady silver light, turning the lab into a black-and-white world that weirdly reminded Angelina

of Colin Clive and Frankenstein. Once cylinder three was disengaged, they donned their

protective rubberized suits. The hum was now so loud that they could only communicate thru

their radio helmets, but they continued thru the night.

Most of the night was gone by the time they hit the tenth cylinder. Angelinas protective

suit made her sweat and itch, her lips were dry and they were both using the protective visors in

their radio helmets to shield their eyes from the light that glowed like the heart of a star from the

container. She could hear Antons labored breathing and wondered how the old man was doing.


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The glow was so intense she couldnt see his face anymore. He was just a silver phantom she

could barely glimpse as he adjusted dials and switches on his control panel.

The tenth cylinders field disengaged, adding one more to the row of strangely floating

cylinders now slowly moving in a circular pattern, orbiting the container.

She could see the old mans movements getting slower. Anton, are you all right?

Repeat, are you all right? Anton, answer me!

I..am..all right, the old Russian answered, let us finish this, Angelina!

Very well, modulate current by one order of magnitude and hold it steady at 25 points!

Checkmodulate current byone order of magnitudehold steady25 points,

Zhukov repeated.

When the field for the eleventh cylinder disengaged it joined the rest of them in their

strange dancing orbit around the container. The cylinders started to pick up speed, orbiting faster

and faster until they became a band of fierce golden light that hummed and crackled around the

container.

Last cylinder, Anton! Modulate current by one order of magnitude and hold it steady at

50 points!

No, Angelina! The circuits cannot hold at that strength! The explosion will destroy

everything!

Theyll hold! Do as I say! Angelina commanded.


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Checkmodulating current by one order of magnitude, holding steady at 50

poiaaaAAAAHHHH! The professors scream exploded inside her helmet in a burst of feedback

that made Angelina grab the sides of her head in pain.

Angelina turned her head just in time to see a bolt of silver light surge from the container

and strike the Russian scientist square in the chest. It lifted the old man and sent him flying

against the wall, hitting with a sickening crunch. He stood for a second, then collapsed, like a

puppet whose strings have been cut. She bolted to his side as she screamed his name, dodging a

second bolt of silver light that struck the bank of equipment behind her and made it explode in a

welter of flame and electrical sparks.

She kneeled by him. Tenderly, she lifted his head as more and more bolts shot from the

cylinder, reducing her laboratory to a smoking ruin. Anton, speak to me, she said, surprised at

the tears that came to her eyes. Anton, please speak to me! she repeated over and over.

Suddenly, she heard him take a weak, ragged breath thru her radio helmet. His voice

rasped dryly. Angelinano tearsonly the work matters, your triumphlooklook His

body suddenly relaxed and sagged into her arms.

Then, the twelfth cylinder disengaged and joined the other eleven in orbit around the

container. Without dropping speed, all twelve cylinders suddenly shot up into the air, striking

the ceiling and causing a shower of acoustic panels, metal, plaster and other debris to fall around

them. The primary generator had burned itself out, leaving her in darkness until the emergency

lights kicked in.

After a few seconds she found herself in a room that looked more like a battlefield bathed

in a blood-red light than a laboratory. Some sparks still shot out from isolated corners. The lab


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was filled with an acrid smoke that stung her lungs. Coughing, she stumbled to the venting

control panel and turned on the ventilating fans. The smoke was quickly sucked out and sent

floating thru the Tahoe night.

She couldnt believe it. She had failed and Anton Zhukov was dead. All that work, all

that effort, her top scientist a corpse at her feet, her laboratory effectively totaled and what did

she have to show for it? She started to think Nothing, when she realized that there was a keypad

that had appeared on the side of the containershe hadnt failed!

Slowly she stood up and walked to the container. Licking her lips, she began to punch in

the 128-character secret code from the journal. When she finished, there was a short electronic

chirp from the keypad as it lifted up and split into two parts. A golden latch in the form of the

letters ZS was revealed.

What are you doing, she thought, what are you doing? Hadnt she destroyed enough in

one night, was one life lost not enough? But if she didnt turn the latch and open the container

then her work and Antons death were both for nothingshe saw a hand grab the Z and the

other grab the S and she thought how strange my hands look in this light as she pulled the

letters apart.

There was a loud whooshing sound as the lid detached itself, with small wisps of smoke

curling up from inside the container. Trembling, Angelina grabbed the lid and lifted it. The

container was lined in velvet and there was a man wearing a silver mask in it. Her hands reached

out to touch the mask but she suddenly froze. The mans eyes opened and stared at her. The

almost glowing green eyes drifted up towards her from the container and she felt cold fingers

wrapping around her wrist


24/52


#####

2004.

Headline from the Sacramento Bee, dated August 7th, 2004.

NOBEL PRIZE WINNER MISSING

Professor Anton Zhukov, winner of the Nobel Prize for Physics and for Medicine, was

reported missing today when his personal airplane failed to arrive yesterday in Sacramento and

could not be contacted by radio. Dr. Angelina Schuyler, CEO of Schuyler Enterprises and the

person who is credited with convincing Professor Zhukov to defect from the Soviet Union,

issued a statement saying her thoughts and prayers are with Professor Zhukovs family and

reiterated her hopes that the aging scientist will be found alive

#####

2008.

Angelinas heels crackled like rifle shots as she walked down the marble hallway on the

77th floor of the Schuyler Tower that led from her corner office to the Board of Directors

conference room. It was the end of the third fiscal quarter, and she had to present her quarterly

earnings report to the Board. They had nothing to complain about. Even if her attention had

been somewhat distracted of late, the new patents developed by the Cryogenics Department over

the last three years were delivering splendid results, medical and financial.

But her mind was really someplace else. It had been four years since the night when

Anton Zhukov died and her strange visitor had arrived. When she had stood at the side of that


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container, and felt the power in those eyes, she could not have known the strangely satisfying

new direction her life would take.

She stood there that night, staring at the old man with the scarred and twisted face who

was holding her wrist and staring right back at her. She could almost feel the energy and

intelligence pouring out of those hypnotic green eyes as he slowly sat upits you, isnt it? Its

you she kept murmuring.

The old man opened his mouth slowly and whispered in a dry voice, Whoareyou?

She leaned down and said My name is Angelina SchuySchull. I am your great-great

granddaughter

Howlong?

Over a centuryits now 2004.

Ahh! The old man looked away for a few seconds. Alldeadthen. Enemies

familygone. He looked back at Angelina and whispered Helpmeplease

She helped him. She started the Schuyler Center for Genetic Research and Rehabilitation

as a cover operation. Angelina poured millions of her personal fortune into it, all for the sole

purpose of rebuilding the shattered physical husk that was Dr. Zachariah Schull. The hyperbaric

technology in his crypt, as he called it, had helped his body to heal his more immediate injuries,

but it took the full battery of 21st

Century genetic knowledge to repair, rebuild, and bring back

his full mobility.

But he didnt let them touch his face. When Angelina asked him why, he replied

Because that man, the handsome and dashing Zachariah Schull, is dead! Hes been dead for


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more than a century. This is the face that their justice gave meit may be the face of a

monster, but it is my badge of honor.

And as his body improved, he worked on his knowledge. He had more than a centurys

worth of scientific information to catch up on. He read voraciously on topics ranging from

robotics to cryogenics, gene therapy to nuclear fission. He applied what hed learned to his own

theories, advancing and improving on his inventions. He started to sculpt again, trying to regain

the mastery and control of his hands that had served him so well before. So time passed, until

one fateful evening.

Angelina had been dreading this moment. She held the DVD in her hands as she entered

her great-great grandfathers living quarters. He was relaxing in a lounge chair, leafing thru a

volume of modern sculpture.

Without looking up, he said I like the work this Bufano fellow didperhaps we can take

a small drive to San Francisco and see some of them.

Actually, great-great gra

Grandfather will do just fine, child.

All rightgrandfather. Theres something you should see.

Ahh, another of those motion pictures! A Garbo movie, perhaps?

No-o-oits actually a television show from the early 1980s. And before you say

anything, I know what you think of television. Its just thatI think you should see this.


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She walked up to his DVD player and inserted the disk. After a few seconds, a jaunty

theme song started playing as an animated menu appeared on the screen. There were four titles

listed on the main screen. Angelina selected the second one.

The doctor sat back in his lounge chair, wondering why Angelina was showing him this.

And then he saw the plot was set in 1874. It was about a mad genius who was trying to murder

the Supreme Court because they would not let him appeal his murder conviction. The black and

white images showed how this madman had designed life-size puppets to carry out his will, and

how two Secret Service agents tracked him down to his underwater lab.

Angelina could see his jaw working, the small vein throbbing in his temple, his hands

clenching and unclenchinghe was angry, no, he was furious. Suddenly, he grabbed the remote

control and sent it flying into the television set. The set shattered, glass littered the floor and

smoke poured from the hole the remote had made on the screen.

How dare they! How dare they! When was this made? Who made it? Tell me, child,

tell me now! he screamed as he grabbed and shook her, barking his questions. Angelina let out

a small scream, Grandfather, stop, stop, youre hurting me!

Abruptly, he hugged her close to his chest and said Forgive me, my child, forgive me!

Its justis this how I am remembered? Is this all I mean now? Gently, he stroked her hair

he realized she was crying, he had truly frightened her, and he felt ashamed.

Im sorry, Grandfather, Im sorry, she sobbed, I didnt want you to see this butyou

deserved to know. Ive tried so hard to find the proof that you were innocentf-for years I

searched and I t-tried but I couldnt find anythingthey think youre some fictional character,

the government erased you completely, it wa-wasnt fair


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Its all right now he said. You did the right thing, Angelina. I owe everything to you.

I would still be buried at the bottom of that river if you hadnt believed in me and tried to find

me. You are my kin, my only familyI love you, child.

And now youve given me a great giftyouve given me a purpose. Tell me, who is

responsible for thisthing youve shown me?

Angelina dabbed her eyes with a tissue as she responded, That would be the producer,

grandfather. The entire concept for the show and script approval for every episode, he would

have been responsible for that.

Very well then. Let us skip to the end credits and learn who this great creative genius is,

who thinks he can play with the reputation of a dead man!

But in another room, grandfather

Of coursehow silly of me. My temper has always been the death of me.

The producer of the program was named William Bennett. The doctor did a quick search

on the internet, a technology that still filled him with amazement, and found that William

Bennett was now semi-retired from television but still busy producing a string of low-budget

horror thrillers. He lived in Beverly Hills with his secretary and his three miniature dachshunds.

Yes-s-s-s the doctor hissed, I think I shall make you my hobby, Mr. Bennett

A week later a small video-IM window popped up on Angelinas laptop screen. She was

working on her retirement speech. Running the company had lost its appeal after reviving her

ancestor. She didnt need any more money, anyway. Besides, she wanted to work with her


29/52


grandfather, to assist him in whatever he was plotting. She couldnt clear his name, but she

would help him get his revenge.

On the screen, she saw him wave at her. Hello, granddaughter! I have a new toy Id

like to show you. Can you join me?

She hated writing speeches. Of course, grandfather, Ill be there in five minutes.

Angelina walked to the bookcases in her private study. She reached up and pulled the

French first edition of Francois Truffauts LHomme Qui Aimait Les Femmes halfway,

making the bookcase next to it slide silently into the wall and revealing the gleaming metal door

of an elevator. Once inside, she punched the button labeled 4 , wondering what her grandfather

had thought up as the elevator sped her down to the fourth level.

When the elevator doors opened, she stepped into the lab where she and Anton Zhukov

had revived her grandfather. Angelina had spent more millions rebuilding and modernizing it.

There were banks of scientific and medical equipment everywhere, multiple work tables covered

with drawings, models, and prototypes. In the center of it all, Dr. Schulls main desk was

equipped with massive multiple monitors connected to a super-computer he had designed and

named Socrates.

He had a schematic of something that looked like a camera on one of the monitors, but

miniaturized to a level shed never seen anyone attempt before. He turned as soon as he heard

her heels clack on the floor and, with a wolfish grin, presented her withwhat was that thing?

This, he said in answer to her unspoken question, is my first bird.


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It was black, teardrop shaped, about a foot long with two wing-like flat appendages on

the side, smooth and featureless. He pressed a button on his console and, with an almost

imperceptible hum, it lifted itself from his open hands and slowly floated in a circle around the

laboratory. She saw one of the monitors on her grandfathers desk was displaying the machines

point of view as it flew around the room.

She looked at the bird, at the monitor, and back to him. He was gratified to see the

admiration in her eyes at his accomplishment. What are you using as a propulsion system? she

asked.

A miniaturized hydrogen fusion reactor. All it needs is a quarter-cup of water to fly

twice around the world! And look, it has a transmitter that sends a video signal back to me for

recording and a miniature hyper-argon laser that can cut thru six inches of steel in less than a

minute, it can operate independently or I can take direct control if needed, it is totally radar-

neutral and untrackable, it has

All right, grandfather, all right! Its quite amazing but tell me, what are you going to use

it for? interrupted Angelina.

Dr. Schull stood up and strode to the window. He looked down at the cold, blue expanse

of Lake Tahoeit will be the means of my revenge he whispered.

Angelina stood next to him and touched his arm. Still thinking of Bennett?

The doctor turned his head slightly towards her. I told you, child, that I would turn him

into my hobby. I intend to learn everything that is learnable about Mr. Bennett. He will never

see me, but I will know him better than his own mother. My little birds will be my eyes and ears,


31/52


shadowing his every move, recording his every activity, until the day comes when I will use that

knowledge against him!

Angelinas eyes widened and grew serious. Grandfather, just what are you planning to

do with Mr. Bennett?

Dr. Schull shot her a half smile. I wont kill him, child. Im not interested in mere

revenge. What I want is justice! He turned away from her and returned to his main desk. His

fingers played rapidly over the piano-like keyboard hed designed. Socrates, please estimate

manufacturing time and expenses for the construction of twenty copies of prototype B1.

A deep mechanical voice came from a small speaker. When will you require the full

estimate, sir?

I need it quickly, Socrates, today. My soul burns with the need for justice!

The mechanical voice replied, Your second statement is illogical and immaterial. It

cannot be used in this equation. I shall compute and prepare the full estimate for delivery within

one hour.

In less than a week the doctor had all twenty devices in his hands. He programmed ten of

them to follow Bennett and maintain him under constant surveillance for two weeks, at his home

and at his office. Lets see what my friends find, thought the doctor

#####

The mechanical bird glided silently thru the darkness of the Southern California night.

Quickly and efficiently, it relayed all it saw and heard to the memory banks of Socrates where all


32/52


that information would be stored, sorted and analyzed. I shall find his weak link, the doctor

thought, and when I do find what it is I shall use it to break him.

His birds had been shadowing Bennett for three days and had revealed nothing more than

what the doctor already knew, which was precious little. William Bennett lived with his three

dachshunds and his secretary in a secluded estate on Laurel Canyon at the end of a long and

winding private road. His days were filled with making production deals in his office and his

nights were spent at home, quietly and alone. He had no romantic entanglements and no legal

issues. For a movie producer, he seemed to be an unbelievably dull man.

And it was this dullness which frustrated Dr. Schull. Having a dull life meant he could

find no leverage with Bennett, and no leverage meant he had nothing to use for his vengeance.

The doctor sat at his desk, staring intently at the real-time feed coming from B3. This bird had a

new enhancement hed just installed that afternoon, a hyper-sensitive audio pickup designed to

specifically monitor telephone conversations. He was already monitoring all computer and

internet usage, thanks to a little gray box that was attached by B5 to a small piece of cable on one

of the outside walls.

Bennett was sitting on his couch, his back to the panoramic window. He was reading a

script entitled Head Driller 4. It was some dreadful sequel to a slasher movie Schull thought

was almost reason enough to dispose of the man then and there. Suddenly the light directly over

Bennetts head turned itself off and on three times. Bennett threw the script on his coffee table

and walked down the hallway to his private office. Schulls birds were observing all of this,

using x-ray, infrared, and motion-detectors.


33/52


The doctor saw Bennett open the center drawer on his desk. But he didnt just open it, he

took the drawer out completely, and then he reached inside the empty space. He took a small

rectangular box out. He took his cell phone, opened it and took outahh, thought Dr. Schull,

hes taking out his sim card and replacing it with one from that box!

Dr. Schull adjusted the scanning circuits. He saw Bennett dial a local number and talk

using a small voice changer. Most curious, the doctor thought, most curious indeed that hes

trying to place a call that cant be traced to him and also disguising his voice for good measure.

Perhaps Bennett was finally going to reveal something

This is Orestes, said Bennett.

Schull could hear a disguised voice answer This is Triton. Delivery is set for midnight

tonight, warehouse number 3. Is payment ready?

Payment is ready for delivery tonight. The other voice hung up.

A satisfied smile began to play across Dr. Schulls deformed lips. Finally, he thought, I

have something I can use. A secret delivery at midnight, phone calls that cant be traced, voices

being disguisedgood, good, he thought.

It was still five hours until midnight. He recalled all of his birds, leaving only B-1 and B-

2 to continue their surveillance. The minutes crawled by as he paced, waiting for the birds to

return to his lab. Once they were there, he equipped them all with extra tranquilizer darts. It

took his expert fingers only seconds to do the work. Then he sat and pondered his next move.

Patience had never been an easy task for a man like Zachariah Schull. Before hed been

revived by Angelina, when bitterness and revenge drove him, hed never hesitated to take swift,


34/52


direct and personal action. It had never mattered to him that his body, in those days, had been a

poor, battered, and almost-broken thing. The strength of his will and the power of his intellect

had been enough to drive him on and on but things had changed.

In the years after Angelina found and revived him, they worked together to restore him

physically. Experimental gene therapy, neuro-surgery, DNA manipulation, laser skin and bone

grafts and other types of cutting-edge medical techniques, all followed by endless months of

relentless and painful physical therapy. Zachariah Schull drove himself mercilessly in his quest

to physically reengineer himself. After the physical therapy, he spent countless hours training

himself in the martial arts and catching up with more than a centurys worth of scientific

advancements.

He looked at his hands. The fingers were strong and dexterous, quick and sure in their

movements. His body felt lithe and powerful, stronger than hed ever been before. He stood up

and said Its time. His decision was made. It was time for Dr. Schull to enter the field of

battle once more.

#####

William Bennett was more than just a movie producer. For the last ten years hed been

the main contact and heroin distributor in the West Coast for the Tigers of Mogok, the most

feared and powerful gang in the Golden Triangle. It was all very profitable for Bennett, but he

was getting bored with it.

He didnt know who Triton was, and Triton didnt know who he was. They were all just

code names to each other, contact was minimal and only by phone. All he did was arrange

things. But thered been a problem with the last shipment. There were complaints about the


35/52


quality and Bennett was concerned enough to be there for this delivery. Christ, he thought, if I

hear another shithead agent bitching about this stuff then these Burmese bastards are gonna find

out just who the fuck theyre dealing with!

He downshifted as he took the curve. His black Lamborghini sped down Laurel Canyon

and entered a freeway. Bennett drove silently, his thoughts as black as the night around him.

Hed make it down to the old San Pedro waterfront in time, hed test the stuff in the new

shipment and he was ready to kick serious ass if he didnt like what he tasted. He had his Beretta

M9 fully loaded in his shoulder holster and five additional clips on him. He was ready.

The Lamborghini finally took an exit. Bennett drove down streets lined with old

warehouses and shipping depots that were just abandoned husks now. The whole area had been

slated for redevelopment for the last eight years, but Bennett had spread enough bribes around to

slow it all down to a crawl. The cops didnt like coming down here at night, the old buildings

stood empty and unused. It all suited Bennett just fine.

He pulled into a weed-choked parking lot next to a dilapidated old brick warehouse and

turned off the lights. There were two men guarding the door. Bennett approached slowly, his

hands hanging easily at his sides. There was a quick exchange between him and one of the men,

the door opened and Bennett walked into the warehouse.

#####

This was exhilarating! Dr. Schull was riding his modified Tomahawk V10 motorcycle

down Highway 5 at over 500 mph, whipping around cars, trucks, and motorcycles as if they were

just traffic cones.


36/52


His laughter ringing inside his helmet, Dr. Schull sped on thru the night towards his

enemy on his massive, four-wheeled superbike. His metallic black birds kept pace with him,

giving him an almost-demonic appearance, a hellish black apparition in a monstrous vehicle

surrounded by bat-like things.

The highway patrol tried to chase him. They tried to set roadblocks and spike strips to

stop him. It was all useless. None of their vehicles could keep up. The spike strips couldnt

damage his wheels. Afterwards, there were rumors that the man in black gunned his motorcycle

and actually flew over the three patrol cars blocking the highway.

The police radios crackled with the same message. Do not interfere with me and do not

try to stop me. I have no wish to hurt you, so stay out of my way. The doctor broadcasted that

message over and over, and eventually the highway patrol stopped trying. They tried to track

him with helicopters, but he was just too fast. Even satellite tracking systems were useless,

unable to detect his heat signature or to lock onto him with GPS tracking.

Once he was past Bakersfield, he got off the highway and entered Frazier Park. He

turned off the lights of the bike and went deeper inside. It was late at night and the park was

empty. He parked the bike. He could see small eyes staring at him from the bushes. It was just

the nocturnal denizens of the park. He pressed a series of buttons on the bike, and it started to

buckle and shakeit was changing its configuration. The wheels came in closer, new wheel

wells came out, the exposed turbine was recessed, the seat receded and went higher, even the

color changed from matte black to yellow with black stripes. He took off his helmet and sprayed

an oily liquid on it. He then went to a water fountain and splashed some water on it. The helmet

changed colors to match the bike.


37/52


Now disguised, Dr. Schull cruised thru Los Angeles down to the San Pedro waterfront.

He arrived some fifteen minutes after Bennett had arrived. The doctor rode his bike down the

street where the old warehouse was, his eyes scanning every recessed doorway, every broken

window, committing it all to his memory.

He parked the bike behind another warehouse a block away. He pressed another button

on the bike and a small blue light started to blink between the two rear tires. He jogged easily

and stealthily down the block, hugging the shadows, using the darkness to avoid curious eyes.

He stopped when he got to the warehouse across the narrow parking lot from his target.

The doctor saw two men standing by the door square jaws and hard eyes, obviously security

muscle. He punched a code into his wrist console. Within seconds, his birds landed on the

streetlights, on the floodlights, on every other light source on the block. With a wolfish grin, he

entered another code. Suddenly, all the lights died and the entire block was plunged into

absolute blackness.

The security guards looked around apprehensively. One of them reached inside his jacket

and pulled out a cell phonehe fumbled with it for a few seconds while his companion pulled

out his cell and tried to make it work. The doctor smiledthe special EMP generators in the

birds worked perfectly. The electromagnetic pulse had fried all the electronics in that block.

Unless, of course, they were protected with a specially-modulated electromagnetic field

generator like the one Dr. Schull was using.

The doctor counted to three and emerged from the shadows, looking directly at the

security men. The men saw a tall black shadow detach itself from the general darkness, a

shadow wearing a silver mask. Before they had a chance to pull out their guns, the doctor was


38/52


on them. He was quick and efficient. He simply grabbed each man by the throat, one in each

hand, squeezed and lifted.

The security men squawked and struggled, their neck muscles bunching and straining,

their hands clawing helplessly at the implacable thing that threw their unconscious bodies clear

across the parking lot and crashing into the wall.

The doctor looked at his hands and smiled. This was good! Suddenly, he tilted his head.

He could hear voices from inside the warehouse

No, it is YOUR lust for money that is the problem!

Was that Bennetts voice? Yes, it wasthere were other voices, all raised in anger.

Criminals all, the darkness increased their fear and distrust of each other. All the doctor had to

was wait until one of them lost his head and the shooting started, using the confusion to abduct

Bennett.

A voice that was cold and cruel cut thru the din. Bennett, you are a fool. Sit down

before I lose my patience with you.

This one sounds interesting, thought the doctor. Without waiting to hear Bennetts reply,

the doctor removed the buckle from his belt and attached it to a thin cord attached to his wrist

console. He shot the cord towards the roof and tugged on it to make sure it was secure. He

quickly began to climb up the side of the warehouse to the roof. Hed planned to slip in thru the

door and make short work of the men there, but he was intrigued by the second voice and his

insatiable curiosity urged him to see the man that voice belonged to.


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Once on the roof, he silently pried open a skylight and slowly lowered himself down onto

a catwalk that ran along the interior sides of the warehouse. He had a perfect view of the men

below. He could see Bennett sitting in a wooden chair, looking worried and sweaty. On the

other side of a long conference table were a group of dark-haired, sallow-skinned men

surrounding an old man with a long white beard.

Kyaw Dun, my humble apologies, said Bennett. His voice trembled slightly and Dr.

Schull realized the producer was terrified. I meant no disrespect, but my distributors and their

main clients have been compla-

Silence! roared the young man standing to the right of Kyaw Dun. Your feeble

complaints have forced our Tiger-Father, Master Kyaw Dun, to come to your cursed country!

You say you mean no disrespect, yet all you have done is insult the Tigers of Mogok!

That is enough, Ne Htoo said the old man. The quiet authority in his voice was

irresistible here is a man who was born to command, thought the doctor. Obviously, Bennett

was involved in something much larger and more sinister than the doctor had suspected. Dr.

Schull could see packages of white powder on the table, some of them cut open. Then the doctor

remembered where hed heard of the Tigers of Mogok.

Heroin. That was the powder on the table. The doctors memory brought up an article in

Time magazine from six months earlier. Yes, the Tigers were the biggest, most organized, and

dangerous gang of drug traffickers in the Golden Triangle. They controlled their territory, and

their organization, with ruthless efficiency. Even the mere mention of their leaders name was

an offense punished by a painful and bloody death.


40/52


The doctors lips spread to a wolfish grin. Here was a true opponent. Bennett was not

forgotten, but the doctor began to quietly make his way around the building, gliding silently until

he was directly over the man named Kyaw Dun.

Then he stopped. It was not fear or doubt that made Dr. Schull hesitate. He stood in the

darkness of the catwalk, looking down on the criminals below him and pondered his next move.

His mission, originally one of revenge, had changed. He saw an opportunity to do more

than simply satisfy his urge for personal justice. Below him was the leader of the most

dangerous gang of heroin traffickers in the Far East, his followers, and his main contact in this

country. If he could serve them all up to the forces of the law

There was a simple and easy way to do it. All I need to do, he thought, is bring my birds

in and have them release compound 17. This was a colorless and odorless anesthetic gas that

would make everyone in the warehouse sleep for at least 12 hours. Then all he had to do was

make an anonymous call to the police and let them take care of the situation.

But it is not my way, the doctor thought. He wanted, needed to physically confront his

prey. He tapped his wrist console, and his birds silently flew in thru the open skylight. He

quickly spaced them throughout the warehouse while the criminals below continued their

bickering.

No, Kyaw Dun, my loyalty is only to you!

It was Bennetts voice, trembling and starting to squeak from fear. The Burmese drug

dealers had bound him to the chair where he sat sweating helplessly. His Beretta was on the


41/52


conference table along with his ammo clips Ne Htoo had disarmed him as quickly and easily as

if he were a child.

Kyaw Dun, the Father Tiger of the Tigers of Mogok, stood up and came around the

conference table to face Bennett. Dr. Schull noted that, although an old man, Kyaw Dun moved

with the confident grace and fluidity of a dancer. He could see that the old man was tall and

well-muscled and was hardly the old dotard he pretended to be.

Perhaps, Mr. Bennett, perhaps the old man said, and perhaps it is you who are

responsible for the power outageto confuse the superstitious Asians, hum? He took Bennetts

chin in his hand and cruelly twisted it to face him, making the producer whimper in fear and

pain.

No, Master, no blubbered the producer. A few minutes before, hed been supremely

confident and arrogant, a true master of his universe. Now he sat tied to a chair, crying,

surrounded by hard-faced men while their leader decided his fate.

Suddenly, the warehouse was filled with clouds of dense smoke. The Burmese, startled,

began shouting and waving their guns. Excellent, thought the doctor, my birds have given me

the perfect cloak. He commanded another of his birds to throw a small grenade against the door,

making it explode in a satisfyingly loud blast.

Someone shouted in Burmese that the police were here. The doctor activated the

nightvision and infrared filters in his mask and jumped from the catwalk to the conference table

below.


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Bennett and the Burmese heroin dealers suddenly saw a great black shape drop from the

catwalk above and crash onto the table. One of the Burmese aimed his gun at the demon who

had burst on them when suddenly it was gone. He screamed in pain as the black form appeared

next to him and crushed his wrist with one hand.

Terrified, the Burmese started to fire wildly inside the warehouse. The doctor crouched

to avoid the pinging bullets and saw how the fools were cutting each other down in their blind

panic.

But Kyaw Dun was no fool. As soon as he realized what was happening, he too crouched

down to escape his own scared gunmen. It was difficult to see thru the smoke but the old man

had seen the figure jump from the catwalk not a demon, but a man. Brave and resourceful, the

Burmese thought, but a fool nonetheless. Whoever he is, he thought, his interference will cost

him dearly.

The smoke was beginning to clear. There were only four of the Burmese standing

Kyaw Dun, Ne Htoo and two others. Bennetts chair had fallen over and the producer was lying

on the floor staring wildly at the Burmese and the bizarre apparition confronting them.

He saw a tall manlike form dressed in black from head to toe with a silver mask covering

the face rise slowly from the floor. Incredibly, Bennett could hear the form laughing in a low

voice! A voice, deep and sepulchral, came from the mask

Surrender or suffer!

Ne Htoo, please deal with this fool, said Kyaw Dun. Grinning, the young tiger aimed

his gun at the doctorbut as he started to pull the trigger, he saw in amazement how the form


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seemed to effortlessly jump high into the air, turn, and land on his feet behind him. Before he

could react, Ne Htoo was staggered by a blow to the side of his head that dropped him to his

knees.

The gun forgotten, the young tiger snarled in rage as he stood up and faced the demon

tormenting them. The doctor dropped to a fighting stance as the two men circled each other,

each taking measure of the other.

Then Ne Htoo charged. He delivered a flying kick which would have caved in an

ordinary mans chest, but the doctor blocked him and delivered another staggering, open-handed

blow in the middle of Ne Htoos chest. The Burmese flew back some six or seven feet and

landed in a tangle of limbs that skidded directly into the wall. Coughing and wiping blood from

the sides of his mouth, Ne Htoo slowly got to his feet to face his foe again.

The doctor wasted no more time on him. Before Ne Htoo could defend himself, one of

the doctors birds shot him with a dart full of the liquid version of Compound 17. He collapsed

with a groan, asleep before his body hit the floor.

Kyaw Dun couldnt believe what he was seeing. Yelling in Burmese, he tried to order

the other two gunmen to attack, only to see them collapsed on the floor, darts sticking from their

necks.

The man in black stood over Ne Htoos body, looking at him. Slowly, he raised his left

hand and pointed at the old Burmese. Slowly, he turned his hand and made a beckoning motion

with his fingers.


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The Burmese drug lord snorted mockingly. May I make my peace with Lord Buddha

before we face each other?

The doctor laughed once again. I doubt that the Lord Buddha would have anything to

do with one such as you!

Then tell me your name, demon, that Hell may greet you properly after I finish with

you!

My name, evil one, is Schull!

Kyaw Dun saw a black blur sailing thru the air at him. With skills developed over a

lifetime of training, he pivoted and turned, bringing his foot up and catching Dr. Schull squarely

in his stomach.

Grunting, the doctor fell and rolled back to his feet. He shook his head slightly and

turned to look at Kyaw Dun. The old Burmese was simply standing there, looking at him. The

doctor stood and took his fighting stance, waiting for Kyaw Dun to come to him. I will not

underestimate him again, he thought.

The doctor and Kyaw Dun slowly circled each other. With the speed of a striking cobra,

the two men attacked each other, their movements a whirling blur of fists and kicks that would

have demolished lesser opponents. Their breath harsh and rasping, they attacked and blocked

each others blows as they moved around and over the conference table.

For endlessly silent minutes the contest of death continued until, with an open-handed

blow to the chest and a choked cry of pain, Dr. Schull sent Kyaw Dun crashing into the wall.

But the old man was a true master of the martial arts, a much hardier opponent than Ne Htoo.


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With a snarl, he stood up and smiled at the doctor as he wiped the blood from the sides of his

mouth.

Once more, the two men attacked each other with a speed and ferocity that would have

made an audience gasp in wonder. But they had an audience, an audience of one. Bennett had

been watching the fight with eyes widened by fear. He had no idea who the devil the guy in

black was and he didnt care. He saw a chance to get the hell away from there and he tried to

take it.

He was still tied to the chair, but he could at least crawl and get himself to the far side of

the warehouse where he could try to figure out how to get out of the chair. Slowly, painfully, he

used his legs to push himself along the floor towards the sheltering darkness.

Suddenly, Bennett stopped as he saw the man in black go crashing into the far wall.

Incredibly, Bennett watched as the man in black stood up laughing, wiped the dust from his

clothing, and made the same beckoning motion with his hand.

Kyaw Dun was a fierce opponent, but Dr. Schull could sense the Burmese was tiring.

Although older, the doctors attack continued unabated but Kyaw Duns blocks and

counterattacks were getting infinitesimally and progressively slower. The doctor could see the

sweat running down from the Burmeses forehead, his breath becoming more labored.

With renewed confidence, Dr. Schull attacked Kyaw Dun once more with a fusillade of

blows that forced the drug lord back and finally to his knees. The doctor stopped and stepped

back, but Kyaw Dun struck feebly one last time.


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The doctor took Kyaw Duns chin and turned his head up, to look at his face. The leader

of the Tigers of Mogok looked at him thru the mass of blood and bruises covering his face and

spat a bloody mess at him. He tried to curse the doctor, but his ruined mouth could not form the

words. Laughing once more, the doctor produced a small syringe which he plunged into the old

mans neck. When he released him, Kyaw Dun sunk silently to the ground.

By this time, Bennett had managed to crawl away from the fight and was trying to hide

behind some empty boxes. He didnt see me, he didnt see me, he kept repeating in his mind.

He saw the man in black turn from the defeated Burmese and stride towards him.

Dr. Schull saw the producer on the floor, still tied to his chair and crawling like a worm

to what he thought was safety. With a deep sigh of satisfaction, the doctor walked to him,

grabbed him with both hands, and lifted him chair and all as easily as other men lift a piece of

paper.

Bennetts eyes were wide and darting with sheer naked panic, he tried to scream but

instead felt a trickling sensation as the man in black said to him And now, Mr. Bennett, I can

finally get to the real reason for tonights visit!

The producer opened his mouth but all that came out was a squeak that sounded like the

word who.

The doctor yanked Bennetts face to his as he said You ask who I am, Mr. Bennett? I

will tell you my name, but I have my doubts that it will mean anything to you Bennett could

hear the sheer contempt and disgust in the last word and could only moan in fear once more.


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I am Dr. Zachariah Schull. I was born in 1830, I died in 1874, and was revived in 2004.

I am the man whose name you used for a villain in one of your execrable television shows, the

man whose honor and reputation you helped destroy until I became nothing more than a footnote

lost in history! I am the man whose time for revenge has finally come!

The right hand of the man in black came up as he said those words. He removed his

mask, and Bennett screamed at what he saw there. Bennett continued to scream helplessly as he

saw the doctor remove another small syringe from his belt, rip the sleeve of Bennetts shirt and

plunge its contents into his arm. Dr. Schulls laughter was the last sound Bennett heard as the

darkness overtook him.

#####

Headline from the Los Angeles Times, dated October 17th, 2009.

INTERNATIONAL DRUG DEALERS CAPTURED

Massive raid in warehouse, Hollywood producer among arrested

A spokesman for the LAPD announced this morning that an ongoing international

investigation of heroin trafficking between the Department of Justice, Interpol and the LAPD

culminated in the early hours of the morning with a raid in a warehouse in the San Pedro

waterfront area. The officers involved in the raid found heroin shipments with a street value of

over $350 million dollars and arrested the alleged head of one of the most feared drug gangs in

Southeast Asia.

The spokesman also confirmed that William Bennett, the Hollywood producer best-

known for the horror movie Head Driller and its sequels, was among the men arrested. Mr.


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Bennett had been under investigation for some time, the spokesman said, as one of the possible

main contacts in the United States for the Tigers of Mogok.

Reports that Bennett had been found screaming about a demon in black who defeated the

drug gang in pitched hand-to-hand combat were dismissed by all the law enforcement agencies

involved as unfounded speculation.

#####

Dr. Schull sat at his desk, sipping a cup of coffee. It was a lovely morning on the shores

of Lake Tahoe, with the sunlight streaming in thru the large windows in his lab that overlooked

the lake.

He looked up when Angelina came in with a newspaper. She came up to him and opened

it, showing him the banner headline on the front page of the Los Angeles Times. The doctor

looked at her with a small inquiring smile but he could see that his great-great-granddaughter,

hands on her hips and frowning, was not happy.

Well? Angelina snapped.

The doctor produced his most innocent smile and shrugged his shoulders

Really, grandfather! Dont you know how worried I was last night? You stormed out of

your lab, took the superbike, I cant believe you did that, you went tearing thru the entire state

and then, to top it all off --

The doctor put his hands up and, still smiling, said Please, child! The day is much too

young and beautiful to be so cross. Sit down and have some coffee with me.


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She sighed and sat down. Why did you do it, grandfather? Why did you put yourself in

so much danger? Grandfather, you could have been arrested or even killed!

He took a sip of coffee and bit into a croissant. Angelina, I am not a child! I brought

along all necessary precautions. Besides, I needed to do this. I was never physically strong, you

knowI had to make do with henchmen and puppets before. But last night, last night I found

out what I can do and it was exhilarating!

Oh, very well grandfather! What did you do to Bennett, anyway?

I gave him a sample of a failed attempt at a truth serum. It makes a person experience

intensely vivid nightmare hallucinations pulled from the deepest parts of the human psyche. The

hallucinations end after three hours or so, but theyll come back in his dreams. It will be

sporadic at first, then it will be more frequent until every time he falls asleep hell have those

nightmares and much worse. In a month hell be a drooling lunatic, probably for the rest of his

life. Unless, of course, he kills himself.

Angelinas brow furrowed how could he be so cold-blooded? Thats awful,

grandfather

You asked me if I was going to kill him and I told you no. I am a man of my word,

Angelina. I did not kill him.

Still, grandfather. Why couldnt you wait until Bennett was alone, why did you place

yourself in danger?

He lowered his cup and stared at her. Why? Dont you know me well enough by now?

My chance for revenge presented itself and I took it! No, more than thatI saw a chance to do


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more than avenge myself, I saw a chance to expunge evil from this world and I took it! Could I

do anything less? Would you have me do anything less?

Angelina didnt answer for a few seconds, she simply took another sip of coffee. I

understand, grandfather, and Im sorry I was so cross when I came in. Its justI worried, thats

all. You and I are family, the only family we have. I couldnt bear to see anything happen to

you.

She held up her finger to stop her grandfather from interrupting. I wont try to stop you

from doing what you believe is right. I know how useless it can be to try and stop you. But I

forbid you from doing this alone ever again! I dont care if you like it or not! The next time you

decide to go gallivanting off on some adventure I will be with you every step of the way!

Dr. Schull looked at her with undisguised pride in his eyes. She was blood of his blood,

as resolute and determined as he was. I know I can always count on youbesides, I would

never dream of crossing you

Documents

The Return of Dr Schull v2.0