Project Main Details
Ian Taylor---is a relic hunter and a hulking man at 6ft 4in. A rough and ready type individual. A masculine voice I'd expect.
Dr. Charles Wagner, Ian's physician helper in Palestine. A tall lanky quiet southerner. A reverent man who believes in God, but isn't in your face type. A medical surgeon, scientist and war vet.
Joshua Austin is mayor of White River. 6ft 2in. A commanding and authoritative personality, but kind and gentle. Another distinct but masculine voice.
Abram Solomon is of European decent, with same type word inflection in accent's. Diction precise and commanding, yet devious and sinister.
Attached can be found here:
2014-08-21 18:17:47 GMT 2014-08-29 17:00:00 (GMT -05:00) Eastern Time (US & Canada) Yes (click here to learn more about ) Closed 11 11 1 direct invitation(s) have been sent by the voice seeker resulting in 1 audition(s) and/or proposal(s) so far. Voice123 SmartCast is seeking 30 auditions and/or proposals for this project (approx.) Invitations sent by SmartCast have resulted in 10 audition(s) and/or proposal(s) so far.
Abram’s tough tone for his third requirement was, like an open-handed slap, to Ian’s pride. A company employee, Dr. Charles Wagner, a veteran triage surgeon during the war would go with the expedition.
Aside from the workers he had to hire to help with digs, he worked alone, trusting no one. He’d survived the war relying on his own skills and instincts. Abram responded to Ian’s reluctance, his words sharp.
“You’ll need him, and I want him there. Charles’s skills will insure proper preservation and transport of the Jew’s remains to America”, he demanded.
Ian cocked an eyebrow; his jaw tightened and was about to protest, but hesitated. The thought of babysitting an unwelcomed companion was distasteful. Abram ignored his irritation and slid the contract toward him brandishing, a self-assured smirk. Pride aside, the exorbitant guaranteed money, and bonus were offer’s he couldn’t refuse. Pen in hand, he signed the contract. He’d learn to live with a tag-a-long inconvenience.
Charles searched his memories, focusing on the root source for his appalling dream. Abram Solomon was the dominant figure in his vision. He wondered if the distressing nightmare might be a harbinger. He found the notion, a distasteful assumption to contemplate. If the horrific dream was a true omen, Abram Solomon’s presence seemed the common link.
Could it be that my work in Palestine, somehow ties in with my current research, at Abrams new GEMTech facility, he wondered. Am I becoming senile or am I that naïve? Has my zeal for our research seared my conscience, he whispered.
The two connections appeared at odds, but possible. He determined to dig deeper. I’ve got to talk with Ian and tell him of my work with Abram and my suspicions, he mumbled. Charles picked up his cup of tea and hurried inside to make his call. I hope Ian won’t start, by calling me a religious nut case, he thought.
Ian’s telephone started to ring interrupting his concentration. He glanced at the phone. “There’s only one person that would dare call me, at this early hour”.
“Ian, it’s urgent, we have to talk.”
“Good morning, Charles.”
Dr. Bruner, the assistant director to Abram Solomon’s project, often praised Deborah among the other staff during rounds declaring; Deborah’s my most valued asset. She has the face of a reassuring mother, the one component those girls need.
The gruff old German was an oddity to behold. His short bowling-pin physique waddled like a penguin as he walked. His large bulbous nose merged with an abundant mustache obscuring any recognition of human lips.
Deborah admired Dr. Bruner as a professional colleague and scientist. She’d smile in his presence, but found his patronizing distasteful. Whenever possible, she avoided socializing with him or Abram outside her work.
Abrams massive office doors opened before he’d arrived. Two intimidating tall men emerged and stood erect on either side of the entrance. They ignored the small professor’s obvious stare from below. Abrams voice resonated from across the imposing interior of his office, as the little man passed between the two giant sentinels.
“Rudy, my old friend, it’s so good to see you again. It’s been ages, where’ve you been hiding.” Hiding he says, what arrogance. Rudy thought. “Hard at work Mr. Solomon and thank you for seeing me on such short notice.”
Abram grasped the professor’s hand and patted his shoulder noticing the professor's nervous eye’s scrutinizing the security guards behind him.
“Don’t be alarmed, they’re my personal security.” Abram leaned closer and whispered, “And good at it, I might add.” The professor glanced at the men. “No doubt, Mr. Solomon, they do look formidable.”
“Professor, be at ease. Please, can I get you something, dear friend?” Abram snapped his fingers. The two sentries came to immediate attention. Dr. Hess waved his hand. “No, no, thank you, Mr. Solomon. Our business is urgent and demands your immediate attention.” The words urgent and immediate gave Abram a noticeable pause.
“Of course, professor, we’ll get right to this urgency, but first, I’d like to apologize for keeping an old associate waiting. There’s pressing business taking shape at our Arkansas facility that needed my attention. Please have a seat.”
The professor decided to break the bad news first. Blunt and to the point was best. With any further buttering, by his supposed ‘old friend, he’d become nauseous. “Sir, Project Phoenix is compromised, by one of your former research scientists.”
Abrams reaction was immediate and chilling. His plastered smile, disappeared. He stood and shoved his chair back, arms extend for support, fists clenched and leaned across his desk. He stared down at Dr. Hess, with the eyes a murderer. The old man slumped in his chair, cowering, fearful of Abrams wrath.
“What do you mean, compromised, Professor?” He asked his tone, scornful.
“Dr. Deborah Holland is alive and she kept an extensive detailed journal.” Abram slammed his fists on his desk and shouted.
“Alive! Ridiculous Professor; it’s impossible. Nothing escaped the explosion and fire! Everyone and everything are ashes, covered in three stories of solid concrete.” Reluctant, Professor Hess continued, there was more.
“Sir, the news is unfortunate, but true.” Abram had come around his desk to stand within feet of Dr. Hess, his arms folded across his chest.
“How did she escape---- unless?” Professor Hess answered Abram’s thought.
“It was Dr. Bruner, Sir. Dr. Holland left the complex right after the delivery of the child. She visited with her colleague Dr. Charles Wagner, at a local hospital. Records show he was dying. He passed away not long after that, from a stroke, a brain hemorrhage.
“We’ve discovered her correspondence with Dr. Bruner that indicates she wasn’t aware of the complex’s destruction until later.”
“Dr. Bruner, are you certain.” Abram asked, shaken by the unexpected revelation.
“Yes, sir, we have concrete evidence. Security retrieved and decrypted his files and deleted emails, from his computer’s hard drive right after his death. He’d archived his e-mail with Dr. Holland mentioning project phoenix and having second thoughts. The two communicated for years and the amount of files we retrieved bears it out. When we searched his home, we found actual letters collaborating our finding’s.”
Part 3 Joshua Austin
Joshua made last adjustments to his person and tie. A quick comb of his hair with his hands, a wide smile to check teeth, all good, time to meet the press, he thought
“Joshua, one last thing, there’s unexpected Little Rock press. Act natural and remember, keep it short and sweet. Now, go get ‘em Mr. Mayor.” Joshua cocked an eyebrow, easy enough for you to say Jason; he thought and walked on stage to the podium taking his first question.
“Mr. Austin, with no political experience, why are you’re running for mayor. You’re a conservative independent, and evangelical. Will your religious views dictate your governing rhetoric in the office of mayor, should you win?” Roger Pauley’s tone of contempt was obvious.
“What’s your name again, Sir?” Joshua asked.
“Roger Pauley, Mr. Austin. I represent Channel 13 Eye Witness News.”
“Oh yes, I’ve seen your weather show.” Joshua grinned. The room of reporters chuckled at his innuendo.
“I heard a question in there, Mr. Pauley; the rest seemed more of a personal statement or am I mistaken?” Roger was a flag waving staunch progressive liberal, infamous for his biased hardball tactics.
“My apologies, Mr. Austin, since you’re new to politics and press conferences, they were both Sir, and to clarify, I’m a news anchor.” Joshua understood his pointed statements and the game Mr. Pauley played.
“Yes, of course you are.” Joshua said. Roger didn’t appreciate the overture. The other reporters stifled their laugher, amused. Joshua interrupted Roger before he made a spiteful remark.
“Mr. Pauley, I’ll answer your question in part with a paraphrased quote I read once that’s stuck with me, but it’s effective. Reporters turned note pads; if you tell a lie big enough and keep repeating it, people will come to believe it. In order to support that lie, the State must deceive the people from the political, economic, and/or military consequences of the lie. The State is to use its powers to repress dissent. Truth is the mortal enemy of the lie, and truth is the greatest enemy of the State.
“Mr. Pauley, in my opinion, the ideals of progressivism is an insidious lie, a direct assault on our Constitutional Republic and America’s future. It’s the new term and face in political correctness. I stand among the political incorrect.
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