Japanese troops invading Manchuria.
CHAPTER 4 – AN UNSTABLE WORLD
18:05 (Paris Time)
Saturday, May 7, 1932
Main lounge of the Château du Haut-Buc
Buc, southwestern suburbs of Paris
“…that President Paul Doumer has died this afternoon from the gunshot wounds inflicted yesterday, when a mentally deranged Russian immigrant shot at him with a pistol as he was attending a book exposition at the Salomon Hotel, in Paris. The writer who had been talking with the President at the time, Claude Farrère, was wounded multiple times when he tried to deviate the madman’s aim. Farrère is presently in stable condition in hospital and is expected to recover within a few weeks. As for the shooter, an individual named Paul Gorgulov, he was then restrained and arrested by the Sûreté agents acting as bodyguards for President Doumer. He will now be judged on the charges of premeditated murder and…’’
Terry Clarkson used the TV remote unit to lower the sound of the large flat screen high-definition color television set in one corner of the main lounge of the mansion, then looked at Tasha, sitting next to her with Hien in one of the sofas of the room.
“I give an ‘F’ to these presidential bodyguards: that idiot should never have been able to get this close to President Doumer with a gun.’’
Tasha made a weak smile as she replied to that.
“Terry, don’t be too harsh on these Sûreté guys: first, they have not received the kind of intensive training that security personnel receive in the 27th Century. Second, such a shooting of a major French politician is still quite rare and this is an act by an unpredictable, deranged person. They probably had no reasons to fear an attack then.’’
“Still, a good bodyguard should always be alert and expect anything. This brings me to one thing: we should ‘invent’ and start production of neuronic stun pistols, to be sold solely to French security forces. Such pistols would have made stopping this Gorgulov guy much easier and safer. I can also see a definite need for them for your Air France Security Branch officers, as it would give them an effective weapon against aircraft hijackers that would not risk puncturing a pressurized cabin.’’
Tasha was thoughtful for a moment as she mentally dissected Terry’s suggestion. It actually made a lot of sense and could indeed help save many lives. Furthermore, Tasha had up to now introduced into France so many highly advanced electronic designs that were considered close to magical that ‘inventing’ a neuronic stun pistol would probably not cause too great a reaction.
“Well, replicating the technology of stun pistols would be easy enough: we possess such stun pistols for our personal defense and I have their technical schematics in the data files contained in my laptop computer. In fact, I could easily build a stun pistol myself within a week or two. However, we will then have to make sure that only French military and police forces can acquire them, not simple French citizens and, especially, foreign governments and individuals.’’
“Could you tune the frequency of the neuronic ray so that it would be invisible to the naked eye, instead of looking like a light blue beam of light, Tasha?’’ asked Pham Ti Hien, making Tasha’s head nod once.
“That should be easy enough, Hien. Good point: it would make the use of stun pistols much more discreet. I will start to work on it tomorrow.’’
“How much do you think that this assassination will affect French politics, Hien?’’ asked Terry, acknowledging the Vietnamese-American as the most knowledgeable one of them about French politics, thanks mostly to her position as founder and chairman of Radio France.
“Well, without wanting to be mean with poor President Doumer, the fact was that he didn’t actually hold or used real significant political powers in everyday life. The President of the Council, or Prime Minister if you prefer, has the real political power in France. He and his ministers decide what policies France will follow or enforce and also draft the national budget and assign the economic priorities around the various ministries. Whoever will replace Doumer as President of the Republic will probably have little impact on the future of the country. On the other hand, Pierre Laval and his cabinet are still in power and may stay in power for a few more months. I won’t even try to guess for how long, though: French politics are like a revolving door. Most government cabinets survive no more than a year, while many of them have stayed in power for only a couple months…or less.’’
“You are too right about the chronic instability of French ministerial cabinets, Hien.’’ said Tasha, a bitter smile on the corner of her mouth. “God knows how much more difficult it has made our work at improving France and making it stronger along these past twenty years.’’
“Should we reveal our big secret to the next President of the Republic, Tasha?’’
“No!’’ was Tasha’s instant reply. “The last one to whom we told that we were from the future was President Gaston Doumergue, whom Paul Doumer replaced last year. Doumergue did respect our request not to pass on our secret to his successor and to let us decide who is worthy of knowing that we are from the future. I didn’t trust Doumer with our secret when he took his post and still didn’t as of yesterday. My inclination is to not inform whoever will replace Doumer, unless he proves to be a truly exceptional leader. As for Paul Laval, the guy may be an efficient politician and bureaucrat, but I can’t trust that weasel with our secret. There is something that smells wrong with him. Unfortunately, the historical files we had with us when we were transported by accident to the year 1912 are extremely limited and don’t mention Laval. On the other hand, many important historical details are missing from our data files, so the non-mention of Pierre Laval is no guarantee that he will prove to be a good Prime Minister of France. The one meeting I had with him was however no case of ‘love at first sight’. So, let’s keep mum about our collective secret until further notice, girls.’’
13:36 (Paris Time)
Monday, May 16, 1932
Tasha Lenoir’s electronic laboratory
Aéro-parc Blériot, Buc
Answering the telephone set near her work table in her electronic research laboratory, Tasha was happy to recognize Hien’s voice at the other end of the line.
“Hien? To what do I owe the pleasure of your call?’’
“To a piece of concerning news, Tasha: yesterday, the Japanese Prime Minister, Tsuyoshi Inukai, was assassinated by a group of young militarist naval officers.’’
“Oh! Were those officers arrested?’’
“Yes, but the reports on this from our news office in Tokyo indicate that those officers enjoy the support and favor of the majority of the Japanese population. That, with last year’s Japanese invasion of Manchuria and this January’s Japanese attack on Shanghai for rather spurious reasons, tends to support what our data files hinted at: militarism is on the rise in Japan and will eventually cause a war with China, then with other countries around Asia and the Pacific. This could become very serious in the next few years.’’
“I agree! I know that the French government is loathe to intervene in Asia’s affairs, in order not to antagonize the local powers and preserve our commercial links in the region, but we still have the freedom to restrict or refuse military contracts with the Japanese government. I will go talk with Johanna, Terry and Louis about this after this call. On your part, tell your reporters in Japan to follow the situation closely, but tell them as well to be careful: those Japanese militarists just proved again that they respect little but power itself.’’
“Understood, Tasha. Uh, by the way, how is your newest project advancing?’’
“Very quickly, actually. Reinventing the concept in a form understandable to today’s technology is proving to be much easier than I thought at first. I should have the first working prototype ready for trials in three to four days.’’
“That fast?! Tasha, you will never cease to amaze me. Well, have a nice day!’’
“You too, Hien!’’ replied Tasha before putting down the receiver. She then stayed motionless for long seconds as she thought about what was to happen around the Pacific in a few years…or sooner. All the things that had been changed during the last twenty years thanks to her actions and those of her friends, starting with World War One, were making it more and more difficult to predict what was to come next around the World. However, greed and the search for power were still major constants in human behavior and geopolitical affairs and still would be in the year 2624. In the 27th Century, she had been the head of a gigantic and powerful industrial consortium that was spanning not only Earth but most of the Solar System as well. As such, her power and influence had been on par with many of the most powerful politicians of the time, while those politicians had quickly learned not to ignore or cross her without some very serious reasons. Here, in the 20th Century, the level of technology may be much lower, but those in charge were still Humans, with all the weaknesses that implied.
10:19 (Paris Time)
Friday, May 27, 1932
Office of the Director of the Sûreté Générale
Ministry of Justice, Quai d’Orsay, Paris
“It is a honor for me to receive you, Miss Lenoir. Please, have a seat. Would you like something, coffee or tea?’’
“No, thank you Monsieur Noël. You are too kind.’’
Taking place in the easy chair offered by the Director of the Sûreté Générale, the name of the French national police at the time, Tasha took a few seconds to examine Léon Noël: in his mid forties, he was undeniably handsome and strength of character showed on his face. He also had the reputation of being a very competent man and was also said to be completely incorruptible.
‘Hum, I wouldn’t mind dating him. Too bad that he is married.’ thought Tasha. Noël, who took a chair opposite her, smiled to the mature but still beautiful Eurasian woman facing him.
“So, Miss Lenoir, what did you want to discuss with me?’’
“Please, call me simply ‘Tasha’.’’
“Only if you call me simply ‘Léon’.’’
“With pleasure, Léon. Well, you do know that I have invented many highly advanced devices in the past and am continuing to do so at the present, right?’’
“Of course, Tasha! Your scientific genius is in fact renown all over France and around the World.’’
“Then, I can tell you that I had an idea for a specific new device for years already, but was kept too busy with other projects to start working on it…until recently. The recent murder of our President did a lot to spur me into starting to work on that project. I have now completed that project and tested my device and am now ready to offer it to the French government, for its exclusive and discreet use.’’
Noël’s eyes immediately narrowed as he stared with intense interest at the Eurasian scientist. A goodly number of inventions by Tasha Lenoir during the past twenty years, most of which had then been offered in exclusivity to the French government, had helped propel France at the forefront of advanced nations in the World and had also made wonders to boost its economy and quiet down its social atmosphere, the latter by vastly improving the standard of living of many in the lower classes of the French society. While some, typically competing industrialists and bankers, were either jealous or resentful of her, or both, the vast majority of French citizens considered her with near veneration as a model of caring, compassion and generosity. When Tasha Lenoir offered a new invention, it was never a trivial thing and only a fool would not pay attention then, and Noël was no fool.
“I am all ears, Tasha.’’
Nodding her head once at that, Tasha then picked up her large purse, which she had put in her lap, and opened it. Noël tensed up at once on seeing her extract from her purse what looked furiously like some sort of pistol. However, he relaxed quickly when she handed him the object, holding it with two fingers in a non-threatening way.
“This is a new type of non-lethal weapon that is perfect for self-protection, or to restrain a violent individual without risking to wound or kill nearby innocents. I call it a neuronic stun pistol.’’
“A neuronic stun pistol?’’ said the Director of the Sûreté while examining the strangely shaped pistol. It had a fairly short and thin tube instead of the barrel and slide of a normal pistol, while its handle was finely contoured, proving very comfortable to hold. Altogether, it was more compact than most handguns he knew and was also much lighter.
“Yes! Instead of firing solid projectiles, this neuronic stun pistol projects a thin beam of energy whose frequency and characteristics make it react with the nervous system of persons and animals targeted by it. When hit by such a stun beam, the target’s nervous system, including the brain, will experience a severe nervous shock that will knock out instantly the biggest man. Its power level can be adjusted between ‘light’, ‘medium’ and ‘heavy’ discharge, depending on the size and stamina of the target. You would use a light stun on a small woman, a medium stun on most average people and a heavy stun on a raging brute or charging animal predator. The beam itself is tuned to a frequency that is not visible to the naked eye and a discharge sounds only like a soft humming noise. My pistol is thus a very discreet weapon, on top of being compact and light, and should be perfect for your detectives and undercover agents, as well as for French intelligence agents working undercover. In the case of a hostage situation, for example, your agents would be able to stun the hostage taker even if he is using a hostage as a shield, and this with only the risk of stunning for a few minutes the hostage, with no permanent sequels afterwards. I am ready to offer my stun pistol for sale to the French government, with the sole condition that none of them will be provided or resold to anyone but properly accredited French government agents, police officers and military personnel. The only exception to that rule will be Air France Security Branch officers…and me and my close friends.’’
His mind now in turmoil, Noël raised his eyes from the pistol in his hands and looked at her with disbelief.
“This…this is simply incredible! If not for your reputation as a scientific genius, I would not believe you about this pistol. What kind of power source is it using and how long does its effects last?’’
“It is powered by a removable battery pack contained in the handle and which is easy and quick to replace with a fresh pack. One full pack is good enough to power up to twenty seconds of continuous fire on heavy discharge mode. I have concurrently developed a recharger unit able to simultaneously recharge and check up to six battery packs at a time. As for the effects of my pistol, it will depend on the intensity and duration of the beam and the stamina of the target. Generally, a big and strong man will be knocked out for at least fifteen minutes by a heavy discharge with a duration of one tenth of a second. That would be more than enough time to then allow your agents and officers to put the suspect into handcuffs before he could regain consciousness.’’
“Tasha, this is like a gift from heaven: this weapon has the potential to save thousands of lives and to make the job of my police officers much safer. Have you actually tried it on living animals?’’
“Yes! One short light stun discharge was able to knock out for half a hour a German Sheppard dog suffering from rabies. I believe that there are temporary confinement cells in the basement of this building, am I right?’’
“Indeed!’’ said Noël, seeing where she was heading to. “You want to use a suspect as a demonstration target?’’
“Correct! The meaner, more violent and powerful the suspect, the better.’’
“Well, I think that we have the perfect guinea pig for you downstairs, Tasha. Follow me!’’
Giving back the pistol to Tasha, Noël then got up from his chair and guided Tasha out of his office and down a long corridor before getting to a large staircase and going down three levels with her. The last level proved to be a lot less welcoming in appearance, with bare stone and brick walls instead of varnished wood and plaster. There was also a solid steel door guarded by two French policemen standing on each side of it, plus a third policeman sitting at a desk near it. All three policemen came to rigid attention at the arrival of their director, with the one at the desk saluting him.
“Good morning, Mister Director! What could we do for you and the lady?’’
“Good morning to you as well, Constable. I believe that a pimp was arrested last night while severely beating up one of his prostitutes. Is he still being held here?’’
“Yes, Mister Director, and he is making a major nuisance of himself by screaming and insulting everyone approaching his cell. He even tried to attack the agent that brought his breakfast this morning, but the bars of his cell thankfully allowed our agent to pull back in time. That guy is like a mad dog, Mister Director, a very strong and very mean mad dog.’’
“That sounds exactly like what we were looking for, Monsieur Noël.’’ said Tasha with a smile, attracting a dubious look from the policeman, who however didn’t dare reply to that. Instead, he looked at his boss while fetching a large key ring hooked to the wall behind his desk.
“I suppose that you want to see that suspect, Mister Director?’’
“I do! If you could please show me and Miss Lenoir to his cell.’’
“Certainly, Mister Director!’’
The constable then quickly unlocked the steel door and opened it, then entered a rather sinister-looking hallway made of stone and lined on both sides with cell doors. As they walked down the long hallway, Tasha couldn’t help wish that Terry, her personal bodyguard, could be with her now, as many of the occupants of the cells looked quite dangerous. The occupant of the cell in front of which they finally stopped however proved to be in a class of his own. A big brute of a man standing a good 185 centimeters and with wide shoulders and big hands, his face bore many scars from past fights, including a crooked nose and battered ears. A mean smile came to the man’s face at the sight of Tasha.
“Well, well! That’s nice of you to bring me a pretty woman like this.’’
While containing her revulsion, Tasha looked at the constable escorting her and the Director.
“The prostitute that he is accused of beating, did she survive, mister?’’
“Last news about her are that she will survive but will need a few weeks in hospital, madam.’’
Her mind made, Tasha then looked at Léon Noël.
“I would like to enter his cell, Monsieur Noël.’’
Both the Director and his policeman looked at her as if she was crazy.
“Miss Lenoir, you can’t be serious!’’ objected Noël. “According to his arrest report, it took three agents to immobilize him.’’
The pimp laughed out loud then and grinned to them.
“Yes, and two of them also needed to go to the hospital afterwards. But if the lady is nice enough to want to visit me…’’
At that moment, Tasha briefly turned around and presented her back to the cell, time to grab her stun pistol and set it to ‘heavy stun’, then turned back, hiding her small pistol in a fold of her pleated skirt.
“Open the door, please!’’
Still not liking this, and seeing that his constable was understandably reluctant to obey Tasha, Noël took the key ring from him and unlocked the cell door, watched by the disbelieving pimp, who was still sitting on his bench/cum bed. He also discreetly grabbed the handle of his revolver under his vest while opening the steel door to let Tasha in, ready for the worst. He felt adrenaline flow through his veins while watching tensely Tasha enter slowly the cell. Thankfully, she took one step to the left side after entering, allowing him a clear line of fire if the pimp ever rushed at her. The pimp, who was not exactly the most intelligent man on Earth, was still wondering what luck had brought him this when Tasha calmly spoke to him.
“So, you feel powerful by beating up a woman? How about you try the same with me, you big coward?’’
The pimp instantly filled with rage at being mocked by that woman, so close to him and offering him a possible hostage to help him escape this jail. Jumping to his feet, he launched at Tasha while screaming like a furious beast, both hands up and ready to grab her by the throat. That was when Tasha quickly pointed her pistol and fired a half second energy burst that produced a barely audible buzz. The effects left the Director and his constable with their mouths ajar: the pimp jerked violently once, as if receiving a strong electric discharge, with his arms flailing around a couple of times before he collapsed on the floor of his cell like a broken puppet, his eyes closed. Looking down impassively at the unconscious pimp, Tasha next looked at the Director and his agent.
“Could you please verify his vital signs, Monsieur Noël, so that you could see that he is still alive and well?’’
His heart still beating furiously, Noël obeyed her after a couple of seconds and knelt beside the inert pimp, his agent close behind him with his truncheon at the ready. After a few seconds used to check his pulse and breathing, Noël got back up and fixed with new respect the small pistol still in Tasha’s hand.
“I would have not believed this to be possible without seeing it with my own eyes, Miss Lenoir. That stun pistol of yours is incredible!’’
“Stun pistol? What’s that?’’ asked the constable, understandably confused. Tasha raised her hand as an answer and showed him her neuronic stun pistol.
“This! It is a new, non-lethal weapon that I just invented and, with luck and the approval of the Minister of Justice, could soon equip you and the other police officers around France. However, I will ask you to stay mum about this weapon and to not talk about it, even to your colleagues, until further order.’’
“I am certain that the good constable will keep his mouth shut about your stun pistol, Tasha.’’ said the Director, passing a clear directive to his agent. “As for the Minister of Justice, I believe that we need to go see him at once. Please follow me!’’
Leaving the overwhelmed constable to lock back the cell door, Tasha and Noël walked out of the cell block and climbed back the stairs to the second floor of the building, where Director Noël led Tasha to an anteroom occupied by a secretary and one police agent on guard duty.
“Is Minister Reynaud in his office, Miss Anjou?’’
“Yes, Monsieur le Director! Do you want to see him?’’
“Yes, miss!’’
As the secretary was grabbing her telephone receiver, Noël looked at Tasha and spoke to her in a low voice.
“By the way, for how much did you intend to sell your stun pistols to us, Tasha?’’
“For such a bulk buy, I believe that 400 francs per pistol would sound like a reasonable price.’’
“That is indeed reasonable. I think that it should fit in the minister’s budget.’’
It took only a few minutes of talking with Minister Reynaud before the lot of them left his office together, on their way to the Prime Minister’s office. By the end of the next day, a first contract for the production and sale of a first batch of 5,000 stun pistols was signed, to start equipping the agents of the Sûreté Générale, with more orders soon coming from the Ministry of War and the Ministry of the Interior, but with the firm caveat that no stun pistols would be resold or given to foreign customers or simple private citizens. In that, it joined an already extensive list of items, mostly weapons and advanced electronic devices, reserved for the exclusive possession and use by French government units and departments.
21:01 (Paris Time)
Tuesday, June 7, 1932
Café terrasse, Champs Élysées
Paris
Putting down her cup of espresso coffee after taking a sip from it, Terry Clarkson looked down the wide Avenue des Champs Élysées from the table she was sharing with Tasha Lenoir, Louis Blériot and Marc Lebrun, Tasha’s personal driver.
“I love the Champs Élysées: so much movement and life, yet so relaxing. It must be my favorite place in Paris.’’
“It is indeed a nice place to pass some time with friends.’’ said Louis Blériot, who was also sipping on a coffee. The four of them had left a nearby restaurant some fifteen minutes ago after enjoying a fine supper there and were now exchanging small talk around a table of a café terrasse. Louis then lowered his voice while looking at Tasha.
“So, was that Japanese naval attaché really rude with you when you told him that your consortium would not sell its latest models of radars to the Japanese Navy?’’
“Rude? He damn near drew his katana sword at me! Terry had to show him the door…in no uncertain terms. He left with quite threatening words, saying that I and France would regret our decision.’’
“And?... Are you taking him seriously on that, Tasha?’’
“I certainly do! With the way the militarists are taking over the government of Japan or scaring it into obeying them and with the way they used such flimsy excuses to first invade Manchuria, then attack Shanghai and Nanking, anything is possible with them.’’
Louis then lowered his voice further while bending forward.
“And what do your special sources say about Japan’s intentions?’’
Tasha did not need to ask Louis to be more explicit to understand to which ‘special sources’ he was alluding to: the historical files that she and her three friends had on them when they had been accidentally transported to the past, some twenty years ago.
“