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THE MAID OF SKER

Most people are unaware of the free-energy alternatives to high-cost, atmosphere polluting fossil-based fuels – but don’t count on your government authorities handing them to you on a platter!  

In the words of Dr Nikola Tesla, there is no doubt that, “The future will tell the truth.”

In Store Price: $AU22.95 
Online Price:   $AU21.95

ISBN:    978-1-921240-34-8
Format: Paperback
Number of pages: 134
Genre: Fiction
 

 


Author: George R. Black  
Publisher: Zeus Publications
Date Published: 2007
Language: English

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Author Biography

George Robert Black was born 26th February 1942 in Collinsville , North Queensland, Australia . He was educated in Brisbane and served as a business equipment apprentice, technician and office manager for twenty-one years in Queensland and Papua New Guinea . He held a managerial position in a family business partnership from 1978 until 1999 and has expertise in the repair and maintenance of many varied mechanical and electronic devices.  

George has travelled extensively in Australia , New Zealand , Papua New Guinea , Fiji , Canada and the United Kingdom . Since 1996 he has been heavily involved in the marketing and maintenance of home and commercial water purification equipment.  

He has pursued the intricacies of perpetual motion and free energy devices from a very early age and, despite the obvious official suppression of such technological enlightenment, is continually supportive of its ongoing (albeit necessarily clandestine) pro-development.

 

PROLOGUE - THE MAID OF SKER

 

Most people are unaware of the free-energy alternatives to high-cost, atmosphere-polluting fossil-based fuels – but don’t count on your government authorities handing them to you on a platter!  

Even in our modern world of higher education, open-mindedness and human emancipation, we are still being outrageously conned by the most selfish and sinister scam the world has ever known, for the sole purpose of profit and prestige by a handful of perpetually greedy control freaks?  

Life truly is all about our individual journeys towards global enlightenment and empowerment. History is filled with pages of downtrodden masses being relentlessly abused by their masters.  

Every day millions of motorists fill their cars with petroleum products which they know damn well are endangering the planet and driving us all towards extinction. It happens because we are advised by our overlords (with typical, covert, vested interests) that there are no convenient alternatives. Amazingly, we surrender to this abject deception with almost total compliance. Governments imply they want to clean up our environment, but they do nothing to reinforce their announcements. The reason for this attitude is not at all mysterious – governments exist on revenue obtained from taxes on fossil-based fuels. They have no intention of stopping anybody from using these increasingly expensive pollutants because there is much financial gain to be obtained by continuing the process. That is clearly why self-serving governments refuse to ratify the United Nations Kyoto Protocol, why our ‘western coalition forces’ have invaded Iraq and why the ‘terrorists’ are constantly confronting us. There will never be open dialogue between the coalition forces and their Middle East combatants (as logically proposed by concerned mediators) because the truth would then necessarily be exposed.  

In 1799, the English chemist William Nicholson decomposed ordinary water into its basic constituents of hydrogen and oxygen using (by today’s standards) what must have been an archaic technique. Without any commercial electricity supply available, he nevertheless separated the combined elements using an extraordinarily simple method of electrolysis. Surely, it is impossible to believe that after more than two hundred years of further experimentation, we have not been able to improve on his methods.  

Hydrogen is the simplest and most abundant element in the universe (70% by weight and 90% by volume of everything that exists). Hydrogen is at the forefront of quality fuels and it has been powering our universe for millenniums. Everything in our solar system is powered by a giant furnace which is composed of 96% hydrogen. It burns cleanly and is environmentally non-polluting. Most of the hydrogen on earth is contained in water in our oceans, lakes and rivers, so there is a lot of it around. However, the people in control will tell you that it is uneconomical to extract hydrogen from water since it will require more energy to achieve this goal than what you will end up with afterwards at your disposal. Now this will have to go down as the world’s most outlandish intentional lie. We must surely wonder how Nicholson managed to decompose water more than two hundred years ago without any sophisticated energy system at all.  

It is interesting to note that the very first internal combustion engines ran on hydrogen extracted from water, from the beginning of the nineteenth century right up until the introduction of petroleum around 1870. Petroleum soon proved to be more popular than hydrogen because it could be handled and transported more conveniently. However, during the 20th century many erstwhile inventors began devising ways where hydrogen could be produced expediently from water, as required ‘in situ’ on board their motor vehicles. Naturally, the oil companies were not going to accept this innovation lying down and subsequently set about buying up the multitudes of patent rights as soon as they were publicised, or else they simply physically intimidated the inventors into maintaining their silence. These confronting practices are not a well-kept secret and have been widely acknowledged for years. Governments became complicit because by this time they were making ends meet very handsomely on ever-increasing fuel taxes.  

Against all sensible reasoning, it is amazing that this blatant conspiracy has survived unchallenged for so long. The true facts are that you can easily run your car economically on hydrogen extracted from water and also that our governments and the power-mongers controlling the world’s fossil-fuel industries are hiding this knowledge from the public.  

The world certainly needs an affordable and never-ending supply of energy for survival but the methods being applied by our fuel monopolies (as they stand) are unfair and untenable and are leading us all very quickly down the pathway to disaster.  

The Maid of Sker is a daring, light-hearted, fictional romantic thriller set in Australia ’s beautiful Gold Coast region and based upon the very real, non-fictional official suppression of free-energy technology.  

It would benefit us well to remember that sometimes we need to stand up and be counted; and that the surest way for evil to prevail is for good men and women to do nothing.  

In the words of Dr Nikola Tesla, there is no doubt that, “The future will tell the truth.”    

George R Black

 

Chapter One
Pursuit

I

t was 9 am Saturday, the first day of the Labour Day long weekend, and light rain had been falling on Gold Coast City and its hinterland areas all morning.  

Robert McDougall was generally happy with his lot in the world. His small business enterprise was relatively prosperous and financially unencumbered. At thirty years of age, he was healthy, independent, ambitious and single. He resided in a comfortable abode at the dress circle end of Armstrong Way at Highland Park in Nerang, conveniently situated only a few kilometres from his commercial premises where he employed an adequate staff of three, a sales lady, a serviceman and a secretary receptionist.

Robert had also recently acquired a modest country residence and acreage which he intended to use as an investment weekender, situated on the tableland behind Beechmont about thirty kilometres west of Nerang.

He had set off from home in his new Subaru Forester AWD en route to the weekender by way of the relatively straight Canungra road thus avoiding the more direct but winding mountain road through Beechmont. With three days free of other commitments, his intentions were to carry out light renovations at the property, with some carefree, country-style relaxation in between. He was already anticipating lunch and a beer at the Canungra Hotel.

As he approached a bridge which spanned the Coomera River , not far from his destination near Canungra, he noticed an early model Ford wagon travelling at dangerously high speed towards him on the opposite side of the road. Unpredictably, the car veered off the bitumen surface onto the rain-dampened gravel and disappeared into thick bushes beside the road, as though deliberately avoiding an invisible pursuer. The male occupant had applied his brakes only at the last moment, and Robert couldn’t imagine how he would have avoided crashing into the trees and plunging down the slope which clearly ran along beside the river.

Fearing that the other car may have ended up in the water, he slowed and executed a swift U-turn, then pulled up at the spot where the Ford had left the roadway. He had opened his door to alight when a late model Commodore sedan with two men on board sped past in the same direction, possibly in pursuit of the other vehicle. If so, they seemed unaware that the Ford had already left the road since the Forester was now covering its tracks in the gravel.

Robert ran over to the side of the road and peered down where he presumed the car had vanished. It was stationary 100 metres away pushed sideways into a tree which had saved it from the river. White smoke was pouring forth from the front section of the wreck.

He raced quickly back to his own vehicle and removed a fire extinguisher, work gloves and a jemmy from the boot, then returned to the scene of the crash dialling the emergency number 000 on his mobile phone as he went. As he clambered down the track of flattened shrubbery, he spoke to a telephone operator describing the scene before him and its geographical location.

“You’d better hurry,” he urged. “The driver is either unconscious or trapped inside his car. Send the police as well. It’s possible he’s been chased by two blokes in a white sedan. If these guys are into something illegal, I don’t want to be caught out here in the middle of it on my own.”

By this time he had reached the wreck. The car had slewed sideways on its descent from the road and had collided with a large tree on its right hand side front door and mudguard. The impact had released the bonnet catch and white fumes were oozing out from underneath. He banged on the driver’s door window and a grey-haired, lightly bearded man grimaced and stared in his direction.

“Are you okay in there?” he yelled.

The man appeared dazed but nonetheless began winding down his window. “My right foot is stuck under the brake pedal,” he complained. He was struggling awkwardly to get it free.

“I’ve called the police and ambulance, they’re on their way,” Robert advised. “Are you in pain?”

“My leg’s numb, I can’t move it,” was the reply.

“I have a fire extinguisher. There’s smoke coming from under your bonnet. I’ll lift it up and have a look.”

The driver was shaking his head. “That’s not smoke, it’s steam. There’s nothing there that will burn.”

Robert thought the other man must have bumped his head. Surely he could see the danger he was in? “If a fuel line is busted, your car may catch on fire.”

“Trust me, nothing will burn,” the man reiterated.

Considering that the driver was trapped inside his car, it was amazing he was behaving so incautiously. “How can you be so sure?” Robert appealed.

“My name’s Alec Robinson, I’m an engineer. I know about these things.”

Robert re-estimated his overzealous perception of the circumstances. “I’m Robert McDougall. Obviously, I don’t.”

Alec Robinson seemed outwardly perplexed. “Is anybody else up there?” he quizzed despairingly.

“No, just me here so far. Two blokes in a white car went past as I pulled up. I thought they may have been chasing you.”

The bearded man promptly regathered his composure. “Thanks for stopping, anyway.” Hastily, he then considered his options. “Listen carefully, Robert, I know we’ve never met before but I have to ask you for a favour because the matter is extremely imperative. This car doesn’t use petrol for a fuel, it uses hydrogen extracted from water. Do you understand what I am saying?”

Robert nodded his understanding.

Alec quickly elaborated, “Those guys in the white car are trying to steal a device on my carburettor which extracts hydrogen gas out of water.”

Robert was immediately alarmed. What on earth was going on here? Who were the guys who were after him? If they were dangerous thugs, the only protection he had was a jemmy and a fire extinguisher. His natural instinct, of course, was self preservation, but realistically there was no way he would be able to retreat from any external threat now that he was actively involved.

It appeared the driver was feeling menaced from more than one source and so voiced his need for urgent cooperation. “The ambulance and police will come from Canungra soon, so there’s not much time to spare.”

Robert basically understood the implications of using hydrogen as a fuel. The general consensus was that the prohibitive cost of energy required for producing it outweighed any benefits obtained. Safe storage during transportation was also an enormous consideration. Hydrogen is very explosive stuff. However, this man was inferring that he could actually extract hydrogen from the water in his tank economically and on demand, and somehow utilise it in a way similar to normal petroleum. With the current exorbitant prices of fuel, this sounded too good to be true.

Robert suspected that Alec wished to shield his carburettor device from the rescue team as well. Circumstantially, he decided that further clarification of the situation would be prudent. “Who are these people chasing you?” he questioned with concern.

“I’m sorry,” the other answered impatiently, “there’s no time for me to explain, except to say that they want to stop all of us from using it. Look, just think how important and desirable it would be to have cars that run on water – free fuel, no oil, no pollution?”

That sounded logical and convincing enough. “What would you like me do?” Robert encouraged supportively.

Alec handed him a small spanner and a screwdriver which he took from the centre console. “On the left hand side of the engine you will see a silver metallic box. Disconnect the water fuel line with the screwdriver. Unplug the electrical cable connector and tuck the long end out of sight. Take out the four bolts on the silver box and remove it from on top of the carburettor. Throw everything in the river, including the spanner and screwdriver. It’s a very simple process, but watch out you don’t burn yourself on the engine block.”

Robert put on the work gloves, unfastened the silver box as instructed and rested it beside the mudguard closest to the river. He was surprised how easy it was to dismantle. It wasn’t all that heavy though and flotation could be a problem. Then he heard sounds of voices and vehicles from the roadway and guessed it must be the rescue squad arriving. Moving quickly, he half-crawled the short distance to the river bank, keeping low to avoid being observed from above. Luckily, the river looked deep. Using a sapling for support, he leant over and filled the box with water helping to add to its weight. Then he tossed everything far enough into the river hopefully for it to remain undetected.

The box floated precariously then thankfully disappeared from sight. He gathered that Alec was not so much interested in preserving the device as making sure it didn’t fall into alien hands. Robert then returned to the front of the vehicle and sprayed the engine with his fire extinguisher, covering it with white powder which he hoped would make it appear like nothing had been disturbed. Suddenly, there were police and rescuers everywhere.

Alec called his attention from the driver’s seat again, speaking fervently. “Can you take my mobile phone and keep it out of sight? If the bastards get hold of it, they’ll know everybody I’ve been talking to. Ring my daughter Katrina, she’s in the addresses file under ‘K’, and tell her what has happened. I don’t know where they’ll take me but it’s absolutely vital that she doesn’t get involved. Tell her not to do anything until she’s heard from me directly. Can you do that for me, please?”

Shielded from view by the car, he handed Robert his phone, and then included his house keys and a remote control as well. Robert took his own phone from a pocket and offered it in return. “Hang onto this so you’ll be able to stay in touch. It should be good for a couple of days without a battery recharge.”

Firemen and police were the first ones on the spot. Robert acknowledged them and stood back to let them do their work. Soon the driver’s door was opened and Alec protested loudly that his leg was hurting. Ambulance officers took over and began carefully extracting him from the car.

The police began to question Robert, since he was the first person on the scene and might have been an actual witness. He excluded the part about the car chase although he realised he’d already given that information to the 000 operator. If they reminded him about it, he would simply recant his earlier supposition.

Next they attempted to question Alec but an ambulance officer intervened. “He’s a patient and our responsibility. His leg may be fractured, and we insist that medical treatment be the first consideration. If you want to interview him, you can do it afterwards at the Gold Coast hospital.”

The police were noticeably annoyed, but they also knew the protocol, and reluctantly cooperated. Robert next became aware of a tall, officious-looking man making his way down to the crash site from the roadway. He went straight to the police officer who seemed to be in charge and conversed with him at length. The officer pointed in Robert’s direction, and the officious one approached him.

“Good morning, Sir,” he introduced himself showing Robert his identification badge and credentials. “John Williamson, Australian Federal Police, Robina. How are you today?”

“I was fine, thank you, until all of this happened. I’m Robert McDougall.”

“I believe you were the first person here after the crash. Is that correct?”

“Yes it is,” Robert agreed.

“Do you own the white Forester parked up on the road?”

“Yes I do.”

“Were you the one who called “000?”

“Yes, I was.”

“Did you witness the accident itself?”

“I saw the vehicle leave the road. It was travelling very fast, so I turned around to see if I could help. When I confirmed that it had crashed, I called 000.”

“Was the driver conscious when you arrived? Did you talk to him at all?”

“He was conscious but seemed dazed. I asked him if he was all right. I brought my extinguisher down in case there was a fire. I gave the engine a bit of a spray. There was a lot of steam, the radiator or its hoses must be damaged.”

“Do you have any identification, Sir?”

Robert handed him a company business card from his wallet.

Williamson scrutinised the card. “You sell water purifiers? Is that what is in the back of your car?”

“No,” replied Robert. “That’s building supplies for my property near Canungra. I’m doing some renovations there over the long weekend.”

“A gentleman farmer then?” Williamson insinuated. “Look, it was good of you to stop and help this bloke, and we appreciate it very much. I’ll keep your card, if I may. We might need to contact you later to help in our investigation.”

“Investigation?” Robert queried. “May I ask why federal police would be interested in a motor vehicle accident? Surely that’s a job for the local guys.”

Williamson abruptly silenced him. “I’m not at liberty to divulge classified information unnecessarily, Sir. Thank you for your assistance.”

Robert was becoming concerned. He realised now that Williamson was one of the pursuers. What had he gotten himself into? Alec hadn’t mentioned who he was running away from, but he had imagined it was a competitor of some kind, or enforcers employed by a rogue oil company. Why on earth would the Australian Federal Police be so actively involved? Perhaps Alec was a felon after all. In order to secure the necessary assistance, he wouldn’t have admitted to anything subversive intentionally. Still, the man came across as a genuine bloke, and Robert was convinced of his legitimacy.

Alec was eventually freed from the driver’s seat and they placed him on a waiting stretcher. Williamson went to the now unobstructed front door and peered inside. He knelt on the driver’s seat and scanned the interior, then avidly searched the glove box and the centre console.

Robert paid his attention to Alec now, but still observed the AFP man from the corner of his eye. He became nervous when Williamson went to the front of the car and looked at the engine compartment. If the officer had any inkling what he was after, he might notice that something was missing from the carburettor. If there were any suspicions Robert would be the main suspect, and in that respect he would rather avoid any further official interrogation for the moment.

Williamson then took a mobile phone from his belt and placed a call but Robert couldn’t hear the discussion that ensued. He felt extremely insecure and considered it might be tactical to vacate the scene as quickly as possible.

“I’ll get out of here and notify your family,” he informed Alec confidentially. “See you later at the Gold Coast Hospital.”

“Thanks for helping me out, mate. Take care.”

Robert made his way back to the road carrying the equipment he had brought with him just as more rain began falling gently from a still-clouded sky. He had forgotten about Williamson’s offsider who until now had remained incognito. The man was standing beside the Forester with an umbrella, talking on his phone. Robert feared imminent exposure. Was he talking to Williamson? Did they suspect what he had done and if so, how could he explain his unusual behaviour? Hiding evidence from the federal police wouldn’t go down too well. As he sauntered towards his vehicle the officer concluded his call and glanced inquisitively in his direction.

Hoping to avoid continuing suspicion, he opened his tailgate so the policeman could plainly see the building materials inside, replacing his emergency equipment at the same time. “Nasty piece of work down there,” he remarked conversationally.

“Precarious situation, but no fatalities at least,” the officer maintained. “This rain is not going to help. If it gets any worse, they’ll have a lot of trouble removing the wreck.”

Robert was feeling more relaxed. “I suppose so,” he said laconically, sliding in behind his steering wheel. “Well, that’s enough excitement for one day.”

The rain began falling even heavier as a tow truck pulled in to the side of the road in front of the Forester. He was unsure where they would take Alec’s car, but probably to the Canungra Police Station, where it would most likely be secured pending examination. It was a good thing he had managed to extricate the silver box before the instant crowd arrived.

Leisurely, he started the engine and set off towards the Gold Coast, a perceptibly impulsive decision not lost on the AFP man still observing him. Robert had expressly declared that he was travelling towards Canungra, so why then was he now going in exactly the opposite direction? Shortly the officer was on the phone again reporting back to Williamson.

Robert drove towards Nerang with myriads of thoughts on his mind. What had begun as a simple trip to the country was becoming a complicit intrigue. Why would the AFP try to prevent someone from developing an innovation that would prospectively be an enormous benefit to society and to all mankind? What could they do legally to stop him from doing it anyway since the entire political establishment purportedly championed free enterprise? Surely, whatever a man did in his private backyard was nobody’s business but his own.

Naturally he was confused, but somehow it seemed decidedly possible that somebody important associated with the privileged higher echelons might be consciously resisting the introduction of free-energy machines. Maybe it was an economics issue or a conspiracy involving the oil companies or the New World Order, or maybe the power-mongers behind governments just didn’t like the idea of their sacrificial pawns being too independent and self-reliant?

Thoughtfully, he elected to go directly to his shop in Nerang. Nobody else would be there today since everything was closed for the long weekend. Subsequently he would be able to extricate Katrina’s number from Alec’s phone and call her from his landline which would be more private and convenient.

By the time he arrived in Nerang the rain had decreased to occasional showers. He made himself a coffee to settle his nerves then called Katrina on his office phone. The number was a mobile phone so he presumed she would be readily available to answer it. After a short while the line engaged and an educated, female voice announced, “Hello, Katrina speaking.”

“Hello, Katrina,” Robert replied. “Look, you don’t know me, my name is Robert McDougall. I’m calling from Nerang. I spoke to your father about half an hour ago and he asked me to give you a message.”

“Yes,” Katrina responded, a note of concern in her voice. “Is he all right?”

Robert tried not to alarm her too much at the start. “He’s been involved in a single car accident out on the Canungra Gorge road. I was the first one on the scene and he suggested that I contact you personally to let you know he’s okay.”

“If he’s okay, why couldn’t he tell me himself?”

“Under the circumstances, that would not have been expedient. In fact, I have his mobile phone with me right now. He gave it to me so I could contact you, and also for safekeeping.”

“I don’t understand. What do you mean by ‘safekeeping’? You are hiding something from me!”

Robert realised that this confabulation wasn’t working out anything like the way he had expected. “No, please believe what I am saying. Your father probably has a fractured leg, but nothing that is life-threatening. An ambulance is taking him to the Gold Coast Hospital. He specified that I tell you not to go there or become involved in any way until he has spoken to you himself. I presume he will do that after he has been treated. I left my own mobile phone with him for that reason.”

“I don’t believe you. Why would he need to swap phones with you to do that? Why couldn’t he call me from his own phone?”

Robert was now becoming flustered. If he was going to gain her confidence he would have to go about it more calmly and logically. “Listen, Katrina, I know how you must be feeling. Your father required me to help him protect a carburettor device on his car, since he was incapacitated because of the accident. He is having some trouble with the Australian Federal Police who intend to interview him as soon as he is treated. That’s why you are not to go to the hospital under any circumstances. Please try to understand!”

“What am I supposed to do then?”

“Would you be prepared to meet me here in Nerang and I will explain everything to you in detail? I’ll also be able to return your father’s phone.”

“No, I don’t know who you are. You could be one of those morons who are trying to intimidate my father.”

Robert was completely exasperated. “How can I help you or your father if you won’t trust me or believe me?”

Katrina paused for awhile then opted to take control of the situation herself. “Have you heard of the Maid of Sker?” she proposed.

“Sure, it’s an old paddle wheel steamer on the riverbank near the traffic bridge at Nerang.”

“That’s right,” Katrina confirmed. “Okay then, I’ll see you there in exactly one hour. I’ll know who you are, but you won’t know me. I’ll decide then if I will meet you or not. Take my dad’s phone with you or the deal is off.” Then she hung up.

Jesus, how frustrating this was. Katrina was so suspicious she refused to take him at his word. He had never anticipated that anything like this would happen. So far he hadn’t taken a trick all day. Here it was almost 11 o’clock and he was still stuck in town at the office in Nerang. His carefully laid work plans for the weekend had gone right out the door. And now he had this bloody unbelieving, overcautious woman who was not convinced of his good intentions and was giving him the run around.

If it wasn’t for the fact that he needed to get his phone back, he would give the whole damn idea away right now.  

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