The Future Is Now Man invents how to shape stone and fire. The first pinnacle of intelligence. Man discovers oil, a new way to burn fire, the second apex of intellect. Now the birth of nanotechnology and the burning of energy to move at the speed of light, bringing us to the third zenith of intelligence. Ingeniously invented new technology in ambient and nanotechnology, the Chelsea Corporation could take the world into the discovery of the century. A world free of diseases and polluting energy. Maddox Mathews, new executive for Alona, a designing company is in the middle of a merger with a fast growing corporation called Chelsea. Maddox, fond of the technology this company is manufacturing also leads him into wanting a relationship with the CEO herself, Nzingha Chelsea, the richest woman in the world. He wonders if she has mutual feelings for him or is she just using him to get what she wants for her company. FBI Agent, Joe Clay, investigating the Chelsea Company unravels one of its darkest secrets. The company, while sharing its new technology, is assassinating top executives of competitive corporations to gain more supremacy in the corporate market. With the CIA involved, only making his attempts at cracking the issue worse. The CIA, implementing their will, trying to contain this new technology, has given the Chelsea Company an ultimatum. Professionals from the FBI and CIA could collaborate or collide trying to learn the deep nature and intentions of Chelsea. Thus bringing Maddox, Nzingha, and Joe in the middle of things out of their control.
Masters of Fire
By Derrick John WigginsAuthorHouse
Copyright © 2011 Derrick John Wiggins
All right reserved.ISBN: 978-1-4567-5090-9Chapter One
MARK DOUGLAS KISSED HIS DAUGHTER and wife before he lefthis summer house this early warm morning. In his Range Rover he pickedup three of his life-long friends. They all had vacation homes about tenmiles apart, give or take. They had done this for six years.
Mark felt pleasant today. He was going to fish at Chesapeake Bay withhis friends half of the day, then spend time with his family the other half.He and his buddies Larry, Raymond, and Carl all picked the last week inAugust as they always did for the last six years. Larry had picked the spot,and Mark had suggested they all build homes in the area. Mark, bring chiefexecutive of Clive Inspirations, felt he was an expert at building on land.
Larry was a fat guy who was always joking around. Typical, Markthought; there was always some fat guy who went around the room tellingcomic stories. It was probably so no one could make fun of his size. All hisfriends were typical; middle aged, white, wealthy, with egos.
Raymond had light brown hair, blue eyes, five feet and eleven inches,he loved his job as an executive at Mate's, a banking firm. Then there wasCarl, who was a banker at Adams & Abraham. He had the most problemsof all, Mark believed. Probably was paid the least, too. So what? Marklaughed to himself. They all owned houses, many cars, and loved to go onvacations every summer.
"Hey, can we talk about anything else but work?" Mark requested,cutting off Larry and Raymond from verbalizing about labor. "We're goingto have a good time this week, okay?"
"Don't get angry because you don't deal with real live clients," Larryspoke.
"I don't care what type of jobs we have," Mark said. Then demandedmore than asked, "let's talk about something else." He changed lanes on ahighway almost void of automobiles this early morning.
"Okay," Carl voiced from the back seat with Larry. "My wife hadanother miscarriage."
"You sure she's alright?" Larry asked. "That's her fourth one thisyear."
"I don't know," Carl said to himself more than answering Larry.
"I saw on TV once ..." Mark spoke reminiscing. "I'm not saying yourwife, Carl, but this lady on TV was making babies and purposely killingthem. They say it's some kind of disease where a person wants you to feelsorry for them all the time. I forgot the name of a person like that."
"You've told us about problems of depression your wife had," Larryspoke to Carl directly, then to Mark. "I think it's called an over excessiveco-dependency disease."
"Yeah, I think she might have that?" Carl said to himself again morethan anyone else.
"First, we didn't want to talk about work," Larry spoke to everyone."Now do we want to talk about Carl's co-dependent wife?"
The guys laughed and said, "No," simultaneously. Carl then gave asmirk and folded his arms.
There goes Larry again Mark smiled, always trying to make jokes outof a predicament.
Chesapeake Bay took in a light breeze from the Atlantic Ocean. Mark'sSabreline 47 white motor-yacht took off toward deeper water, moving pastthe estuary. This now late morning was lightly cloudy, and yachts litteredthe ocean as far as Mark could see. He steered the boat, King, for tenminutes before coming to a halt.
Some hours had passed as four fishing lines disappeared into the green-blue salt water. They soon filled white buckets with small Cod and Whitefish as they sat in small wooden chairs on the stern.
Mark moved to the galley to get his mates more beer and homemadesandwiches. His wife made ten sandwiches of ham, turkey, and bolognaas she always did. She was a traditional wife, Mark thought, and loyal.
He wouldn't give her up for Carl's attractive co-dependent wife for theworld.
He couldn't stop his friends from talking of work again. Money seemsto make the world go around. Mark sighed. So they spoke of investmentsand banking, for that's what they did all their lives.
SOMEONE HAD BEEN WATCHING THEM CLOSELY since theyleft the bay. She was fifty feet from them in a dark gray and navy blue jetboat. She scrutinized them carefully with powerful ultra-bright pocket sizemarine binoculars. She squinted her slanted gray-blue eyes as she peeredthrough the lenses.
In her skin-tight diving suit that matched her boat precisely, she startedthe engine. It was time. She waited for most of the boats in the area todrift away from the King. It was so crowded today, she thought. It tooktwo hours for most of the vessels to float enough away out of view. Herwhole persona was about time, and she lived by it. Precisely two hours ofwaiting, she said to herself, as she eyed her two waterproof watches on herwrist. She was on a tight schedule, yet patient. Her mission estimated tonow be thirty minutes. She then eased on black gloves and directed herboat toward the King.
CARL NOTICED HER FIRST. He felt he would have never recognizedher except for the fact that she cruised her small jet boat straight towardthem. She looked ten years younger than he and maybe Philippine orKorean. Her long straight black hair would have flown all over the placeexcept it was neatly in a firm bun. Carl also recognized her attractivetan round face and likely healthy curved-shaped rump in a skintight fullswimming suit. Nice body, Carl thought, not chubby and not skinnyeither. He waved at her, smiling.
She moved closer now, six feet from the King. Carl noticed Larry alsowaved, observing her. Smiling, she waved back, steering the boat with herright hand to come abreast to their boat."Ahoy there, how are you?" Carl asked, standing. It was somethinghe'd wished he'd never done, because he was the first to be caught offguard.
SHE RESPONDED WITH A WIDER SMILE, now three feet from theKing, and shut off her engines. Time was of the essence, a principle shelived by. She understood her target, and it was time to take it out beforemore boats drifted back this way. She didn't know the other three menand considered them collateral damage. They were just in the wrong placeat the wrong time. There's that word time again, she said to herself as shesmiled.
Finding her brown air-pistol that was hidden in a dashboard under thesteering wheel, she grabbed it in a tight grip. She took-out the guys whowaved at her first. Before the guy standing, waving, could do anything,she shot him in the neck. She was inhumanly fast and fired again at a fatguy sitting, hitting him in the calf.
She saw that they realized the pinky-finger size dart she shot themwith didn't kill them right away. They moved about, aggravated at thetiny thing in their neck and leg and knocked it out for it to bounce abouton the deck. They also moved about just enough for her to get a clear shotat another man sitting next to the fat fellow. She fired again hitting thatman in the shoulder, and he cursed. Then she spotted her objective in thegalley—Mark Douglas.
He looked just like the photo she was given of him and she studied hisfeatures, salmon complexion, light brown eyes, and straight neat short cuthair. He wore a white short sleeve Lacoste sports shirt and shorts. Precisionwas another trait she owned as time and speed.
She saw that Mark was confused about the circumstances, and shecapitalized on it. They locked eyes for what seemed like the longest splitsecond. She fired again, and he ducked. Got him! She yelled in her head.Although there was a window between them, the dart still made it through.It chipped a round hole in the glass and hit him square in the earlobe. Thenhe...
