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Updated 5/12/08

BOOKS

Chapter Twelve

The Strange Death of Paul Schultz

Paul was supposed to meet them at their house for supper to discuss plans for their trip the next day, but he had not shown up. John decided to check at Paul’s apartment to find out why the delay.

He pounded the door with no results.  Fearing the worst, John, pushed on the door. It was open. Strange. He knew Paul locked all his doors, especially now.  

In the dark house he could detect an unmistakable odor.

“Paul!” He shouted.

            He turned on a light and began to search the house. The living room was trashed. Someone had been searching for something. Not one room had been left untouched.

            John carefully picked his sneaker-clad feet up around the debris, snagging his jumpsuit on the corner of a stand filled with papers that scattered to the floor. Mindless of the sharp pain he took in the scene before him.

            “My God!”

            At six foot six and three hundred pounds, Paul Schultz was a big man, yet it looked as if he had been tossed to one side like a rag doll. His feet were under the bed while his head was in a chair beside it, a rubber catheter wrapped around his neck. The face had that peculiar yellow color of old wax, with purple mottling the skin. His eyes were protruding and filled with blood, his tongue blue and swollen out of his mouth. What a way to die! It was obvious he had been dead several days. In spite of himself tears sprang to his eyes at the sight. Paul had been a dear friend.

            Being careful not to touch anything, John knelt down beside the body for a closer look. What kind of force could have overcome him with such obvious ease?   To call this anything but murder would take a major cover up. By the look of the bloody hands, Paul must have put up quite a fight. His neck had deep finger marks on it, making it obvious that the rubber catheter alone was not the cause of death.

            John Murphy searched the room for notes Paul may have left. He noted the large well-worn Bible on the bedside stand. It was the only thing left untouched. He picked it up. It was limp from frequent use. Hidden under it he found a videotape. He tucked it into his shirt, laid the Bible back in place, and continued searching the house for pictures or notes about Paul’s latest book he said was still in progress.

            There was nothing. Whoever had been here was a pro.  “This has to be the work of that Shadow government Paul always talked about, that is if there is such a thing.”           

XXX

            John clenched the wheel as anger washed over him. He realized that his foot had grown heavy on the gas. He made himself slow down. He did not need a speeding ticket.

Poor Paul had already been through hell. If Paul was correct, his death would be covered up and called a suicide. Suicide!  “Who commits suicide by strangling himself with a rubber catheter especially with three fingers missing and when he had all those pain and cancer drugs available to him?”

If the man’s claims were true, then his knowledge of the secret group, UFOs and other information kept from the public could have serious repercussions on the whole world. What humans would be in on such traitorous plans with these so-called aliens? No wonder they wanted him dead.

He spoke about the Space-Defense-Initiative, black helicopters, and railroad cars built containing shackles to hold political prisoners, the secret black budget and secret missions manipulating world events and something strange about the new Denver Airport and other airports. Only this small group knew about it.

He stated that in 1954 the federal government decided to circumvent the Constitution and form a treaty with extraterrestrials. The treaty was called the 1954 Greada Treaty. Officials agreed that in exchange for alien technology, the Grays could test their implanting on select citizens. However, the ETs had to inform the government just who had been abducted and subject to implants. Slowly over time, the aliens (or whatever they were) altered the bargain, abducting and implanting thousands of people without reporting back to the government.  He claimed a black budget was being used for incorporating alien technology in Stealth aircraft and Star Wars, which, among other things, was really a buffer for alien attack.

Paul also knew how the Sphinx and pyramids were really built. He said a man named Ed Scallion who came from Latvia and lived in Florida several years ago figured it out. Alone he built a place called Coral Gardens made of huge blocks without any special equipment. The largest block was thirty tons. This was all to come out in Paul’s new book.

Finding his friend’s killers would be one thing. Bringing them to justice would be another. He knew the police would find nothing.

After telling Myrna what had happened John made an anonymous call to the police when he got home telling them where to find Paul’s body.

Next morning they searched every part of the local paper. There was no mention of any murder or suicide.  He called the police again. He was informed that they didn’t find a body. The house was clean and in order and Paul left a note to his landlady on the dining table saying that he had moved to another state. He left no forwarding address. The note looked to be in Paul’s handwriting from other samples they found. Case closed.

Paul had been right. The cover up was already in progress.

XXX

Myrna was checking the mail that had just come through their mail slot in the door. “John,” she shouted, “Here’s one from Paul.” She tore it open. Something slipped out and dropped on the floor.

 It was two floppy disks in a clear plastic holder. Paul’s journal.

The popped them into the computer and read through as much as they could. Being filled with quantum physics and quantum mechanics much of it remained beyond comprehension, but they knew the identity of the power group and where they were. Schultz put a note to John at the end instructing him to be cautious. This battle would be fought on the spiritual level more than the physical.

They decided to put the disks of Paul’s journals in a safety deposit box and hide the key. His old friend bequeathed to them a great responsibility. Searching out all this ‘meaning of life stuff’ would keep them busy for a long time. In time they would find Paul’s killers if they were human and could bring them to justice. 

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