Insanity-Another Book in outline

Professor Gimble rose up from his chair, a fine figure of a man, with neatly trimmed beard and mustache, his full head of dark brown hair with white streaks at the temples, his open lab coat fron revealed a fashionable 3 peace Gucci suit, a bright coloured shirt and complimentary tie, his fob watch on a heavy gold chain in the waist coat completed the picture as this popinjay strutted to to the podium, a leather folder in his hands.

As he addressed the Monday mornings meeting, he oozed an air of supreme confidence. “Dim the lights please,” his well modulated voice commanded immediate actions as he switched on the back image projector that was connected to the PC, from his folder he withdrew a DVD and place it into the waiting tray of the PC drive. He started his pitch, he ran through the presentation without a fault or a stammer.

The narrative, ended the lights returned to normal. The entire auditorium was stunned as he claimed total authorship for the research that would revolutionize the future in symbiotic robotics. “I will not be available for further comments nor prepared to answer any questions at this stage, as some critical and key areas are still undergoing the final tests” He continued, “Friday's formal review to the full Institute will be partially dedicated to this project. The formal Q&A and Research and Development protocols will be dealt with at that stage.”

With that he turned and left the stage.

Fred Lunnford, had sat through and had like the rest of the assembled group stared in total stunned amazement, not at the ramifications of the work, but that on his lap was his own folder of what was his entire life's research, by some some means, that this imposer this nobody had stolen from him. the entire presentation the conclusions the arguments all stolen from him. He could prove it he had The originals, the photographs and carefully prepared slides the presentations all possessed his tiny avatar in the bottom left hand corner. This proved that it had been obtained form his computer, " How had this been done? He rambled in confusion and dismay.

Fred had the trump card up his sleeve and knew what pieces the Professor was after. He went from the Auditorium to the laboratory and confronted Gimble. Gimble laughed at him and stated “well thanks to you I have those missing bits downloaded, and now am in full possession of the total package, and these I will be publishing together with all the research on Friday as announced.”

“I will expose you, you charlatan, sham, you you” rambled, a very confused Fred.

“Well who would believe you! You insignificant little worm, pervert and convicted purveyor of the most despicable types pornography! They would all know about you and your filthy life and lies. I will be publishing and you will be shutting your mouth about it, make no mistake about that. Now get out of my office.”

“Lies, I have never done anything like that I would not, you are just trying to intimidate me!”

“Well if any one looks at your work station, or does a check up on your bank accounts, they will have the answers and believe me they will” said Gimple with a sneer, and threw a folder down on the desk in front of Fred, unmistakable, a dossier of all that Gimple had said about him, The details and all the information the falsification of bank details, nobody would believe him, he was ruined.

“Lies all lies”, was the now futile protestations of a beaten and cowed Fred. As he saw the culmination of all his efforts snatched away from him.

'Fred stood at the top of the stairs, that led to the laboratory of the Institute, slowly counting the passage of time that it took the Professor to reach the 2nd landing. He was establishing that all too critical time frame that was needed, to descend the steps, “bump” into Prof and then make his carefully planned exit.

This was day 3, “The clock has started,” Fred mumbled to himself, as his breathing pattern slowed down to that steady. one one thousand, two one thousand cadence. His stomach muscles pushed and released his diaphragm acting as bellows to clearing out the stale air and oxygenating his lungs, which increased the flow of oxygen to his brain. His bodies metronome ticked away the seconds setting his rhythm as accurate as a clock.

“Only 25 steps per flight, 15 seconds for me to go down from one landing to the next, that is my rate of descent, while Prof will be coming up at, yes 25 seconds per flight, that is all it takes and when we meet on that landing it will be for the final time.”

Thus it was that Fred and the Professor exchange a curt morning on the 2nd landing of the stairs of The Institute, the Professor went on up to the next landing and exited on the 3rd floor, while Fred now increased his pace and exited on the first floor 10 seconds later.

“We'll do another practice run tomorrow, that was good timing, I am pleased” murmured Fred.
The following day at the same time a further 2 seconds were shaved off in the descent from 2nd floor to the 1st floor, without it being apparent to any casual observer.“Better and better Fred just another second or two and we will be home free!” An elated Fred said to himself.

The next day After coming out of the stairwell on the first floor he turned down the passage and descend the escalator, swiped his card at the exit turnstile left the building, his “metronome” still ticking away, as he climbed into his car and left The Institute, a further 45 seconds had passed. He smiled to himself.

“Tomorrow, this time, by this time tomorrow….. “, leaving the rest unsaid, even to himself.

That full practice run, the final dress rehearsal, went off very well, without pushing the pace a further 5 seconds sooner had him out of The Institute and on the road to home.

Thursday morning this is the day, Fred slipped the animal hypodermic capsule, with its lethal contents into the palm of his hand. Waited at the top of the 3rd flight of stairs, his heart pounding in his throat as he watched the door of the 1st floor swing open as Gimple emerged from the doorway onto the landing and headed up the stairs, Fred started his way down towards him.

They had just reached the landing, Fred had raised his hand towards Gimple as if to shake his hand in greeting, when from the opened doorway of the 2nd floor landing a shadow falls across the staircase and comed between Fred and Gimple, Fred hesitates but Gimple comes to a complete stop with his one foot on the landing and the other foot on the second last step. Meanwhile a sinister crone asks for the time. Gimple's hand reaches down to the waistcoat pocket. There is a flurry, a blur of movement as some thing bright is reflected in the crone's hand as it describes a semi circle, a bright red fountain covers the three of them in a shower of Gimple's blood, something dark and almost round lands on the stairs rolls and bounces down to the first floor landing, ending up int the corner.

Gimple's lifeless, headless body slumps and collapses forward on the landing, right at Fred's feet.

He screams and hits the fire panic button which is mounted at the doorway from whence that crone had entered the stairwell..
The crone wept profusely as she collapsed into a heap,. Security very quickly contained the area and made sure that nobody moved in or out of the stairwell, The police arrived, took her down to a secure area and begin a careful examination of the crime scene, the only witness Fred is badly shaken and is taken to the medical section, along the way there the hypodermic with it's deadly contents disappeared.

In the integration of the crone who is cooperating fully with the police they learn that some 30 years ago, the Professor had destroyed her husbands life and livelihood, stolen his patents and discredited him. The crone and her husband had an engineering business turning out quality cutting tools using a specialized process, which gave them the edge over their competition, however cash flow problems drove him into the arms of Gimble, who bailed him out.

Several months later Gimble demanded the immediate repayment of the loan, which they then could not afford, they were then forced to sell up the factory with all incompleted contracts as well as those patents of the process to Gimble. Gimble, had made his money all over again, when closed down the factory, sold the machinery dismissed the loyal workers who had been with the firm where now jobless.

Her husband was a proud man, this disgrace was all too much to bear, he committed suicide. So his wife then vowed to avenge the family name. She had followed him around from firm to firm and at least three countries, and after several attempts, at last managed to complete the deed.

Detective Sergeant Bell who examined the murder weapon described it as short section of stainless steel all of a 35cm long, 3 millimeters thick, highly polished razor sharp, with the sharp edge ground on one side to an angle of 30 degrees, very light weight attached to 10 cm short hard wood handle. He wondered where they would find its origin.

They tracked down the crones cubicle which had been assigned to her, only to discovered that she worked in the powder mixing plant. On inspection of the plant the mixer, had these broad stainless steel scrapers in the barrel where the combination of various chemicals where blended. One of her duties was to replace the worn vanes, the discarded vanes where dropped into a bin for recycling.

The discarded vane was then a fully balanced, exceptionally sharp and very lethal sword of high quality stainless steel, precision honed cutting edge well tempered by the heat and friction of hours of scraping. If she had sought to buy a weapon of similar quality , “Would have cost her a packet if she'd been outside”. Said Detective Sergeant Bell to no one in particular