Invisibility Cloak

INVISIBILITY CLOAK

JILL ELAINE PRIM

SOUL MATE PUBLISHING

New York

INVISIBILITY CLOAK

Copyright©2015

JILL ELAINE PRIM

Cover Design by Rae Monet, Inc.

This book is a work of fiction.  The names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual events, business establishments, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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Published in the United States of America by

Soul Mate Publishing

P.O. Box 24

Macedon, New York, 14502

ISBN: 978-1-61935-
915-4

www.SoulMatePublishing.com

The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

As always . . .

To my wonderful husband, Chris, and my children:

Harrison, Jessica, and Alexa.

I love you.

Thank you for making my life complete.

Acknowledgements

First and foremost . . . my thanks to Debby Gilbert at Soul Mate Publishing.

And to my editor, Cheryl Yeko.

Dear Readers,

Yes, there really is an invisibility cloak! For my book, I’ve researched the experiments, but manipulated the actual components for the story line. There is nothing cooler than science. In my early years my interest was stoked and lit―more often than not―by my teachers.

Mr. Seagreen in elementary school. Mr. Mason in junior high and many more sandwiched in between. Dr. Winton, my Calculus professor at TSU in, Stephenville, Texas, fostered my love of math. He was one of the best teachers I’ve ever had. I didn’t think I could do it, but he believed in me. So thank you, Dr. Winton, I know you’ve encouraged many more math students after me.

And a special thank you to the ultimate teachers, my parents. Thanks Mom, as always, love ya. And to my father, Donald Williams, thanks for not turning the channel when I tried to and we would watch
Wild, Wild Kingdom
together. I love you, Pops!    

Prologue

*e-mail sent from the Institute of Physics*

To: General Holmes / Strategic Command” March 2 at 10:14 pm.

Nevada Office

Re: Invisibility Cloak

We did it! Come to the lab for a demo. We’re celebrating.

W. H.

Senior Physicist

The Institute of Physics

Harbor Falls Facility, Arizona

The next day . . .

A
ll she wanted was to pick up her weekly fix of coke. Since no one informed her that Dr. Wayne Harris was being roughed up at the warehouse, she literally stumbled upon this scene. Peering through the thin slice of the doorjamb, her gaze followed the lone light bulb dangling listlessly from a tattered wire. That sole source of light highlighted the gaunt scientist’s face.

He looked as hollow as the shadows cast haphazardly against the peeling, stained walls behind him. Harris’ picture was plastered in papers and journals everywhere due to his unique scientific patents and discoveries. And in every single picture he’d worn that ‘I’m better than all of you’ haughty expression on his face; until this moment.

Are you still better now, Dr. Harris?

The renowned physicist slouched on a chipped, metallic chair in the middle of a filthy room. Arms hanging loosely beside his drooping body, while his jaw sagged against his chest. His face reflected defeat.

But it was all his own fault.

All because he’d made a deal with Alejandro; a deal that would get him shot. Would arrogant Americans never learn? You never cross Alejandro. Greed never paid, it would only get you killed. Shaking her head, she looked around the small room. She really needed to get out of here and didn’t want any trouble―or to be seen, for that matter. All she’d wanted was her weekly allotment of
Blow
. Well, okay, maybe she’d snort through this tiny bag in two; three days tops.

She gritted her teeth. Knowing she couldn’t go anywhere, she might as well watch the show.

Who knows, maybe I can use this against Alejandro one day.

His goons rained punches onto the brilliant scientist’s torso. She winced, knowing what it was like to be on the receiving end of Alejandro’s wrath.

Bastard
. She never wanted to be in that place again. The one time she thought to look beyond Alejandro for her cocaine habit, he’d found out and whipped her. Oh yes, he was ruthless.

Loud music sliced through the room causing her to jump. A popular Spanish ballad blasted from one of the enforcer’s pants pocket. Refocusing, she blew out a relieved breath when she’d realized it was his cell phone. The swinging music tempo was the polar opposite of the atmosphere in the hostile room. Dr. Harris’ face tilted up and he narrowed his eyes at Alejandro’s thugs. The arrogance was back; the bubbly tune posed a false hope of Harris leaving this place unharmed.

The hard-faced hombre scowled, then he flamboyantly widened his dark eyes and said, “
Es que Ricky Montaro me oirá
?”
He l
aughed and turned to look left then look right with a flare of drama.

She puffed out a silent chuckle at the comedic interlude of the scary Mexican before her eyes darted back to the physicist. Relaxing a little more in the metal folding chair, Harris’ mouth tilted up slightly. The beefy Mexican’s gaze met his as he’d dug out his cell phone and flipped it open.

“Sí, Jefe?”
After listening intently, he nodded and said,
“Tendremos que hablar pronto.”
Grinning, he showed off his brown stained teeth, and stuck his phone back into his jeans.

Harris pushed up the spectacles sliding down his nose and sat up straighter. Jabbing his hand through his blond hair so that it stuck up on his skull, he looked around wildly. Apparently not recognizing the danger, his arrogant gaze swept over the filth of the empty warehouse. With his right arm wrapped around his side, cradling his rib, he raised his pointed chin and said, “Is there a reason for this? What do you want?”

No, he does not know how close he is to death.

“Give us the algorithm, Professor Harris,” the second man demanded, heavily accented. “You promised delivery last week.
Dios ¡Maldita sea!
We have been patient long enough.”

“I need more time.” A drop of sweat slid down Wayne Harris’ temple.

So now he knows he is in trouble.

“One more week,” the scientist pleaded. He took a few deep, panicky breaths. But then he opened his mouth, again. “I already spoke to Alejandro Castillo about the delay.”

The swaying lightbulb cast sporadic shadows that hid the two enforcer’s expressions, but she heard their soft menacing chuckles.

“Ah, but Senor, that was two weeks ago.”

“One more week,” he gritted out. “You won’t touch me. I have plenty of insurance.” After adjusting his legs, his face morphed into that of a little child’s and he threw his fists in the air, yelling at no one in particular. “Why did I ever get involved in this? I’m getting out now, damn it! I’m going to straighten my mess of a life out.” Sucking in a deep breath, he continued his rant. “Why in the hell did I ever leave Amanda and my two children?”

Jumping up, he declared, “Leave me alone, damn you!” He shoved his seat behind him with his foot and fisted his hands at his sides. “I’m done here.”

Hmm
, she shook her head
.
Dr. Harris may very well be done.

“Lo que están hablando de pendejo.”
Although only the shorter one spoke, both men’s faces hardened. “What do you mean,
Gringo
?”

Stupid male. He’s on the brink of death, yet his ego still took over. Had he
learned
nothing with all of his degrees? He was the one standing on a high wire without a net.

“Names, places, dates.” The sweat slowly dripping off his chin glistened in the light. “Sent to a classified location. If anything happens to me . . .” He nodded. “Well, let’s just say . . . It’s my insurance.”

Imbecile. He should’ve kept his mouth shut.

A quick look of panic flashed across Alejandro’s men, then anger took over as the larger man smacked the scientist’s face.

“Tell us.”

Dr. Harris just glared at him and rubbed his cheek. “Back off.” He worked his jaw from side to side. “Unless you all want to end up in prison.”

Stupid American.

The second thug sneered and stepped closer to Dr. Harris, slapping him in the face. “Is that so?” He smacked him again. Harris’ wire rims flew off his face.

Her heart rate picked up as she watched. The beefy hand flew to his cheek again, then another punch in his ribs.

Dr. Harris’ head wobbled side to side, until a fist landed solidly on his nose. That punch stopped his head from bobbing.

“Do not threaten us,” the first man spit out. “Doctor Wayne
Harrreeeeezzze
.”

A fist slammed into his pale face again.

“Stop. Wait.” Wayne Harris coughed, loudly sucking in breaths. Wheezing, he threw his hands up. “Call Alejandro!”

“We already did,
Gringo
.” The Mexican stood in front of the doctor with his hands fisted on his hips. “You know what he said?”

Her eyes widened and her heart thudded painfully.

“What?”

“This!” The second thug yelled as a smear of silver moved to the scientist’s head. Dr. Harris’ head was lobbed off cleanly with the machete and tumbled on the cement floor a few feet away, right next to his broken glasses.