Chapter 1

Jacob 'Jake' Riffle avoided making eye contact with any of his fellow passengers as Air Wyvern made its final approach to Georgetown International Airport. Even before the discovery of the Lambeau Process, the airport servicing St. Wyvern has been one of the most modern airports in the world. St. Wyvern had long been the destination of honeymooners wishing to spend the first two weeks of their marriage in the Caribbean. And thanks to its position as a tax haven in the Commonwealth as well as its secretive banking regulations, St. Wyvern had long been an international offshore financial haven. So St. Wyvern's unique 'position' as far as the Lambeau Process was concerned did not create new wealth, but it certainly did add frosting to the cake.

None of the facts surrounding St. Wyvern's unique position in the world of finance and theoretical physics was going through Jake Riffle's mind as the seven-thirty seven he was flying on taxied its way to the terminal. Jake had foregone sitting in the first class section of his flight, or even flying to St. Wyvern on his private jet, so that no one would suspect him of being one of 'Them.' But as Jake looked furtively around at his fellow passengers, he was sure that they had singled him out as one of 'Them, ' and they were all mentally condemning him as demented, a pervert, a social pariah.

As Jake got up and exited the plane with the rest of the passengers, he might not have been in such an anxious state if he knew his fellow passengers had not given him more than a glance and a passing thought. Most of the passengers on the Air Wyvern flight were more concerned with their upcoming vacation or, for the few of the passengers, conduction financial business with one of the St. Wyvern banks. If any of the passengers had known that Jake was there to personally benefit from the Lambeau Process, most of them would have felt the need to make the proper, socially acceptable condemnation 'noises', but a majority of the men, and a not a few of the women, would have secretly envied them. Instead, most of them only noted Jake as pleasant enough looking man, somewhere in his late thirties to early forties, traveling alone to a Caribbean vacation paradise, and gave him no further thought.

Jake disembarked from the airplane and head downstairs to the luggage carousel. Retrieving his two suitcases, Jake was making his way to grab a taxi for his hotel when he noticed a man wearing the livery of a limousine driver holding up a placard with his name on it.

"Mr. Riffle?" The driver inquired as Jake set his bags down to shake the man's hand.

"Just Jake."

The driver gave a small nod and a smile, privately noting that Jake was about a decade younger than most of the customers that the Ministry dealt with. "Of course, sir. The Ministry sent me. I'll have these attended to," the driver said, motioning toward one the ever present sky caps.

Jake soon found himself and his luggage tucked safely away in a nondescript luxury sedan, and soon on his way to the compound maintained by the St. Wyvern Ministry of Applied Physics.