Confabulation (7 page)

CHAPTER
16

Jackson Gray sat behind the large oak desk.  It was there when he moved in. Had been since The Founding. Sixty years of dutiful workers had spent their time behind that desk, evaluating candidate and passing the information on. He’d done the same. For fifteen years, he’d watched assets pass the tests, enter the system, and occupy their peg. Fifteen years was enough.

It was his choice if he wanted to keep the mammoth piece of furniture when he moved in. The desk seemed reliable. Years of service behind it, and Jackson had a soft spot for tradition. It was the only area where anyone would claim that Jack possessed any sentiment at all.

He kept the desk, and the walls, clear at all times, except for the item that held his attention at any given time. The papers he looked at that day were transcripts of recent surveillance of subjects in a study that Jackson had initiated. A project he kept close. A project that only a handful of others knew about. One that would probably get someone killed. It’d be him if wasn’t careful.

He placed the papers down when he heard the knock at his door. "Yes."

His door opened. His assistant looked in. "It’s Mr. Donaldson."

"Send him in."

Jackson sorted the papers. Put the key information on each subject in front of him. He kept his eyes on the papers as Donaldson entered the room. The footsteps paused. Jackson continued to read the transcripts. Once he heard the chair move he addressed the company agent without raising his eyes. "So, Donaldson, what did your men find?"

"Nothing, sir. They scoured both addresses and found no evidence that they had been contacted, or that they had obtained any knowledge that threatened the mission. Our assessment is that the study is progressing without interference."

Jackson read the passages again which outlined the times that contact was lost and out of character movement. A visit to a store connected to the company. A happenstance reading of an old book. Not the kinds of things Jackson normally accepted. Coincidences of that magnitude were not something to be ignored. But he’d been on edge, lately. And accidents did happen. But, when Simon, a man they had relegated to his home, suddenly ventured to a restaurant that was a common location for information transfer, any benefit of doubt was destroyed.

Someone had contacted the subjects. He knew that meant someone from the company had probably reviewed his recommendations. Compliance would be on them. He looked up, finally, from the papers and stared into the agent’s eyes. "So, your men found nothing. Nothing even suspicious?"

The agent wasn’t a rookie. He’d been working as a sniffer, someone tracking down mental signatures and residue, for a few years. Jackson had placed him in the program himself. Some others wanted to turn him into fuel. Jackson stood up for him. He’d been an asset.

Jackson also made sure Donaldson knew the history of his candidacy. Helped him gain loyalty when it was needed. Donaldson was good, but his shaky posture, and pale complexion made him look like a first timer who was waiting to get dressed down by his superior. "That’s correct, sir. After reviewing the information gathered in reconnaissance, I’m recommending continuation of the operation, without reservation."

"Very well. Proceed with the operation. Keep me informed if your men find anything suspicious. And remember, we’re not to engage these subjects directly."

"Of course, sir."

Jackson dismissed the man, and returned to his study of the papers. Someone knew. But they shouldn’t. He was careful. Laid it out to avoid detection. Someone screwed up. He gathered the files and slipped them into a messenger bag. Slung it over his shoulder and headed out of the office.

Outside his door was a drab office setting. Not typical, but exaggerated. The people at the cubes did nothing. They felt they were working, but the work was useless. Just pushing numbers. They were there for treatment. And fuel. A field of low level psychic ability being siphoned off to fuel to the greater work.

Jackson used to believe in the goal. Finding those who were dangerous to themselves and society. Training them, or blocking their random ability. Seemed the right thing to do. He didn’t expect to end up qualifying people for subjugation.

Every day, Jackson would evaluate candidates. They’d be brought in under a variety of excuses, but the tests were designed to determine ability. There were three categories. Trainable, where they were either made agents, or had their ability blocked if they refused. Marginal talent, a category that was sent back into the world. A group of people blessed with better than average intuition, but little else. Not enough to bother training. Not dangerous enough to warrant repressions.

And not powerful enough to be good fuel. Fuel. The group that drove Jackson to his decision. The poor souls in the middle, who were strong enough to serve a purpose. They were brought in, given a fake job, and subjected to a constant mental bombardment that left them unaware, and drained. Their abilities consumed and transferred to those who had to find others in the world. Jackson was assured it was necessary.

He believed it. For a few years. Over time, he found he could not repress his own disgust. He raised the issue. Spoke to superiors. Was sent away. Told he could do his job, or choose repression. He’d been trained. His life revolved around his abilities. It would be like both blinding him, and taking away any chance he had to earn a living.

He kept his position. Kept evaluating others. As he left the office, he was more sure than ever that he’d made the right decision. Not that day when he took the cowards way out. No, he made the right choice when he decided to bring the company down.

He waved to security as he walked out of the building. Next to security was compliance. The group with the job to make sure all those that were trusted did as they were told. The group responsible for making sure he didn’t do what he was doing.

The group he knew had noticed something.

CHAPTER
17

"Henry. That’s enough. I’m going."

"But, I just wanted to spend the day with you."

"Look, Henry. This is a very important case. I need to go to the office and meet with Danny about our strategy. End of discussion."

Henry gritted his teeth. More plans out the window. Work intervened again. Made his job tougher.  Put her in imminent danger. Threatened to take her where Henry couldn’t get to her in time. He pictured Kelly, alone in the office. Surrounded only by people who might want to kill her. One of them who certainly did. If only he could remember which one.

Maybe it’d be Danny. They worked together all the time. He could see Danny attack Kelly for no reason. He knew no one would be there, and that he could hardly be inconspicuous on Labor Day, when no one was at work.

"Kelly, please."

Kelly shut her car door and rolled down the window as she backed out. "Why don’t you just go to a bar, get drunk, pass out, and I’ll wake you up when I get back."

Henry stood with his mouth agape as she drove off. He’d been drinking, that much was true. He needed something to take the edge off. He hadn’t gotten any rest in a week without passing out. Sleep was just an excuse for his brain to think up even worse shit that could happen to Kelly.

He didn’t mind the insult. He’d called himself worse things. But, he knew that if she began to mistrust his motives, he’d be unable to stay close enough. She’d begin to plan time away from him. End up getting herself killed.

Henry knew the risks, but he couldn’t leave her alone.

He waited a few minutes, and headed out. Drove to his usual spot outside the building that housed Kelly’s office. He didn’t have a plan. He couldn’t just wait outside. She was inside, and he knew what had to be done.

He exited the car. Entered the building and pressed for the elevator.

Headed up to her office.

The door opened and Henry stepped out and turned left to Kelly’s office. The door was locked, but Henry stooped down and looked under the doors. He could see Kelly’s skirt flash by in one of the offices. "There she is."

He stood there for several moments. Watching her walk back and forth. Her motions seemed casual, not indicating any type of struggle. "Everything seems okay." He kept watching as Kelly dropped a pen to the floor. "Hah, she’s always been a bit clumsy." Henry closed his eyes for a moment to enjoy the pleasant memories.

When he opened them, he could see Kelly’s eyes. "Shit."

He spun around and headed for the stairs.

Ran down the hall.

Shoved the doors open to the stairwell.

Squeezed between two men at the landing.

Didn’t recognize them. He hoped they didn’t know him.

He listened for sounds of being followed while trying to slow his heart. Once he felt sure that he wasn’t followed, he quickly descended the steps. He hoped he wasn’t seen. Though he peered into her eyes.

He wondered why she didn’t follow him.

Maybe she didn’t need to. She had all the answers she needed when she saw him there. No, he was sure she didn’t see him. He must have imagined it. She didn’t even call his name.

Still, she was in there. Alone with someone. .

Henry stopped and started back up the stairs.

Something wasn’t right. He’d forgotten something. Something about what he’d heard. Something about the office. No, not the office. They didn’t plan on killing her in the office. Someplace else. Was he sure? Yes. Yes, he remembered.

He went back to his car. Stayed there. He was sure she was safe inside, but he still felt certain the time was soon. Maybe today. Maybe Danny. He had to keep watch.

He watched for hours. No sight of Kelly. He waited. The sun rose to its noon height with no sight of her. It had fallen back again over the horizon before he saw her pull out of the garage. With a heavy sigh, and a yawn, he started his car. Followed her home from a safe distance. Watched her pull into their development.

Turned around.

He needed to have an excuse for not being home. Figured a cake was good enough reason so he headed to the bakery. Hoped they were still open.

CHAPTER
18

“What’s the big deal, Jackson?”

Jackson Gray walked past the short man, eyed the man behind him, in the corner. The loudmouth was useless. A runner they converted to their cause. Jackson didn’t care much for runners. Sure, he was sick of the abuses by the organization, but that didn’t mean he supported a group of people who selfishly put others in danger.

This one, Errins was his name, at least Jackson was pretty sure it was. This one was noisy and selfish. Not worth his time. The man in the back was different. Had some training. Knew what he was doing. And he’d screwed up.

“Peter, why don’t you tell your henchman what the problem is?”

Errins bumped into Jackson. “Hey, you don’t talk to me like that. I…” Ennis fell to the ground. Grabbed the sides of his head.

Jackson looked at him. Shook his head. So much potential wasted. It was a simple thing. Just a flood of random thoughts and images. A simple attack. Taught in the early stages of training. The defense taught soon after. And here was this arrogant bastard, so loud, and now in so much confusion and pain.

“Enough.”

Jackson glanced at Peter. Sneered. Released Errins. “Keep your apprentice under control, Peter. We don’t have the time or the luxury of secrecy in this work.

Errins moaned and rolled on the ground.

Jackson walked away. “He’ll be fine soon enough. Maybe he’ll learn something.” He sat in a chair against the wall nearest the door. “Now, I’ll ask you again. Did you follow my instructions to the letter?”

He had been careful. The candidates had some ability. Had gone through his office for evaluation. He’d used his influence to have them labeled on releasable. They should have been held as fuel. They had enough ability to serve a purpose, but not to make trouble. Just enough to make his plan work.

Peter sat next to Jackson. “In instructed them all to suggest emotions only. Let their minds form the memory that suited the emotion.”

Jackson sighed. That was the plan. Simple emotional suggestion would go unnoticed if, no when, compliance came to check. They checked all the released that were borderline. Make sure they didn’t manifest any ability and need to come in. Also to make sure none of the evaluators were slipping. Or corrupt.

Like he was.

“Compliance made contact, Peter.”

Peter stood. Walked over to Errins. Looked at Jackson. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. Two of the targets have visited safe cites. Places they had not previously visited. Reports from the field doing the work indicate periods of all dark when trying to suggest emotions. They were contacted.”

“Shit.” Peter looked down at Errins. “What did you do?”

“What? Nothing. Just like you said. Mostly.”

“Mostly.”

“Look, sometimes they didn’t take the bait, so we’d give them a little image, or a little extra info to point them in the right direction.”

“You son of a bitch.” Peter grabbed a pistol from the card table in the middle of the room. “You stupid little shit. What did I tell you?”

Errins scooted back.

Jackson watched and smiled.

Errins hit the wall. “Dude, what the hell?”

Peter kept the pistol aimed at Errins.

Jackson walked over to the scared man. Crouched next to him. “You see, moron, when compliance comes by, they do a little scan. Emotions, they don’t really register. Sure, they can take a long time to get the job done, but it’s safe. It was a good plan. Mine.” He stood. “But, images. Facts. Tangible things that are foreign to the mind, they shine like a beacon. Tell compliance that someone’s been in there.”

Errins swallowed.

Jackson sat again. “You see, now they’ll try to bring them to a secure location. Do some deeper digging. Find the signature of the foreign mind. Then they’ll scour every mind in the world to find that print. And then, Mr. Errins, you’ll wish I was hurting you again.”

Jackson walked to the door. “Peter, Adamson is still in play. You take that operation over. All we need is one.”

“One for what?”

Jackson glared at Errins. “Oh, so you’d like to know the plan, eh? Very well. You see, if people with talent start killing people, it’ll cast doubt on the organization. We’ll keep doing this, they’ll keep missing the right people. All the hidden funding will dry up, and a new company will arise from the fetid mire of this one. One that achieves the goals, without the sickness that has taken over.”

“What sickness?”

“Infallibility. They use the fuel and feel they can see everything. They can’t. They can’t see what I’m doing. Not if it’s done right. When it doesn’t make them perfect, people won’t stomach the abuse of those people.”

Errins stood. Dusted himself off. “Why didn’t you tell us this before?”

“In case you were caught, I didn’t want you to know. That’s why you never met me, either. I have to stay removed from this project in order to do my job.”

Errins furrowed his brow.

“You wonder why I told you now, right?”

He nodded.

“They’ll find you now. They’ll hunt the world for your imprint. Then they’ll bring you in and extract every last drop of knowledge in that foolish head.” Jackson looked at Peter. “We can’t have that.”

The gun fired.

Errins fell.

Jackson looked away.

“Peter, stay with Adamson. Keep him on track. I’ll take care of the other two. Starting with Klein. I think Hansford is out of reach for now, but I’ll get to her before they find what they need.”

“Of course, I’ll handle it.”

“And, Peter, any others that may have varied from the plan are a problem.”

“They won’t be for long, Jackson.”

“Good.”