Himmler's Island

Richard G. Buchanan

Description

A mysterious secretive Foundation, perhaps middle European, has funded a project in a luxurious resort on a Caribbean Island where highly intelligent couples have been lured to come to begin the breeding of more intelligent offspring in a Eugenics program hoping to have a generation that has a statistically significant greater intelligence. Word has leaked out about the project leading to the Foundation's arranging with three cable news networks to send supposedly naïve reporters to visit the resort and report on the project, which will be edited, to correct the supposed misconceptions about the project. One reporter, not quite as naïve as the Foundation thinks she is, uncovers disturbing aspects of the project. With the help of the project's Clinical Psychologist, they blow the lid off the project in a nationwide cable news broadcast.

Sujets

• Life Sciences
• Sciences et techniques
• Evolution
• Science

Informations

• Publié par: eBookIt.com
• Date de parution: 04 janvier 2015
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781456623654
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

Himmler’s Island
Richard G. Buchanan, Ph.D.


Copyright 2014 Richard G. Buchanan, Ph.D.,
All rights reserved.
 
Published in eBook format by eBookIt.com
http://www.eBookIt.com
 
ISBN-13: 9781456623654
 
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
Chapter 1
CLAIRE JAMES, a CNN Junior Reporter walked into her Manager’s office. Framed television programming awards the Network and the Manager had received appeared on the “Ego” wall behind him, and his desk had the usual files, notepads and a pen-and pencil cup. He beckoned Claire to sit in one of the chairs in front of the desk, and then said;
“I’ll come right to the point: For some reason, the brass has chosen you to go to a special Caribbean resort for a week to observe and then to report on it.”
Claire replied; “Thank you. What will I need? A video camera, a digital camera, a voice recorder, tickets, a passport and an advance?”
The Manager interrupted; “I’ve been told to tell you to take nothing but a week’s worth of casual resort clothes to enjoy your time. Then just come back and give your impressions in a report.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it. Pack your clothes and be ready to be picked up at three o’clock on Saturday afternoon.”
 
At about 3:00 PM on Saturday Claire answered the apartment’s intercom buzzer;
“Yes?”
The doorman’s voice said; “Ms. James? Your limo is here.”
 
The noise of the opening of the elevator door caused the relatively new day doorman to look up from his desk. He saw Claire James, a striking honey blonde with shoulder-length hair as he had never seen her before. Previously he’d either seen her dressed in the demure suits her station required female reporters to wear, or lumpy sweatshirts and jeans on the weekends. She strode out of the elevator towing a suitcase wearing a form fitting sleeveless blouse and equally form fitting mid-thigh shorts, walking in heeled sandals, enjoying the doorman’s look.
She breezed past his desk on her way across the apartment house lobby, out of its door and across the sidewalk toward the waiting car. It wasn’t a limousine, but it was a gleaming black Town Car.
The lolling driver looked up quickly when he saw Claire. She appreciated his rapt attention without letting him know she was aware of it. He opened the door saying; “Good afternoon Ms. James.”
Claire slid into the smooth leather seat as the driver put her suitcase into the Town Car’s trunk. He got into the driver’s seat, pulled away from the curb, but drove West. Claire had expected him to drive East or South.
“Aren’t we going to Kennedy?”
The driver answered; “We’re picking up another passenger ma’am.”
Claire sat back as the car went West to Central Park, through the park on one of its transverse roads, and then to a Westside apartment much like Claire’s, except there was a little circular driveway to the building’s entrance. After driving in, the driver turned to Claire saying; “I’ll be back in a minute.”
He got out, went into the building, spoke to the doorman, and then returned to the car, standing by it in the way Claire had first seen him. A few minutes later a woman emerged from the entrance, dressed much like Claire towing a similar suitcase. Unlike Claire, she had straight shoulder-length chestnut hair, fashionably center parted and a wide sensuous mouth. She slid into the seat next to Claire as the driver put her suitcase into the trunk.
She turned to Claire, extended her hand; then said; “Leslie Cummings.”
Claire took her hand and replied; “Pleased to meet you. . .Claire James.”
“Please to meet you Claire. . .” Leslie paused, looked over Claire in somewhat the same way as Claire’s doorman and their driver did which Claire noticed but chose to ignore. Leslie then said; “. . .you look familiar. Oh I know; you work for MSNBC.”
Claire replied; “Yes, and you look familiar too. You work for Fox.”
The driver had turned west, then when he reached 11 th Avenue, turned south.
Leslie said; “Bet he’s going to Liberty Newark; there’re international flights that leave from there too.” She paused then continued; “Claire, let’s put our heads together. We’re going, all expenses paid, to some special Caribbean resort. ”
Claire replied; “Yeah. That’s what my boss said.”
“More. Aren’t there a lot of Reporters in your station that have a lot more seniority than you do?”
“Sure. I’ve been working there for only a few months.”
“Me too. Did your boss tell you why you got picked for this assignment over the others with more seniority? ”
“No. . .”
“Wait. Did your boss say something like ‘Senior Management decided, I don’t know why?’”
“Yes.”
“So we got picked because we were new on the job.”
“OK. I’ll buy that; but why?”
Leslie thought for a while, and then said; “I have absolutely no idea. Now, were you also told that you didn’t need equipment, tickets or a passport? ”
“Yes. Can you figure out why?”
“I can’t.”
By that time the car had entered the Lincoln Tunnel going to New Jersey under the Hudson River so the darkness put a damper on their conversation. When the car exited the tunnel and climbed up the helix, the stunning view of Manhattan’s west side skyline continued to stifle the conversation. As the view disappeared behind rocks in the road’s cut, Claire said; “I guess you’re right. We’re going to Newark Liberty.”
But after traveling West for a while, the car continued in that direction past the southerly turnoff towards Newark Liberty Airport. The two reporters looked a bit puzzled so they began paying attention to where the driver was going. He continued for a while then turned north, which completely puzzled them both. The car continued until they saw a sign which said “Teterboro Airport Next Exit.” The driver reached under the dashboard, pulled out a microphone, keyed it, spoke a few words the reporters couldn’t hear, and then replaced the microphone.
Leslie piped up; “I know where we’re going! That’s an airport for Private Aviation.”
Claire said; “So that’s why we don’t need tickets.”
The driver left the highway, went up the exit hill, turned right, went a short distance to the airport entrance, and then to one of the terminal buildings. He stopped at the broad sidewalk outside the building. The two heard the car’s trunk pop open as they saw a uniformed man pulling a luggage cart towards the rear of the car. A young suited man opened the passenger door, and then extended his hand to help Claire and Leslie out of the car, saying; “Ms. James? Ms. Cummings? Come with me.”
With the uniformed man towing the cart now carrying two suitcases following them, the suited man led the reporters to the terminal’s double doors which opened automatically. They walked across the lobby to the single security search area which looked far less formidable than the ones at commercial airports. As the man approached the area, he reached into his jacket pocket for a small identification wallet, flashed it at one of the security agents who waved them around the luggage and personal search area to another set of automatic doors which opened onto the terminal’s apron. They went through those doors to the apron on which was a gleaming Cesna Citation V. Its drop-down stairs led to its open cabin door, and farther down the fuselage was an open baggage door just in front of one of the jet’s slowly spooling engines. The uniformed man towed the cart towards that door.
As the suited man and the reporters approached the plane, they saw a raven-haired woman with a café-au-lait skin wearing a sort of uniform standing at the top of the stairs. When they reached the bottom, the suited man waved the two up the stairs. As they ascended, he called out; “Have a nice flight!”
At the top of the stairs, the woman said; “Welcome aboard, I’m Jan, your flight attendant.”
The two entered the cabin, glancing to the left to see the two pilots doing nothing apparently waiting for them. The cabin was furnished luxuriously and tall enough for the two of them to walk erect. Just past the cabin door were two tables on each side of the center aisle with two large facing seats on each side. Jan beckoned them to sit in the two forward-facing seats: Claire took the right hand side; Leslie took the left. Both ran their hands over the creamy blond leather.
Jan said; “Please fasten your seat belts.” The two complied, and when they had, Jan asked; “Are you ready to go?”
Startled, the two looked at each other: they’d never been asked that before; then nodded.
Jan went to the cockpit door, said something to the pilots, closed it, then pressed a button which began the retraction of the stairs, and when that was completed, she closed the external cabin door. She latched the closed door, sat in her back-facing seat, cross-buckled herself in, and then knocked on the cockpit door. The engine noise increased as the plane began taxiing away from the apron to the taxiway alongside the runway, then down the taxiway to the end of the runway. It pulled onto the runway, turned to face its end, paused, began the take-off roll then took off.
When the plane leveled off and the engine noise diminished, a bell sounded, Jan unbuckled herself, walked to the galley at the rear of the cabin, then shortly emerged with two large wooden bowels heaped with a fruit salad, two sterling silver forks and cloth napkins. She gave a bowel, a fork and a napkin to each woman saying; “This was raised on where you are going. Enjoy.”
The two sampled the salads, then, almost in chorus said; “Delicious!”
Jan asked; Anything to drink?”
Leslie answered; “Can I have a diet Coke?”
Jan nodded
Claire said; “Me too.”
Jan served them the drinks they requested in large-stemmed glass snifters, not plastic tumblers. The two began to quietly eat and drink. When Leslie had finished mos