The Royal Stones of Eden (Royal Secrecies Book 1) by Rae T. Alexander Read Free Book Online Page B

a dreamer. Are you still obsessed with your damn magnets as some new energy source?” Peter said as he made fun of him. “You are content with a meager income, but you could have so much more of the world! What you think of as humility is truly selfishness. The world needs scientists like you. It needs scientists that think outside of the box.”
    “You don’t want the world. You want control—over people and things. What you don’t realize is this. No one has any control of anything, for any great length of time,” David said.
    Then David once again demanded to see Haj, and Peter finally obliged with a look of disappointment. He motioned David to another side door to their right. They moved down yet another long corridor. There was a lengthy period of awkward silence as they walked. They passed through several security portals along the way, and in a few short minutes, they finally arrived at the holding cell of the one called Haj.
    David and Haj immediately started to stare at each other, each with some sense of unbelief and mistrust. David was astonished by the elaborate security measures. Haj moved his lips, but David heard no sound.
    “Soundproof?” David accused. Then Peter attempted a fraudulent explanation.
    “Five years ago, there truly was an accident. I did not lie about that part. Haj took a fall, a couple of stories down from scaffolding. You remember the site where we worked? He was fortunate to land on some sand and empty boxes. He spent time overnight in a hospital—that was the night that American government officials came to me about the plan for secrecy. I had no choice, old boy, you have to believe me.”—Peter spoke his falsehoods well, but David was not convinced.
    David remembered what Haj had told him five years before. Perhaps Haj was protecting him when he had told him to stay away that day.
    Peter continued, “And, as for Haj, he suffered brain damage, and he was never quite right after the accident. He went mad. He had to be contained. It was decided, not by me, but by my superiors, to hold him in a private cell—and not in a traditional and public hospital. The matter had to be kept secret. The U.S. Government officials wanted to hold him and prod him for information, in some torture institution. I held out for a more private and humane solution. It was my hope that he could be rehabilitated. I hoped that he would, in time, come to be more functional , like the old Haj that we all knew. I bribed the government to move him here because Haj was my friend. I felt like it was the right thing to do. Unfortunately, Haj has not made much progress it seems.”
    Does he truly believe this crap he is dishing out, David thought.
    The entire time that Peter spoke, Haj truly acted like a maniac. He threw a chair against the cell wall. It rammed against the see-through partition, but there was no sound. It was an obvious attempt by Haj to break the barrier. It was also apparent that he was yelling or screaming something. He raved like a madman, just as Peter had predicted. Still, there was no sound that exited the barrier.
    Finally, the man in the cell sat down on the cell’s floor in an apparent state of exhaustion. Sweat poured down his dark face. He had a three-day beard, and he wore a white tank top saturated with sweat. His cotton pants were white, and he wore no shoes.
    Inside the room, there was limited furniture. There was a desk, a chair, and a cot. There was no pen or paper on the desk. There was nothing for the man to use to write any message on, although he was clearly trying to speak or communicate.
    “Why the sound barrier?” inquired David once again. He was not satisfied.
    “We keep it for security mostly. He can be most convincing, conniving, and, quite frankly, profoundly vulgar. Sorry, old boy!”—Peter offered more assurance in his tone.
    David decided to amuse Peter to find out more about the situation. He decided to make him think that he was no longer alarmed and that